Mind the Gap (In Too Deep)

by Casey McMillin

  "I wish you'd come back to my apartment tonight and sing for me," I said. I was already this far into it, so why not just go ahead and ask for what I wanted, right?

  "You like my voice enough to invite me into your home to sing for you?" she asked, looking up at me through her lashes. I could tell she was at least considering the idea of thinking about my suggestion, and I felt a wave of nervous excitement thinking she might come home with me.

  "That's an understatement, Brit," I said, truthfully. "I can hear your singing voice in your speaking voice, and it makes me do crazy things like lie to you to get you back here, and kiss you in front of everybody."

  "I'm not doing anything until 2PM tomorrow, so as long as you can have me to the restaurant by—"

  "Done," I said.

  She smiled and relaxed onto my lap for a few more minutes before we all got out at a Halloween block party in downtown L.A. I lost track of her for a while. She was hanging out with Maggie Cooper, and I went off with Zack. We stayed at the block party until midnight when the bus was headed back to Gretchen's. The driver dropped the sober passengers off at Gretchen's so they could get their cars before bringing home the ones who were too wasted to drive.

  There were about ten people who needed to be bussed home, but I wasn't one of them. I had a couple beers earlier in the night, but I was fine to drive at that point. Brit got off the bus with us, but that was a given for her because she was staying at Gretchen and Joel's, or maybe she was staying at Collin and Rachel's… I wasn't exactly sure. Either way, she got off the bus. I hadn't talked to her since the moment earlier when she agreed to come home with me. At least I thought she'd agreed to come home with me… with the way she'd gone off to hang out with Maggie, I couldn't be sure.

  We all gathered in the courtyard at Gretchen's before going our separate ways. Right off the bat, Ethan and Emily told everyone goodnight and said they needed to be getting back to their place to check on Sal. Collin and Rachel weren't far behind them, saying they too were anxious to get out of their costumes. That left Brit standing out there with me, Zack, and Maggie. We talked for a few minutes about Halloween randomness before Maggie said she needed to be taking off. I wanted to ask Brit if she was still coming home with me, but Zack was right there, and the whole thing seemed a bit forced. Finally, Zack asked if I wanted to get a bite to eat on our way home. He extended the invitation to Brit as well, assuming one of us would have to give her a ride back here since she was staying at Gretchen's.

  "I'm headed to Josh's," she said, "so it's up to him if we get a bite to eat."

  Zack, who apparently didn't notice our kiss on the bus, looked at Brit like he must have misunderstood her.

  "Go get your stuff and let's get out of here," I said to Brit. I smiled at her, loving the fact that she'd taken the initiative to say she was coming over. I looked at Zack. "I could handle a short stack of pancakes on our way home, but I'm not trying to stay out all night. She has to be somewhere in the morning."

  If Zack was surprised by the recent revelation, he didn't show it. He was as notorious as Ethan with one night stands—a real professional—and he wasn't about to jeopardize my chance at one. Brit was obviously glad to avoid any drama, and she took off toward the house with a spring in her step.

  ****

  Zack and I drove our own cars to the cafe so we could go our separate ways afterward. Brit rode with me, making me promise to have her back at Gretchen's by noon the following day. The three of us sat at a booth and ate our midnight snack. There was no question when it came to the seating arrangement. She was the first to sit down, and I slid into the booth next to her. Brit and I both picked at our food (which was rare for me) but there were still tons of unknowns between us, and we were both nervous.

  Zack asked her a lot of questions. He asked about her music and her art, and lots of other things I was interested in hearing her answers to. She was, as I expected, a free spirit, hippie, artist type—a vegetarian who not only recycles, but was outspoken about how we should do it too. She wasn't as pushy as some hippies I'd encountered, though. I actually thought the whole thing was sort of cute. She didn't say anything, but I wondered how she was handling the big chunk of ham on Zack's plate.

  The three of us sat in that booth laughing and talking for at least an hour, and the entire time, I paid close attention to the sound of her voice. I tried not to lose track of the words she was saying, but spent a good amount of time analyzing the actual tone of her voice, why it affected me the way it did. I decided after giving it some thought that Brit's voice might just be one of life's little mysteries. I had to remind myself that there was a chance it wasn't just the voice making me feel that attraction… the body and face attached to it weren't half-bad either.

  Brit and I made small talk as we drove from the cafe to my apartment. All those pesky unanswered questions crackled in the air between us like static, making us trip over each other in the dialogue. Conversation had actually gone a lot smoother when Zack was with us, which was weird because one-on-one was usually my strong suit. I never had a problem carrying on an intelligent conversation, but that night, during that ride, I felt at a loss for words. How had I gone from her sitting on my lap and agreeing to spend the night with me to not being able to carry on a coherent conversation?

  "You sure you don't mind if I spend the night?" she asked.

  "I'm the one who invited you, remember?"

  I reached across the console of my truck and touched her hand. I wasn't fully committed to holding it just in case she wasn't into it. I tried to pull my hand back after the brief contact, but Brit gently stopped me, pulling my hand back down where she could hold on to it. I had to stifle a smile at the realization that she was into whatever was about to go down between us that night.

  "I hope you know I'm not singing for you tonight, though," she said.

  "I thought that was part of the deal," I said, teasing her. I honestly didn't care if she sang or not. Actually, there was a slight possibility that I would lose control in some way shape or form if she did sing, so we might be better off skipping that part.

  "I don't have my guitar, and I'm not just gonna bust out a cappella," she said.

  "I was just playing with you," I said, smiling and glancing at her sideways. "I wouldn't invite you to my house and then make you entertain me, not when other people have to pay good money to hear you."

  "I don’t know about all that," she said shyly. She shrugged. "I'm not hoping for a record deal or anything, it's just a cool feeling when a room full of people pay attention to something your doing on stage. It's especially nice when they enjoy it." She readjusted in her seat, but kept her hand in mine.

  I asked if she had plans to continue playing once she moved to L.A., and she said she did. She also told me that Gretchen was looking forward to using her musical talents at The Center. Brit seemed excited at the prospect of being able to flourish creatively at Gretchen's place. I told her I could relate since I really enjoyed my job. She was a little confused about how anyone could enjoy an engineering job, but said she guessed that's what made the world go round.

  "Is anything gonna jump out at me?" Brit asked as I was unlocking the door of my apartment.

  "Like what?" I asked, confused.

  "You know, like a dog, or a cat, or a roommate or something."

  "No," I said, laughing. "If something jumps out at us, you better watch out because there's gonna be a fight." I pushed open the door and stood back to let her walk past me. She instantly noticed the heavy bag hanging from the ceiling.

  "Whoa," she said. "You have a punching bag in your living room." When people start stating the obvious, it's usually because they're uncomfortable and they don't know what else to say. I should have known my heavy bag would be an issue for the flower child.

  "I don't compete or anything, but I do some MMA," I said. I hoped we could leave it at that and just ignore the big monstrosity hanging in my living room for the rest of the evening.

  "Wha
t is MMA?" she asked.

  Christ.

  "It stands for Mixed Martial Arts," I said. "I do striking and Jiu Jitsu at a gym here in town, and I use the bag to work out at home."

  "What, like fighting?" she asked.

  "Yeah, but it's no big deal. It's not like I walk around bashing guys' heads in. It's fun, and it keeps me in good shape."

  "I thought you were a swimmer."

  "I was a swimmer. Still am, I guess. I do that too, although not as much as I used to."

  "You must be in great shape then."

  "I'm trying to show you what good shape I'm in, but you keep wanting to talk about things you don't like about me."

  "I never said I don't like fighting."

  "Oh, so you like fighting?"

  "I never said that either, you're just acting like I'm gonna be shocked that you like to hit things. I have a brother and a dad you know."

  "Do either of them wear skinny jeans?"

  Brit cracked up laughing. "Oh my God, no! They're both loggers," she hesitated, "I mean not that loggers can't wear skinny jeans, I'm not saying that, I just imagined my dad and brother wearing those and…" she started laughing again, and I found myself wishing I'd met them so I could understand how ridiculous the notion was.

  "Sounds like my kind of guys," I said.

  "Oh you'd love them," she said.

  "What I'd love," I said, trying to get to the point before we spent all night talking about her family, "is to remember why we came here in the first place."

  Brit looked at me with a cautious expression and I groaned inwardly.

  "What if we just watch some T.V. or hang out?" she asked.

  Oh, here we go.

  "I'm fine with hanging out," I said, lying. "We can just hang out if you want, or I could bring you back to Joel's." I had been hiding my feelings pretty well, but at that point I slipped and let out a sigh.

  "I don't want to leave," she said. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have tested you like that. I was just feeling a little nervous about what your expectations were for tonight."

  "I don't have any expectations," I assured her. "Like I said, we can just hang out." Liar, liar pants on fire. If the old saying were true, my pants would have been flaming right then. I had plenty of expectations, starting with getting her out of that little, white top.

  She smiled at me, a knowing smile that said she knew I wanted her and she was open to the idea. "I have to ask a favor, though," she said.

  I nodded. "Ask away."

  "That costume has been worn by about three actors, and hasn't been dry cleaned and who knows how long. I'd feel so much better if I could take a shower."

  "Of course you can take a shower," I said. "You want to right now?"

  She nodded.

  "Just let me go make sure nothing's gonna jump out at you in there."

  Chapter 13

  Brit

  Josh's apartment was possibly the cleanest place I'd ever been in. The place was verging on sterile, which was odd considering he had a collection of antique furniture. It was inviting and sterile at the same time, giving me a strange sense of comfort. He had a big punching bag and some other work out equipment right out in the open in his living room and we talked for a minute about him being a typical guy who likes to hit things. I told him I wanted to take a shower, partly because I wanted to get clean after an evening of bumping into costumes, and partly because I liked having an excuse to sing a little.

  He checked his bathroom for anything embarrassing before letting me in to take a shower. I was flabbergasted at the cleanliness of the place. I was a pretty clean person, but still felt like a pig next to this guy. It was so clean I asked him if he hired a service. He laughed at that and shrugged it off saying it wasn't that hard to pick up after yourself.

  I turned the handle of the shower and let the hot water run. I knew he'd more than likely leave me alone to take my shower in peace, but I still felt a luscious anxiousness at the thought of singing in the shower and him liking it so much he'd come in and join me. In a flash, I imagined the whole scene, and the vision of it made my stomach do a flip.

  I opened the shower door, and steam bellowed into the room around me. I quickly adjusted the temperature so it wouldn't burn me. I stepped into the warm water, and let it run all over my neck and shoulders. I wasn't about to start singing right away, so I used some of his shower gel to wash off the grime of the day. I had a road trip, a party, a bus ride, a block party, and a cafe. It felt so good to let the suds and hot water work their magic. I started humming, hoping it sounded absent-minded even though there was nothing absent-minded about it. I hummed for a few more seconds before lightly singing out a word or two, all the while being careful to make it sound as if I was just spacing out. I went back and forth between humming and singing… all very quietly. This went on for a few long seconds before I heard Josh's voice through the door.

  "Hey Britney?"

  The sound of my full name made me feel wonderfully achy and weak.

  "Yeah?" I asked innocently.

  "Hey, I can hear you out here." His voice was so deep it was almost a little intimidating.

  "Will it bother the neighbors?"

  "Noooo," he said.

  Even though I couldn't see him, I could hear in his voice that he was struggling for patience. That made me smile. "But I should give you fair warning that if you continue that shit, you're gonna have your privacy invaded."

  Holy cannoli, that was exactly the best thing he could have possibly said right then. The song I chose to absentmindedly hum and sing was the same song I performed in Portland at the coffee shop, and I was overjoyed that he was reduced to yelling at me through the door.

  "I mean, as long as it's not bothering the neighbors," I said, innocently. "Can't you just ignore it?"

  There were several long seconds of silence before he said, "No Britney, I can't. So go ahead and sing if you want, but be warned—if you do, I'm coming in there."

  Oh my God, I wanted to instantly start belting the first song that came to my mind, but where was the fun in rushing things along, right? I stayed completely silent for at least two whole minutes. I wasn't sure who I was torturing more, him or me. Finally, when I could take it no longer, I started singing. I chose to go with I Put a Spell on You again. Why mess with something that works?

  I expected him to come busting through the door the very instant I started singing the song, but I made it nearly to the end of it, and still no sign of the door opening. So much for my plan. I was embarrassed which made me feel hot. I decided getting out of the hot shower was the only logical move. I turned the water off and opened the shower door, letting the steam rush out into the bathroom.

  As the steam cleared, I could see the silhouette of a man standing by the door. He was leaning casually against the wall, and the sight of even his blurry form took my breath away. He still had on the dark grey jeans he'd worn to the party, but he was barefoot and his shirt was completely off. His body was so good that I couldn't help the surge of self-consciousness that washed over me. I started fumbling for a towel as a result of it.

  "I don't know why you're even bothering," he said. "It's coming off anyway."

  "Oh you think so?" I said, defiantly. I was pissed that he'd left me hanging in the shower. "You said you had a problem with me singing, and I'm not singing anymore, so we shouldn't have an issue here."

  "Oh, we definitely have an issue here," he said. "I told you that if you sang in the shower, you'd have your privacy invaded, and not only did you sing, but you picked a song that you knew would earn you consequences."

  "Well, I made it through the song with no apparent consequences, so I assumed I was free and clear."

  Josh laughed as if he felt sorry for me for being so naïve. "The only reason you haven't been subject to these consequences already is because I wanted to enjoy the rest of the song. I thought we both deserved to see it through to the end, even if it meant having to wait a little while on the punishment."

>   I couldn't help but let out a laugh at that. "Oh so I've earned a punishment now?"

  "No, but you've got to learn that I mean what I say when I tell you if you continue to do something then you'll have a specific outcome."

  "I expected that outcome to happen already," I said, hurt that he hadn't come into the shower with me.

  "I was listening to the fucking song. I'm not apologizing for that. In fact, I'm glad I did it, and would do it again in a heartbeat."

  For the love of God this boy was stubborn. I stood there with the towel wrapped under my arms, concealing my body from him.

  "So what's going to happen now?" I asked. I was hoping he'd take some sort of control, because at that point I was ready to relinquish it to him.

  "After I scoop you up, I'm gonna carry you to my bed where I'll be kissing you until you beg me to do more than that."

  The sound of his deep voice echoed off the bathroom walls. The whole no shirt thing was killing me. I smiled at the prospect of being scooped up. I was nervous and giddy all of a sudden. He crossed the bathroom in a few strides and, just like he said, he scooped me off my feet and held me in his huge arms. I gasped when my feet left the ground, but it didn't slow him down any. He carted me into the bedroom where he tossed me onto his bed.

  He knelt next to me and cupped the back of my head with his hand, pulling me in for a not-so-gentle kiss. One after another, he planted kisses on my mouth. A time or two, he leaned back to inspect my face, but then went right on kissing me. I was already growing impatient, and we'd only just gotten started.

  The towel that had been wrapped around me started to slip, and Josh looked down to find one side of my chest exposed. I started to grab the towel and cover up, but he stopped me. He even went a step further and pulled back the towel on the other side. A protest started to escape my lips and he cut me off, "What? Did you think you were gonna leave that wet towel on the whole time?" He looked at me, waiting for my response.