by TB Markinson
“If you’re good, I’ll make you dinner.”
“You actually cook?” I asked, flabbergasted.
She chuckled. “You don’t?”
“I eat out…” Typically double entendres didn’t trip me up, but this one seemed inappropriate.
“Oh, I do as well.” Her smile contained a promise. “Shall we say, a week from tonight? Great Expectations and dinner?”
“I know it’s one of his shorter novels, but will a week be enough?”
She waved a hand. “I read a book every few days or so. It’s only summer, and I’ve already reached my goal of reading seventy-five novels for the year. A new personal best.”
“I didn’t know Collins penned so many novels.”
“Now, now. We were getting along so well, even after our initial confessions. Don’t ruin it.”
I smiled. “Not my intention at all, especially now that I know you can cook and love discussing literature.”
“Those aren’t even my best qualities.”
“Of that I have no doubt. And, can I just say, I’m looking forward to uncovering your best qualities?”
She rested her chin on her knees and batted her eyes. “I have a feeling I can teach you a lot of things.”
I leaned closer to her. “I can be slow, sometimes. Go easy on me.”
Kat pulled my lips to hers, kissing me ever so softly. “Was that gentle enough?”
“Perfect.”
“More than Great Expectations?”
“Absolutely.” I leaned in for another kiss, only to have her place a finger on my lips.
“You set the rules; play by them.”
“The going slow rule.” I rubbed my jawline. “I think I can abide by that as long as you agree to a second date.”
“My cooking dinner for you doesn’t count?” Her smile was affectionate.
“Let’s call that a third or fourth date. I’m not sure I can go a whole week until I see you again. Besides, don’t you want to spend more time with me before having me over to your place? I’m only thinking of your safety. It’s my protective side.”
“Sweet talker, huh? Didn’t peg you as one.”
I could be, but I wasn’t trying to with her. “Only being honest. When can I see you?”
“Thursday.” She stood.
“Where are you going?”
“Unlike you, I have things to do today.”
Again, my phone vibrated.
“And something tells me whoever is on the other end is kinda pissed at you. Are you a love ’em and leave ’em type?”
I shook my head. “Not at all!” I said a little too forcefully.
She slanted her head, almost at my eye level. “I believe you.”
“Good. Actually, I’m the one who usually gets dumped.” I let out a nervous chuckle. “Probably shouldn’t have said that, but…” I hefted one shoulder.
Kat crossed her arms, not-so-accidentally pushing up her pillowy tits, a mischievous smile in place. “Do you know why they dump you?”
“Boils down to two reasons. One”—I raised a finger—“I’m too independent. Two”—I added another finger—“I usually have a packed schedule and girlfriends have felt I didn’t make enough time for them. One more thing, not that someone has given this as a specific reason, but I’m not the type to give flowers.”
“Ah. I appreciate the heads-up.”
“Does that mean you plan to tuck and run?”
“I’m not the running type. Maybe I should warn you once I put my mind to something, I don’t like to quit. And, I love a good challenge.” She gave me a quick hug that was woefully too short. “This has been a very pleasant afternoon, Cori Tisdale. Until Thursday.”
Just like that, she disappeared into the surrounding greenness.
Chapter Seven
When I returned home, I finally dredged up enough nerve to check my text messages. All were from Annie, starting fairly mild, such as, Hey, I’m here. Where are you? The niceness wore off pretty quickly, with the final text reading, You’re a fucking asshole.
Ouch but also deserved, considering.
I sighed.
Ditching one of my oldest friends to go for a walk with a hottie wasn’t my typical MO.
Then again, Kat wasn’t your typical hottie.
True, she had a smoking body she wasn’t afraid to show, which I truly appreciated.
From the short time I spent with her, I realized she knew how to be playfully seductive in the way that didn’t come across as slutty. The only way to describe the woman was she was Kat. And the first woman, in I didn’t know how long, to intrigue me, especially in the intelligence department. Smart women were a big turn-on. Shelia liked to joke I was a sapiosexual or whatever. Maybe I was when it came to relationships. One-night stands, which were rare for me, didn’t do much for me besides satisfy a need that I should have taken care of on my own when my brain and conscience kicked back in.
Then there was the issue of the women who usually slept with me, like Brooke. They did so because of who I was. This helped alleviate my guilt of sleeping with them. Tit for tat.
Relationships were a whole different ballgame. I needed to be with someone who had depth, brains, loyalty, and heart. Being beautiful certainly didn’t hurt, but it wasn’t at the top of the list. Not many believed me when I said that, which was why I usually kept quiet about it.
Kat ticked all of my boxes and then some.
Thursday was three days away. Plenty of time to think about her. At the moment, I had to make it up to Annie.
I texted: Drinks and dinner on me in an hour.
Her rapid-fire response read: How will I know you’ll be there?
I wrote back: I can send a photo of me sitting at the bar.
She didn’t respond right away, and I could envision her rolling her eyes. I had ditched her without a word of explanation, and I was lamely suggesting drinks and dinner at our usual hangout spot.
Although, she really couldn’t be too pissed at me. Annie had ditched me for a chick on more than one occasion. I never held it against her.
So, I wasn’t overly surprised when she replied with a thumbs-up emoji. Part of me had hoped she’d dish back a taste of my own medicine. That would be a sign she was the same old Annie. When we were younger, we liked to joke we were like Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn, always getting into trouble. However, we bickered over who was who.
Pondering if Sheila was right about Annie possibly developing feelings for me did my head in. I smiled fondly, remembering us practicing kissing way back when so we wouldn’t bomb on dates with other girls. My mind skittered to a stop. I closed my eyes, trying to remember whose idea it had been to practice kissing. Did her feelings for me go back to the beginning, but I never suspected? Am I even more of an asshole than I thought?
No, she would have told me sooner. Annie wasn’t the type to hold back. Was she?
At the college hangout, I asked Sheila to snap a photo of me with a repentant look and a beer in each hand. Two minutes later, Annie whisked through the doors. Had she been waiting outside for the proof I had shown?
Annie dropped onto the stool next to me, not speaking. She didn’t have to. Her eyes seared holes into my forehead.
I scooted the pint glass over to her. “I’m sorry.”
Sheila, drying a glass with a rag a few steps away, watched us out of the corner of her eye.
Annie swilled the beer, wiping her lips with the sleeve of her shirt after spilling some, probably out of anger. “Well?” she asked.
“Would you believe I completely forgot?”
She shook her head. “Nice try.”
“It’s true, though. I got wrapped up with something and forgot we were supposed to hang out this afternoon. What about tomorrow?”
“I’m leaving on my vacation tomorrow, remember? That’s why I wanted to get together today.”
I snapped my fingers. “That’s right. You’re heading t
o Miami to visit family.”
“Friends,” she corrected me.
“Friends who are like family.” I bobbed my head as if begging her forgiveness. “Is Josie going to be there? I haven’t seen her since she finished her undergrad a few years back.”
“Yeah, why?” The look of betrayal on her face nearly crushed me.
“Because she’s wild. If she’s going, I know you’ll have an awesome time.” I swung an arm over Annie’s petite frame. “I want you to have the best vacation ever. You deserve it.”
“Is that because I have the worst best friend in Boston?”
I pulled my arm back and placed both hands on my chest. “Ouch!”
“Did that hurt your feelings? Try sitting at Pablo’s all afternoon by yourself.”
I shifted on the barstool to face her completely and took both of her hands in mine. “Look, I’m really sorry. I never intended to ditch you, but something…”
She snorted. “Something or someone?”
“Come on. Don’t be that way. How often have I ditched you for someone?”
“Well, in recent history, you furtively got a person’s number while with me.”
It hit me. I didn’t ask for Kat’s number. How in the fuck was I going to get ahold of her now?
“Maybe you do have a heart, if the whiteness in your face is proof,” Annie said, completely misreading the source of my unease.
“O-of course… I do,” I stammered, a wave of cold whooshing through me. How could I have been so stupid? I didn’t even know Kat’s full name. I assumed Kat was short for Katharine, or did she spell it with an e? In today’s world, a first name would get me nowhere. It wasn’t like I could call the friendly telephone operator and say, “I need Kat’s number. You know, the most beautiful woman in Boston.”
Wait, she’d grown up on Louisburg Square. Maybe her parents were still there.
Annie’s eyes laser-locked onto mine. “Don’t beat yourself up too much.” She cupped my cheek. “I ended up bumping into Robbie and had lunch with her.”
I forced a what a relief smile. “But you wanted to make me feel miserable.”
“You deserved it, doncha think?”
I was feeling lousy for all the wrong reasons. How could I let Kat walk out of my life twice? It wasn’t like phones were novelty items. Even elementary students had one glued to their hands. I had issues breaking or losing my phones, but I usually replaced them promptly. Barbara always reminded me to back up my SIM card.
Sheila sidled up, wiping yet another glass. She placed it under the PBR tap, filled it to the brim, and set it before me. Tossing the rag over her shoulder, she asked, “So have you two kissed and made up yet?”
“We’ve made up, but I’m still waiting for my kiss.” Annie’s lips puckered.
Sheila emitted a yuck sound, making Annie laugh.
I bumped my shoulder into Annie. “Not after making me feel like shit when you had lunch with Roberta Rodriguez, quite possibly the hottest basketball player on Harvard’s team at the moment.”
“Only because you finished your undergrad.” Annie hopped up. “I need to pee.”
When it was just the two of us, Sheila crossed an arm over her chest, and with her free hand, she rested an index finger against her mouth. This was her pose when figuring out someone’s true motives. “There’s something different about you today.”
I leaned on my forearms on the bar. “You know what, Sheila?”
One of her eyebrows quirked up.
“You’re full of shit.”
She laughed. “I’m a law student. That’s an essential ingredient needed when applying.” It was her turn to lean in. With her face two inches from mine, she said, “My eyes may be stained brown, but I do know when you’re acting strange. My advice, cut this evening short. Go home. Get your head screwed on straight. Annie’s eager but not a total moron.”
Annie approached, closely eyeing my interaction with Sheila. “What’s going on?”
Sheila placed the back of her hand on my forehead. “Cori’s burning up.”
The jealousy in Annie’s eyes morphed into concern. She cupped my cheek. “You do feel warm.”
Sheila nodded. “I think she’s got the fever.”
Her odd phrasing slipped past Annie, but I zeroed in on it. Did Sheila suspect anything about Kat? Girl fever?
“Jesus! All the color is gone from your face. You look like the ghost of yourself.” Annie glanced to Sheila to confirm if she was seeing the same thing.
Sheila swiped my beer from the bar. “I’ve never done this to you before, Cori, but I’m kicking you out.” She pointed to the door. “Now.”
I stared at Sheila, unsure how to proceed. I wasn’t entirely convinced Annie had a thing for me, but by the way Sheila acted, she was absolutely convinced. Why else would she boot me from the bar? Weighing that it was probably best not to speak, I got off the stool.
“Wait,” Annie said. “Do you want me to go home with you?”
“Are you insane? You’re leaving for your trip tomorrow. The last thing you need is for Cori to infect you. She’ll be fine. I’ll check in on her later.”
I took a step back, following Sheila’s lead because I didn’t know how to confess to Annie that Sheila knew we’d slept together. “Have a great time, and send me a postcard or something.”
Outside, the warm summer evening wrapped around me like a blanket. The city air had a fresh scent. The people on the sidewalk seemed friendlier. I stopped to pet an eager Boston terrier, not minding when she got dirt on my jeans. I even made eye contact with a handful of passersby, much to their discomfort, making me grin even more.
Instead of heading home, I crossed Chestnut Hill Avenue and walked around the reservoir, not once but four times, totaling roughly six miles. The sky behind the BC football stadium tinged a soft pink then purple, until the inky black night took hold. On the last lap, I could have sworn I heard an American toad.
“I should tell her when I see her,” I said aloud to no one in particular.
That was, if I found her again.
Chapter Eight
I determined the best way to search for the lovely Kat was by hanging out in Harvard Square, where I’d bumped into her. This made more sense than creeping around Louisburg Square, her family home. She hadn’t referenced her parents specifically, yet I sensed they weren’t close and haunting the posh neighborhood probably wouldn’t serve my purposes all that well.
As it turned out, neither did Harvard Square.
By Thursday afternoon, I’d all about given up when I decided to pack a picnic-style dinner. I popped into Whole Foods, picking up cheese, grapes, olives, falafel wraps, and a platter of deli meats in case Kat wasn’t vegetarian. I hated when people refused to eat meat because I didn’t.
After I packed a newly acquired backpack suitable for picnics, I headed to Mount Auburn for the second time this week and quite possibly the third time in my life. I vaguely recalled a school trip back in the day.
The bench by the pond was empty, though, and my forced optimism ebbed. Earlier, when I’d been shopping, I convinced myself Kat would show. No doubt in my mind. It was the only thing that made sense. Like it was a test or something. Typically, if a girl played a game like this, it would annoy the hell out of me. With Kat, I appreciated it. I wanted to earn her attention, not to mention her affection.
The sun dipped closer to the horizon, but there were still a couple of hours of waning daylight. I didn’t have a choice, so I set the pack down on the bench and waited.
And waited.
The shadows stretched across the surface of the pond, and I kept an ear out for any sound—footsteps or croak of a toad.
Laughing, I thought, Good grief, was I hoping to kiss a toad so my princess would appear?
“Hello, there.”
I whipped my head around. “No way.”
She cocked her head in a sexy way, her eyelids hooded. “Weren’t yo
u expecting me?”
“I wasn’t sure. You dashed off last time before I could get your number.”
“And yet, you found me.” She parked on the bench next to the backpack. “Looks like you brought dinner.”
“Someone once told me picnics are romantic.” Now why in the world did I say that?
“Are you doing a full court press to woo me?”
I squinted. “You googled me, didn’t you?”
Her expression was blank, purposefully so.
“I never once mentioned I played basketball.” I wagged a finger in her face.
“That’s true. You evaded by saying sports.” Kat’s eyes traveled from my feet, up my long legs, making sitting on the bench a little uncomfortable, all the way to my eyes.
“Did you google me?” I pivoted to face her. “Go on; admit it.”
“I may have stumbled onto some things on the internet.”
“You happened to be looking up former Harvard basketball players and magically my name appeared on the screen?”
She reached into the pack and pulled out the grapes. I liked that she didn’t ask for permission, already feeling comfortable around me. “It’s possible it happened that way. I really don’t remember.”
I rolled my eyes and twisted the top off a water bottle. “The other night I was walking around Chestnut Hill Reservoir, and I think I heard a toad. Made me think of you.”
“My, my, my. You’re such a sweet talker.” She lobbed a grape into her mouth.
“Was that in the things you stumbled upon when gathering intelligence about me on the internet?”
Her eyes darted skyward as she shook her head. Kat rummaged through the stash and yanked out the deli meat platter. “I take it this is for me.”
“You can have a falafel roll, if you’d prefer.”
“Then what would you eat? A little bird told me you’re a vegetarian.”
I could feast my eyes on her all night and be completely sated. However, I didn’t think this wise to say aloud. “I’m not very hungry at the moment.”
Kat ripped a chunk of French bread and made a tiny salami and cheese sandwich. “Thanks for dinner. I like the Parisian way, at least that’s how I imagine it since I’ve never been.”