“Yeah,” he says, leaving his bedroom and coming to sit beside me. “Some guys from my basketball team wanted to hit the clubs.” He rubs his eyelids. “Not the best idea. We’re not teenagers anymore.”
“You’re so old.”
“Doesn’t look like partying was the best decision for you either.”
“I didn’t start wasted. It progressed.”
“It usually does. Where were you?”
“At Brits with Lindsey, Keeley, and…” He hates when I talk about the online dating thing, so I don’t want to mention Dan.
“You were there with Mr. December.”
“For a little while.” My shoulders slump and I lose focus for a moment. Pete destroyed any hope of seeing Dan again. “He was nice.”
“So why so maudlin? You look like someone skinned and ate Prospero.”
“You don’t want to hear about it. It’s too depressing.”
He tilts his head to the side and frowns, concerned. “Sure, I do, if you need to talk about it.”
“It’s just so unfair,” I say.
“What is?”
“Everything. Dating, men, my friends not getting the Power of Courage until it’s too late.”
“I hear you.”
“I don’t understand why things can’t work out, just once, for me,” I say and lay my head back on the couch and stare at the ceiling. He puts his hand on my shoulder and I look over.
“Life isn’t fair,” he says. “It’s old and corny, and everyone says it, but they never believe it. Love isn’t some magic equation.”
“You mean A plus B doesn’t make C?”
“C being love? Nope. That’s why I don’t believe in Internet dating. There’s no way a computer can calculate love. Attraction maybe, but not that.”
“I thought Dan might be more…but then stupid Pete was there.”
“Your ex-boyfriend?”
“My ex-fiancé. The bastard scared Dan away. He kissed me at midnight and ruined my whole evening.”
“You kissed your ex-fiancé? The one who left you at the alter?”
“He didn’t leave me at the alter!” I say, words flared in anger. “He dumped me right before the wedding and left me for a trampy blond girl named Amber.”
“But you kissed him, and you were on a date with this other guy?”
“No. He forced me to kiss him. I yelled at him and told him to leave me alone. Forever! I wanted to kiss Dan! But he left too. Right after Lindsey hit him on the head with a beer bottle.”
“Lindsey assaulted your date?”
“No! You’re getting it all wrong! Lindsey hit Pete, but it was too late. Dan flew away.” I wave my arms in the air to mimic flight, and Justin smiles but tries to hide it. “Why are you laughing? This isn’t funny!”
“It so is.”
“No, it’s not! Stop laughing!” He laughs harder and covers his mouth but won’t stop. I pounce on him and punch his chest. “Stop it! Pete ruins everything! The New Year started and as usual, I have nothing!” When I start to cry, Justin stops giggling. “Nothing.”
“That’s a strong assumption. And inaccurate.”
“Oh yeah,” I sniff and wipe my nose with a fist. “What exactly do I have now that I didn’t have last year?” His hand moves toward my face and wipes a tear away. I become keenly aware that I’m straddling him. His chest feels strong under my hands, and his heart beats frantically. I look in his eyes and see fear and tenderness. It’s a weird combination, but also fresh and gratifying. Holy crap. Someone wants me. I never thought it was Justin.
I bend my face to his and he rises to meet mine. Our first kiss is awkward but passionate, lips parting and meeting with delicate force. I pull his shirt over his head and fling it over the couch and out of sight. He works more patiently on my blouse’s buttons. He doesn’t break one. I slip free from the blouse and it flies to meet his shirt. He runs his fingers through my hair and sighs. “I love your hair,” he whispers.
I smile and reach for his pajama bottoms. I haven’t had sex in three years. I hope I remember where everything goes. He helps me slip off his pants and then...there’s nothing.
January
Steven Shaved Legs and Rule Number Eight: Never sleep with a guy and leave in the morning without breakfast.
Oh no. Oh God. Shit, shit. I run from Justin’s apartment, shoes in one hand, and my purse in the other. I have no idea where my coat is. I hope I left it at the bar, because I love that coat. But that’s not what I’m upset about.
This morning, I had a When Harry Met Sally moment, and not the good part at the end where they get together and make that cute video about why they’re great for each other. I mean the part in the middle where Sally is distraught because her boyfriend broke up with her and she’s getting older. She and Harry make out and end up in bed together. Harry is wide-awake the next morning, terrified by Sally’s closeness and her happiness that he’s lying beside her. That same thing happened this morning, only I’m Harry, and I feel awful.
Justin smiled in his sleep, naked, and I was naked too! Bits and pieces of the night before come back to my headachy brain: crying, talking about Pete, Justin laughing, then…nudity. I don’t recall how many times we did it or how we came to be in his bed. The last thing I recall took place on the couch. You can imagine my dismay. There I was, in bed with one of my good friends, in a very compromising position. The clock read six, so I slipped out of bed and looked for my clothes. Not in his room.
It’s extremely awkward wandering around naked in someone else’s home, especially if you’re trying to be quiet and sneaky. Objects come out of nowhere and impede your progress, like trying to escape the masked killer in a corny horror movie. I ran into his coffee table, one lamp, and the couch, and luckily nothing fell over. I wanted to scream when I stubbed my toe on that damn table, but I held it in. The last thing I needed was for Justin to wake up and offer me coffee or tea or more sex. It was so awkward. I keep using that word, but no other describes the situation. I felt like a damn teenager again, and not in a happy-go-lucky way.
I finally discovered my skirt under the couch, my blouse behind it, and my bra on the coffee table amidst his poetry books. My shoes sit by the door near my purse, and I couldn’t find my coat. When I tried to put on the shoes, my feet shouted outrage. Mega blisters covered my ankles, the soles raw. How did I not notice that? Does sheer panic mask pain? Once I felt it, the pain wouldn’t go away. I couldn’t wear those shoes.
I opened the door, snuck outside, and crept to the stairs.
Now I’m in a cab. They’re numerous after New Year’s Eve, and I know what each driver is thinking: it’s easy to get fares this morning. Walk of shamers need rides home. I’m doing the limp of shame today.
The morning is crisp and cold, and I miss my coat. Since Brits won’t be open, I’ll have to get it on my lunch break tomorrow. Oh no. Work. Justin will be there. What do I do? What can I possibly say after fleeing the scene this morning? He’ll either be really mad or understanding. Or he might be hurt. I cannot bear listening to myself explain why I left. I can’t call in sick, because Kelly is giving me a new assignment. I went through the last romance novel quickly, another book by Elizabeth Hanks just as ridiculous as the last. Kelly nodded approval at my work but said I still needed one more to get the message through. I’m praying for a new author. But I can’t face Justin. He’ll be so pissed. I can’t hold Kelly off forever.
After the driver smirks as I exit the vehicle and I hobble to the elevator, I decide to go in tomorrow. I need to check in with Kelly, and it would be immature to avoid Justin. What we did is perfectly normal. Friends have sex all the time, and they seem fine afterward. Don’t they? Can men and women who sleep together ever really be friends? Keeley would say no, and Lindsey would ask why you wanted to be friends with men who weren’t gay. Alicia and Brian started out as friends with benefits, but I don’t want to marry Justin. I want to change last night. Whatever triggered our encounter needs to be erased.
<
br /> Even on sturdy shoes I shamble into the office the next day like a geriatric hurdler. I’m later than usual and Amy, the receptionist, gives me a surprised look. It feels like everyone is staring at me, though I know they’re nursing their own hangovers. Shame makes echoes.
Kevin is the only person watching me, and when I don’t greet him but go straight to my office, he follows and slams the door. Startled, I toss my briefcase in the air and it lands behind my desk.
“What the hell, Kevin?”
“You had sex.” He crosses his arms and glares me down, daring me to contradict him. Damn, his radar is well honed. He’s like a sex bloodhound.
“Shhhhhh!” I say loudly and look around. Then I remember that we don’t work at the CIA and my office is most likely not bugged. “No, I didn’t. Go away.”
“I knew it. Your defensive stance and denials won’t work on me. Kevin knows all when it comes to doing the nasty.”
“Don’t call it that.”
“Fine. The beast with two backs.”
“That either. I’m in no mood today for Shakespeare.” Which makes me think of Justin…and his butt. I move behind my desk and pick up the briefcase. “Thanks for scaring the shit out of me.”
“You can cancel your morning bathroom break.”
“I said leave. I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Did you do someone you shouldn’t have done?”
“No.”
“Did you make out with another woman?”
“NO!”
“Girl on girl is so hot right now. Let’s see…an old boyfriend?”
I get up and frog march him out of my office. He doesn’t need to know every little detail about my love life. He can read about it in my journal.
“I’ll find out sooner or later.” I shut the door in his fox-eyed face and spin around, bracing myself against the door. I need to stay calm. Kelly and that idiot Carly will know something’s wrong if I don’t get a grip. Should I talk to Justin before our monthly meeting? I don’t think so. Save that mess for lunch. Shit! I’m supposed to have lunch with Justin and Kevin today. Kevin will know what happened with his weird-vibe ESP.
I attempt to think of an excuse to miss lunch, and someone knocks and says, “Meeting!”
“I’ll be right there!”
Okay, Cassie. You are a powerful, resourceful woman who knows what she wants and is really good at her job. You will not be unmanned by Kevin’s sly innuendos, Kelly’s lack of taste in books, nor Justin’s pained expressions. Take a deep breath and go to the meeting. You can totally do this!
“Good morning, Cassie,” says Kelly. “Thank you for joining us.” I crowd in Kelly’s office beside Carly and Joe Carlson and mumble an apology. Justin stands next to her desk and smiles at me. Thank God, I don’t have to deal with weepiness. He looks fine. Carly smirks at me, and I want to punch her. Joe ignores me and taps his pen against his notebook, impatient to begin. “Right,” says Kelly. “Justin is assigned Mark Lawson’s new mystery. That boy keeps pumping these things out like crazy. Keep an eye out for run-ons and a tendency toward hyperbole.” Justin nods and takes the manuscript. “Carly can do the poetry collection from up north. Joe, I want you on a new author, Shirley Mason. She’s got real grit. And Cassie, I have a new author for you as well.” Awesome! No more romances. I think I’ve had enough for a long time. “Joe and Cassie, I need to go over a few things with you about these new acquisitions. Justin and Carly, you can go.”
Justin doesn’t acknowledge me when he leaves, but Carly pushes me out of her way with her shoulder. Joe notices but doesn’t say anything. Typical Monday.
“Joe. Mrs. Mason is a prickly old girl. We need to handle her with utmost care and precision. She demands quick work but expects perfection. Her work is edited, but it needs polishing. Don’t be afraid to kill some of her babies. I’ve circled a few in the first three chapters that need cutting. We all know writers have their favorite passages, but some of these must go.”
“Take an axe to her trees. Got it,” says Joe, and he leaves. I feel a tongue-lashing coming. I’m wrong.
“You did well on the last book,” she says and tilts back in her chair. “You’re getting better at leaving in some good scenes. I think you cut half of Kiss and Tell but left plenty for Sign of the Monarch.” That’s because I couldn’t stand reading it anymore and merely corrected the grammar in the second half. “I have a completely different writer for you.”
“And a new genre?”
“My dear, your lesson has yet to be learned. No new genre. An emerging author who needs your expertise.” She hands me a thin manuscript, maybe two hundred and fifty pages. I’m used to handling three to four hundred pagers, so the paper stack feels light.
“So short?”
“But well written. I find that the shortest work often yields the best results.”
“She’s edited the entire thing herself already?”
“She swears no, but I am not so sure. The prose is tight.”
“If she’s such an accomplished editor, why does she need us?”
“Why, indeed?” Kelly smiles her elfish smile and gestures to the door.
I have to admit, I’m curious.
With no reason to cancel lunch, Kevin, Justin, and I go down to the cafeteria. It’s too cold outside to brave the streets, and we don’t want to lose our good parking spaces, so moderate-to-crappy food it is. I feel like my face might melt off from the heat, I’m blushing so hard.
Kevin chatters in the elevator and all the way to the cafe, going on about his New Year’s and the guy he met. “Bjorn is tall, muscular, and so sweet. He’s not very bright, but I can forgive him. It’s not like I’m going to marry the guy.” He laughs and Justin snorts. I try to be mirthful but sound fake. Kevin doesn’t say anything, but I know he’s fishing for information. He reads my body language, gauges my vocal tone, and watches every facial tick, all while nattering on about Bjorn. Who names their kid Bjorn?
We sit in the semi-crowded room and stare at our trays. The cafeteria has little to offer on the best days, and this afternoon is no exception. My wheat roll is a tad stale, but the tomato soup is hot if bland. The coffee is okay, but it needs help. I wish they had honey. Justin and Kevin pick at their food as well, and Kevin dominates the conversation.
“I didn’t take Bjorn home, though. He needs a few more dates to determine eligibility. Then there’s Bobby. I’m not sure about him either. He’s super intelligent but not the best bod. That new intern from the fifth floor seems interesting, but my gay-dar’s not flashing on him. He probably bats both sides. So, Cassie who’d you sleep with last night?” He slips it in like a master manipulator, and I almost say “Justin.” Instead, I choke on my soup and spray roll bits on the table. Justin reaches over and pats my back, and I cringe away from him. Not much, but the motion is enough. Kevin’s eyes go wide, and Justin looks away.
“That good an evening huh?” asks Kevin, looking from me to Justin. “You must have had a dry night with that reaction. Oh well. Maybe I’ll call Keeley or Lindsey later. They probably had some fun.”
I leave work early, unable to look Justin in the eye or talk to Kevin. I’ll go home and start reading the new book. Maybe some light frivolity will distract me. As I push the garage button in the elevator, Justin slides in. The door closes, and I’m trapped. I feel like a woodchuck willing to gnaw its leg off to escape an iron trap’s jaws.
“Hi,” he says.
“Hi.”
“So, you were gone when I woke up.”
“Uh huh.” Come on elevator, go faster. The sooner this ends the better for both of us.
“It surprised me is all. I thought you might stay and chat before you left.”
“Um.”
“It’s all right. I totally understand. It was weird, right?”
“A bit.”
“But good too right?”
When I don’t answer his smile fades. “Oh.”
“I’m sorry, Justin. I didn’t mean fo
r that to happen. I don’t even remember everything.” He draws away from me. “What I do remember was nice,” I add, but it must be the wrong thing to say, because he turns toward me, his expression unreadable.
“Nice?”
“Um.” I suck at this. “I’m really bad at this.”
“You could have given me the brush off to my face instead of cowering all day.”
“Wha?”
“You’ve been acting weird all day. Kevin knows something’s up. He’s been bugging me, hinting since lunch.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“Of course, you didn’t.” He looks really mad, and I’m not sure how to quell him. “You know I’ve liked you forever, why would you sleep with me and sneak out when I’m passed out? It’s not like I was dead sober either. I felt terrible when I woke up and you were gone. I thought I did something wrong.”
“You didn’t…I didn’t know you had feelings for me.”
“Everyone knows I like you! Kevin’s been teasing me about it for three fucking years!”
“I didn’t know—”
“Don’t lie to me!”
“I’m not. It’s just—”
“Then why did you come over last night? Why the hell did you tell your cab to come to my apartment?”
“I don’t know. I was drunk.”
“And you were crying about Pete and some Dan guy.” He shakes his head. “I should have known this would happen. I should never have kissed you back.”
“I made a mistake.”
“It was a mistake?” Crap. I cannot say the right thing to save my life. When will this elevator to hell let me off? “That’s not the way I meant it. I don’t want this to ruin what we have.”
“And what do we have? It doesn’t seem like much.”
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