by Karis Walsh
“I’d do anything to help you,” Andy said quietly, a little frightened by the truth of her statement. She wanted to reach for Brooke’s hand again, but common sense stopped her. Brooke was in transition, and while she might need Andy now, she wouldn’t depend on her forever. Brooke might leave, and when she did, Andy wondered who would be around to rescue her.
Chapter Fourteen
Andy happily tucked her viola in its case after Saturday night’s concert. Her section had played the difficult piece flawlessly, helping to showcase the solo violin, a fourteen-year-old Polish prodigy, and she allowed herself to feel just a little proud of her part in their performance. She knew a strong first chair could really set the tone for the other players, and she was glad the hours she had spent perfecting her timing for this piece had been noticed. Several of her violists had complimented her on leading them so strongly through the concerto, and the conductor had even nodded in her direction as the curtain closed.
Andy pulled on her coat and followed the other musicians out of Benaroya Hall and into the chilly Seattle night. The energy around them was electric, and they were all caught in the high of a well-received performance and the brush with a spectacular new talent. She sighed as she separated from the group and went to her car, feeling the adrenaline of performance slowly seeping away. She would have loved to spend this evening with Brooke, sharing her thoughts about the concert, maybe going back to Mickey’s for a drink. Maybe a dance…
Andy shook herself mentally. Give it up, she thought. Brooke was out to dinner with her parents and Jake tonight, somewhere in Everett so they were less likely to run into their snobby friends. Andy would have been tempted to skip tonight’s concert just to go with them and support Brooke, but she hadn’t been asked. Besides, she was fairly certain Brooke had chosen this night because of the symphony’s schedule. Andy knew Brooke didn’t want to have her there as a crutch, but she worried Brooke couldn’t hold up under the pressure of the three people who had such an influence on her. She wouldn’t be surprised if they simply bundled Brooke back home just like they did from Gonzaga, sending someone for her things tomorrow.
Andy was unlocking her car door when a hand slid around her waist. She gave a quiet shriek and jumped to the side, barely rescuing her viola case before it banged her car.
“You scared the hell out of me!” she shouted as she turned to find Lyssa laughing at her startled expression. “You don’t sneak up on people in dark parking lots.”
“Sorry,” Lyssa said, not looking sorry at all. “I did call your name, but you were so deep in thought you didn’t hear me.”
Andy jerked open her trunk and gently set her viola case inside, securing it with straps so it wouldn’t jostle during her drive. She busied herself with the instrument while she caught her breath. She hadn’t talked to Lyssa since the day she had been picked to play Clarke’s sonata. She felt rattled by the scare, Lyssa’s close presence, and the memory of her insulting words. When she felt slightly more collected, she closed the trunk and turned toward Lyssa.
“Pretty horrific concert, wasn’t it?” Lyssa asked, leaning against the car door and blocking Andy’s escape. “That girl should be playing on a street corner, not in Benaroya, don’t you think?”
Andy sighed. That was her cue to agree with Lyssa’s jealous, untrue critique, then to cajole her by saying that of course no one could play better than Lyssa could.
“What do you want, Lyssa?” she asked instead, too tired for the game.
Lyssa’s neat eyebrows arched in surprise, and then she nodded with an understanding smile. “I see. You’re still angry about what I said when you got your Clarke solo.” She stepped forward, her hand sliding under Andy’s coat and up to cup the back of her neck. “I’m sorry, baby. You know I didn’t mean it like it sounded. I was having a bad day, and I guess I took it out on you.”
Andy pulled Lyssa’s hand out of her hair, hoping her own wasn’t shaking too badly, and stepped around her to unlock the car door. “It doesn’t matter,” she said, irritated because her voice revealed just how much it had mattered. She turned to face Lyssa again. “I have to get home.”
Lyssa sighed. “Stop being angry, it’s making me weary. Some of the other players are going to Mickey’s for a drink. Come with us. It’ll give us a chance to talk and sort this out.”
Andy wavered between the need to get away from this woman and her reluctance to return to an empty apartment. She glanced at her watch and figured Brooke wouldn’t be home for at least another hour. If she came home at all. Sharing the success of the night’s concert with her friends would help the time pass.
“I guess a drink wouldn’t hurt,” she said, making Lyssa’s face light up. “Do you need a ride?”
“No, I have my car. I’ll see you there,” she said, laying her hand briefly on Andy’s cheek.
Andy drove the short distance to Mickey’s. She would have preferred to walk and clear her head, but the symphony’s lot would close soon. She found a parking place next to Lyssa’s sports car, and they went into Mickey’s together, Lyssa linking her arm companionably in Andy’s. Andy felt a strange sense of peace with Lyssa’s familiarity. These past weeks with Brooke were like a dream—wanting her, waiting every day for her to choose to stay or leave. Lyssa, the symphony, her music, these were the things that belonged in Andy’s world, and they were all she’d have left if Brooke went away.
Andy went up to the bar to order her beer and Lyssa’s cosmo, torturing herself by leaning across the stool that Brooke had sat on just a few weeks before. She was startled by a wave of loneliness and wondered if Brooke missed her too, or if she felt a tug toward the safety of her old life like Andy did. Andy scolded herself. Just give it up. It was too painful to keep worrying about Brooke tonight, especially since she had no control over Brooke’s choices.
She turned from the bar and spotted Lyssa at a table for two near the dance floor. She carried the drinks over and sat down.
“I don’t see anyone else from the symphony,” she said, eyes narrowing as Lyssa attempted to look innocent.
“Huh,” Lyssa said, looking around as if surprised. “I guess they took the long way.”
“We’re fewer than ten blocks from the hall,” Andy said, smiling in spite of her irritation at being tricked.
Lyssa shrugged and managed to appear faintly apologetic. “I lied, okay? You haven’t spoken to me or looked my way for weeks now.” She reached across the table and grasped Andy’s hand. “I miss you.”
Andy didn’t pull her hand away, enjoying the contact in spite of her effort not to. She wished it were Brooke here, touching her, as confident in what she wanted as Lyssa always was.
They held hands and talked, only letting go when Andy returned to the bar for fresh drinks. By the third beer, her mind was feeling a little fuzzy, and she found herself relaxing, talking and laughing with Lyssa as if there hadn’t been any friction between them. She had been obsessed with tonight’s concert for the past few days, studying the counting and dynamics at night and practicing for hours. Her nervousness at this first real test of her ability to lead her section had kept her from eating much today, so the beer went quickly to her head.
She accepted Lyssa’s offer of a dance, pushing the image of Brooke in her black tank top out of her mind and replacing it with one of Brooke sitting to eat with her family. That made it easier to pull Lyssa into her arms, with all the familiarity of an old lover, and hold her close as they swayed to the slow music.
“God, I’ve missed this,” Lyssa moaned, pressing close and sliding her arms around Andy’s neck. Andy tightened her hold on Lyssa’s lower back, making her arch so her breasts pressed against Andy’s.
Andy’s eyes were closed, but she knew without looking that most of the other women in the bar would be watching her with envy. Lyssa, with her long, pale hair and confident bearing, was model-beautiful. A small, hateful part of Andy thrilled at the knowledge that she had the ability to shake this gorgeous woman’s controll
ed demeanor, making her beg and scream as she neared climax. Andy’s resistance broke, and when Lyssa raised her head for a kiss, she was only too willing to acquiesce.
The slow song ended, and a throng of people entered the floor for the next fast dance. Andy grabbed Lyssa’s wrist and pulled her roughly into the darkened hall leading to the bathrooms. She pressed her against the wall, continuing the kiss they had started on the dance floor, her tongue delving into Lyssa’s open mouth as her hand found Lyssa’s breast. They broke apart for a brief moment, both breathing heavily, barely aware of the people moving past them. Lyssa took control this time, taking Andy’s hand and tugging her into the bathroom and locking them in the farthest stall.
“I need you,” she whispered in Andy’s ear, pulling her satin skirt out of the way as Andy’s hand reached between her legs. Her nylons ended at the top of her thighs, and Andy’s fingers easily pushed past Lyssa’s lacy underwear to find her wet and ready.
Her tongue thrust into Lyssa’s mouth again, and her mind raced forward as she orchestrated the best way to make Lyssa climax. After so many times together, she knew all of the right ways to please her. She would take her quickly and strongly, forcing her to abandon her façade and scream with the pleasure of release. And then Lyssa would be satisfied, energized. Her ego restored after tonight’s virtuoso performance by the young violinist. And Andy would be left where? Wanting, needing some sort of release, flooded with guilt over betraying Brooke. She broke away suddenly, tugging her hand out of Lyssa’s underwear as if she had been stung.
“Why are you stopping?” Lyssa gasped, her breath ragged. “Please, I need—”
“It’s all about what you need, isn’t it? Well, I can’t do this anymore,” Andy said in a shaky voice. She ripped off some toilet paper and wiped her hand, flushing away the used paper. She desperately wanted Brooke here, Brooke who had spent their only night together accepting what Andy offered, but then willingly giving pleasure in return.
She shouldered past Lyssa, who clutched at her arm. “Please, Andy,” she begged. “Don’t leave. I can make you feel good too.”
“Why start now?” Andy asked roughly, jerking the door open. “You’ve had four years to try.”
She walked quickly through the bar, grabbing her coat and leaving before Lyssa could catch up. Guilt stalked her as she got in her car and drove off quickly. Not guilt about Lyssa, who probably already had a line of women knocking at the bathroom door after Andy’s abrupt departure. She would find what she needed tonight without any problem. Instead Andy agonized over how she would tell Brooke about this, what it would mean to their undefined relationship. Even if Brooke didn’t return tonight, Andy knew she shouldn’t have been in another’s arms without knowing of Brooke’s decision. And she knew without a doubt, whatever happened between her and Brooke, she was through with Lyssa’s games and needs.
*
Andy entered her apartment and froze at the sight of Brooke sprawled across the sofa bed, surrounded by magazines and dressed in one of Andy’s old T-shirts. Her face looked tired, but she smiled when Andy entered the room.
“How did the concert go?” she asked immediately.
“Fine,” Andy answered briefly, although she could barely remember the music that had seemed so important a few hours ago. Now all she knew was guilt.
“I knew it would. I’m getting some ideas for Thanksgiving dinner,” she said, gesturing at the glossy cooking magazines. “I think I’ll try to make a pumpkin pie from scratch.”
“Do you mean from-a-can scratch, or are you planning to disembowel a real pumpkin?” Andy asked, shifting her viola to her other hand. Brooke must have been practicing on her these past weeks, slowly carving away until Andy’s carefully ordered insides had turned to mush.
“A real one,” Brooke said, and then raised her hand to stop Andy’s comments. “And don’t you dare say it sounds messy. The kitchen will be a disaster after all this cooking so you’ll have to just—”
“Deal with it?” Andy suggested.
“Exactly,” Brooke said with a smile. She patted the bed next to her. “Come over here and help me decide what else to make.”
“I’ll be right there,” Andy said, taking her viola to the music room. She washed her hands and quickly changed into sweats, her relief at seeing Brooke again warring with her need to admit that she had kissed Lyssa. She went back into the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face, taking a few moments to pull herself together. Her mind had turned to Brooke so often tonight, and thoughts of her were muddled with Andy’s memories of kisses, soft breasts, the smell of sex. She had mistakenly started something with Lyssa, and she wanted nothing more than to finish it with Brooke.
Brooke shoved a few magazines aside to make room for Andy. “How was your dinner?” Andy asked tentatively as she sat on the bed. Brooke shrugged.
“Jake and I went alone. I couldn’t face him and my parents at the same time,” she said, a note of sadness in her voice. “It wasn’t easy, but once we got started, we talked about everything. I told him I think I’m gay. He’s hurt, but I think he’s a little relieved as well. He was worried there was something wrong with him since it never seemed right between us. He promised to keep it to himself for now, so I can tell my parents when I’m ready.”
Andy brushed her thumb along Brooke’s cheekbone, wanting to wipe away the stress she saw on her face. “I was worried you would go home with them,” she confessed, dropping her hand back into her lap.
“I guess I’m not finished seeing Switzerland yet,” Brooke said shyly, staring at one of her magazines before she raised her eyes to Andy’s. “What is it? What’s wrong?” Brooke asked with concern. “You’re sure the concert went okay?”
Andy nodded her head. “It really went well, and the soloist was amazing. The audience loved it.”
“I’m glad. I know how hard you worked for this one. Did something else happen tonight?”
“Do you remember the first time we met? In the coffee shop?” Andy asked, evading the question momentarily. Brooke nodded without interrupting. “You asked if I had a boyfriend and I said…”
“That you had a ‘sort of’ girlfriend. Yes, I remember. I was…Oh.” Brooke’s face fell. “Did you sort of hook up with her tonight?”
“Something like that,” Andy admitted. She took a deep breath and told a silent Brooke about her past affair with Lyssa, and the whole night’s story.
Brooke listened to it all, wincing at the details Andy wanted to leave out but knew she couldn’t. “I don’t have any right to—” she started when Andy had finished her confession.
“Yes, you do.” Andy said quietly.
“No, I can’t expect you to just wait until I decide—”
“Yes,” Andy insisted, placing a finger under Brooke’s chin and turning her head so their eyes met. She wanted Brooke to claim her, to claim their relationship. She was afraid any possessive words would make Brooke panic, but she had to be clear about her feelings. “Yes, you can. I want you to expect that. I’m so very sorry for what I did. I have no idea where we’re going, but I’ll hate myself if I ruined our chances. Please say you can forgive me?”
“Of course I forgive you. We’ve never defined what’s happening between us, and I’m not ready to make a commitment yet when there are still so many loose ends. You didn’t break any rules,” Brooke said. Unshed tears reddened her eyes, however, and her quiet voice almost killed Andy. “It’s not like we’re together.”
“God, please don’t say that,” Andy whispered, closing her eyes. They sat in silence while Brooke ripped tiny pieces off a magazine cover and Andy simply wallowed in her guilt.
“I’m no different, am I?” Brooke finally asked.
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve done nothing but give to me since we met. I’m just like Lyssa. I’ve taken it all and done nothing in return.”
“You’re not serious?” Andy asked, shocked. “The two of you are nothing alike. And I’m the one wh
o kissed her, don’t you dare turn the blame on yourself.”
“I’m not. But look at what you’ve done for me. You’ve given me a home, friendship, faith in myself. What have I given you? Clutter?”
“Companionship.”
Brooke rolled her eyes. “A bathroom you can barely squeeze yourself into anymore.”
“The best lattes I’ve ever had.”
“An ulcer.”
“I don’t have an ulcer,” Andy said. “And even if I do, you’re not the sole cause of it.”
Brooke slapped at her, a little of her playfulness returning. “Can I make an unreasonable demand?”
“Anything,” Andy said with such conviction that Brooke’s breath caught in her throat.
“Jake gave me until Christmas to decide. I’m not going back to him, and he knows that now. But will you give me the same offer? Until Christmas to decide if I can be with you? We can date each other, but no other women until then?”
Andy gently took her hand and gave it a squeeze. It might kill her to give this woman her heart and still have her leave in a month or two, but she only felt relief that they still had a chance together. “You have my word.”
Chapter Fifteen
Andy came home from work a week later just as Brooke was coming out of the shower wearing only a towel. Although her exhausting holiday schedule helped keep her mind off Brooke to some extent, Andy wasn’t too tired to want to rip that towel off and drag Brooke to her bedroom.
“Andy, wait,” Brooke said. Andy had been trying to escape to her music room until Brooke could get dressed, but she stopped with a sigh.