Something More Than This

by Barbie Bohrman

  “Dylan hasn’t even met Conner. There is no way that that can be true.”

  “He doesn’t have to meet Conner to be jealous of him.” She is momentarily distracted by another customer and fulfills their drink order before coming back to me. “So what actually happened today that has you like this?”

  “I almost kissed Conner. Actually, he almost kissed me.”

  Mimi’s eyes widen as she leans her elbows on the bar. “Almost? Like tongues on the outside with no lips touching almost kind of kissing or close-mouthed and friend-zoned kind of kissing?”

  “Who kisses with tongues on the outside like that? That’s gross!”

  “Well, if you’ve got a cold sore or something on your lip, you have to get creative,” she explains matter-of-factly.

  My stomach turns picturing this. “That is disgusting, Mimi! Please tell me you’ve never done that!”

  “No, no, of course not. Forget I mentioned it, go on with your story.”

  “Okay, yeah, fine, um . . . where was I?”

  She puckers up her lips and smacks them together loudly.

  “Yeah, that’s right,” I say. “He almost kissed me. I mean, he was like right there staring at my lips like I was the last drop of water in a dry desert, and then nothing. It was as if he changed his mind all of a sudden and stopped himself.”

  “Did you have bad breath?” she asks.

  “What? No!”

  “It wouldn’t kill you to keep a mint in your back pocket. Just saying.”

  I wave her off. “It had nothing to do with my nonexistent bad breath. He just stopped himself.”

  “Maybe he didn’t think it was the right time. Did you ever think of that?”

  “I don’t know, Mimi. It felt really weird to be pinned to ground underneath him and—”

  She puts up her hand to stop me. “Stop! You failed to mention before that he was on top of you. How did that happen?”

  “We were playing football at the park and he tackled me.” Her hand starts to move as if egging me on, so I add. “And that’s it, really. He tackled me and was straddling my hips. Then the next thing I know, he’s leaning forward and staring at my lips like he was going to eat me alive. And then nothing! He stopped!”

  She lets out a long whistle when I finish talking. “Damn, girl, you were busy today, huh?”

  “You can say that again. It was definitely interesting.”

  Mimi rests her elbows on the bar, then says, “All right, first let’s tackle Conner, shall we?”

  “By all means.”

  “Katy, he’s probably not sure how to treat you. I mean, he knows how to treat you as a friend, obviously, but as a woman he’s attracted to, not so much. Let me ask you this . . . would you have let him kiss you?”

  Again, the answer comes to me quickly. Yes, I would have. There is only so much your imagination can conjure until you want to try out the real thing. So I nod.

  “Then you need to figure out if this is a one-time thing between the two of you or if either of you is looking for more. And more importantly, you’re going to have to make the first move with Conner. He’s too freaked out by the prospect that you’re a grown-up and hot to be able to do it on his own. So you’re going to have to bite the bullet if you want to finally see what he’s like in the sack.”

  “Mimi, since when have you known me to make the first move?” She thinks on this for good couple of seconds, until I say, “Never, that’s when.”

  “Well, there’s always a first time for everything. Don’t knock it until you try it.”

  I shake my head. “And that whole thing you said about wanting more . . . that would be impossible since he doesn’t even live here.”

  “Stranger things have happened.” Then she smiles and says, “Which brings us back to Dylan.”

  “Can you believe him and Rachel?” I ask again, still genuinely surprised by this development. “I still can’t wrap my head around it.”

  “Oh, Katy, Katy, Katy.” She props her chin up with her hand and grins like an idiot at me for a beat. “You don’t have a problem with Dylan and Rachel being together. That is, if they’re even really together or going to be together or whatever the hell they are.”

  “I don’t?” I ask, relieved that she thinks this.

  “No, you don’t,” she says softly. “Your problem is seeing Dylan with anyone. It doesn’t matter if her name is Rachel or not. You’re jealous. End of story. And the sooner you admit this to yourself, the sooner we can move on to how you’re going to deal with Dylan in your life. Because, sweetie, he’s in your life . . . but you need to be careful with him.”

  “Careful? Why do I need to be careful with him?”

  “He cares a lot about you and has for a long time,” she answers as I’m saying no to her, but she shushes me quickly. “Katy, you can really hurt him the most in all of this, so please, just be careful with him.”

  “I would never hurt Dylan, that’s ridiculous.”

  “Sometimes we don’t mean to hurt the ones we love, but we do anyway.”

  “I’m not jealous of Rachel and I certainly am not in love with Dylan, Mimi.” She raises an eyebrow at this and smacks her lips together as if I am boring her now. “I care about him, of course. A lot, as a friend . . . but that’s it. And as a friend, I don’t want to see him with someone like Rachel. Just like I wouldn’t want to see you with the male equivalent of Rachel.”

  She stares at me with a knowing smile and doesn’t say another word. When her mouth drops open to finally give me more of what’s on her mind, I’m saved by the bell. A couple strolls into the bar and decides to sit one seat over from me, forcing Mimi to give them her undivided attention immediately. I take the opportunity to sneak off my bar stool and start gathering my things to leave.

  “Chickenshit,” Mimi mumbles under her breath.

  “Me? I’m not the one dating someone in secret,” I say with a sly smile, and then she squints her eyes at me. “Yeah, don’t think I’ve forgotten about that. Good night, Mimi.”

  “Yeah, good night to you too.”

  My back is to her when she says this, so I raise my hand and wave to her, already making my way to the door. I need to get home and hide under the blankets and figure out what I’m going to do about Conner . . . and Dylan. Maybe tomorrow I’ll get a do-over. But once I’m in bed, my thoughts become a jumble of images that range from Dylan with faceless women to Conner actually kissing me for the first time. It’s that last thought that brings a memory still as vivid today as it was when it actually happened. And this time I don’t need the letter to remind myself how painful it was when he rejected me.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Nine years ago . . .

  I had been waiting on the swings for Conner for what felt like hours. But it really was only a few minutes. He’d said he would be here at dusk when I called him earlier. At first he’d seemed hesitant to meet me. Which made sense since we hadn’t been hanging out together as much lately.

  Since Conner was a senior in high school and approaching the end of his time here before heading off to college, he’d been even more busy than usual. We had barely spoken to each other in the last few months. What with prom, his new friends, and packing for college, it was next to impossible to spend any time together.

  But that didn’t lessen the feelings I had for him. They were growing more and more each day. And on the rare occasions that we were together lately, my nervousness around him made it impossible to act like myself. My mind was consumed with Conner.

  I was in love with him.

  I had been since the day he carried me off the soccer field at tryouts a couple of years ago. When I look back, I think that maybe I had been falling in love with him a little bit each day before then. But that one day changed everything.

  Because I suddenly understood what all those stupid love songs were about. How one look, one breath, one touch could change your life forever. How one person could be the person for you and you could forget every
one else.

  That’s how I’d been.

  I was sixteen years old and had never even been kissed. I’d come close, but couldn’t do it. In my heart and soul, I wanted Conner to be my first kiss and first . . .

  My heart started to thump away in my chest, thinking about him being that close to me, wanting me as much as I wanted him. I felt as if I’d just received a shot of adrenaline as I pictured myself being on the receiving end of Conner’s affection. The affection that I knew for a fact he’d already given to a couple of girls. Older girls . . . more mature girls.

  But that night, after much thought on my part, I’d decided that I’d finally tell him how I’d been feeling. That he’d see for himself how much I’d matured and how much I wanted this to happen. I needed to do this now, before it was too late and he was gone.

  Absentmindedly, I pulled the letter I had spent the better part of three days writing out of my back pocket. The paper felt heavy in my hands. I’d known that seeing Conner face-to-face tonight would be difficult enough and that saying the words out loud would have been next to impossible. So I’d decided to put pen to paper instead. He’d read the letter and know everything.

  Every little thing I wanted to happen between us. And every little thing I’d been feeling about him.

  Anticipation and anxiety gnawed away at me as I heard the familiar groan and squeak of Conner’s brakes somewhere in the near distance. There was no turning back now. This was it. Within seconds he’d be standing right in front of me and I’d hand him the letter.

  What if he laughed at me?

  I tossed that thought out of my head as quickly as it materialized. There was no way the Conner I knew would laugh at me. I just needed to stay calm and stop doubting myself.

  Hurriedly, I stuffed the letter back into my pocket when I heard his footsteps getting closer in the near darkness of the park. With each step he took, my heart beat faster and faster until my ears heard nothing but a steady hum of white noise. And then he was there, standing a foot or two away from me.

  He was much taller now. He might have been even taller than the last time I saw him. Even in the dimly lit park, I could see a small smile slowly pulling at the corners of his mouth. His handsome, strong jaw had a little more scruff than usual, and it made him look older than his eighteen years.

  “Hey there, Shadow,” he said.

  “Hey.”

  Inwardly, I winced at the nickname. In the first few years of our friendship, it had been cute and kind of funny to hear him refer to me by it. But lately, I’d wanted him to call me by my name. And for a second or two I thought I’d made a huge mistake by asking him to meet me here. Because I was afraid that he’d never see me as anything other than his shadow.

  Conner took the empty swing seat beside me, studying me at the same time. He noticed that something wasn’t quite right and stayed quiet as I lazily dragged my feet in the dirt beneath me. I was trying to work up the courage to say why I had asked him to meet me here. But instead, a fear so strong took hold of me and kept me from talking.

  He cleared his throat and started to swing, kicking his legs and using his weight to make himself get higher. The swing set rocked with the force of him and he started laughing. Then, as he swung backward so fast he was like a blur in the night, he said, “Come on, Shadow. Let’s see who can go higher for old times’ sake.”

  A part of me wanted it to be like it was when we first met and just swing away all night with him. But I couldn’t let myself go back there. So I stayed where I was and watched him until he slowed down and finally came to a stop.

  “Are you okay?” he asked. “You haven’t said two words since I got here.”

  “I . . .” I paused, nervously searching for the right words. “I need to talk to you.”

  Conner’s eyebrows knit together. “So something is wrong? What happened?”

  “No, there’s nothing wrong. I promise.”

  “Are you sure?” His eyes searched mine for a hint that I might be lying. “Did you get in trouble or something?”

  I shook my head and managed to smile at him. And I knew in that instant that the words would not come, that the letter would have to do the talking for me. So without much fanfare, I reached for it and pulled it out of my back pocket once again. It crinkled in my hand as I held it between us. His hazel eyes, which looked almost green in the moonlight now, shone brightly as he looked from the letter to me.

  Shakily, I said, “I wrote you a letter.”

  “Shadow,” he said with a chuckle, “you know I’m not leaving for college until the end of the month, right? I think that’s when you’re supposed to start writing me letters.”

  “Just take it.”

  Conner was still smiling when he reached out and took the letter. He immediately went to shove it into the back pocket of his jeans.

  “I want you to read it right now,” I said. “Please.”

  The serious tone in which I said this must have been enough, since Conner nodded and took the letter in his hands. Carefully, he unfolded the creases and held it in front of him. In this area of the park it was a little difficult since it was now almost pitch-dark, but he finally managed to see enough that he could start reading.

  I held my breath as he read quietly. I tried unsuccessfully to not look at him too. His face was smooth of emotion. He gave away nothing as he continued reading. And when he turned the page over, knowing exactly where in the letter he was at that point, I could feel my stomach drop to around my ankles. I sneaked another glance at him as he neared the end and read what I was asking of him. He just kept staring at the paper in his hands in what looked like disbelief.

  And I knew right then that he didn’t feel any of the same things I felt for him. I knew that I shouldn’t have done this and that our friendship was never going to be what it was. Worst thing of all, I couldn’t take any of it back.

  After a beat, he handed me back the letter and said something that I’ll never forget. “I wish you hadn’t written this, Shadow.”

  My heart already breaking, I felt like it splintered in my chest into a million pieces. I struggled to maintain eye contact with him and failed. Those eyes of his would always read me like an open book. So I wondered how it was that he hadn’t seen this coming. How he couldn’t see that this girl was in love with him and had been saving herself for him. It was as if he refused to see me as anything other than his sidekick. And it hurt me deeply to know that it would always be that way between us.

  I crumpled the letter and stood up. The hurt I felt bubbling underneath the surface broke as tears started to fall from my eyes. But I managed to say one more thing to him. In fact, it was the very last thing I ever said to him before he left for college.

  “You know what, Conner? I wish I had never written you this letter too.”

  I meant it as much as I didn’t. I mean, I never meant for us to literally just stop talking to each other. But I knew that it wouldn’t have been the same, what with me having offered him my virginity and my undying love. Ashamed and hurt, I quickly walked out of the park and farther away from him. I could hear him calling after me. But I didn’t dare turn around.

  It was done.

  And I would have to live with the consequences.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  With my deadline looming, I’m occupied for the next couple of days.

  I barely have time to say a quick hi and good-bye to Mimi when I leave the apartment in the morning and come home at night. Thankfully, she’s used to my schedule by now and doesn’t hold it against me. Plus, she’s busy with bartending, design school, and her mystery man, so she has plenty on her plate to juggle.

  But once Wednesday afternoon rolls around and I’ve confirmed all my sources for the umpteenth time and have done a revision followed by another revision of the article . . . I’m finally happy with it. I press Send on my iPad and off it goes to Dylan’s inbox for review.

  After I submit an article to Dylan, I always pop my head up to look ac
ross the newsroom into his office. If the windows that face out to the bullpen are open, I try to read his expression. It never really works from this far away, but it’s a habit at this point. When I glance toward his office now, I see that the blinds are drawn for privacy, but the door is open. And this time, I find Rachel’s back to me, leaning with purposeful casualness against his door.

  My excitement is quickly replaced by . . .

  Shit.

  Nope, I’m not feeling any twinge or even the slightest hint of jealousy. Not going to give in to the rush of adrenaline coursing through my veins right now while the very clear image of me kicking Rachel’s shins flashes across my mind.

  I cannot be jealous. This really can’t be happening. I’ve never felt anything like this when it comes to Dylan before. Since I’ve known him for so long, I’m well aware of the women he’s dated or had flings with . . . and never once, in all of that time, have I ever felt like this.

  Right then, Rachel giggles at something he must have said. I know this because I’m still staring like a hawk with laser eyes. As I continue to pretend-shoot her with laser beams, I find myself saying things under my breath like, “Really?” “Seriously?” “Oh, now you remember that your top button isn’t buttoned. How convenient.”

  That last one happens when Rachel realizes that her blouse is missing a button or something. She looks over her shoulder in fake embarrassment and down to her breasts. Then she turns around and, before the rest of the newsroom, proceeds to button not one, but two, two buttons! She giggles one more time—I think I’m going to be sick—and then turns around to continue whatever the conversation was before her boobs were flying out of her top, giving Dylan a very extensive view.

  That’s it. Not being able to take this torture any longer, I head to his office. My intention is to interrupt them so that she will scurry off to her upstairs cubicle and hopefully not come back down until the next millennium.

  I’m almost right behind her when I hear Phoebe’s lifeless and no-nonsense voice break through my senses.