Wide Open

by Tracey Ward

“Anthony?”

  “Too cocky.”

  “Are you guys having fun?” I ask sharply.

  They ignore me.

  “Lowry?” Les guesses.

  Travis shrugs, unconvinced. “Maybe.”

  “You know who I think it is? I think it’s Linden.”

  “You think it’s Sam?”

  “She loves that guy. She hugs him every time he comes into a room.”

  “Because he’s friggin’ adorable!” I argue defensively. “He’s like a damn teddy bear.”

  “It’s Linden,” Les insists, hefting his camera case onto the dolly with the rest of our gear.

  Travis smiles. “I think you’re right.”

  I shake my head. “He’s not.”

  “Is it because he’s pretty or rich or both? What has you daydreaming about him?”

  It’s my turn to ignore them. I start rifling through my bag to make sure I have our tickets. The bus will be leaving soon to take us and the team to the airport.

  “I think it’s because he’s smart,” Alec offers from across the room. Our sound guy is so silent most times it’s easy to forget he’s there. Occupational hazard, I guess. “Harper likes the smart ones.”

  Les snorts. “Impressive finding that on a football field.”

  “Have you taken the Wonderlic?”

  “What’s the Wonderlic?”

  “It’s an IQ test for NFL players,” Travis explains. “They take it as part of the Combine getting ready for the Draft. I’ve taken it. It’s tough.”

  “What’d you score?” I ask curiously.

  “Forty-four out of fifty. Most guys score in the thirties and high twenties.”

  “Yeah, well, no offense to Sam, but I doubt any of the guys on this team scored above a thirty-five.”

  “Thirty-nine,” Kurtis corrects him.

  I spin around, coming face to face with his chest. My mouth falls open, a surprised breath bursting by my lips as I lean my head back to look up at him. To move past the muscles and the man to find him, to find his eyes. They’re waiting for me; blue and bright.

  I saw him just last night but the sight of him still startles me. My brain goes into overdrive, memories flashing across my eyes. His body behind mine, the soft feel of my duvet against my cheek. The cold feel of the hardwood under my feet. His hands large and calloused on my skin. Gentle. Patient.

  I slept like the dead after that. After him.

  “You’re here,” I state obviously, if not a little breathlessly.

  He smiles faintly, only enough for me to see because I’m looking for it. I’m hoping for it. “Yeah, Coach sent me. He said to tell you guys to get it in gear. We’re moving out in ten.”

  “We’re ready. We were just finishing up.”

  “We got it, Harper,” Travis tells me, waving me away. “Go ahead.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah, it’s all loaded. I’ll double check the list but I think we’re clear.”

  “Okay, great. I’ll go find out which bus we’re loading onto.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Kurtis waves to the crew as he lets me pass him out into the hall. We walk in silence to the elevator. As we pass the stairwell door where we kissed months ago, passionate and ignorant. He feels like a different man to me now than he did then. He’s fuller. Funnier. Kinder.

  His hand is warm on my back when as he ushers me into the open, empty elevator. He presses the button for the ground floor and we both watch as the doors slide slowly closed. It feels like they take forever, but then we’re alone and his arm is around my waist. His lips are on mine, his palm on the side of my face. My breath is in his mouth, on his tongue, and I glide mine leisurely along it, tasting it. Tasting him and me together, mingled hot and wet. Slow and unhurried. The way he kisses me is decadent. It’s not going anywhere, not rushing toward an ending. We kiss for the sake of kissing, and it makes my heart fall out of rhythm, it’s so tender. So lovely. So loving.

  He pulls back far enough to rest his forehead against mine. “I’m rooming with Lowry,” he tells me quietly, almost apologetically.

  “I’m rooming with Travis.”

  “Shit.”

  “It’s two nights. I think we’ll make it.”

  “Two nights is too long to go without you.”

  “I can’t stand it when you say things like that,” I groan. “It kills me.”

  “I’ll stop if you want me to.”

  I wrap my arms around his neck, pushing my body firmly against his. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

  Kurtis’ eyes dance with a dark, smiling light. He takes hold of my hips and holds me close, his eyes on mine. We’re not moving, there’s no music, but there’s a joy in the way we stand there together that feels like dancing. Like we’re swaying in time to the silence.

  “You’re sweet,” I tell him, accusing him. “I didn’t imagine you’d be sweet.”

  “That’s because I’m only sweet to you.”

  “How did I get to be the lucky one?”

  “It’s your ass,” he says, slipping his hands down to cup it firmly. “I’m in love with your ass.”

  “I’m in love with your calves.”

  “I’m in love with your breasts.”

  “I’m in love with your dick.”

  He grins. “I’m in love with your hair.”

  I smile. “I’m in love with your eyes.”

  “I’m in love with your smile.”

  “I’m in love with you—“

  The door to the elevator opens, sending us darting away from each other. The hall is empty on the other side but we make a point not to touch as we exit it. We can’t be too careful, especially with this many people around, even though Kurtis is less concerned about secrecy than I am. I find that mind blowing considering how much he hates having people involved in his personal life, but he just doesn’t care that much. He only cares because I care, and even then there are times when he’s lax about it.

  We walk the long, empty hallway together in silence, a careful foot of space kept between us. I can smell him, though. I can taste him, feel him. He’s an electrical charge on my skin that crackles like fire, tingling in my blood like champagne bubbles that leave me light and airy. Happy.

  My phone vibrates in my pocket. I pull it out, lighting up the screen.

  Derrick is calling me. Again.

  I’ve told Travis about it. I can only stand lying to him about Kurtis, and barely at that. I can’t lie about Derrick as well. Not again. We agreed I should ignore any messages he sends me, deny any calls, and if he escalates the situation and gets angry or threatening, he’s fired. He’s gone. No third chances. Travis wanted to fire him the second he heard he’d texted me again, but I told him to wait. I wanted to see if he’d give up.

  Two months later and his contact has lessened but it hasn’t stopped. It doesn’t look like it will. No matter what happens, I’m releasing Derrick from the team at the end of this project.

  “What’s wrong?”

  I glance up at Kurtis, surprised to find him watching me. A deep V has formed in the center of his brow. I smile, hoping to erase it. “Nothing. Why?”

  “You’re lying.”

  “People need to stop calling me out on that. It’s annoying.”

  “Stop lying to people and we will.”

  “I don’t lie to you.”

  “You just did.”

  I take a breath, slowing us and this conversation down. “It’s nothing you have to worry about.”

  “Is it work?”

  “Sort of.”

  He steps in front of me, blocking my path. “What is it, Harper?”

  I try to avoid his eyes but I can’t. They wait for me. They pull me in, two brilliant blue stars staring down at me and pulling the truth from me.

  “It’s Derrick,” I admit quietly, minding the echo off the concrete walls surrounding us.

  “The guy leading the Foxborough team?”

  “Yeah. He’s gone from texting me
to calling me.”

  “What does he want?”

  “Nothing much. He says we need to talk. That I can’t keep avoiding him.”

  “Yes, you can.”

  “That he misses me.”

  Kurtis stills. “You dated this guy?”

  “No,” I insist adamantly. “We never dated. We kissed and… a little more than that, but we never had sex. It was a moment of weakness and it got away from me.”

  He nods faintly, looking down at me without speaking. He’s waiting. He’s asking for more, for the truth, and I don’t want to give it. It’s a part of me. A fragile part. Egg shell thin and hairline fractured. It terrifies me to let another person see it. To feel it. What if they drop it? What if they let me down the way I let myself down?

  What if this is how Kurtis feels? Is this why he won’t talk about leaving California? How can I ever hope to have him open up to me if I won’t do the same with him?

  I look down at his large hands hanging at his side and I remember the way they felt on me just five minutes ago; gentle. Large and rough, but slow. Caring. I take one in mine, pulling him out of the hallway and through a nearby door. It’s a storage room full of cages carrying excess gear. Tall metal mesh towers rise above me, boxing me in close to Kurtis, and as I close the door behind us the yellow light hanging overhead paints shadows over everything. His eyes are dark under his brow, but his hand is warm inside mine. Delicately protective as I hold it in my tremulous grip.

  “It was at the end of a job,” I tell him in a hushed tone. It vibrates in my chest. It’s weak and cowering but I push it out. I force it forward. “We were alone for days, exhausted from late nights spent editing. I had just broken up with someone and it was ugly. We’d been together for two years and we were very angry at each other at the end. We treated each other like shit. I didn’t know myself when I was with him and when he left I had to try and figure out who I was again. That’s when Derrick and I were working together. When I was tired of being angry and I just wanted to be happy. I wanted someone to be sweet to me. Everything my ex said to me was venom and then I was working with Derrick and every word he said was poetry. It was honey and I ate it up.

  “We went to get breakfast at a bagel shop he loves and there was this big thunderstorm. It was hot and raining. The sky was crumbling, I was shivering and tired, and he held me. That was it. I was done for. That’s all it took to push me over the edge. I went back to his apartment with him and we kissed. In the living room, the hallway, his bedroom. I kept telling him we should stop but he didn’t and I didn’t and then I was naked. He was naked.”

  I pause, taking a second to breathe. To remember it right. I have to make sure to remember it the way it really happened, not the way I tell myself it happened. Travis has worked on this with me for the last year; remembering the truth as it is, not as I wish it had been. The truth makes me feel weak. It makes me look small and I can’t stand that feeling. I can’t stand any of this. My stomach is in knots, my fingers aching where they’re clenching Kurtis’ hand, but I don’t let go. And he doesn’t complain.

  “He made me come and I went blind. He didn’t know it but it felt like he did the way he took advantage of it. I lay there trying to breathe, trying to act like I wasn’t afraid, and then he was at the side of the bed. He touched my hands, drawing them up over my head. I asked him what he was doing but he didn’t answer. I started freaking out. I couldn’t see what he was doing and he wasn’t talking. I didn’t know what was going on. I tried to pull my hands away, but he was stronger than me. He kissed the skin of my wrists and then he wrapped a rope around them. It was rough, scratching my skin. It hurt immediately and when I tried to pull away from it the knot tightened.

  “I started shouting at him to let me go. I threatened him. I cursed him. I thrashed on the bed and kicked at him, pulling at the rope as hard as I could. It hurt so bad the way it burned me, but I was too afraid to stop. I couldn’t see where he was or what he was doing. I was terrified. Then he touched my thigh and I started crying. My sight started to come back and he was a blurry mess on the side of the bed. I didn’t recognize him. He wasn’t handsome and charming anymore. He was a stranger and he terrified me. I pleaded with him to let me go. To untie me. He whispered to me, trying to sound soothing, but I was panicking. I could hardly breathe and finally he gave up trying to calm me down and he untied me. I grabbed my clothes and ran from his apartment. I didn’t get dressed until I was in the hall. I walked home alone in the rain and I vowed to never be alone in a room with him again.”

  I take a shuddering breath, my lungs screaming for air, and I realize I’ve been rattling the details off at high speed. I’ve barely paused to breathe. I’m too lost in the ache of the rope on my wrists. The fear clenched tight in my heart. The warm rain on my cheeks as I practically ran home to shower.

  Kurtis’ free hand comes slowly to my face. He runs the pad of his thumb under my eyes, wiping away the tears I didn’t know I was crying. The drops that felt like rain. He doesn’t say a word but he doesn’t let go of my hand and he never runs from my eyes. They’re latched onto his and he holds them steadily, a world of words unspoken but understood between us. He isn’t closed off. He isn’t hiding. His everything is right there on the surface, right there with me. Rage, anguish. Understanding.

  I hiccup, fighting back a new wave of tears. “I told Travis,” I whisper. “It took a few months, but I told him what happened. He knew something was wrong but he didn’t know it was that wrong. We talked for hours about what to do. He wanted Derrick gone. I told him we have a contract with him. He said the contract was void if Derrick was dead. I didn’t laugh because I didn’t think he was kidding. I showed him a letter Derrick wrote me after it happened. He tried to explain himself. He said he thought being tied up during sex would turn me on. He said he was about to light candles. He swore he didn’t expect me to freak out like that, that he never meant to hurt me. He said he tried to explain it to me at the time but I just kept screaming. He was worried the neighbors would call the cops or that I’d hurt myself on the ropes. He swore up and down that it was meant to be sexy, not scary. He said he was sorry a hundred times.”

  “Did you believe him?” Kurtis asks, his voice measured. Controlled.

  I shrug. “I wanted to. I don’t know if I ever did, though. Travis didn’t. I just wanted it to be over, I wanted to forget it, so I decided to believe him, but I don’t think I ever really did. I’m scared to see him. I always forget that until it happens and I start to fall apart. Like my body knows it’s not true.”

  “Why don’t you listen to it?”

  “Because I don’t want to be weak.”

  “Harper, you’re anything but weak.”

  “At the time I said we all just needed to put it behind us and focus on the next job,” I explain, rushing past the topic. “So that’s what we did. It’s what we’re doing.”

  “Is this the next job?”

  “Yeah. We finished the project we were editing, then we signed contracts with the NFL. It didn’t start until months after what happened with Derrick and I didn’t see him that entire time. I didn’t think about him once and when it was time to assign roles for this project, Travis and I sent him to Foxborough to head the team there and keep him away from me. It was perfect.”

  “Until he started texting you.”

  I lower my eyes. “Yeah.”

  “Are you afraid of him?”

  I hesitate, weighing my options. I can lie and risk him seeing it, risk losing the faith I’ve been building for months, or I can tell him the truth and have another man watching over me like a damsel in distress. More pity, more worry. More protection that makes me feel small and ineffectual.

  But I’ve already told so many lies lately, I can’t stomach another one. I can’t keep digging this well of disgust I’m mining for myself.

  “Yes,” I whisper.

  I brace myself for the onslaught of advice. For him to tell me what to do. I expect demands to l
et him help me or at the very least ideas on how to handle it. It’s what Travis has always done.

  Kurtis gives me none of that. Instead he puts his knuckle under my chin, lifting my face to his.

  His expression is tight, but also soft and entreating as he quietly pleads, “Be careful.”

  I nod against his hand in agreement, and I think that this, his confidence in my ability to handle my life, is exactly what I need. It’s what he knows I need. It’s the right thing to do, leaving me to handle it on my own because I can. I will. And he knows that.

  But if that’s true, why does he look so uneasy?

  Why do I feel exactly the same way?

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  KURTIS

  October 1st

  Nissan Stadium

  Nashville, Tennessee

  Not much in this world tastes better than victory, but there are a few exceptions.

  Good bourbon.

  A perfect lemon meringue.

  Harper’s moans in my mouth as she falls apart in my hands.

  Water from the shower cascades down her face, over her chest. I have her ass in my hands, her back pinned against the hard tile wall, and her legs wrapped around my waist. She has her eyes closed against the torrent assaulting her from outside and within, gripping me with every muscle she has as I finish inside her, nothing between us but water and air. We stopped using condoms a long time ago when she told me she was on the pill and I swore to her that I was clean. I didn’t know it until the first time I pushed inside her bareback, but it takes a lot of trust between people to do that. I was nervous the first time. And the second. Probably all the way to the eighth, but now I don’t think anything of it. She won’t burn me, and I’d die before I hurt her. She’s too perfect, too beautiful to mar in any way.

  “Oh God,” she gasps, burying her face in my shoulder. “I can’t breathe.”

  I grind against her slowly, bringing us both down as the water runs cold around us. She whimpers quietly. The sound sets off a protective roar in my chest and I turn off the water, carrying her away from the wall. She stands when I release her slowly. She lets me towel her dry and when I look up into her eyes I find them empty. Staring blindly over my head at nothing.