by Jules Court
And then it would be over. This would be over, and he was enjoying just being with her. He took a long swallow off his beer.
“Do you want to play darts while we wait?” she asked. “Unless you’re afraid to get your ass kicked by a girl.” There was a challenging gleam in her blue eyes.
This Valkyrie liked games. He gave her a sly grin of his own. “Care to put your money where your luscious mouth is?”
Good thing he liked to play, too. Now he just needed to tease her enough that she’d want to keep spending time with him. After all, he could be irresistible when he tried. All he had to do was ignore the demands of his body until she wanted him for more than one night. And the way she was smiling at him, that wouldn’t take too long. They’d be spending Sunday morning shopping at Costco in no time at all, which was an image that once would have horrified him and made him run for the nearest exit. But with her, he might even enjoy picking out dishtowels.
* * *
The earlier bout of phone sex aside, it was becoming clear that Will was a relationship guy. They’d spent all afternoon together and he hadn’t even tried to kiss her. She’d done everything short of launch herself at him and hump his leg. During their game, she’d deliberately dropped a dart and leaned over in a manner worthy of the highest caliber stripper to retrieve it; if he’d bothered to check out her ass, he’d been covert about it. Whenever he said something funny, she’d touched his arm and laughed. She’d flipped her hair more times that afternoon than in the whole two years she’d been in a sorority. Apparently, sex wasn’t on the table without dinner.
Despite her mounting sexual frustration, she was having a fantastic time with him, though. After Will was done talking with the manager at the Thistle about the possibility of a private party, he suggested pizza, which was dangerously close to a date.
“Pizza is not date food. Bros get pizza together,” he said. “Unless it’s pineapple, because that might challenge their heteronormative view of the world. Fruit on pizza upsets the natural order.”
“What about bros who want to mess around but not date? Do they get pizza?”
“They skip the extra garlic. So, Pizzeria Regina?”
He was right. It was only pizza. And she had been the one to invite herself along in the first place. “I want sausage and pepperoni.”
He nodded. “Bros love meat. No homo, though.” He sighed. “Sorry, I spend way too much time with dudes.”
At the tiny pizza shop in the North End, they’d mostly discussed planning for the party, but she could tell by the way he spoke how close to his family he was. She’d had to push down a sudden wave of sadness. If things had been different, would she be coming home for Sunday dinners?
The arrival of one of his friends jolted her from her increasingly sad thoughts. A short, dark-haired guy wearing an extremely tight T-shirt called out a greeting as he approached their table. Will jumped up and they exchanged some sort of elaborate fist bump thing.
“This is Tony,” Will said. “He works with me over at the firehouse. Tony, this is Elizabeth.”
Tony sat down at their table and gave her a blatant once-over. “You might know me better as Mr. December,” he said. His smile had more cheese than the slice of pizza on her plate.
Across from her, Will rolled his eyes and she tried not to laugh. “Sorry, not familiar with your work,” she said. She’d never flipped past Will’s page of the calendar.
Her cell phone buzzed and she pulled it out of her bag with every intention of silencing it. But when she picked it up, she saw Megan’s name on the caller ID. “Sorry,” she said. “I’ve got to take this.” She gave Will an apologetic look as she got up from the table.
She didn’t answer until she’d stepped outside onto the street. “Hey, everything okay?”
“I need some money,” Megan said. Her voice sounded strained.
“What’s wrong? There should be enough in your account to get you through the rest of the month. Did you need another textbook or something? I’ll just call the bookstore and charge it. That way you can pick it up.”
“Can you just put some money in my account?”
“Why?”
There was a long pause, but Elizabeth had practice waiting them out and stayed silent. Finally Megan said in a small voice, “I’m hungry.”
“Is there something wrong with your dining hall account?”
“I haven’t been eating in the dining hall.”
“Why not?” Elizabeth had paid for the full meal plan just so she wouldn’t have to worry about whether Megan was eating.
Megan’s voice grew quiet. “I don’t like eating alone in front of everyone. They’re all staring. I feel like such a loser.”
“So you’ve been buying all your food off campus?”
Megan said yes in the same tone she used when she’d admitted to cleaning her room by shoving her dirty clothes under her bed, or when Elizabeth had caught her trying to shoplift lip gloss from CVS, or when she’d rolled in past her curfew. Shame barely masked by defiance.
Maybe she’d been pushing Megan too hard. Turning eighteen hadn’t magically transformed her into an adult. It wasn’t too late for Megan to transfer to the UMass Boston campus. Then she could live at home with Elizabeth.
Elizabeth squashed those tempting thoughts. Her baby bird needed to learn to fly.
“You’re not the only person who doesn’t know anyone,” she said. “Almost everyone in your freshman class is in the same exact situation and they’re probably looking for friends, too. Just walk into the dining hall with your head high and a smile on your face. Trust me. It might take a little time, but you will make friends. You just need to be open to it.” And she had to let Megan go.
Everyone left eventually.
* * *
Will watched Elizabeth walk out of the pizza shop clutching her phone. Who was calling that she had to drop everything and talk to them right away? And why didn’t she feel she could take the call in front of him?
Tony reached forward and grabbed a slice. “Hitting that?”
“It’s not like that,” Will said, except it kind of was. Elizabeth had been completely up front that she wasn’t interested in anything more. But she was spending the day with him. He sat up a little straighter and smiled.
“You gotta strike while the iron’s still hot, man. Just a couple more months and this calendar isn’t going to be on every chick in Boston’s wall anymore.”
“I don’t think it is now. And I can’t wait.” If anyone had told him last year that he’d hate being constantly checked out by women, he’d have told them to go screw themselves.
“I’ve gotten more ass than a toilet seat in Fenway Park thanks to this calendar. And you’re seriously complaining?” Tony brought both fists up and mock rubbed his eyes. “Oh, boo hoo. Women only see me as a sex object. Can’t they see that under these muscles, I’m just a sensitive artist.”
“Shut up,” Will said, laughing even though Tony wasn’t wrong. He was complaining about a situation most guys would be thrilled with. But he’d had eight months of no-strings-attached sex since that calendar went up on the wall of every woman in Boston, and it had gotten very old. Was it really so wrong to want to wake up next to someone who knew his name? The last woman he’d had sex with called him Bill. That’d been a boner killer, but only part of the reason he’d sworn off one-night stands.
The other reason conjured memories of flames licking at his protective gear, the slight weight of the elderly woman cradled in his arms, and the crash of the ceiling collapsing on his heels, debris hammering against his back, forcing him forward...one second slower and he wouldn’t be sitting here arguing with Tony. Nothing like a brush with your own mortality to alter perspective.
“So you’re saying you don’t want to meet some Patriots cheerleaders?” Tony asked. �
�Tomorrow night at the Thorny Rose—I’ve been chatting with this one chick and I’ll tell her to bring her friends.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Have you seen how high they can kick their legs?” Tony wasn’t going to quit. He simply couldn’t wrap his brain around the concept of Will not being interested in a cheap hookup and was reveling in his own new in-demand sexual status.
To change the subject, Will gave an exaggerated leer and asked, “How’s your sister?” He’d only met Angela once, because Tony didn’t like her coming around the firehouse, but bringing her up was a sure way to bust Tony’s balls. He had that old-school macho Italian thing going on that Will found funny. Even though he didn’t know Angela, he felt confident she probably wasn’t as amused by it.
“Not getting anywhere near you,” Tony said.
“No woman can resist me, I’m Mr. October,” Will said. It was meant to be self-deprecating, maybe even a bit ironic because women seemed to have no problem saying no to him when it came to the important stuff. But he looked up to see Elizabeth standing there. Her smile was just as bright as ever, but it didn’t reach her eyes.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
“It was nothing,” she said. She sat back down. “I’m taking the last slice.”
But he was left wondering if she was upset about her phone call or if she’d overheard the tail end of his conversation with Tony and thought he was the type of guy who was only running game on her. But as he watched her blot her pizza with a napkin, he felt more confused than ever, because wasn’t that what she wanted? Someone like Tony, who didn’t let his emotions get tangled up in his fun? Someone that Will was discovering he couldn’t be.
* * *
After they’d finished eating, Elizabeth had asked Will to drop her back at her car. She had to get away and clear her head. He was dangerously easy to be with and the longer she spent at his side, the less she wanted to leave it.
Now, sitting at her kitchen table in her empty house on a Friday night, she tried to envision her new life. The page in front of her was nearly blank. The only thing she’d managed to write so far was the header: Things I Want to Do Now That I’m Free.
She tapped her pen on the table. There’d been a time when she had dreams. Lots of them. She was going to live a life of crazy adventure. She sipped her cooling tea. Tonight she’d decided to live life on the edge by adding a teaspoon of sugar to it. Somebody stop me! She snorted.
What to do? Hike the Pacific Crest Trail? Too cliché. Run with the bulls in Pamplona? Too cruel to the bulls. Move to Paris, live in a garret, write poetry, drink wine, and take lovers? She wasn’t sure what a garret actually was and her poetry sucked, but the taking lovers part...that sounded good.
Except she kept picturing Will.
Who she needed to stay away from. But who hadn’t committed to renting out the Thistle. He’d been concerned it wouldn’t be large enough to fit all the potential guests. Apparently Will had a large extended family. Not like her little family unit, just Megan and her. Only now Megan was becoming an adult who would leave her.
She found herself with her phone in her hand without ever forming the intention of picking it up. She tapped out a text to Will. Have you thought about renting a hall instead of having it at a bar? You could just hire a caterer and get a few kegs and some champagne. Make some playlists on your phone, hook it up to speakers, and you don’t even need a band or a DJ. It’d be a lot cheaper. And you’re not stuck with a bunch of rules. As long as you don’t trash the place, you’re golden.
She dropped her phone. What was she doing? She wasn’t supposed to imprint on the first hot guy she came in contact with like some sad little baby bird. No, she was a tigress or some sort of sexy jungle cat stalking her prey. An independent woman.
She snatched her phone back up from the table. Time to download one of those apps that people used to hook up. Right now. She swiped her phone and instead found herself looking at Will’s calendar photo again. Oh God, she had a problem.
When her phone beeped, she almost jumped out of her skin. Will’s text read, Good idea. You want to help me?
She shouldn’t. I have Saturday off, she sent back.
Cool. It’s a date.
Nice try. She couldn’t help but smile at his unswerving optimism. Although, she wondered if she was just a challenge to him. A woman who didn’t want to pin him down. After all, she’d heard him bragging to Tony about his irresistibility. It would be the height of stupidity to become attached. Just enjoy the ride while it lasts.
Have to hit the laundromat tomorrow so probably be a little later. I’d give my left testicle for a washer dryer hookup.
I’ve got a washer and dryer.
Nobody likes a bragger.
You can bring your laundry over. What are you doing? But her fingers kept flying over the keyboard. We’ll brainstorm while you’re doing laundry.
Where do you live?
Weymouth.
Aren’t you a little young for the ‘burbs? Live with your parents?
Just in her parents’ house. See you tomorrow, she sent, ignoring the question.
Chapter Six
“Quit texting like a chick and shoot,” Tony ordered, waving his cue at Will. After he’d dropped Elizabeth at her car, he’d met back up with Tony to shoot some pool at a dive bar.
Will lined up his shot but couldn’t keep the goofy grin off his face. She’d invited him over. The balls made a satisfying thwack as the nine-ball sank into the corner pocket, exactly as he’d planned.
“Luck,” Tony said.
“Skill.” Will attempted to bank his next shot but missed.
“Now watch and learn,” Tony said. “See how a real man gets it done.” Tony leaned forward to take his shot.
“Careful, don’t want to rip your boy’s medium.” What Tony lacked in height, he made up in muscle and was a big believer in no such thing as too tight a T-shirt. His Mr. December picture had helped move more than a few copies of the calendar. Had Elizabeth checked out Tony’s picture, too?
“Don’t hate just because you’re jealous of my gains, Picasso,” Tony said.
Will gripped his stick tighter. He was jealous, but not of Tony’s muscles—he had his own. The last woman he’d slept with, the one who’d called him Bill, he’d seen the following week hanging on Tony’s arm. If he slept with Elizabeth, would he have to see her with Tony next?
“Picasso was a Cubist,” he managed to say in a normal voice even while his guts were churning. “I’m more of a naturalist, although my style is still changing.” He reminded himself that Elizabeth had been friendly to Tony but hadn’t seemed overly interested.
“Whatever.” Tony shrugged. “You’re good. When you going to do something with that?”
“It’s just something I mess around with. I’m not a real artist,” he said. Just like he wasn’t a jealous guy. Elizabeth wasn’t his girlfriend and she had the right to sleep with whoever she wanted to. It just sucked that Will wanted her to want only him. But that was his problem.
He leaned over to take another shot, but Tony had left him with nothing.
“So you’re really not going coming with me to meet cheerleaders tomorrow?” Tony asked. “I need a wingman. Don’t make me take Fat Al.”
“Fat Al isn’t that fat anymore. He’s been running and passing on the cannoli.” It was hard working in the neighborhood with the highest concentration of Italian bakeries and restaurants in the city. Some of the guys at the firehouse weren’t year-round calendar-ready as a result. “Besides, I’ve got plans for tomorrow.”
“Elizabeth? Date or hookup?”
She’d texted him. That was a date, right? Admiral Akbar from Star Wars—a movie he’d seen way too many times thanks to his brother’s obsession with it, at least until Will got big enoug
h to wrestle away the remote control—sounded in his head. And Admiral Akbar wasn’t wrong. It had to be a trap. If Will went over to her place and did what his body was dying to do, she’d slot him in as a hookup guy instead of someone to be taken seriously. He was tired of being that guy. But if he passed, then she’d be offended and move on.
That could only mean that it was actually a Kobayashi Maru—a no-win scenario. But James Kirk had triumphed over the Kobayashi Maru by showing the way to win was not to play. So, Will should go over to her place, but keep his dick holstered. Somehow he’d flip this and turn it into a date.
“I like her,” he said to Tony. He leaned on his pool cue.
“You’re such a woman,” Tony said, like that was an insult. Will really needed to get some new friends.
“At least I don’t need a booster seat,” he said, going for the easy points.
“The ladies don’t mind because I’ve got height where it counts.” Tony made a “boom” gesture, slamming his hands toward his crotch. “I’m talking about my dick. It’s big.”
Yeah, Will wasn’t going to use Tony as a sounding board for his Elizabeth dilemma. “You’re paying for my beer for making me think about your dick. And if you make a homophobic joke, you’re also buying the next one.”
It wasn’t until he got home that it hit him. Will needed to talk to Danny, his brother’s partner and friend, who, over the past year, had become Will’s friend, too. Somehow Danny had landed a girlfriend who hadn’t just been opposed to a relationship, but who’d actively disliked him. That guy was a fucking magician to have pulled that off.
Will kicked off his shoes and sat down on his old sofa, making sure to avoid the spot where the springs were coming up. It was a hand-me-down that had moved through several cousins before coming to him. The rest of his apartment was a similar mishmash of junk. He didn’t even have a set of matching plates. He’d be turning twenty-nine next month. Maybe it was time he started living like an adult. Before it hadn’t mattered because he spent half his time at the firehouse anyway. But now he’d like to have a place where Elizabeth would like to spend time.