by Tiffany King
Tanya’s office was located in a small building that housed various other medical practices. After a short elevator ride to the third floor, I walked into an empty waiting room. Her door was closed, meaning she was most likely still with another patient. There was a TV hanging on the wall, but it always remained on one of the cable news channels. No, thank you. She didn’t have the most up-to-date magazines either, so I pulled out my iPad to read. It wasn’t long before her door opened and a gangly-looking teenage boy walked out followed by Tanya, who was giving her good-byes.
“Hello, Mac. It’s lovely to see you.” Unlike my mom, Tanya had no qualms about my name preference. Especially since she had insisted from day one that calling her “Dr. Ziwiski” was far too formal for her taste. Not that I knew any other shrinks, but Tanya didn’t seem to fit the typical mold of straitlaced, business-attired, or tacky sweater vest–wearing doctors I had seen on TV. She wore long skirts or sundresses with flowers in her hair, and if she even wore shoes in the office, they were usually flip-flops.
“Hi, Tanya.” I walked toward her, bracing myself for the inevitable hug I knew was coming. I didn’t know if she did it as part of my therapy because she knew I hated hugs, or if she was that way with everyone, but I always got a hug before and after our sessions. The layout of her office was as informal as she was. The two chairs where we sat were separated by a small round coffee table, where she had a pitcher of ice-cold water and a plate of organic oatmeal chocolate chip cookies, which she claimed to have made herself.
I’d been coming to see Tanya for about a year now, and each of our sessions started the same way. She sat in silence, not asking any questions until I started talking first. “So, everything has been going pretty good,” I offered. I knew when she continued to sit without commenting that she was expecting more than general statements. “Classes are fine. No problems there, so—”
“Have you met anyone yet?” Ugh, it was as if she could read my mind. I wanted to deny it, but I sucked at lying. She would know I was full of shit and would keep asking and asking.
“Sort of,” I admitted, fidgeting uncomfortably in my chair.
“A guy?” I nodded my head, feeling like I had been tricked into admitting something I didn’t want to. “Wonderful. Tell me about him.”
“His name is Bentley. We met at school, in the library. Actually . . .” I paused, feeling strange about telling her that he had been the one who helped me during the accident. In her usual fashion, she sat, waiting for me to continue. “He’s an EMT and well, actually, he was the one who saved me during the accident.”
“And you recognized him? Is that how you met?” She surprised me. I guess I had expected something more from her. Some type of objection for my poor judgment. Maybe it was me who had the problem. What a shocker.
“Well, yes, but he approached me first. I think we’re really just friends.”
“New friends are a good thing. Is one of you under the impression that there is more to your relationship than that?” she asked. It was a fair question even though I had no good answer. Things were going okay between Bentley and me, but whether he was interested in more than just a friendship, I wasn’t sure.
“I don’t know. I mean, he’s a great guy. Really cute, but, what I mean is, he might want more, but I’m not sure.” I sounded like a twelve-year-old wondering if I should pass a note to a guy to see if he liked me.
“It sounds like you still have some things to work out.”
“You could say that.”
“Have you shared your feelings with him?”
“That’s the problem. I’m not sure how I feel. I’m attracted to him, but I’ve never been in a real relationship like this. You know about Zach and me, but that was different. We were technically ‘boyfriend’ and ‘girlfriend,’ but there was never that kind of love. Does that make sense?” Looking back now, I realized I never gave much thought to my relationship with Zach while we were dating. At least not until graduation night when I found out I was the third wheel.
“You know, Mac, you don’t have to be afraid to express yourself. If you want something more from Bentley than friendship alone, tell him. You might be surprised.”
For the rest of the session, we talked more about Bentley and how Trina and I had worked things out. Tanya seemed pleased that I was making some social progress in my life. I got my customary hug as I left, along with an offer to call her if I needed to talk more about my new budding relationship.
Bentley was waiting right where I told him to meet me when I left class that afternoon. “Hey.” He pulled me in for a quick hug.
My breath swooshed out of me in a rush as his arms pulled me close. The hug was unexpected and left me feeling slightly disoriented, especially since he lifted me off my feet. It had been a long time since someone had hugged me so impulsively. His arms were strong and sure as they locked me against his chest. The cologne he wore swirled around me, clouding my senses. I didn’t even know how to react. Before I knew it, he was already pulling away and plucking my backpack from my hands.
He trotted off toward the parking lot purposefully as I followed behind. I swear he had a way of constantly throwing me off guard. One time he wants to hold hands. Another time he swoops me up in his arms like he plans on ravishing me. Today he lifts me up and hugs me like he’s wrestling a bear and then he strolls ahead of me like I’m no different than one of his roommates. Trailing behind him, I wondered if he really was oblivious to everything going on.
thirteen
Bentley
So I hugged her like a soldier coming home from deployment. Friends hugged. Well, not my friends and me per se, but chicks hugged each other a lot. Somehow I come up with these ideas with Mac that sound romantic in my head, but my execution keeps falling short. I get myself worked up and take it one step too far. Hence the way a gentle one-armed hug practically turned into an assault. I was lucky she didn’t haul off and hit me. The only thing I could think of doing after that was to head for the car before she had a chance to ask what my problem was. Then I would have really sounded like an idiot because, quite frankly, my head was so fucked-up, I would’ve had nothing.
It was crazy how I kept telling myself not to be an asshole. To take it slow with Mac because she needed more time than any other girl I ever dated. I was cool with all that until I got around her. Then my nerves went to hell. I’ve been trained to stay calm under pressure and I still turn into a wuss around Mac.
By the time I reached the car, I had managed to pull myself together. Thankfully Mac had followed me, which for whatever dumb-ass reason, I had neglected to consider. Turning around, I could see she was trying her hardest to keep up. I definitely felt like the douche of the year after that.
“Shit¸ I’m sorry.”
“For what?” she huffed out, trying to catch her breath. She genuinely looked confused.
“For making you chase after me,” I answered, opening the car door for her. “You should have whacked me in the back of the head.”
“I didn’t mind,” she confessed as she buckled her seat belt.
“Well, I mind. What kind of asshole does that? My mom would hit me with a club if she saw all her hard work of trying to make a gentleman out of me going down the tubes.”
“It made me feel normal.”
“What do you mean, it made you feel normal? You look pretty normal to me.”
“You were walking like you normally do. I had to work to keep up with you, but it made me feel for the first time in forever that I wasn’t holding someone back. It was nice. Like you forgot about this,” she said, thumping her cane.
“That cane doesn’t define you,” I said, pulling up in front of my complex.
She snorted. “Of course it does. It’s a glaring reminder of everything that happened and everything I’m no longer able to do. It’s like I’m dragging along a ball and chain everywhere I go.”
“Is it really that bad?” I wanted to understand, but how could I relate to those types
of feelings?
She shrugged, but didn’t answer.
I jumped out of the car after parking and helped her climb out before scooping her up in my arms.
“What are you doing?” she yelped.
“Isn’t that obvious? I’m carrying you up the stairs.”
“The stairs are all the way over there,” she said dryly, even though I noticed she had marginally relaxed in my arms.
“I figured it was just as easy to pick you up here.”
“Maybe you could at least ask before you keep picking me up. I’m beginning to think you went into the wrong profession. You sure you didn’t want to be one of those pro wrestlers on TV?”
“Now there’s an idea,” I answered blandly, resisting the urge to bury my nose in her hair to see if it smelled as good as the last time I carried her.
She smirked at me, but snuggled even closer. I tightened my hold and slowed my pace. I was going to enjoy this moment for as long as I could.
“Am I too heavy?”
“Are you kidding? I’ve carried a stack of books that was heavier than you. I figure it’s better to be cautious. It would suck if I fell backward, or for that matter, fell forward. I’d crush you.” I was teasing, of course. It would be a cold day in hell before I let something like that happen.
“That would suck,” she agreed.
Despite my attempt to prolong the moment, we eventually made it to my floor. I would have carried her all the way to my apartment like I had the other night, but I sensed that would be pushing it. Reluctantly, I set her back down.
“Thanks,” she said, finding her footing. “Stairs are still my kryptonite.”
“It’s not a problem at all. You weigh less than a bag of cement.”
“I’m sure there’s a compliment in there somewhere.”
I laughed. “Sorry. I worked at a building supply company when I was a teenager. It was the only comparison I could think of.”
“That seems like a good job for a teenager.”
“My uncle owns the company. I had to sling around bags of concrete and mulch in the heat all summer, but the pay was good. Everyone else I knew was making minimum wage working fast food or wherever and I was bringing home a cool ten bucks an hour.”
I opened my apartment door and ushered her inside. Chad’s boxers and jeans were draped over the arm of the couch. That freaking guy. He knew I was going to have company over. Obviously he’d decided to change in the living room, most likely while he played Xbox. Snatching his clothes off the couch, I carried them to his room and tossed them inside. Judging by the mess covering the majority of his floor, he’d never notice. I could see Sherman in his aquarium across the room staring at me with his beady black eyes. He was probably plotting how he was going to strangle me in my sleep with his tail.
“You guys feed pizza to your couch?” Mac asked when I joined her.
“What?” I asked, momentarily confused until I spotted a piece of crust poking up between the couch cushions. “Of course. Don’t you?” I dug the half-eaten piece out and tossed it on the coffee table.
“Nah, our couch at home is a food snob. If it’s not from a five-star restaurant, it wants no part of our cuisine.”
“Too bad. Day-old sofa pizza isn’t bad. You should try it.”
“You know, I think I’ll pass. We’ll save it for Chad.”
I was glad to see that her sense of humor ran along the same lines as mine. My jokes went completely over the head of the last girl I dated. On that note, just about everything I said went over her head. She was a knockout with a body that wouldn’t quit, but by our second date, the wall in my apartment was more interesting to talk to. Now that I thought about it, that was way back in May. Chad was right. I was practically a monk.
“You sure you don’t want to get a little studying done first?” Mac asked, sinking into the crust-free couch.
“No way. Unless you need to get some work done. I didn’t even think to ask that.”
“I’m good. I have plenty of time to get my studying in.”
“Excellent,” I said, rubbing my hands together. “Are you ready to Ferris your life?”
“Ferris my life?”
“Absolutely. Watching Ferris Bueller is a life-changing experience. You’ll never be the same after this. For the rest of your life Ferris will find a way to influence the decisions you make,” I said solemnly as I held up the DVD.
“Wow. I didn’t realize it would be such a privilege.”
“Have you not heard anything I’ve said? Ferris Bueller’s Day Off is not an ordinary movie. It’s special.” I switched off the light after sliding the disc into Chad’s Xbox. A little sunlight managed to sneak through the blinds, so it wasn’t quite the same as a theater, but it would have to do.
“Well, now I feel honored.” She smirked as I joined her on the couch. I sat within inches of her to gauge her reaction.
I’d given the seating for this occasion a lot of thought over the last few days. Probably more than any dude should. I’m sure if Chad or Michael knew, I’d wake up wearing the bra we kept around for when one of us was acting like a total pussy. Chad had been the last bra victim when we busted him bleaching the tips of his hair in the bathroom. That night Michael and I snuck in while he slept and hung the bra over his neck and snapped a few pictures.
Mac didn’t seem to mind that I was sitting so close. At least she didn’t flinch or anything. I’d never been this nervous with a girl. Hell, I’d done more in the first five minutes with other chicks. Mac and I were two weeks into our weird friendship/relationship, whatever this was, and I was being a total pansy-ass. I thought about getting the bra and strapping it on myself. I was acting like a chick anyway.
fourteen
Mac
The fine hairs on the back of my neck stood on end with awareness. We were thirty minutes into watching the movie and I’d been on edge the entire time. Bentley was a foot away and we both sat like statues. It was like we were playing chicken and the first one to move would lose. Each minute that ticked by felt like an eternity. I thought about what Tanya had said about telling Bentley how I felt, but outside the privacy of her office, that seemed like an impossible idea. I was as indecisive as ever. I couldn’t deny the reaction he evoked from me when we were together. My pulse raced, making my breathing slightly heavier.
Feeling braver than I had in a long time, I moved my hand over until it was touching his. My eyes flickered away from the glowing TV screen to his face. His eyes remained on the movie, but I could see a small smile playing on his lips.
He surprised me by capturing my hand with his. Smiling, he turned my hand over and slowly traced the lines on my palm with the tip of his finger.
“We’re not watching the movie,” he said. Like I cared at that moment. I was more concerned with his finger tickling its way across the hypersensitive skin of my wrist.
“Yeah,” I answered as he began gently massaging my forearm. He moved in slow lazy circles, giving me goose bumps. My blood felt as if it was reaching a boiling point. Bentley’s touch was soft and tormenting, making me crazy with sensations I’d never experienced. I wanted him to tighten his hold, to stop the tingling of every nerve ending in my body. My free hand itched to grab his.
As I raised my head, I found his eyes locked with mine. He moved both his hands to my upper arms, tightening his hold in a way that made it clear he wanted more. It only served to set the fire in me to a roar, ready to blaze out of control.
My lips and throat completely dried out. I needed to tell him. I needed him to know what he was doing to me. “Bentley,” I gasped.
“I know,” he answered, pulling me closer. “We’re just friends.” His lips moved within an inch of mine.
I nodded my head in agreement, but I wanted more. He was so close, but still unattainable since he was holding me in place. His touch was rough, but in a demented sort of way that felt so good. “Bentley, please,” I found myself pleading.
“Please what?” He tea
sed my chin with the softness of his lips. The touch was foreign and erotic in a way that made me tremble from head to toe.
“Kiss me,” I uttered with another spasm of desire shaking me. The intense response of my body was intoxicating. I wondered if he felt the same, or was I just like any other girl he had been with?
His lips halted any further words. They settled on mine so abruptly, so fiercely, they crushed every bit of anticipation that had built to that point. This time it was me who held him in place as my fingers wove into his short locks of hair. Bentley’s tongue stroked against mine. Brazen and possessive, it felt so damn good, I pulled him closer. I opened up to him, giving him everything he sought and taking everything I needed. Nothing else mattered. His kisses somehow filled the emptiness I’d been feeling for so long. The empty shell that carried the ghosts of my past filled with an overflowing gamut of new emotion.
I was unsure how long we had kissed before we heard the jingling of keys. Bentley pulled away abruptly as the front door swung open. My fingertips moved to my lips, which felt swollen after the heat of passion.
A loud voice boomed behind me as the overhead light came on. “Dude, were you two sucking face?” There was no denying his statement considering I was still sitting with Bentley practically sprawled on top of me. He thought it was funny as he laughed at my feeble attempts at moving him off me. Bentley made it hard since he refused to let go of me.
“I thought you had class,” Bentley said over my head as he moved to his own spot next to me on the couch.
“It ended like an hour ago, bro.” His roommate bounced down on the couch where I had been sprawled. “I’m Chad,” he greeted me, offering his hand.