Everything You Want

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Everything You Want Page 3

by Like, Macyn


  Marissa’s car wasn’t in the parking lot when I pulled in, which was no surprise. I usually noticed noise coming from her apartment around five-thirty, so I gathered she got off work about five or so.

  When I got inside I plugged my iPod into the speakers and turned it on, pulled a stack of papers and a red pen out of my messenger bag, and crashed out on the couch. I graded papers for a couple hours, until I heard the door next door open and close. A smile broke out over my face. I was going to do it. I had been thinking about what Emery had said all afternoon, and even though I was pretty sure it was a bad idea, I wanted to see her. I didn’t want to ruin the perfect, easy fantasy I had created in my head, but Emery was right. I wanted to get to know her, even if it wasn’t in my best interest. I couldn’t convince myself to care at that moment.

  I graded a few more papers and then set them down on the coffee table. I stood up and took a deep breath as I walked to the door. I flung it open and my eyes almost popped out of my head.

  Because there she was, standing right outside my door.

  Chapter 5

  Marissa

  I jumped back, almost dropping the tray of cookies I was holding. I hadn’t even knocked yet, and there he was, standing in his doorway, like he had been waiting for me. Half a second later, I realized that was a stupid thing to think. He was going out, obviously.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “Were you going somewhere? I was just bringing these over.” I tilted my head towards the tray in my hand, my excuse for showing up on his doorstep. Who didn’t like chocolate chip cookies? No one, that’s who.

  “No, I was just…stepping out for some air. Do you want to come in?” he asked.

  “Okay.” Yes, I did. I’d been thinking about him all day, about what Greta said, about getting to know your neighbors and all, and today seemed as good a day as any to start. He stepped aside and I walked into his apartment.

  I looked around. It looked exactly like mine, except like a guy lived there. Plain, dark furniture, zilch decoration, big TV. It was surprisingly clean, though. It was probably cleaner than mine.

  I walked into the kitchen and set the tray down on the spotless counter. “Would you like a cookie? I baked them on Saturday and I had a lot left over.”

  “Yeah, thanks. Can I make you some coffee?” he asked, coming up behind me. He leaned over me and reached above my head, pulling a coffee can and filters out of the cabinet in front of me. I bit my lip as his chest grazed my back, and inhaled his clean, fresh scent.

  I unwrapped the foil from the cookies and noticed he was filling up the coffee pot with water all the way to the brim.

  “Oh, no coffee for me. Thanks.”

  “No coffee? Do you not drink caffeine this late?” he asked, scooping coffee grounds into the basket.

  “No, I do. I just don’t drink coffee. Period,” I said.

  “No coffee?” He scrunched his nose. “Freak.”

  My eyes went wide and I burst out laughing. “Did you just call me a freak?”

  “Yes. Who doesn’t drink coffee?” he asked, shaking his head, trying to hide his smiling eyes.

  “I don’t,” I said, still laughing.

  “Well, what do you drink then?” he asked.

  “Everything except coffee.”

  “Yeah, but what’s your favorite?”

  “Sweet Tea.” I smiled.

  He made a face. “Ugh, that’s nasty. So you’re a tea drinker, then?”

  “I suppose so.”

  “Okay, let me see what I’ve got here.” He put away the coffee can and began to dig in his cabinets. “There it is,” he said a moment later. “My sister left this stuff here last time she stayed with me.”

  He handed me a box. I read the label. “Blackberry sage?”

  “Yeah. I’ll brew you some.” He dug a pan out, filled it with water, and set it on the stove to boil.

  He took the tray of cookies and brought them into the living room. He picked a stack of papers off the coffee table and shoved them into a messenger bag beside the couch.

  “What’s all that?”

  “Homework,” he replied, sitting down on the couch.

  “That’s a lot of homework,” I said, joining him.

  He laughed. “No, not my homework. It’s my students’ homework. I’m grading it.”

  “Oh. You’re a teacher?” I asked, surprised. Of all the career fields I had imagined him in, that wasn’t one of them.

  “Yes.”

  “What do you teach?”

  “I teach algebra to ninth graders,” he said, biting into a cookie.

  Then I was the one who made the face.

  He chuckled. “It’s really not that bad. Sometimes I even like it.” He winked at me and my heart skipped a beat.

  I took a cookie and nibbled on it, even though I was far from hungry.

  “This is a good cookie. Your cake was good, too. You should be a baker. If you’re not already, that is.”

  I smiled. “I’m not. I’ve thought about it, but it’s not really that practical. Baking is just a hobby for me. It’s kind of how I wind down. I don’t want to screw that up by making a job out of it.”

  He nodded. “So what do you do, then?”

  “I work at a bank.”

  “Do you like it?”

  “Not really.”

  “Then why don’t you do something else?”

  “Believe me, I’m trying. I must have, like, fifty résumés out there right now. It’s just hard to find a job right now, I guess.”

  “I’ve heard that.”

  Kieran walked into the kitchen and grabbed two mugs out of a cabinet. He filled one with coffee and the other with the boiling water from the pot on the stove. He popped a tea bag in the second one and brought them both into the living room.

  “Here you go. Let me know if you like it. My sister’s crazy about it.”

  “Thank you,” I said, accepting the warm mug.

  As he sipped his coffee, I looked him over. His hair was pulled back and he was wearing black pants and a long sleeved red shirt. It was ninety-five degrees outside. I knew I was probably out of line, but suddenly I had to know. “Is that why you always wear long sleeves? Because you’re a teacher and you have to cover up all of your tattoos or something?”

  Coffee spewed from his mouth. “All my tattoos?” He laughed. “What makes you think I have a bunch of tattoos?”

  I shrugged and stared down into my mug, trying to hide my embarrassment. “Do you?”

  “No.” He smiled, getting up and going into the kitchen for a napkin to wipe himself off. “I mean, I do, but only a couple. I got them when I was young and stupid and I don’t plan on getting anymore.”

  “And they’re on your arms?”

  “No. One is on my back and the other one is on my chest,” he said, touching the place where each tattoo was.

  “What’s the one on your chest?”

  “I’d rather not say. It’s sort of embarrassing. I’m actually in the process of having it removed.”

  “Okay, how about the one on your back?” I asked.

  “It’s a Gemini.”

  “A Gemini?” I snickered. “Is that your star sign?” I was never much for astrology.

  “No, I’m a Scorpio.”

  “Then why do you have a Gemini tattoo?”

  “Because I’m a twin.”

  “You’re a twin? That’s cool. What’s your brother’s name?”

  “Sister. Her name is Kiera. She lives in New York. And she has the same tattoo, in the same place.”

  “Kieran and Kiera?”

  “Yes, they’re very similar.” He smiled and rolled his eyes. “It’s actually very annoying. If I ever have twins I’m naming them something completely different.”

  “That’s probably a good idea.” I laughed, lifting the mug I was holding up to my mouth and taking a sip. “Mmm. I’ve never had hot tea before, but this is really good.”

  “You’ve never had hot tea? You’re not much of a
tea drinker, then, are you?” he teased.

  “No, I am. Just iced. And very, very sweet. There’s this place downtown where I eat lunch that has excellent sweet tea. It’s like drinking pure sugar. I’d buy a gallon of it to take home if they sold it that way.”

  We sat eating cookies and drinking our drinks for a few minutes before I remembered what I had initially asked him about. “So, if you’re not covering something up, what is it?”

  “Hmm?” he asked, looking at me over his coffee mug.

  “The sleeves,” I prompted. “Are you cold natured?”

  “No, that’s not it. I was in a car accident a few years ago, and my arm…” he trailed off, looking away from me. After a few seconds he said quietly, “I just don’t like to look at it, or for other people to see it.”

  “Oh,” I said, immediately regretting that I’d asked.

  We sat in silence for a few moments more before he spoke again. “So, seriously. Why did you think I had a ton of tattoos? I mean, besides the sleeves.”

  “I don’t know. I guess—” I laughed, embarrassed. “I guess you just kind of have this dangerous aura.”

  “Dangerous aura?” he repeated, amused. “That is…” He burst out with laughter. “I don’t even know.”

  “Stop!” I said, but I was laughing too. “You’re the one that wanted to know.”

  “Is it my hair? Because I only wear it like this because I look like an idiot with short hair. And I wear it up most of the time anyway, because of my job.”

  “No, not really. I think it’s just the way you carry yourself, maybe.”

  He laughed. “I’m not dangerous. Far from it.”

  “Yeah, I know that now.”

  “So were you, like, afraid of me?” he asked.

  “No! I was never afraid of you. I said I thought you had a dangerous aura, not that I thought you were actually dangerous.” I was really digging myself in deep. The conversation just kept getting worse.

  “Oh, so you don’t mean like a scary dangerous?”

  “No.”

  “You mean more like a hot kind of dangerous?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

  I looked down at the floor. I could feel my cheeks flaming.

  “Wait, do you?” he asked. “I was joking, but if you think I’m hot I’m not going to argue with you,” he teased.

  I glanced up at him, wishing I could just crawl under a rock somewhere. “I didn’t say that.”

  “So, you don’t think I’m dangerously hot?”

  I knew he was just messing with me, but it didn’t lessen my embarrassment.

  I sucked in a deep breath and looked back down. “I didn’t say that.”

  I expected him to comeback with another teasing reply, and when he didn’t I looked back up at him. He was leaning back on the couch with a thoughtful look in his eyes, and a small, pleased smile on his lips. “So how about that tea?” he asked when he noticed me looking at him. “Do you want a refill? I have plenty more.”

  “Oh, no. I’m good, thanks. I actually need to get going. I’ve got a few things to do tonight before I go to bed, and it’s about time for me to take the dog out, so…”

  “Okay,” he said, standing up. “Thanks for bringing the cookies over.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Feel free to bring over some more cookies, or cakes, or pastries or whatever. Anytime.”

  He opened the door for me and I walked out into the balmy summer evening. “Sure, no problem,” I said.

  We stood there and smiled at each other for a moment before I turned and walked back to my apartment. When I heard the door shut behind me I paused before sticking my key in the lock. A slow smile crept across my face. Yeah, I could see myself making him some more cookies, or cakes, or pastries or whatever.

  Chapter 6

  Kieran

  “I’m too old for this crap, Ollie.”

  “Just five more minutes,” my friend, Ollie whispered.

  I crossed my arms and sighed. “This is stupid. I can’t get busted for being out here. I’m a teacher. I’m pretty sure defacing property is frowned upon.”

  “Five more minutes!” Ollie whispered louder. “You know, you used to be a lot more fun.”

  “Yeah, I used to be a lot more drunk,” I mumbled, and walked back over to where my best friend, Shannon, and his fiancée, Alisha, were still sitting in the parked car a few feet away.

  I never thought I’d feel like an old man at twenty-four, but I did. It wasn’t so bad when it was just Shannon and me, but with Ollie…

  “It’s creepy out here. Looks like a good place to get mugged,” Alisha complained as I climbed into the backseat.

  “Yep,” I agreed.

  I watched Ollie as he finished tagging the old underpass. “Done!” he gave us the thumbs up and shoved the spray paint cans back in his backpack.

  “Good,” I said, quietly enough that only Shannon and Alisha could hear me.

  Ollie considered himself to be an artist, and he really wasn’t bad. He was actually the one who got me into the whole sketching thing. Ollie was serious about his art. I liked most of his stuff, and thought maybe he could make a living at it if he put in enough time and effort. He was just a little too old to still be using graffiti as a means of artistic expression. His reasoning was that he could reach a wider audience that way.

  “You know, this is why I never take you guys anymore. You’re always rushing me.”

  “Because if we get caught we would probably lose our jobs. We need them to pay for things, you know,” I said.

  “Not to mention this place looks like a crime scene,” Alisha muttered.

  Ollie glared at us. “I can’t help it. I was inspired and I needed to get it down, and the guys I normally go with now were busy.”

  “So paint it on a canvas,” Shannon suggested.

  “That’s not how it works,” Ollie said through clenched teeth.

  I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t help grinning. Ollie was always getting on to us for not understanding his artistic visions.

  Shannon and Ollie were my two oldest friends. Also my only friends, besides Emery. We had grown up together, gone to college together, and moved to Memphis afterwards. Well, Shannon and Ollie had moved first, and I had joined them later. I’d taken a little detour during college and graduated a semester late.

  “Let’s hit the Lounge,” Alisha said as Shannon started up his car.

  “No. I don’t want to run into Ilana.”

  “Why not? It’s been about a month, hasn’t it?” Alisha asked.

  “Something like that.”

  “You have to see her sometime,” she said.

  “In this city? No, I don’t.”

  “Okay, so now we can’t go to the Lounge anymore because Ilana hangs out there?”

  “No, you can go anytime you want. I just don’t want to go there.”

  “What’s with you tonight, Kier? You’re being a downer,” Alisha said, twisting around in passenger’s seat.

  Shannon turned the radio down. “No offense, but she’s right. Something wrong, man?”

  “I’m fine,” I said, leaning back in my seat.

  “Is this about Ilana?” Alisha asked, “Because, personally, I’m glad you’re done with her.”

  “No. Kieran doesn’t get upset over girls,” Ollie said.

  No, I didn’t. Not anymore. It was a rule I’d made for myself years ago. I didn’t get involved enough to get attached, to get emotional. Honestly, it was a rule I’d never even been tempted to break.

  And then…Marissa.

  It was one thing for me to fantasize about being with Marissa. It was another thing for me to actually be with her. And if she kept coming around, there was no way I could stay away. Of course I’d pretty much made it clear I wanted her to come back around, and a big, sadistic part of me hoped she did.

  Alisha looked at me. She was still waiting for an answer. “It’s not Ilana,” I said.

  “Good. She wasn’t good eno
ugh for you.”

  We cruised down Beale in silence until finally, Shannon pulled up in front of a crowded club. He turned his head to look at Alisha. “Is this okay?” he asked.

  “Perfect.” She smiled as he looked around for somewhere to park.

  “It’s okay, right?” Shannon asked again, this time directed at me.

  I really wished he wouldn’t do that. I knew he meant well, but I hadn’t touched a drink in four years and it wasn’t like it killed me to be around it. Besides, alcohol was never really the problem anyway. But nobody knew that.

  The club was packed. The bass boomed over the speakers, causing the air to vibrate. Multi-colored lights flashed over by the crowded dance floor. After looking around for a bit, we found a booth in the back. Alisha immediately took off for the dance floor and Ollie went to go get us something to drink.

  “Want something, Kieran?” he asked.

  “Coke, please.” I propped my elbows on the table and rested my chin in my hands. I so wasn’t in the mood to be there.

  A couple hours later Shannon dropped me off in front of the apartment. There were a lot of attractive girls at the club, but I only danced with Alisha, because she asked me to. Shannon didn’t dance, so I usually stepped in for him when she needed me to. Normally, for part of the night, though, I’d go off on my own and find a girl to spend time with, but I wasn’t in the mood to socialize. I was still thinking about Marissa, trying to figure out what made her different from Ilana, and the one before her, and all the other girls I’d dated in the past few years. I couldn’t figure it out. She was beautiful, but so were the others. Not like her, but they were attractive enough. I had thought maybe it was because of the fantasy of her that I had built in my head, but she had come over and completely disproved that theory. No, it was just her, something about her.

 

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