In My Bed

by Jennifer LaCross

  I play the mother and my character is pregnant when the performance starts, Blurry by Puddle of Mud playing over the speakers. With my husband at my side, I put myself in her life as I dance through the pain of labor and delivery of my child. When the baby arrives, we soar across the stage together overjoyed and completely in love with our new addition. I let the emotion of the performance take me over, my feet light and my smile wide in elation.

  Over time, life gets in the way with careers and distractions and our child, danced by a petite brunette, quickly ages before the audience as she sits ignored on the edge of the stage. Getting mixed up with drugs while my dance partner and I stand by as her parents, watching. We’re saddened by her choices, but not sure how to help. I’m held back as I reach desperately for my daughter while she loses herself in oblivion. Before long, the girl’s hard living and bad choices lead to her death and she falls down to the stage. The song ends, but the dance continues in silence as my partner and I are lost in grief, the vision of us mourning powerful as it echoes in the quiet.

  When the dance finishes, we go still on stage as my partner holds me close next to my daughter’s body. The applause starts and we stand, lining up and bowing for the audience. When I pull up and look out into the seats, I notice Nate in the back corner, wiping his eyes and looking down. I find my teacher and see her dab at her eyes as well before she continues with her applause. I knew this performance would be powerful, but being able to evoke that type of emotion in people makes me seriously miss performing on stage in front of a large audience.

  ***

  The moment I walk out from backstage, I see Nate standing there waiting for me. “So … ?” I ask with a smile.

  “You were great.” He smiles but sounds distracted. “It was, uh, really powerful, Jenna.”

  “Thanks. Someone else is going to return the costumes so I’m good to go. Where are we headed for dinner?” I ask, adjusting my dance bag on my shoulder. When he doesn’t respond, I turn to look at him. “Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m just … There’s this … I’ll be fine but I’d rather just head home. Not really in the mood to go out anymore if that’s okay.”

  I furrow my brows in concern and confusion, but then it hits me—the tattoo. He’s dealt with loss, and my dance must have brought up something that he’s still dealing with. I soften my expression, and turn my entire body to face him. “Okay, Nate. I’m here if you want to talk about anything, okay?”

  He nods and our eyes connect. We’re both quiet for moment before the desolate look clears from his face and he smiles. “I’m not really in the mood to talk, but how about we head to my place for pizza and a movie?”

  “I want to hang out with you, but don’t feel like you’re bailing on me if you’d rather be alone. I should’ve warned you that my performance was about death. I read the quote on your back and I understand you’re dealing with—”

  “You have no idea what I’m dealing with,” he says, his voice hard. The pain in his eyes tells me that the sharpness of his response isn’t anger—it’s devastation. He looks down and turns away, breaking our connection. “Just because you read some words on my back doesn’t mean you have any idea what I’m dealing with,” he adds softly.

  “I’m sorry, Nate. I didn’t mean to intrude on something you don’t want to talk about,” I apologize, my voice calm and quiet.

  “It’s fine, Jenna.” He takes a deep breath and turns back to me, his face full of apology. “I didn’t mean to snap at you and I’m sorry.”

  “Thanks.” Normally, I’d be pissed that someone spoke to me like that when I was just trying to help. But even though his words were harsh, I know they came from a place of pain and loss, not from anger.

  “If you still want to, I’d love for you to come over. I just want to take my mind off of all of,” he sighs, “everything.”

  I smile and try to reassure him that I’m not deterred by his earlier outburst. “I do love pizza.” Now I know what my mission for the night is. If he wants a distracted mind, count me in.

  After all, I’m kind of an expert on avoiding overwhelming emotions.

  He offers to drive me instead of taking two separate cars and I accept, but I kind of wish I hadn’t since the car ride back to his apartment is silent, both of us in our own heads.

  He parks and exits the truck as I follow him to his apartment. I’ve never been to his place, so I don’t know which door belongs to him. All I know is he is on the first floor. He walks up to a dark green door, the same color as the rest of them, and puts his key in the lock. When he opens it, I follow him inside as he heads straight for the kitchen.

  Stopping just inside, I close the door behind me and take a moment to look around. It’s the same floor plan as Will’s apartment, so I know there are two bedrooms, but his apartment looks cleaner and more mature. His apartment looks like it belongs to a man. There’s a large, comfy-looking brown couch and love seat in the living room facing a dark, wood entertainment center. All the furniture matches and the space is clear of everything but a few books and lamps. He even has a few pictures hanging on the walls. There’s one of his band and another one of his family, I assume.

  His dining room is tidy with a simple table and chairs, and the kitchen is clean and organized. I see him bent over and digging in the fridge, the apartment silent except for the sounds of bottles clinking together. Nate has two bottles of beer in his hand and he heads over to the counter, opening a drawer and pulling out a bottle opener.

  He finally looks up and sees me still standing by the door. He gives me a small smile as he lifts the bottles. “Want one?” Even though the smile should reassure me that he’s okay, it doesn’t.

  “I guess.” I shrug as he pops the top off one of the bottles.

  “I have iced tea or orange juice if you don’t want a beer,” he offers.

  “I’m good.” I smile.

  “Let’s sit.” He uses one hand to gesture to the couch and the other to grab both beers by their bottlenecks.

  We both sit down at the same time and he passes me one of the beers. “Here you go,” he says before taking a swig of his drink. Actually, that’s more than a swig—he chugs the entire thing. When he finishes, he sets the bottle on the coffee table and takes a big breath. He leans forward, putting his elbows on his knees and looking down at the ground as his fingers slide into his hair, holding his head up.

  I shift in my seat, dying to say something, but wanting him to talk first.

  He clears his throat and sits back up reaching onto the coffee table to grab the remote. “You can pick something from my DVDs over there,” he says, gesturing to a shelf full of movies, “or we can rent something on the TV. I’ve got Netflix.”

  I stand and walk over to the bookshelf, browsing through his movies, surprised to find that his tastes are quite eclectic. “Glitter? Really, Nate?” I laugh as I pull the movie from the shelf.

  He laughs before he defends himself. “I was a big Mariah Carey fan when I was younger. One of my sisters got it for me as a joke.”

  I continue browsing the shelves and after a few minutes I finally find a movie that I think we’ll both enjoy. And if he’s wanting to get his mind off of everything, I have the perfect idea.

  “Found one.” I smile and pull it off the shelf, holding it up so he can read the title.

  “Superbad? I thought you would take advantage of the opportunity and pick a chick flick or something.”

  “Nah, I like this one … but it comes with some rules.”

  “Rules?” he asks, lifting a brow. The light is starting to come back into his expression, and the thought that it might be me that’s bringing it back makes my heart do a little dance.

  “Yep. We’re going to play a drinking game.”

  “Okay, I’m in. Tell me the rules,” he replies, shifting on the couch so he is sitting up straighter, giving me all of his attention.

  “Make sure you listen well because the list of buzz words that you h
ave to drink with might get complicated.” I walk back to the couch, holding the movie out to him.

  “What’s the list?”

  “You have to take a drink every time they say the word pussy. And if you really want to get crazy, we can do fuck too,” I explain, giving him a cheesy wink as I say the four letter word.

  He throws his head back and laughs that laugh that I really, really like. And if he’s laughing like that, my idea is working better than I’d hoped. “Pussy and fuck? That’s the complicated list?” I know I just said those words, but hearing them come out of his mouth has my center clenching. I can’t stop the way my body wants him, even if now isn’t the most appropriate time considering that I’m here as his friend, and his distraction.

  I nod and start to laugh with him, ignoring the feeling I’m getting low in my belly. “I’ve done it before and even though it’s only two words, they say those two words a lot. By the time the movie is half over, you’ll be fumbling to remember what you’re supposed to be drinking for.”

  “Okay. Pussy and fuck it is.” He gets up and puts the movie in his DVD player then heads to the kitchen as it starts to load. The menu comes up right as he is coming back to the couch with the bottle opener and a few new beers in his hands.

  “Before we start the movie, let me order the pizza. Is ham and pineapple cool with you? Or would you rather have pepperoni.”

  “Definitely Hawaiian. It’s actually my favorite type of pizza.” I smile.

  “Mine too.” He smiles.

  After he orders the pizza, he picks up the remote and presses play. “Small sips,” I tell him, “or you’ll be totally plastered.”

  ***

  Nate doesn’t exactly follow my directions. Each time a character says one of the buzz words, I take a small drink and Nate takes a large swallow. I end the movie having finished five beers, while he’s finished eleven, plus the one he had before we even watched the movie. I’m not that big of a drinker and I normally only have two drinks when I go out, so I’m feeling more than buzzed. And I can tell by the smile on his face that Nate is drunk.

  The movie ends, and he’s definitely in a better mood than he was earlier. He reaches down and grabs another piece of pizza from the box, eating almost half the slice in one large bite.

  “Good?” I ask with a laugh.

  “Mmm, so good,” he mumbles, half sitting, half lying down on the couch, his eyes closed while he chews.

  It’s nearly eleven on a Thursday night and I have class tomorrow. I have to get back to my dorm, but I know neither of us can drive. “It’s getting kind of late. I’m getting tired and I’ve got a class tomorrow. I’m going to call Rachel or Jimmy and see if one of them can come pick me up and take me back to campus,” I tell Nate through a yawn.

  “You don’t need a ride. I’ve got you,” he says with a sly smile, his eyes finally opening.

  “You’ve got me?” I laugh.

  “Yeah, girl, I’ve got you,” he says, moving close and leaning into me.

  My smile grows as he gets closer, his lips heading straight for mine. Last time we almost drunk-kissed it was me making the move. I like that it’s him this time. Just when I think our lips are going to touch, he leans to the side and grabs the pizza box off the table. He then stands up, using a hand on the table to push himself off the couch.

  He’s a little wobbly as he walks to the kitchen, so I know there’s no way he’s got me. “There’s no way that you’re driving anywhere. You can barely walk. I’ll just call Rachel,” I tell him, holding up my phone as I turn around on the couch, kneeling so I can see him in the kitchen.

  He’s filling up a glass of water and laughing at something. “I know I’m not driving. I meant that you can stay here.” He pauses as he looks up from the tap. I can’t help but think about how sexy he looks, his smile easy and his eyes hooded as they meet mine. “With me.”

  I tilt my head to the side and furrow my brow, wondering what he means when he says that I should stay with him. I know he’s had a lot to drink, so the look he’s giving me could be from the alcohol, but it also looks lustful. And that thought makes me feel lustful as well. But as much as I want to jump on him, I won’t. “We’ve talked about this before, Nate. No nookie when I’m drunk. Although, if I was going to make an exception, it would definitely be for you.”

  He laughs and shakes his head. “I didn’t mean it like that. But since we’re being honest, you’re definitely the exception to my rules as well.”

  That comment and the way his eyes roam over me when he says it has me tingling all over. “Well, then how did you mean it?” I ask, my voice low and seductive.

  “I meant that I’ll take the couch, and you can sleep in my bed,” he clarifies with a smile. I’m glad that he’s not propositioning me since I’m not sure I would say no, and saying yes would mean changing things between us in a way I can’t comprehend in my inebriated state.

  “Oh, okay. But you don’t have to take the couch. You’re way too tall to sleep on here,” I tell him, bouncing a little on the cushions. “You sleep in your bed and I’ll sleep on the couch. Just know that you’ll need to get up early because I have an early class.”

  “What time?” he asks as he leaves the kitchen with two glasses of water and heads back to the couch.

  I turn back to sit on my bottom, crossing my legs underneath me on the couch. “My class is at ten.”

  “Ten is early?” he says with a lazy laugh as he sits and hands me one of the waters. “You’re gonna hate me then. I have to leave here at six to take you home because I have to be at work by seven.” He looks at the coffee table loaded with all of the empty beer bottles and cringes like he just realized that he’s going to feel like total shit tomorrow.

  I laugh, and he looks over and smiles sheepishly. “I guess I overdid it tonight …” he says before taking another drink of water.

  “Yeah, I bet being a grown-up sucks. Early hours and a real job? No thanks.” I take a drink of water and lean back to relax on the couch.

  “You’ll be here soon. When you graduate, you’ll have to get a real job and do grown up stuff like wake up before eight. Just like me.” He leans back to mirror my position.

  “Nah. I’m going to be teaching dance at a studio where I can make my own hours. No classes before ten.” I sigh, looking forward to the day when I can do what I love all day, every day.

  “You just want to teach? You don’t want to perform?” he asks, tilting his head a little.

  “I’m not getting a degree in performance. I gave up that dream a while ago, but I found another dream that I want to achieve just as much.”

  “But you looked so great up on stage today. Your performance was … incredible. So powerful,” he tells me with complete sincerity.

  I already knew that he liked the show, but the look on his face when he compliments me is both admiring and sad, his eyes shining with tears even though he’s smiling.

  “Nate?” Leaning toward him a little, I put my hand on his knee, some of my buzz clearing at the look on his face. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  His chuckle is full of sorrow. “I’m sort of okay, but I didn’t mean for this conversation to be about me. I wanted to ask why you don’t perform more often.”

  “I already told you,” I say, sighing and flopping back on the couch. “Because I’m not a performance major, I’m not required to as frequently.”

  “I know that part. But the guys and I don’t play in a band because we want that to be our career. We play because we like it and it’s fun. What I’m wondering is why you don’t dance for fun.”

  “I do, actually. I spend time every week in a studio dancing by myself, just having fun.”

  He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “I guess what I meant was, why don’t you perform for fun? You looked like you were really enjoying yourself on stage, and you were amazing. You know, you could join a community dance group of something.”

  I consider that for a moment. I really love t
o dance, but I never thought about joining a dance group or auditioning for any community performances. It’s actually kind of ironic since I’m always talking to the freshmen on my floor about looking for ways to practice their art outside of school. “I’ve actually never thought about it, Nate. When I stopped pursuing a career in ballet, I never considered doing anything else but teaching. I didn’t take into account that I could do both.” Now that he’s brought it up, I can’t stop thinking about how much fun it would be to perform regularly on stage again. My smile grows at that thought.

  “You’re cute when you’re excited, Jenna.”

  His comment has my heart picking up after it misses the usual beat. “You’re sweet when you’re drunk.”

  “I’m always sweet,” he says, his eyes dropping a bit to look at my lips.

  My breathing picks up as his eyes start to roam over the rest of me. They touch each part of my face, they slide over my hair, they kiss my shoulders, the devour my body all the way down to my legs that are bent as I sit on the couch.

  His eyes flick back up to mine and his sweet smile turns dark with lust, the tone of the moment changing quickly. “Jenna,” he says, almost like a warning, his voice rough and low. He sounds like he’s barely able to control himself, his jaw clenching as he leans a fraction closer to me.

  My heart picks up speed again, beating faster than I thought possible. “Nate,” I respond, my voice smooth even though I feel as though my entire being is trembling. We both start to move in closer until there is only about a foot between us.

  As we look into each other’s eyes, he takes a deep breath before he opens his mouth to say something, but before he can, he yawns. His eyes widen with mine as we look at each other, both realizing what almost just happened. We are still for a moment until we both start slowly moving away from each other.

  He looks at the clock and comments about how it’s getting late, and I agree with him. He gets up and starts to clear the coffee table of all the empty bottles and I help. When we’re done, he offers to get me pajamas from his room. We both get dressed and he brings me a blanket. Neither of us addresses what almost just happened on the couch as we say goodnight, but I don’t think it’s because we’re scared or embarrassed. I think it’s because we both know that that one moment could have changed things between us. And honestly, I think it already did even though nothing actually happened.