Eyes Like Those

by Melissa Brayden

  “If it makes you feel better, Hadley can’t say ‘sex’ without whispering,” Isabel said with a grin.

  “Ask her to say ‘fuck.’ You’ll be there all night.” Gia offered a wink and went back inside.

  “I’m happy you all enjoy my wholesome disposition, but it’s all a ruse.” She leaned forward and met Isabel’s eyes. “I’ve seen porn.”

  Isabel reached over and patted Hadley on the knee sincerely. “Aww, I’m sure you have, sweetie. And that’s awesome.”

  *****

  Taylor was going through Isabel withdrawal in the worst way. She thought about her a lot, her smile, her quick comebacks, their give-and-take conversations. She luxuriated in the memory of their bodies pressed together and daydreamed about future encounters, which meant she had it bad. Since their night together ten days ago, they’d managed to steal a few moments here or there. A lunch. A chat. Due to their conflicting schedules, it was always very brief and only enough to whet her appetite for more.

  Tonight would be different. Isabel’s episode was set to air at eight p.m., and knowing what a monumental occasion this was for a young writer, she wanted to make it special. After grabbing a bagel for herself and a donut for Isabel from the Water Tower Market, she and Raisin, who trotted happily next to her on his leash, headed over to her office. She knew damn well it would make her late for the long lineup of Sister Dale meetings she was slotted to attend, but it didn’t matter. Today was too important.

  Isabel didn’t notice her approach her cubicle and seemed lost in her laptop, probably gone on her own imagination. Taylor loved the look she got on her face when she concentrated, her lips slightly parted, her eyes distant, not noticing the happenings around her.

  “Happy first episode day,” Taylor said, breaking that concentration reluctantly.

  Isabel’s gaze flew up to Taylor as she stood next to her desk. She laughed and shook her head. “How long have you been standing there? Embarrassing.”

  “Long enough to see that you’re immersed in something pretty spectacular.”

  She smiled. “Kathleen is giving me another episode. One that was originally scheduled to be freelanced. The guy backed out.”

  Taylor beamed. “Kathleen is smart.”

  “You don’t seem surprised. You knew about this?”

  “It’s possible we colluded. We both feel you’re ready for more. You proved it with the first one, which airs tonight, I might add.”

  “Is it weird that I’m nervous? As if there’s something that could go wrong. The episode is done, shot, edited, and completely out of my hands. So why can’t I relax and enjoy this?”

  Taylor came around Isabel’s desk and leaned back against it. “Because you’re Isabel and it’s what you do.”

  “I should see someone about that.”

  “Better yet, you should see me tonight. For a viewing party at my house. Guest list of two.”

  Isabel took a moment before a smile took shape on her face and grew exponentially. “You mean it? You want to watch it with me?”

  “Of course I do. I’ll supply the popcorn and wine. Wear comfortable clothes.”

  Isabel raised a suggestive eyebrow. “Because?”

  “Because we’ll be lounging as we watch a really cool episode.” But the implication, even when it came in a teasing manner, had Taylor envisioning all the other reasons easy-access clothing might be helpful.

  “What time?” Isabel asked, her eyes still dancing with flirtation.

  “Seven thirty.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  Isabel arrived right on time that night, and while Taylor popped popcorn and uncorked the wine, she excused herself to freshen up. When she still hadn’t returned ten minutes later, Taylor called up to her. “Did you fall asleep up there? Fifteen minutes until go time!”

  Isabel didn’t answer.

  Taylor poured a glass of wine for Isabel and one for herself and took a seat on the couch. “Iz? Everything okay?” she called again. Silence. Interesting. What was the proper protocol here? While it was her instinct to go check on Isabel, maybe she should give her some space. What if she wasn’t feeling well? But after another five minutes had passed, Taylor headed up the stairs. She no longer cared about etiquette, only Isabel.

  But when she arrived, both the hall and master bathroom stood empty.

  “Isabel? Hey, where are you? You’re starting to worry me. Did you sneak out when I wasn’t looking?” She chuckled quietly to keep the mood light as she glanced from room to room, finally returning to the master. Something caught her attention. Her closet door was closed, and her closet door was never closed. She approached the door curiously and knocked, waiting only a moment before placing her hand on the knob. “Okay, ready or not, I’m coming in.”

  The light in the closet was off, but enough of the bedroom light spilled over to illuminate Isabel, sitting on the floor with her back against the wall. She had crisscrossed her arms over her chest and gripped her shoulders tightly. The image about tore Taylor’s heart in two.

  Taylor knelt in front of her. “Iz, are you okay? What is it?”

  Isabel’s only movement was a slight flick of her gaze to Taylor before looking straight ahead once again. “An attack. Just need time.”

  “A panic attack?” Taylor asked. “Is that what’s happening?”

  Isabel offered a slight nod.

  “Okay, we can handle that. What can I do?”

  Isabel shook her head. “I just need to sit here,” she managed through a clenched jaw.

  “Then I’ll sit with you.” And that’s exactly what Taylor did, taking a spot on the wall next to Isabel. At first, she didn’t say anything, wondering if maybe Isabel needed the silence. But something compelled her to fill it, to try and do something to see Isabel through this. She spent the next ten minutes telling Isabel all about her day, chatting about the mundane details as if it were the most natural conversation in the world. Two friends just hanging out. By the time she got to the very specific description of the chicken noodle soup she’d had for lunch, she noticed that Isabel’s hands had relaxed into her lap. When she finished the part about dropping her keys on the concrete next to her car, Isabel allowed her to hold one of her hands. She pressed on, all the way up to the present timeline.

  “And that brings me to the popcorn I just popped, which I have to confess, was the second bag. As you may have guessed from the smell in the kitchen, I burned the first.”

  Isabel smiled and Taylor relaxed in relief.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Much better,” she said, exhaling slowly. “Thank you.”

  “I didn’t do anything. Just entertaining myself over here.”

  “More than that,” Isabel said, taking another deep inhale. “That helped a lot.”

  “Does this happen all that often?”

  “Comes and goes.” She wiggled her shoulders, as if trying to loosen them up. “Sometimes it’s two or three times a year. Lately, it’s been…more.”

  Taylor nodded and squeezed Isabel’s hand. “Any idea what brings them on?”

  “Seems to happen when the stakes are high. When I feel like I have something to lose, which there’s been a lot of lately. Might be me worrying about the episode today. It could be anything really.” For the first time since Taylor had arrived in the closet, Isabel looked around. “Sorry I hijacked your closet. Small spaces seem to help.”

  “You’re welcome to my closet.” They sat in silence for a few moments. “What now?”

  “You think we could still watch the show?”

  “If you’re up for it. We don’t have to.”

  Isabel pushed herself up off the ground and offered Taylor her hand. “I’m not letting my stupid issues ruin tonight for me.”

  Taylor stood. “If you’re sure. We can sit in this closet for as long as you need.” And she meant it. She was fully ready to ride this thing out with Isabel if it took all night.

  Isabel attempted a wobbly smile. “Take me
to the burnt popcorn.”

  And so she did.

  With freshly popped buttered popcorn, the third bag of the night, and an open bottle of Cabernet on the coffee table, they watched Isabel’s television debut from Taylor’s white leather couch. Raisin, to his credit, seemed to know the show was an important one, his little gaze glued to the screen as if he followed the action from his spot, on Isabel’s lap.

  Isabel pointed at the screen. “See, that part right there is where I kind of imagined he’d grab hold of her and that’s what would shut her up.”

  “Yeah, I gathered that from the script. Looks like your director had other ideas. You can always throw up your hand for a consult, you know.”

  “You can throw up your hand, Madame Executive Producer. I’m low on the totem pole.” Isabel was joking again, which was a fantastic sign. With each moment that passed, she seemed to return to herself more and more.

  “Doesn’t matter,” Taylor said. “You have to advocate for yourself, Iz. Just like you did with me on the storyline. You won’t always win, but at least you’ll have spoken your piece.” She gestured to the action on the screen. “Doesn’t matter, in actuality. The moment is still killer.”

  “Is it weird that we’re sitting here together watching your ex-girlfriend on television, who also happens to be wearing very little clothing?”

  “It probably should be,” Taylor said conservatively and then relented. “No, it is.”

  “She hates me, you know, ever since that morning. Looks past me when we run into each other. Fakes pleasantries when people are around and then drops them the second they’re gone.”

  “That’s Aspen for you. I’m sorry. She’s not exactly thrilled that we’re…” Taylor trailed off, unsure how to finish that sentence.

  Isabel turned more fully, shifting Raisin on her lap. “Yeah, what are we doing exactly? I’m not even sure I know myself.”

  Taylor looked skyward, realizing that this might be a longer conversation than what the commercial break they’d just shifted to would allow. Still, she gave it a shot, putting it all out there. “Dating?” A pause. “Giving what we have a chance?”

  Isabel didn’t say anything. She stared at Taylor, which made her regret the words. Too soon maybe. Isabel would be running for the hills if they weren’t already in them geographically.

  “I wasn’t expecting that,” Isabel said evenly.

  “No?” Another pause, as Tide and all its wonders were professed on the screen. “Am I jumping the gun? You can say so. I can back off.”

  “Jump away.” Isabel was smiling now. Good. Smiling was a vast improvement. She took a deep breath. “My only concern is Aspen.”

  “That she’s on a warpath?” Taylor felt confident that she was, given their last interaction.

  “No. That you’re still captivated by her, which trust me, I get. The whole world is captivated by her.”

  “But I’m not.” Taylor shook her head, as nothing could be further from the truth. Spending time with Isabel had placed her warped and labor-intensive relationship with Aspen in startling perspective. Isabel was a breath of fresh air. Aspen was a full-time job. She chose her words carefully. “There are a myriad of reasons why we shouldn’t be sitting here together from a logistics standpoint.”

  Isabel nodded. “A myriad.”

  “But we tried ignoring the chemistry and ended up—”

  “In bed.”

  “Yes, that.”

  A pause. “It just sucks that we’re really good in bed.”

  “It does suck,” Taylor said, borrowing the word. It was very Isabel. She reached out and touched a strand of Isabel’s hair, loving the way it felt between her fingers. “But of all those reasons, Aspen is most definitely not one of them. My heart is available, if a little cautious.”

  “So maybe we go slow.”

  “If I could just figure out how to do that with you. I’m not sure it’s possible.”

  Isabel smiled, which left Taylor craving a kiss. As their lips came together, Taylor marveled at how startling it still was, that little shock of desire that came with kissing Isabel. Goose bumps took shape on her arms, and a warmth washed over her. She should have learned to expect it by now, but it got her every time. As their lips danced, Taylor realized distantly that the show was back on and that Raisin had ditched them for the backyard, as evidenced by the sound of the swinging dog door. “Show’s on,” she managed between kisses.

  “I’ve seen it before.” Isabel’s hands were under her shirt at the small of her back.

  Taylor wanted more. She wanted those hands everywhere. As they kissed, that need only grew. “Tell you what,” Taylor said finally, pulling her mouth away against her better judgment. “We finish the show, because it’s an important milestone, and then we’ll have our own show.”

  Isabel blinked. “Do you know how hard it’s going to be to concentrate now?”

  “You can do it. You’re really good at your job.”

  They watched the episode. They did. They also couldn’t keep their hands off each other and appeased themselves with little touches. Isabel’s hand on Taylor’s thigh. Taylor’s fingers playing with the hair at the back of Isabel’s neck. Isabel’s hand on the inside of Taylor’s thigh. Taylor’s fingers dipping into the back of her shirt, to feel her warm skin. It was a progression that left Taylor uncomfortable and counting the moments until the episode ended.

  As soon as the credits hit, Isabel’s phone blew up. Texts from Hadley, Gia, Autumn, and even her dad had her grinning from ear to ear, which made Taylor glow bright with pride for her. Her friends were going nuts, sending Isabel screen shots of her name on their television. “This is crazy. Even my dad watched,” Isabel said, shaking her head, as she typed back.

  “Congratulations, Ms. Chase,” Taylor said. “You’re official now.”

  Isabel’s answer was to set her phone down and slide onto Taylor’s lap. “Officially wanting you.” They stared at each other for a beat before bursting into laughter at the terrible line. Isabel held up a finger. “While you’re embarrassed that I just said that, you should probably know there is a lot more where that came from. Gear up for a parade of cringe-worthy Isabel moments.”

  “My brain is exploding with all of the awful predictions.”

  “Meanwhile, I predict…kissing.” Isabel slowly descended to Taylor’s mouth. And they were off, right there on Taylor’s couch. The clothes came off quickly, and what started on the couch moved out of necessity to the fluffy rug on the floor. And oh, the wondrous places they took each other on that rug.

  A milestone of a day, most assuredly.

  *****

  November was on track to be a memorable month in the life of Isabel Chase.

  After her episode aired, Isabel noticed a remarkable shift in the world as she knew it. Not only was the episode highly reviewed, but the storyline seemed to give the ratings the shot in the arm they needed. As a result, Isabel’s stock rose. People on set knew her name, her coworkers listened to her opinion, and her confidence soared.

  “Why aren’t we writing Jackson into this scene at the hospital? Talk about tension if we do,” Isabel said to the room of writers.

  Scruffy blew out a breath. “The cub thinks we should write Jackson in.” He glanced around the room. “Thoughts? It actually might make sense.”

  “Agreed. Cub is right,” Cedric said. It was his script they were picking apart, and he looked worse for the wear. “I can make the adjustment.”

  She smiled. People were paying attention to her. Even Gerald Hagerman seemed impressed with her when he visited the Water set a couple of weeks later. “Isabel Chase,” he crowed when he passed her in the hall. “Bring me more ratings like the one your episode pulled in, would you?”

  “Workin’ on it.” And she was. She spent a lot of time staring at the wall, watching the screeners, and imagining new scenarios for the characters in the Water universe. She brought her ideas to the table and found they were becoming more and more well-
received.

  Gerald had pointed at her. “Got my eye on you.”

  She smiled and returned the awkward finger gun gesture he’d made but knew that, underneath it all, she didn’t want to screw up the pretty powerful momentum she was building.

  Things with Taylor had progressed as well. Not only did they have fantastic chemistry, spending hours together in bed, but they learned that they enjoyed regular days together as well. That was the really awesome part, how easy it was to just exist together.

  Isabel started spending lazy weekends at Taylor’s house. They’d have long talks over dinners on the patio, outdoor heaters ablaze. Sometimes Isabel cooked. Other times, Taylor tried. She was just as she’d proclaimed, however: a disaster in the kitchen, inspiring more than one take-out order to save the day. In the afternoons, they’d work by the pool or Isabel would read books while Taylor threw the tennis ball for Raisin. At night, they’d ravish each other appropriately before falling asleep in each other’s arms. The serenity of it all was a godsend in Isabel’s life. Taylor was a godsend.

  “You two are a pair,” she said one Saturday afternoon to Taylor, who lay on the floor with Raisin, rubbing his exposed tummy as he wiggled around because he was ticklish or gleeful—it was unclear which.

  “Raisin loves me and I love Raisin. It’s a ridiculous love fest. Isn’t it?” She manipulated his paws in a series of gestures. “It is.” Taylor Andrews was a dignified woman, known as a ballbuster in many circles, and hearing her speak baby talk to a dachshund on the floor said a lot about her feelings for him. Isabel smiled and turned the page of her crime novel. “So,” Taylor said, pushing herself into a sitting position. “I have news from my morning chat with Gerald.”

  “Oh, yeah? What’s up?”

  “First of all, the network loves your newest script.”

  “They do?” Isabel perked up at the news, setting her book aside. She could read about that girl riding around on that train anytime. “I don’t believe you.”

  “Because you’re predisposed to pessimism. They did, too, like it. Gerald thinks you’re the bee’s knees. I told him he has good taste.”