by Danica Avet
I nod because I understand. I’ve watched Mom drive Dad insane my entire life. He doesn’t like it when she gets the urge to start changing things around, but he doesn’t stop her from doing it because he knows it’s for his enjoyment as well. Denise never did that for me. If she wanted a new sofa set or, hell, even a new bed, it was what she wanted, not what we both could agree on. Most of the fucking time, I couldn’t even sit on the bullshit furniture she bought because it was made for looks, not comfort.
Remembering Katie’s living room, which had the cutesy shit but still managed to be comfortable, I knew she was my Cathy. I just had to get through this bad shit with Denise first.
“That band director lady,” Buddy says, reading my mind the way he used to when he coached me. “She’s a good one. Seems pretty down to earth to me. You want a girl like that to make a home with.”
“I do,” I agree. “I really do.”
He claps me on the back and starts for the athletic building. “See ya in the morning, Steady.”
Turning in the opposite direction, I make my way out of the stadium and head over to the band annex. A glance at my watch shows it’s five, thirty minutes before they end for the day. While I’m pissed about Denise’s call and attempts at manipulating me, I won’t let it interfere with Katie’s success. I’m fucking proud of my woman and I want to be there when the announcement is made.
Entering the building for the first time ever, I’m struck by the success of the Marching 300. The trophy case and wall of plaques are silent proof of the type of program Sauvage has created with their Music Department. Muffled music emerges from a cracked door ahead and I peek through to see Katie up on a small podium, directing the band through a song I’ve heard them play for halftime.
Mark, who I’ve met in passing, is standing at the door and notices me. At first, he looks startled to see me, then he motions for me to enter. Trying to be as quiet as possible, I slip through the doors and stand with him. No one pays me any attention; they’re all focused on their music.
It’s a lot different hearing them inside four walls than it is in the stadium. The sound is richer, more intimate, and while I might not be an expert in music, even I can tell they’re damn good. Some of the tension I carry with me from my talk with Denise fades as I listen to them. It isn’t my normal type of music but I can appreciate it, and I can definitely appreciate watching Katie’s graceful movements as she leads them through the song and finally to a close.
“Good,” she says, having no idea I’m standing in the shadows. “Matthew, rests are your friend. Use them.” Everyone chuckles. “Okay guys, that’s about it—”
“Band, stay where you are,” Mark announces, stepping forward. “I have an announcement to make.”
Katie turns, her gaze lights on me and her entire face brightens as she concedes the podium to Mark. She gives me a quick smile before turning her attention back to the other man.
“We need everyone here no later than three-thirty. Kickoff is at five.” He flips through some papers in front of him. “Also, section leaders make sure you have your section’s room assignments to me by eight a.m. Monday morning. The buses leave at nine in the morning next Friday, which means we won’t be getting to San Antonio until six that night at the earliest. I want to be able to drop our luggage off at the hotel before heading out to eat and the last thing I want is to hear people complaining about who they’re rooming with. Guys, I suggest you make sure you’re rooming with someone you don’t mind seeing in their pajamas.”
“Or naked,” Levi pipes up from the back, making everyone laugh again.
“Please wear clothes,” Mark says with a small smile. “Sauvage can’t afford therapy for 300 students.” He looks back down at his notes. “The last thing I want to announce is that, as you all know, we change the set and show mid-season. No use in playing the same show the entire year. What you may not know though is that, this time around, Katherine has designed a show that I think you’ll all enjoy performing.” He turns to her. “Is this the song list?”
Katie nods, her little hands forming fists at her side, but that’s the only way she shows her anxiety.
“Excellent.” Mark puts his glasses on. “Katherine thought we were becoming a little too staid and boring, so this is the list of songs we’ll start practicing when we return from the away game, with drills following the week after. I hope you’re ready,” he says ominously. “Let’s see, the song list is Macklemore’s ‘Can’t Hold Us’, The Black Keys’ ‘Gold on the Ceiling’, Flo Rida’s ‘Wild Ones’ and the drum break is an arrangement written by Katherine.”
Before Mark even finishes, there are cheers and applause. The drummers seem to be the loudest, Levi whistling. Katie’s cheeks turn red, but she accepts their excitement as her due.
“Katherine, do you have anything you’d like to add?” Mark asks, stepping off the podium.
She takes his place and smiles widely. “I’m glad everyone’s so excited about the change in format. I have no doubt—none at all—that you’ll rise to the challenge of this new show. The sheet music will go out when we get back from San Antonio, and with two weeks of away games we’ll have plenty of time to practice.” She turns to look at the drummers. “Levi, your line is going to be practicing two hours post regular band rehearsals. Thank you everyone and see you tomorrow afternoon.”
I stand back as students start filing out of the room, their smiles of approval enough for me. Everyone seems pleased Katie’s getting her chance to change things up a bit, which makes me happy.
She accepts congratulations from several members as she slowly makes her way to me. She’s all smiles and glowing skin, making my chest ache. Honestly, I know I’m in love with her because all I want is for her to be happy. Fuck me.
Kate
I feel like my heart is going to burst, I’m so excited. I just don’t know if it’s solely because of the reception my show concept received, or because Shaun was here to witness it. As I speak to several band members, I can’t seem to stop looking at him, at the way he stares at me with a soft, warm gaze. His lips are curled in a small, intimate smile that reaches right to the center of my being and tugs.
When I finally manage to break away from the students, I walk up to him, unable to keep the goofy grin off my face. My happiness knows no bounds at this moment.
“Hi,” I say stupidly, but Shaun doesn’t seem to see anything wrong with it.
His smile widens. “Hey. Congratulations.”
Warmth fills my chest. “Thank you,” I whisper, nearly overcome with gratitude. If he hadn’t given me that talk last night I’d probably still be waffling over whether to approach Mark or not. But he had, and helped me realize my dream. “Thank you so much. For everything.”
I don’t know if he swayed toward me, or I just stepped into his space, but suddenly my face is plastered to his chest, my boobs are against his flat stomach and my arms are around his trim waist. It’s only when he doesn’t hug me back that my eyes go wide. Oh god, had I misinterpreted his body language? Was he like…just about to reach out to shake my hand? Should I have shaken his hand?
My brain goes into immediate panic mode, as though an alarm is going off. Warning! Warning! Fuck up occurred. Time to initiate cover-up sequence. I start to pull away from Shaun, ready to say something like, ‘I just wanted to smell your detergent,’ or ‘My therapist has recommended that I hug a stranger a day and today I chose you’. But I don’t get the chance.
Big arms wrap around me. Like completely around me, holding me to that muscled chest despite my body still trying to pull away. Okay, I don’t even fight it for long. There’s something about Shaun’s warmth, the scent of his cologne underlined with a smell that’s uniquely him, the way we sort of fit together despite our height differences, that has me melting into him.
I close my eyes, listening to his heart pound beneath my cheek and sigh. It’s a stupid little sound, but one I can’t seem to help releasing, because it feels like it’s been s
o long since someone just hugged me. I feel something touch the top of my head and my breath catches in my lungs. Did he just kiss me? My heart flutters and I melt into him even more.
I don’t know how long we just stand there like statues, but we’re interrupted when Mark says loudly, “Well, I think that went well, don’t you?”
His voice startles me out of the moment and I lift my head to see my co-worker standing next to us, not looking at us, although I can see he’s smiling. My face feels hot and I let go of Shaun like I just realized he was a snake instead of a sexy celebrity. He doesn’t though. His arms slide from my shoulders to my waist, anchoring me to him as he turns to look at Mark.
“The band seems excited,” he says casually, as though his hands aren’t sitting right above my butt. “I’m taking Katie out to celebrate, do you want to join us?”
Mark finally looks at us, his mouth gaping open as though he’s shocked by the invitation. That’s when I realize for all the prestige he holds in the Music Department, and in the music community at large, he’s a band nerd. Just like all the rest of us who feel a little out of step with the rest of the world, but in step with each other. And for the first time since accepting this position, I feel kinship with him.
“Uh, yeah, wow, that’s…” Mark stammers, eyes blinking owlishly. “That’s nice of you, thank you, but Hannah—she’s my wife—invited her parents over tonight for dinner. So, you know, I have to go to that.”
Shaun shrugs, the movement rubbing his muscles against me, and that warm, cozy feeling I had from the hug sort of fades into a low-level arousal. Not good.
“That’s okay, maybe another time. We can double date,” Shaun suggests.
I open my mouth to say we’re not dating, we’re just friends, but… Yeah, the hug we just shared wasn’t necessarily one friends gave each other. At least I’d never hugged Helen like I’d just hugged Shaun. Oh man.
“Y-Yeah, sure,” Mark stutters before looking at me with an awed expression. “Katherine, I’ll see you tomorrow. You two, uh, have fun tonight.”
I nod mutely, watching as Shaun detaches one of his arms to shake Mark’s hand, before returning to its original position around my waist. We watch Mark walk away, shaking his head and muttering to himself. The outer door closes, leaving me alone in the band building with Shaun.
My hands had somehow attached themselves to his waist. My arms aren’t wrapped around him, so much as my thumbs are hooked into the waistband of his slacks. I stare at them as though they belong to someone else. I don’t remember grabbing him again but apparently I had, and it isn’t like an innocent hug. Thumbs in waistbands seem far more intimate than that, suggesting I’m comfortable enough to put parts of my body in his pants.
“So where do you want to go tonight?” Shaun asks, drawing my gaze up his muscled chest, past the thick, sexy beard to his dark eyes, which sparkle with warmth. “I keep hearing about this place called The Glasshouse that’s supposed to have the best food in the tri-parish area. We can go there.”
I stare at him, trying to figure out when exactly I went from not wanting anything to do with him, to just wanting to be friends with him, to wanting a hell of a lot more. I can’t pinpoint it, not completely. I know that talk we had last night acted as a turning point in the way I saw him, but it’s more than that. It was the concern he showed Cuba when we found him taped up on my doorstep, the way he didn’t seem to expect people to kowtow to him because of his celebrity status.
I don’t know what he sees in my face, only that his expression turns solemn and one of his hands reaches up to cup my cheek. “Hey, are you okay?”
Concern. For me. “I’m fine,” I squeak, my throat tight with emotions. “I’m just…so happy.”
His smile returns, crinkling the corners of his eyes, and my heart turns over. “Ah, babe, didn’t I say you had this?” His thumb strokes my cheek, his smile faltering a little as his gaze scans my face. “I’m fucking proud of you, Katie. So goddamn proud.”
Then he dips his head, pressing his lips to my forehead. The soft hair of his beard brushes my skin, but there’s no distracting from the warmth of his mouth. I close my eyes, my heart climbing into my throat from the excess emotion filling me.
When he pulls away, I still feel his kiss like a brand in the center of my forehead. “Let’s get out of here,” he says, reaching out to take my hand. “My woman has a lot of celebrating to do.”
I allow him to lead me out of the band building, stopping only long enough to grab my messenger bag and purse from my office. And he doesn’t let go of my hand the entire time. Yes, I have a lot of celebrating to do. And a hell of a lot of soul searching to do as well. He gives my fingers a squeeze as he helps me into his truck, his smile warming me to the very tips of my toes.
Although, as he drives, I can’t help but wonder, When did I become his woman?
Kate
I feel so self-conscious, I keep smoothing my hands over my skirt. Maybe I should’ve worn slacks? I bite my lip. Do I still have time to run upstairs? Why do I even care? Is this a date, or is it just dinner between friends? I’m so damn confused, both by his actions and words and my feelings about it all.
On one hand, I have the whole once bitten, twice shy skittishness going, which tells me not to be an idiot. He’s married, or currently separated, which is close to still being married. Plus he’s this…professional football player. What the hell would he want with me anyway, when he could have any woman he wanted?
On the other hand, I really, really like him. Yes, I sound like a twelve year old talking about the cool boy in class, but I can’t help it. He’s…sweet. He’s handsome, he smells amazing, he’s funny and smart and he believes in me. Me. Even Adam hadn’t cared enough to care whether I was happy teaching at St. Joseph’s or not. As long as I was available for sex or a blow job, everything else was superfluous.
Still, this isn’t necessarily a date I remind myself. Just because he hugged me back, kept his hands on me while talking to Mark, and called me ‘his woman’ didn’t mean anything. Maybe he’s a touchy-feely guy. That’s all it is, I assure myself. Which means this outfit is not appropriate for dinner with a friend. So I’ll just change.
Except just as I convince myself slacks would be better for dinner, lights illuminate my front windows and I freeze in place. Maybe it wasn’t him. My neighbor likes to park in my drive sometimes, especially when they have a party going on. Nothing happens for a moment. Feeling safe that I have time, I start to move but, before I can take a step in the direction of the stairs, Shaun knocks on my door. I know it’s him because he does the whole “Shave and a Haircut” rhythm. It’s goofy. And charming. But it means I don’t have time to change, or he’ll wonder what the hell’s going on.
Taking a deep breath, I make sure my wrap-blouse is closed—because I’m terrible at tying bows—and make my way to the door. I thought I was overdressed, but seeing Shaun in a green button down shirt, black slacks, and with dress shoes on his big feet, I relax some. Not completely though. There’s no way I’ll manage that with the way he’s eyeing me. Like a lion trying to decide if he wants to chase after a gazelle or not.
Suddenly, I’m glad I took pains with my appearance. Other than that first day of class, he’s only seen me in casual dress and band-safe clothes. The skirt, wrap-around blouse and strappy heels I’m wearing are something I would’ve worn for a night out with Helen in Chicago. I’ve even taken the time to smooth my wild hair into a somewhat sophisticated looking chignon and the appreciation in his eyes is so worth the time I spent on my outfit.
“You look…” He scans me again before meeting my gaze. “You look gorgeous, Katie.”
I have to physically restrain myself from sighing like some lovelorn teenager, but there’s nothing I can do about the blush. “Thank you,” I say softly, dipping my head. “You look great.”
I sort of lean forward a bit, not meaning to, it just happens. I’m not going for another hug, I just want a whiff of that sinful colog
ne. And I have to bite back a moan because, as usual, he smells like a walking advertisement for sex. At least to me. I lick my lips, my eyes closing as I imagine…
“If you keep looking at me like that, we won’t make it anywhere,” he says in a voice that’s a lot rougher than his usual tone.
I blink, meeting his gaze, which has gone even darker than normal. God, I was about to start mauling him in my doorway! “Oh,” I say uselessly. What kind of response is that anyway? “Let me, um, get my purse.”
Turning back toward the living room, I sort of look around blindly. What does my purse even look like? Where did I put it when I got home? I was so excited about everything, I sort of flung my messenger bag and purse as I ran up the stairs.
“Is this it?” Shaun asks from behind me, his long arm with my purse dangling from his fingers appearing over my shoulder.
“Oh! Thank you,” I gush, turning to accept it, only to come right up against his hard body. My hands come to rest on his chest and I tilt my head back. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were so…so…”
I can’t seem to finish my thought because his face is dipping toward mine, eyes intent and hungry. I have time to move away, to stop this kiss before it starts, but I don’t. I can’t. I’m drawn to him like a magnet and tilt my head back to meet his lips.
It’s a soft kiss, almost innocent in the soft brush of our mouths. But what it does to my body, my heart, and my mind is absolute devastation. He doesn’t initiate tongue, just sort of rubs his lips against mine over and over, each silken glide sending tremors through my body. My panties grow damp, my knees get weak, and still I don’t pull away. It’s so intimate, as though he’s mapping out the shape of my lips, committing them to memory because he doesn’t miss a spot from corner to corner and everywhere in between.