Darker Water

by Lauren Stewart

  He paused again, listening. “Uh huh… Not if I can help it.”

  “What’s he saying?” Hillary whispered, reaching across me to pull on Carson’s arm.

  He shook her off, still talking to Eric but staring at me. Then he turned away. “If I knew that, I’d be a much happier man right now… It’s not like that. Anyway, you and your girl need to be the ones talking. I’m the one who needs to be leaving. Yeah. Good luck.”

  Hillary took the phone from him and put it to her ear. In the next thirty seconds, Eric must have said exactly the right thing because whatever it was made her make a half-giggle, half-sob sound and run into her room.

  “That’s my phone!” Carson yelled.

  Hillary opened her door just long enough to toss him the phone and say a quick, “Thanks, Carson,” before slamming it again.

  “Well, that was exhausting,” Carson mumbled.

  “It was really nice of you.”

  “I didn’t do anything. Those two have a good thing going. They belong together.” He leaned back on the couch and pulled me into his side. The position felt uncomfortably good, like something I’d want to spend a lot of time doing.

  “I had no idea you were such a romantic.”

  When he laughed, I felt his breath move my hair. “I believe in love. I just don’t do it.”

  “Why not?”

  “You know as well as I do that some people just aren’t good at it. Or maybe they know they’ll never be able to do it right.”

  We were those people, both of us. So why couldn’t I stop wondering if we would always be those people? It’s hard to let go of things you’ve believed for your entire life. If you’re attracted to someone and like who they are, you date. When you date someone you’re attracted to and like, you have sex. When you have sex with someone you’re attracted to and like, you fall for each other. Isn’t that the way everyone did it? Everyone other than Carson?

  And me. Why was I always forgetting about me?

  “I can’t go with you tonight,” I said quietly.

  “Thought you might say that.”

  “I know I told you that I would, but—”

  “Not a big deal, Lane. I’ll make it without you. Promise.” There was humor in his voice, so I believed him. I always believed him. Before he stood, he kissed my forehead. “Thanks for the birthday present. I loved it.”

  “Me too.”

  Right before he shut the door, I heard him say, “Can’t wait to find out what you’re getting me next year.”

  Chapter 11 - Laney

  It had been days since we’d spoken, which seemed odd even though we hadn’t known each other that long. Carson had become part of my everyday. A habit I didn’t want to shake. But the night of the auction and dealing with Hillary had ended so strangely, I was a little afraid of what would happen the next time we were together. Of course, not being together didn’t really solve the problem.

  As soon as I found an excuse to call him, I did. “Hey! Hillary’s doing the Bennett Foundation’s Walk for a Cure on Sunday.”

  “Tell her she can’t come unless she’s stopped crying.”

  “She invited me to go with her. So…um…I was thinking about it.”

  “Great.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah.” There was a slight question in his tone. “What am I supposed to say now, Lane?”

  “I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to be there because you didn’t tell me about it and we haven’t talked in a couple days.”

  “I’ve been busy with last minute Walk stuff—advertising and media crap.” He paused. “And I didn’t mention it to you because my mother is going to be there. Whenever I’m within three miles of my mother, I get grumpy. I’m not fun to be around when I’m grumpy, and my mother is never fun to be around. But I have nothing against you going.”

  “Okay, then I’ll go. Can I say hello if I see you? I don’t want to make things awkward for you. I know how you like to divide the personal and professional things.”

  “As long as you don’t finally take me up on my offer in the middle of the crowd, I think it’ll be okay. We’re friends, right?”

  My lip ached from gnawing on it. “Right.”

  “Then I’ll see you there. It’ll be loud, so carry your phone in your hand or you’ll miss my call.” Why did it make me smile to know he was going to call? “Say thanks to Hillary for me.” He hung up, leaving me lots of time to wonder what he wanted to thank Hillary for.

  “You’re thinking way too much.” And my mild obsession with remembering everything Hillary had told me about the guy she’d slept with four months ago wasn’t helping.

  I didn’t need to read between the lines with Carson. I knew exactly what he wanted and didn’t want because he told me. So either he was happy we were going to be there to support the cause or he was happy because of that and because Hillary had invited me to come along. I didn’t need to worry that I was missing something or should react in a certain way. As the idea settled into my brain, I felt an enormous amount of peace. I’d try to hold onto it whether the sex happened or not.

  Who was I kidding? I’d try to hold onto it even after the sex happened. Because it was the only thing that would keep me from doing exactly what Hillary had done for most of Saturday night. Which was the same thing she’d done four months ago, after one night with Carson.

  The Walk was utter chaos and since Hillary and Eric had given each other the flu and were both sick in bed, I was alone. The group I was supposed to walk with wasn’t where I thought we were all supposed to meet. So I started wandering through the crowd, looking for faces I recognized, not finding a single one.

  When my phone rang, I didn’t hear it, but I felt the vibration because I’d taken Carson’s advice to hold it.

  “What are you wearing?”

  I laughed. “Nothing too exciting, promise.”

  “Let me guess—a red bra and a matching thong.” His voice was deep and heated, and I had to press the phone to my head because there was so much noise around me.

  “Wrong.”

  “Wait a minute. I’m not done. Tight black—what are they called?—yoga pants? That are a true gift to mankind because you have a fantastic ass.”

  I looked down at my pants—a good guess, or was he nearby?

  “A white and blue shirt that should be tighter because you have fantastic breasts, too. And I’m guessing you’re blushing like crazy right now. Am I warm?”

  Yes. And so was I.

  “Turn to your three o’clock, beautiful.”

  I did, seeing him about twenty feet away, standing near a large group of people who were all wearing bright yellow team shirts. “They can’t hear what you said, I hope.”

  He shook his head.

  I shouldn’t. I really shouldn’t. But I was going to anyway. Turning my back to him, I cocked out one hip. “So you like my pants?”

  He laughed. “If you have to wear pants, then yeah, those are a good choice.”

  “My bra and panties are black, not red. But you were right—they match and it’s a thong. I probably should’ve worn something more practical though, because it’s a long walk and this pair rubs my—”

  “Okay, joke’s over.” Suddenly his entire tone changed to irritation. “Hanging up now.”

  “Wait! What’s wrong?” I turned towards him. His jaw was tight and his eyes were searing.

  “You’re making me hard.” When he adjusted his pants, I had to laugh. Served him right. “Get those pants over here and say hi, Lane. Now.” He tucked his phone into the pocket of his jeans and waited for me to come over.

  I scoured the group for someone fitting the image I had in my mind of what Carson’s mom would look like. Tall, thin, pretty, mid-fifties probably.

  “If you’re looking for someone better looking than me, you’re not gonna find anyone. I had all of them thrown out about a half hour ago.”

  “As if.”

  “Anna hasn’t woken up this early since she was in
high school, if then, so she’s not here. My brother is out of town. My dad’s dead. And if it’s my mother you’re so anxious to see, she’s mingling with the important people—the donors who come to have their pictures taken.” He shrugged. “Which I’m more than fine with, considering how much they’re paying for the privilege. Where’s the team you’re walking with?”

  “I’m not sure. Hillary’s sick and I don’t know where they’re meeting but I’ll probably—”

  “Walk with me.”

  “Are you sure? I don’t have to.”

  “I need someone to carry me for the last few miles. Think you can handle it?”

  “I don’t want to make things awkward between you and your mom.”

  “She never walks. You might have to meet her at the end, though. I’ll try to shove you out of the way before that happens. Come on. Amuse me for a few miles before I have to deal with her.”

  He went over to the registration table, slipping a bill into one of the donation envelopes and exchanging it for a t-shirt. “Put this on. You’ll be less distracting because it’s specially designed to hide every curve of your body.”

  “You don’t have to—”

  “Shut up. We’ve known each other long enough for you to know how often I do something I don’t want to do. I try to limit it to one thing per week, and having lunch with my mother is taking up three or four months’ worth of things I don’t want to do.”

  He introduced me to the people we’d be walking with—women from the foundation’s office and the families of some children they were helping. Eventually he gave up because there were just too many of them. His team made up half the event.

  During the walk itself, he stayed close but left space in between us, never touching me, joking with me whenever he wasn’t talking to a parent or someone else. My respect for him quadrupled because he treated everyone the same way—as if every single one of them was special.

  He was nice, really nice. And he was attractive, really attractive. But no matter how long I stared at him or how many times I saw him pick up a child or do something extraordinarily sweet that normally would’ve had me rolling over and begging for his attention, the gooey feelings weren’t showing up. Lots of holy-crap-that’s-sweet but no gooey-ness.

  Hopefully, that meant my brain had completely accepted that love wasn’t an option, especially with Carson, so it had chucked out all the parts that sent those deluded messages. Oh my god, I might be cured. Of course, it didn’t cure me of being terrified to try. Because I could also be completely wrong and the second we crossed the line, I could start feeling more than just the physical, and everything would be over. Then the only time I would see him would be if he happened to be at the café at the same time I was.

  He bumped into me and slowly pushed me to the side of the mass of people walking. He kept looking straight ahead but his hand curled around my hipbone, pulled me to a stop, and then was gone. Four fingers on a few inches of my body brought back every hormone that had been released when I gave him his birthday present.

  “Go ahead,” he called to the group. “I need to tie my shoelace.”

  I looked down at his two neatly tied laces.

  “You gonna tattle on me?” he whispered, bending down and pretending to retie them. He stayed there until the main mob of walkers had passed us. “Follow me.” Without another word, he turned into the alcove of a nightclub that wouldn’t be open for hours. Evidently I was moving too slowly for his liking because he grabbed my hand and yanked me into a corner not visible from the sidewalk.

  “Hi.” He was really close and his gaze was on my lips. All of my smart decision-making skills slipped away.

  “Hi.”

  “This whole just-being-friends thing isn’t working for me anymore.”

  I flinched. “Cars—”

  “I want to mess around, get you so hot you can’t stop yourself from ripping my clothes off, and then fuck you for the next twenty-four hours straight.”

  I was having some trouble breathing. “How is that different from what you wanted yesterday?”

  “It’s not. But I’m less patient today. Not helped by the fact I’ve been staring at your ass so hard, I think I’ve developed x-ray vision because I swear I can see a black thong through the black fabric of your pants. So what’s it gonna be, Lane? I’m still not going to give up if you say no, because sleeping with you is a cause I truly believe in. But I need a status report.”

  I wasn’t sure, because I tried not to think about it. I failed miserably, but I tried. Crap, I wasn’t trying—I was obsessed. Yes’s and no’s kept spinning in my mind and the wheel didn’t seem like it was going to stop anytime soon. Because the whole thing was so confusing, awkward, and overwhelming.

  What if I went right back to a time I didn’t want to remember? To when I’d been a person I never wanted to be again? I didn’t want to go back. If Carson was overestimating my ability to separate love and sex or if he was underestimating his appeal, I was screwed. Literally and figuratively.

  Before I could decide what to say, someone called his name.

  “Shit,” he mumbled. “We have another mile or so to go. I don’t want to pressure you…more than I usually do. But I want you really fucking badly, and I need to know what’s going on in that beautiful head of yours. Think you can you figure it out by the time we reach the finish line?”

  “I’ll try.”

  He nodded. “Try not to walk in front of me, too. A hard-on at a work event qualifies as an awkward blend of my personal and professional lives.”

  Carson and I walked side by side the rest of the way, but we barely spoke, each left to our own thoughts. I was doing the should-I-shouldn’t-I thing while he was probably thinking of something completely different. Although, I was thinking about sex and he was a man, so actually, we were probably thinking about exactly the same thing.

  We could hear the blare of a live band—a sign that the end was near. He expected me to have an answer and I couldn’t come up with one. Only two choices, and I couldn’t pick one.

  You are a sad, sad excuse for a woman, Laney.

  “Oh shit.” He made a quick turn towards a water station and handed me a bottle. “Time to make a choice, Lane.”

  I swallowed. “Right now? That’s not fair. You said I had until the end of the walk, and there’s at least another forty feet to go.”

  “You can either stay here for a few minutes to avoid an awkward conversation with my mother, or you can act as a human shield for me. If you opt for the human shield, I guarantee she’ll assume we’re dating. And since I’ve never introduced her to a girl and I haven’t introduced her to a friend since I was fourteen, I have no idea what she’ll say to you.”

  “Why don’t you just tell her you’re gay so she won’t think you’re hiding women from her?”

  “Ideas like that are exactly why I need to keep you around. It’s perfect. I’m going to come out of the closet during lunch. I may need some moral support. Interested?”

  I wasn’t sure what to say. Part of me couldn’t wait to meet the woman who raised him, but another part flashed back to all the other times I’d met a guy’s parents. Meeting a guy’s family signified a big step in a relationship. The kind of relationship Carson and I didn’t have.

  “Stop thinking, Lane.”

  “I wasn’t. I haven’t done that since I was fourteen.”

  “Liar. Renee is probably a lot different than anyone you’ve ever met, but she’s still human.” He cocked his head. “I think.”

  “You call your mother Renee?”

  “I call her a lot of things, but Renee’s the only polite one. I’m asking you along because I’ll need an excuse to leave early. So when I kick you under the table, pretend you’re going to throw up and run out of the restaurant. I’ll have to skip dessert to go help you, of course, because I’m your considerate gay friend.” Not even Carson could say that without laughing. “No pressure, though. Especially when you compare it to the pressure
I’m putting on you to sleep with me.”

  “Especially that.”

  “Oh shit. When you don’t make a choice, the choice is made for you. Hey, Renee,” he said over my shoulder. “This is my friend Lane. I invited her to lunch.”

  I turned around and saw Mrs. Bennett. Tall, fifty-something, expensive-looking, gorgeous.

  “It’s Laney, actually.” I liked Carson being the only one to shorten it. “Nice to meet you.” I started to say that Carson had told me all about her, but I had a feeling she would know I was lying.

  “What a pleasure. Carson so rarely introduces me to his friends.”

  Friends. A simple word that can mean so many things. What Carson calls a friend is a sexual partner. What Renee calls a friend is obviously a girlfriend. And what I call a friend is...a friend.

  “Of course I don’t mind Laney joining us for lunch,” Renee said, smiling politely.

  I immediately noticed the discrepancy between what Carson had said and what Renee had—he hadn’t asked permission to bring me along, and we all knew it. I shook Renee’s hand, feeling the hard press of metal rings against my palm. One quick look at the multitude of sparkles on every one of the woman’s fingers blinded me.

  “I need to talk to a few people before we go,” Carson said. “Lane, wanna help?”

  Renee took my arm. “I need someone to keep me company, honey.” She looked at me. “I rarely get up to Northern California these days, so I’m afraid I don’t know many people.”

  “You know everyone, Renee.”

  “Not anyone who matters. Laney and I will be fine. Go finish up what you have to. We’ll wait here.”

  Carson tightened his jaw. “No, I—”

  “We’ll be fine,” I said. Nothing could possibly be more uncomfortable than the three of us standing here staring at each other. “Besides, I need a chance to ask your mom for pictures of your awkward and embarrassing teen years. I’m dying to see those.”