Chapter 17
The big surprise turned out to be the opening of a new symphony. I had never been before and was unsure what to expect, or how to behave. I tapped my fingertips trying to expel some nervous energy. But, instead of expelling elsewhere, it settled in my knees, which started anxiously bouncing up and down. Drake’s pinky finger hooked through mine and I startled at the unexpected contact.
“Hey, you’re a ball of nerves. Relax.”
“I’m sorry. I’ll try to chill out.”
I leaned my head back, relaxed my hands on my knees, closed my eyes, and blew out a long breath. I tried to remember some meditation techniques I picked up from a friend in college, who was a self-proclaimed “self-help guru”. He always told me, when nervous, stressed or upset, to go to my happy place. I took another deep breath, settling in my happy place, but it was short-lived. Lately, my happy place had become anywhere with Drake. Dammit, how the hell was I supposed to relax when my happy place and the place making me nervous were one and the same? Where was that goofy-ass hippie when I needed him now? Probably in his happy place, that’s where.
I was so busy trying to work out my personal paradox that I failed to notice our fingers were still intertwined, until he started lightly caressing my palm. It was little things like that, creating my confusion as to where we stood. It was too sensual of a gesture to be a friendly one, yet it was more intimate than any of the other contact we’d had since after the party. Maybe he wasn’t meaning for it to be intimate, but didn’t realize what the simplest of touches from him did to me. Then again, maybe he did know, but didn’t care.
God, what the hell was this? Were we on an actual date? The whole thing seemed like a very romantic set up, but his real intentions were a total enigma to me. If this wasn’t a date and he just wanted to take a friend to the symphony, he could have taken Zane... or Portia, apparently.
Oh no... Nope, I was not going there. If I obsessed about it, I was likely to get angry with her for lying to me when all she had been trying to do, in her own weird, roundabout way, was to help me find some happiness. That issue had to go on the back burner for now, one neurotic problem at a time... Besides, I had other things to obsess about. For instance, trying not to embarrass Drake or myself while out in public at a black-tie event.
The cab rolled up to the curb in front of a large, brick-facade building. From the outside, the building seemed very unassuming. The only indication there was anything of interest happening within its walls, were all the men and women dressed in formal wear outside its doors. My stomach clenched just looking at all of them. They all seemed so at ease and natural, milling around in tuxedos and ball gowns. No wonder Portia and Drake kept this a secret. Had I known in advance, I would have run screaming from the mere mention of attending something like this.
Drake paid the driver, got out of the car, and held his arm out to me. I can’t say I wasn’t tempted to slam the door and scream for the cab driver to Punch it, Chewy! But instead, I took a deep breath and stepped out of the cab.
We strolled into the building and I could not have been more surprised by what awaited us inside. The interior was immaculate. We stood in the heart of an expansive lobby, flanked on either side by large, winding staircases carpeted in red and adorned with white stone banisters. In between the two banisters, a huge crystal chandelier hung. I had a firm grip on Drake as he led me through the crowd. I was entirely too distracted to watch where I was going and, had it not been for him, I probably would have crashed into someone, knocking their diamond-incrusted tiara to the floor.
We came to a stop but my eyes continued to dart around the room. I was in complete awe of the place. It was so luxurious, yet warm and inviting. Classic. I soaked it all up as Drake leaned in, laying a whisper in my ear.
“Olivia, look up.”
I leaned my head back. We were standing directly below the giant chandelier. The word ‘luminous’ took on a whole new meaning. Standing beneath it, I could see it was not only a light source, but a work of art. It had been carefully crafted to give the illusion of gazing up into the nighttime sky, full of stars. Some of the lights even twinkled, while others gave the impression of tiny solar system clusters and, at the center, a blazing, golden sun. I had never seen anything so magnificent.
I allowed Drake to lead me up the winding staircase to the third floor. The horseshoe-shaped auditorium had much of the same elegance, with cream-colored walls and red, velvety chairs. Our seats were in the center of the horseshoe, in the front row. I peered over the ledge, stealing a peek at all the beautiful people below. They were fascinating to watch and I could have done it all night, but we took our seats as the lights went down.
The audience was absolutely still as the musicians took their seats. My nerves had dissipated, leaving me giddy with anticipation. Within a few moments, I’d never again be able to say that I’d never been to a symphony. It’s strange how epiphanies will sometimes strike out of nowhere, during the most peculiar of times. This very moment was a first, one in a line of many, but something I recognized as special. It would measure up with all the other firsts of my life: the first time I rode a bike or a roller coaster, drove a car, kissed a boy, or fell in love.
The only difference being I recognized how precious those first moments really are and, because of my recognition, I made it a point to absorb everything. To take a look around and notice the fine details, committing those to my mind, making a richer memory. Years from now, when I looked back, all these tiny things would be what mattered.
Looking at Drake, I was so thankful he was the one giving me the memory. I studied his face for as long as I could, because it too was one of those finer details. I closed my eyes to hold onto it with all the others.
He noticed me watching him and took my hand. “Are you all right?”
“Hmm, yes, I’m fine.” I smiled as I sat back in my chair. He squeezed my hand and the music began.
I spent the next two and a half hours completely riveted. The haunting melodies of the cello and violins carried me away. At times, I swore Drake was watching me. But, when I’d glance his way, he faced forward. I figured it was just wishful thinking on my part, but his hand never left mine. I thought that had to count for something. Then again, maybe he only held my hand because I held his.
When the final encore was performed and the applause died off, the other concertgoers left the auditorium while we remained in our seats. I wanted to make sure I took it all with me. I’m not sure how long we sat there, just the two of us in the empty concert hall, before the usher asked us to leave, but it hadn’t felt nearly long enough.
Drake made a reservation to have a late dinner at one of his favorite fine-dining restaurants, a few blocks away. Mother Nature had been feeling generous lately and the weather was spectacular, so we walked to the restaurant rather than take a cab.
We chatted about the performance on our little stroll. I hoped the dinner reservations were a hint of something romantic on the horizon but alas, I was wrong, because something disappointing happened once we left the concert hall. We were no longer holding hands. His were actually stuffed deep into his pockets and he hadn’t offered me his arm again.
We were nearing our destination when a strange look came over his face. “That’s weird. Why is it so dark?”
His pace quickened. Lifting the hem of my dress, I tried to keep up. On the corner was, what appeared to be, an empty store front, where he stopped. Rather than the fine-dining experience we had been looking forward to, we were greeted with a sign in the window that read: Closed, due to Health Code Violations.
Drake yanked on the door. “Well, shit.”
“Did you come here a lot?”
“Yeah, quite a bit actually.”
“Might be a good thing you were already dead then, huh?” He smiled. Leave it to me to take a bad situation and turn it into a smart-ass comment. “Now what?”
“We could go back to your apartment and order some take-out, if you like?
”
“Eh, Tore’s having some friends over to watch the game. Your place instead?”
He seemed very reluctant. “Yeah... sure.”
What the hell was that? Why was my apartment all right, but his wasn’t? Was his dirty? Was he hiding the whores he was so fond of? Was he afraid I’d try to take advantage of him and he felt “safer” if we had company, like my brother, so I wouldn’t be tempted?
He stepped to the curb and hailed a cab. One rolled up on cue and he held the door as I climbed inside. Neither of us said much making the ride uncomfortable. Even though I hadn’t expressed it out loud, I thought it might be best if we just called it a night. I really didn’t want him to feel obligated to hang out with me any longer than he wanted to. I felt like a jerk for just inviting myself over to his place.
Out the window, I watched the city pass by knowing the memory of my first symphony, and this entire night, had been tainted. Everything had been so perfect. But, somewhere down the line, when I recalled this night, the hurt I felt would overshadow the best parts. It would force me to remember this was the night I decided that spending any further time with Drake was probably not in my best interest.
Chapter 18
When we got back to his apartment, I excused myself to “freshen up”. Really, I just wanted a few minutes to myself in order to figure out a way to leave gracefully without making him feel uncomfortable or embarrassing myself. Why had I even come here?
I dug through the little clutch purse Portia packed for me, looking for lip gloss. I didn’t really need to add any more makeup to my face, since I’d be on my way home soon, but I needed to look like I’d come in here to do something.
In my hunt for the lip gloss, I ran across a handful of condoms. If I wasn’t so bummed out, I would have found it humorous. It was, after all, just Portia trying to help me out again, even if this time seemed a little perverted and unnecessary, since I’m dead.
When I came out of the bathroom, Drake was behind the bar pouring a drink. “Since it’s so nice outside, I thought we could have a drink on the veranda.”
“Sure, sounds good.”
Actually, it sounded great, because it was an out I could use. I’d stay for one drink, thank him for a wonderful evening, and then go home, feeling completely rejected, and cry myself to sleep. There’d be no way to embarrass myself or make him feel obligated to entertain me longer than he wanted to.
He smiled. “I’ll bring it to you, if you want to head out there.”
I nodded and walked out into the warm night breeze. Soon I found myself gazing out over the city from the very same spot where I chastised him, during the dinner party. I felt a pang of guilt, so I moved.
“So, tell me honestly, what’d you think of the performance tonight?” he asked, walking onto the terrace, handing me a wineglass. He dimmed all the lights in the apartment so a nice glow reached out to us. I leaned into the corner of the partition wall. He was looking out over the city when I answered.
“I thought it was amazing,” I spoke, down into my glass. “Absolutely beautiful.”
“I agree.”
Something about his tone changed. When I raised my eyes, I found him no longer gazing at the view, but directly at me.
“Are we still talking about the same thing?”
“Probably not.” He smiled and I cracked.
“Drake, I think this has to stop.”
He was understandably at a loss. “What has to stop?”
“Look, I get that you’re not interested in me romantically anymore. I get it, I do, but please don’t insinuate like that, because it gets confusing.” I took a long swig of wine, hoping it would calm my increasing anxiety. It didn’t and, to make matters worse, I kept right on talking. “Thing is, I’m really hung up on you and, if you say sweet things... really sweet things... like that, I’m not going to be able to get over you and, if I can’t get over you, then we can’t even be friends.”
I quit rambling, took a deep breath, and followed it with another huge gulp of wine. He sighed heavily, but didn’t say anything. I took that as a bad sign. Had I really thought I’d get out of here without embarrassing myself? I really... really should have known better.
His head dropped, eyes focusing on his glass as he swirled the liquid around. Standing up straight, he set the glass on the ledge. “I don’t want you to get over me.”
I didn’t register a single word he said, before I went into defensive-damage control mode, “Hey, I’m sorry. Just forget I said anything. I should just gmnmm...”
His lips were on mine before I could beat a hasty retreat. He took me by such surprise; the wine glass slipped through my fingers and hit the ground, shattering into little shards, splashing what was left of the wine all over our feet. It startled us both. We looked down at the broken glass and then each other. He took my face in his hands and leaned his forehead against mine.
“I’m sorry I led you to believe I wasn’t interested. I calculated my strategy all wrong.”
I couldn’t do anything but cling tightly to his arms. After that kiss, I was on cloud nine, but I was waiting for it to dissipate, sending me hurdling towards the earth at break-neck speed. I tried to take some deep breaths, so the happy haze would clear and allow me to think straight.
He straightened up again, but didn’t release me. He brushed my hair away from my face. “You’re quiet now. Say something.”
“I... I’m confused.” His hand ran down my cheek and gently gripped my neck, as his thumb traced my jaw. Those little electrical shocks were there, but I needed to focus, so I fought hard not to close my eyes and savor them. “You haven’t even tried to so much as kiss me again since after the party. What gives?”
I hadn’t put it as eloquently as I’d wanted, but it was the best I could do with my hormones dancing a crazy jig through my body.
“This is going to sound ridiculous, but I was trying to take things slow.”
“You were trying to take things slow?” I repeated, because being so frazzled from the kiss, I wasn’t sure I’d heard correctly. “You were trying to take things slow, but we’ve already slept together?”
“Like I said... ridiculous, right?”
“Right, but for five weeks?”
“That harkens back to my miscalculation.” He must have still seen the confusion on my face, because he elaborated. “Thing is, we got off to a really bad start. When I walked home that night after the party, I got to thinking. I hadn’t done a single thing to prove that you could trust me. Up until that point, I’d done everything to the contrary.”
I shrugged and nodded, because disagreeing would have been dishonest.
“I want you to trust me and know I’m not into you just for the sex or some rebound fling.” He started to laugh. “But I guess that didn’t come across so well, did it?”
“Wow,” I laughed. “I completely misread your intentions.”
“Believe me—I want you as much more than just a friend.” He kissed me again. I was sure my heart was going to burst out of my chest.
When his lips pulled away, there was a question waiting on mine. “Are we done being turtles then?”
“I’m going to let you make that decision.”
“Then, God, yes we are.”
Taking him by the hand, I led him back into the apartment and up the stairs to the expansive loft-style bedroom on the second floor. When we reached the top of the stairs, I became temporarily distracted. While the rest of the apartment still bore Katarina’s cold decorating touch, the bedroom was all Drake. Even though all the furniture was black, the entire room was warm and inviting, right down to the honey-colored hardwood floors.
He stepped in front of me and I placed my hands on his chest. I continued to walk forward, forcing him to walk backward, into the bedroom. He held my hand in place as we danced closer to our destination. He brought my fingertips to his lips, kissing them gently, one by one. His mouth trailed to the back of my hand and began a slow ascend up my arm. By th
e time his kisses reached my shoulder, he had gravitated behind me.
He unlatched the choker, breathing a few kisses on my neck before his hands went into my hair. With a few swift motions, it came loose, cascading down, but he swept it over one shoulder while his lips caressed the other. His hand traced down my back to the zipper of my dress, where he hesitated.
The pause suggested he was unsure how far to take this. I reassured him by leaning my head back, lacing my fingers through his hair, and bringing his lips back down to mine. He tasted sweet, with just a hint of spice from the lingering brandy. The zipper on my dress was down and I pushed away from him slightly, allowing the garment to fall to the floor.
I spun to face him, only to notice he was still far too overdressed. He’d ditched the tux jacket when we’d walked in the door and I made fast work liberating him from the rest of his fancy attire. My hands rested on his chest and then slid down to his waist as he held the back of my neck, while I traced his pectorals and sternum with soft kisses.
My hands followed the path back up, snaking around his neck, while he lifted me out of the designer gown, which lay unceremoniously heaped at my feet. He knelt before me, running his strong hands down the length of my legs, sliding off my heels. Running his hands back up my body, he rested them on my hips. He was still on his knees and leaned in to lay fluttering kisses along my navel. It was the strangest sensation as his lips brushed against my skin in synch with the butterflies within.
I felt him inhale deeply, as if he was taking me into the very corners of his soul. He wrapped his arms around me tightly, laying his cheek against the flat of my stomach. I too, took an extended breath as I closed my eyes and combed my fingers through his hair. This was so much different from the first time we’d been together—not that it hadn’t been amazing before—but it had been more rushed because we had to have each other right away. This time, it seemed we were savoring the moments. He sighed against my skin, leaving me to wonder if he felt the same way.
Prayer for the Dead (Revenants in Purgatory) Page 14