From the Wreckage

by Melissa Collins

  With an angry huff, Kelsey points over my shoulder. “Because of that slu–”

  “Don’t go there, Kelsey,” I admonish sternly. “Stop yourself now, before you say something you regret.” Ushering her into the cab, I add, “Get home safely.”

  The door slams with a loud thud and as the cab pulls away, I catch a glimpse of Kelsey sitting in the back seat, her face contorting in all sorts of anger.

  Taking a deep breath, I make my way back over to Grace. I can tell she’s trying her best to avoid looking like she’s been watching the entire exchange. Kelsey puts on quite a show and Grace isn’t sitting too far from where we were. I know she had to have overheard some of it.

  “Hey,” I say, sliding into the chair next to her. “I’m sorry about that.”

  Waving her hand in front of her, she says, “Don’t worry about it. I shouldn’t have–”

  “Don’t.” Reaching for her flailing hand, I stop short of actually touching her. The realization that I have no right to touch her halts my movements. The knowledge that I want nothing more than to touch her hits me with a force so strong, I fear I might fall out of my seat.

  Her hand drops to the table and she looks at me. Her eyes show her confusion, and maybe more than a touch of anger. “Don’t what? Think I was a fool for coming here?” Shooting up from her chair, she mutters, “I’m going home.”

  This time, I can’t stop myself from touching her. “Grace,” I call out, wrapping my fingers around her tiny wrist. Her skin is so soft, silky even. It takes more strength than I would have thought not to run my hands up the length of her arm, even if only to see how quickly I could cause goose bumps. Her eyes search my face yet again. Instead of anger, this time all I see is embarrassment. Wanting nothing more than to erase what she’s just seen, I admit, “I’m glad you came here.”

  “You are?” Her voice takes on this hushed yet surprised quality.

  “Yeah, look,” I explain. Extending my arm to the side, I usher us down the crowded street. When we turn down a less busy cross street, I find the peace I need to gather my thoughts. “It’s not what it looked like.” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, her face twists, shooting me a look of cynicism.

  “That’s the second time you’ve said that.” Stopping in front of a walk-up brownstone, she turns to face me. “Care to explain exactly what you seem to think I saw?”

  Oh, shit! What the hell have I gotten myself into? It’s not like I’m a relationship expert or anything like that. Hell, my track record would actually speak to the opposite end of the spectrum, but I’ve been around enough women to know that tone of voice. The one that means no matter what I say here, I’m going to be wrong. I know I need to avoid it like the plague, but somehow I’ve worked myself into a corner.

  “Uh, that you think . . . I mean. . . . What you saw . . . Shit!” I curse, raking a hand through my hair. Beyond frustrated with the turn of events, I drop down to the steps.

  Hanging my head in my hands, I keep my eyes trained on the ground. When I look up, I’m shocked to see Grace’s face softening as she lowers herself to sit next to me. “That wasn’t fair,” she admits. “You don’t owe me an explanation. Hell, I was on a date before I came to see you.”

  “But I wasn’t–” My defense is cut short, but a sharp burst of laughter falling from Grace’s gorgeous lips. “What’s so funny?”

  “I was on a date. My God!” Her laughter billows, wrapping itself around us and easing away some of the tension. “And I was on a date that first night, too,” she adds, sounding as if she’s just realizing this for the first time. “And now here I am chasing after you.”

  Arching my brow, I smile at her. “Chasing me, huh?” She doesn’t miss the hint of pride coloring my question.

  Slapping me lightly on the arm, she laughs. “Oh, get over yourself.” Before she can pull her hand away, I grab it in mine.

  Pulling our joined hands to the small space between us, I focus my eyes on hers. “I don’t want to dance around this. And I sure as hell don’t want to screw this up.”

  Her hand begins to tremble in mine and stroking my thumb on the tender skin of her wrist does nothing to calm her. “This?” Even her voice takes on a shaky quality.

  “Yes, Grace. This,” I reassure her. “I don’t know what this is just yet, but I do know I want to get to know you more. And I can only imagine what you thought back there.”

  Taking a deep breath seems to calm her somewhat, or at least enough for her to say more than one word. “I thought you were leaving with her. That she was your girlfriend and I was a fool for thinking you’d be interested in a girl like me.”

  Squeezing her hand, I twist in my seat not caring at all that I bump into her legs. “A girl like you? Well, what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “Just that–”

  Cutting her off, I say, “Don’t bother explaining it because no matter what shortcomings you’re about to reveal about yourself, they’re all in your head. And nothing I say is going to change them, even though they’re not true at all.”

  Silence vibrates between us for a few minutes, my unguarded words dangling there. “I should go,” she says finally. It’s at that point I realize I still haven’t explained exactly what happened.

  “Kelsey’s an ex.” Grace nods, letting me continue. “We weren’t even what I would call a couple, but we were enough for her to think she could walk out of the bar with me.” Grace’s skin pales, making her freckles pop even more in the stark comparison. Pulling her hands back into mine, I say, “But I wasn’t. She was drunk. All I was going to do was make sure she got home safely. That’s all.”

  Another blip of silence passes between us as Grace sits there, digesting what I told her. When she faces me again, she opens and closes her mouth a few times before any words come out. Finally settling on what to say, she opens her mouth again. “And I was on a date. With a guy I didn’t even know. After having just broken up with my boyfriend. Who I really didn’t like all that much in the first place.”

  Not really knowing what to say to her mini-tirade I sit there, waiting for her to say something, to do anything that makes sense of where she’s going with it all. “And you were leaving the bar with a girl who thought she was more to you than she actually was.” As each second ticks by, whatever she’s getting at is making more and more sense to her, but it’s all still lost on me. “And I thought the worst of it immediately because, well, let’s face it. I know nothing about you except that you rescued me when I was a kid.” Though it seems like she wants to say more, she bites her tongue.

  Folding her hands on her lap, she looks all prim and proper. “I’d like for you to know more.” Dangling that out there, I hope that she’ll take the bait.

  Waiting for what seems like forever, I can hardly breathe. When she finally says, “As friends,” my lungs begin functioning again. It’s only after taking that first breath I realize what she said.

  “Friends?” I ask, wanting to be perfectly clear.

  “Yes,” she agrees, smiling triumphantly. “We’re both obviously excellent judges of character,” she clarifies and suddenly her previous train of thought comes into focus. “So friends it is,” she boasts, extending her hand to me. Straightening her shoulders, a broad smile graces her beautiful face. The definition of confidence, she holds her head high waiting for me to shake on her proposed deal.

  Quickly weighing my options, I decide that agreeing only to be her friend is a much better option than being nothing. Besides, friends turn into more every day. Wrapping my hand around hers, I feel her tremble again. In that instant, I know I’ll win eventually. “Absolutely. Friends.” Giving her my best wolfish smile, I revel in the fact that her hand is still trembling even after I’ve released it.

  “Perfect,” she announces. As she stands from the steps, her legs wobble and I move to her side to help steady her. Pulling her arm into mine, I walk us down the street.

  As we round the corner, I slide my phone out of my p
ocket. Quickly dialing her number, I watch as she jumps when her phone vibrates in her pocket. She pulls it out and looks at the number. Ready to dismiss the call, she sees me holding my phone to my ear. Waving the phone back and forth, I smile at her. “Now you have my number,” I explain.

  She shoots me an exasperated look, seemingly frustrated that I’m not accepting her just friends policy. “What?” I defend. “Friends can call each other.”

  After sliding my phone back into my pocket, I hail a cab. Reaching around her to open the door, I inhale her sweet scent. Silently, I wonder how long her friendship requirement is set for. A week? A year?

  When she whispers a quiet “thank you” into my ear, I pray it’s closer to the week mark. Because holy shit, there’s no way I could survive a year not being able to touch her, to kiss her.

  Hell, holding back those desires right now is proving to be monumentally difficult.

  Grace waves at me from the cab as it pulls away, but I can still feel her breath on my skin. I can still smell her perfume in the air.

  After I’m settled on the subway, heading back to my apartment, my thoughts go back to Grace and her “friends only” agreement. That’s when I have to laugh at myself.

  Every day, I willingly run into burning buildings. I can run up dozens of flights of stairs wearing close to a hundred pounds of equipment, but here I am worried about whether or not I can be strong enough only to be her friend.

  Somehow, I doubt I’ll be able to hold up my end of the deal.

  “I’m an ass.” With an overly dramatic sigh, I continue folding my laundry. Jade listens on, somewhat amused at my randomness. “Oh, it’s okay. You don’t have to say anything. You know, like ‘no, you’re not, Grace. Why would you think that? You’re perfect, Grace. Don’t say such mean things about yourself.’” Prattling on and on, Jade smiles and nods as she continues to flip through the latest issue of People. When another minute of silence passes between us, interrupted only by the crinkling of the pages as she turns them, I drop the shirt I am folding onto the pile and huff dramatically. “Hello?”

  For good measure, she gives herself another few seconds before actually closing the magazine and responding to me. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were talking to me.” Looking over her shoulder at the wall behind her, she knows full well I was talking to her.

  My retaliation for her being a wiseass is wadding up a T-shirt and sailing it at her head. “Jerk,” I mutter, sticking my tongue out at her. Of course, she does the same to me and we giggle like teenagers.

  The entire exchange is mature. Very mature.

  After the giggle fit stops, Jade drops her magazine onto the chair and joins me in folding my laundry. Standing next to me in front of my bed, she pulls a wrinkled pair of khakis from the basket. “So what makes you think you’re an ass?” she asks, holding the pants in front of her as if they’re infected with some kind of disease. “Except maybe these pants. Seriously, Gracie. These are horrendous.”

  Grabbing them from her hand, I defend my fashion choice. “They are not. And they’re comfortable.” As I fold them, I add, “And practical, too.”

  If possible, Jade rolls her eyes at me so hard she nearly sprains them. “Sure, sure. We’ll go with practical.” She laughs and helps me fold a few more items before getting back to the original line of conversation. “So, you said you were an ass. How so?”

  “I told David we should just be friends,” I admit. Sighing, I roll a pair of socks into a ball and drop it alongside the others.

  “The hot firefighter David?” She clutches her chest. “The one who saved you when you were a little girl? Damn fine David?” Her rambling makes me realize what a fool I am.

  “Yes. Him.” Shooting her a wry look, I know she’s rambled off the laundry list of David’s gorgeousness in order to emphasize my own stupidity.

  “Oh, honey. Why’d you do that?”

  Shrugging, I say, “It seemed like a good idea at the time. But now I’m not so sure.” Avoiding eye contact with her, I put some shirts away in my dresser. “Yet, thinking about being more than friends makes me feel unsure, too.”

  “So then, it’s easy.” Jade’s casual comment about a situation with which I’m struggling catches me off guard. Without even having to ask her how it’s easy, she explains, “Which not sure are you okay with never knowing about?”

  “I never thought about it that way,” I admit, flopping down onto the bed.

  “Well, start thinking about it. Are you okay with only ever being friends and never knowing him any other way? Or are you okay with taking a risk and finding out if there’s really more there, even though it might mean losing him as a friend?”

  “What if I don’t have to lose him at all?” I muse, my voice a wistful whisper.

  “There’s always that,” Jade says, standing to walk toward the door. “But it’s up to you to find out.”

  With that little nugget of wisdom, she walks out of the room, letting me know she’ll be out for the night with Bryce. It’s not lost on me that announcing her plans is also her way to let me know the apartment is open for the evening.

  As I clean up the rest of my room, my mind wanders. Naturally, it lands right on David. Sure, we could be just friends, but I’d be lying to myself if I said that’s all I wanted. There’s no hiding the reaction I have to him. And the flash of jealousy I felt at watching him leave the bar with Kelsey wasn’t a feeling with which I’m familiar.

  And thinking of him being with her, or anyone else for that matter, is all I need to garner the courage to call him. Besides, he wouldn’t have given me his number if he didn’t intend for me to use it.

  With shaking fingers, I pull up his number on my cellphone. Of course, it’s already been saved. It rings four times before the voicemail picks up. His deep voice greets me, prompting me to leave a message.

  “Hey. It’s me, Gracie. I was just . . . uhh–” I stutter into the line, overcome by a sudden nervousness. “I . . . uh . . . just wanted to say hi.” After taking a deep breath, and pulling on my big-girls panties, I finally put together an intelligible thought. “I wanted to see if you were doing anything tonight. Give me a call back if you’re free.”

  And with that, I hang up and silently curse myself and my nervous jitters. Figuring the best way to keep myself distracted is to finish cleaning my room, I get to the task at hand. I’d like to say I’m an organized person, but then I’d be lying. Add in the fact that the last semester of school, coupled with student teaching provided me with very little free time. And whatever time I did manage, I sure as hell wasn’t going to spend it on cleaning my room.

  After the last of my laundry is put away, I start organizing the piles of books stacked in the corner. “Looks like I’ll need another bookshelf,” I say to myself, trying to squeeze yet another paperback onto the already filled shelves.

  The buzzing of my phone startles me and forces me to drop the book in my hand. As I slide it out of my back pocket, I try my best to calm my racing thoughts. But when I see David’s name flash across the screen, my heart leaps into my throat.

  “Hello?” I answer, my voice wavering with my all-over-the-place nerves.

  “Hey,” he responds, almost breathless. “Sorry it took me so long to call back. I only just got your message.”

  It couldn’t have been more than twenty minutes since I called him, so the fact that he’s apologizing for the delay is somewhat sweet to me. “That’s okay. Did I catch you at a bad time?”

  “No. Of course not. I’m at my parents’ house working on their new kitchen.” There’s rattling and banging going on in the background, echoing his words. “I’m trying to help out on the demolition, save them some money. You know?”

  “That’s really nice of you.” Imagining his handsome, yet rugged face, warm over with a smile at my compliment makes me smile as well. Thinking of him all sweaty and worked up isn’t so bad either.

  His simple explanation that he has to help, they’re his parents a
fter all, makes him all the more attractive.

  “So,” he drags out the word, calling me back to the conversation. “What’s up?”

  “Huh?”

  “You called me, Gracie.” His voice, holy hell. My name falls from his lips, raspy and sexy as sin.

  “Oh, yeah. Uh, I wanted to see what you were doing tonight. I thought we could get together.” Silently, I curse myself for rambling like a teenager.

  “Just as friends,” he mocks, a hint of sarcasm in his words.

  Mainly to save face, I laugh and ignore his comment. “So are you doing anything?”

  When he says, “I am, actually,” a punch of disappointment lands in my gut.

  “Oh, okay. Well, sorry I bothered you today. You probably have a lot of work to get back to. I guess we’ll talk later,” I prattle on, trying my best to conceal my dissatisfaction at not being able to see him tonight. “Please tell your parents–”

  “Grace,” he says, cutting through what would be the continuation of my rambling. “Breathe,” he coaches me. A soft chuckle accompanies his word, and I follow his advice. “I would love to see you tonight,” he says, making breathing almost impossible again. “I have a charity baseball game, though. Would you want to watch the game and we could grab something to eat afterward?”

  Stunned into silence, I sit there, searching for the words to accept the invitation I hadn’t seen coming. Like a bumbling fool, all I come up with is a single word, lame-ass question. “Charity?”

  A shy sounding laugh comes through the line. Imagining him running his hand through his dark-brown hair makes my fingers itch to do the same. “Every year the FDNY and NYPD come together for a charity game. We donate all the money we make on ticket sales and concessions to a scholarship fund for the New York City Public Schools.”

  Hold on a second while I get my ovaries to function again. Hot, firefighter David, who takes care of his parents, also donates his time to raising money for underprivileged schools. Oh, and did I mention he was hot? Like ridiculously so?

  “It’s in Brooklyn, at MCU stadium, where The Cyclones usually play. I know it’s far, but if you can make it, I’ll put two tickets at will-call for you.” There’s a touch of hope in his voice and I imagine it sparkling there in his eyes as well.