by A. R. Mummey
Chapter Four
I slept uneasily that night. In retrospect, maybe I should have allowed Patrick to stay. I could tell he wanted to, but my apartment was a haven—and that meant no sleepovers with men. After our round on the couch, we had showered together. In the safe confines of the shower, we’d lingered, taking our time, exploring one another’s bodies, sating our needs. When all was said and done, we’d kissed goodbye. I’d drifted to sleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.
I dreamt of Ohio. I dreamt of my mother, her gentle laugh, her tenderness, her embrace, her scent. My dreams were slanted memories of long ago. I dreamt of the moment she told my sister and me that she had cancer. I dreamt of her pain and agony. Her funeral had been small, intimate, just family. A clear, sunny day—perfect weather, really. The cemetery had brilliant, bright green grass, and her plot rested next to my grandfather’s. The pastor said a few words, followed by each of us throwing a handful of soil onto her coffin as it was lowered into the ground. My mother hated cremation. She hated fire. When she had gotten sick, she’d made us promise to spare her and bury her properly, as she’d said.
But this dream of her funeral was different somehow. I felt a presence. Male. I felt his arms around me, enveloping me, comforting my grieving younger self, but I couldn’t see him. I didn’t know who he was, just that it was a he. I turned in circles, searching for him, but there was nothing, just sensation and a flicker of deep cerulean eyes.
My dream drifted; I was eight. It was my birthday, and my parents were arguing in the kitchen. My sister Prue and I were sitting in the living room eating cake. She kept smiling at me, a pity smile, as tears rolled down my cheeks onto my plate. They were fighting again. I had a yellow sundress on, and I sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the television. As their screaming grew louder, my tears flowed faster, my body shaking, and I dropped my plate. Cake spilled to the floor. Prue flew over, fear in her eyes as she tried to help me clean it up, but it was too late.
My mother was there, her face livid. Her mouth didn’t move but she spoke, demanding to know who had done it. Prue quickly said she’d spilled it, that it’d been an accident. Before I could contradict her, my mother’s hand had already violently struck her in the face. Again and again, harder and harder, a sick clapping sound rang out with each hit. I felt warm arms envelope me as a presence, his presence, surrounded me again. I sobbed and screamed for her to stop. Why? Why?!
I woke up crying. That was her. That was my mother, not the gentle woman in my first dream. In a way, her diagnosis had been a blessing. I knew it was sick to think of it that way, but she had been too weak to be violent. When I was young, she had loved me. She’d held me, kissed me. She had been tender, loving, but she had an awful streak to her. Every kindness to me had meant lashing out at my sister, who bore the brunt of all the violence. Prue was my protector, my true guardian. Our father was oblivious, weak, and with her gone, it meant freedom for all of us.
She never mentioned the big C word. Cancer. It was ugly, painful, agonizing, but she went quickly, heavily sedated. My feelings for her were so mixed with anger, betrayal, and love. I tried to never think of her.
And why now? Fucking dreams. Who was my mystery man, and why was he there? Those eyes. I’d never seen eyes that color before or felt that presence. Why did I have to dream of her? I lay there with the television on, trying to immerse myself in something else, but the tears kept coming, and eventually I cried myself to sleep.
I worked early the next morning, my eyes puffy and heavy from lack of sleep and too many tears. Thankfully, it was just Madison and Jackson. Madison explained to him about my getting sick last night and after taking one look at me, Jackson decided to leave me alone, giving me as little to do as possible.
“I’m sorry you don’t feel well.”
“Thanks, Madison. How did last night go after I left?” I asked politely.
“Oh my God! Heath is so sweet. He walked me to my car after the movie and we talked for like an hour about everything and anything. He’s so amazing. Did you know his family has like three houses? One right on a lake.” I smiled as she rattled on, grateful for her own selfishness.
When I got home, I sat at my small kitchen table and started my readings for class, but after an hour, I realized I had no idea what I’d just read. Exhausted and feeling completely miserable, I fell asleep on the couch in a dream free state around five in the evening, not until it was time to go to work the next day.
A few days passed with no sign of Patrick. Part of me was pissed off. We’d had sex and he just checked out. No texts, phone calls, nothing. But then, did I want more? I had said it was a one-time thing. So, I had no right to be upset, but still, part of me had hoped he’d reach out. The monotonous lull of school and work were impeded only by violent nightmares. Each night I awoke, covered in sweat, shaking, terrified, but with no recollection of my dreams, just a sense of danger, fear. The days passed slowly and the nights painfully. Each day grew longer as I slept less and less, my body tired, my thoughts cloudy. Before I knew it nine days had passed since I had seen Patrick. It was Monday morning and I was so muddled I didn’t notice Greta and Nicole come up and stand beside my desk until Greta cleared her throat. I jumped back into myself.
“Oh. I’m sorry. I’m super tired. What’s up?” I smiled sheepishly.
“We’re meeting up at the library this afternoon to have our first study group. Are you coming?” Greta asked sweetly.
“We e-mailed you. You never responded.” Nicole added, eyeing me stonily.
“Patrick will be there.” Greta waggled her eyebrows at me.
I fought back a smile. It was hard to be lost in myself when Greta was so cheery. “I’ll be there,” I said to Greta as Nicole turned abruptly and stalked away, followed quickly by Greta at her heels. Greta turned briefly with a sad smile on her face and I shrugged my shoulders in a ‘whatever’ gesture. It wasn’t her fault Nicole was a bitch. I knew it bothered Greta and I knew she’d snapped at Nicole once. It was the only time I’d ever seen her upset. Sadly, this version of Nicole was the nicer version. Old Nicole pretended I didn’t exist. Personally, I preferred the old Nicole but Greta thought this was a step in the right direction. Ha.
The prospect of seeing Patrick was enough to make me go, I wasn’t sure how I’d react when I saw him. He hadn’t shown up to class in a week so either something happened or he was avoiding me, yet he was going to study group? But I had another reason to go. Maybe Patrick was right; maybe I was a dreamer. I lived more in my head than in the world, and maybe, just maybe, I needed to be a part of the world instead of apart from it. Even just a small study group could help me be more open and less self-possessed.
After class, I headed over to a small café to replenish myself and go over the day’s notes for class. It was only the start of the third week but midterms were right around the corner. It was another dreary sort of day: crisp, dark, with a slight fog. Watching the passersby, I woofed down a bagel and drank my tea before, rather unwillingly, pulling myself to my notes. I became deeply engrossed in going over the day’s lecture and reading passages from the prescribed books while painstakingly making new notes, that I never noticed someone sit down across from me.
“Hi.”
I gasped, my body jumping and my hand knocking into my cup of tea. Before it could spill, a small, creamy white hand grabbed it deftly, moving it away from my books and papers.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” said the musical voice.
My heart still pounding, I raised my eyes into the face of the most beautiful, enchanting woman I had ever seen. Dark, curly tendrils of hair that ran just past her shoulders framed her face graced with creamy white skin, delicate features, and dark eyes. I was awed by her presence. She was the epitome of a porcelain doll.
“No, no, I’m sorry. I should have been paying attention.” I smiled weakly.
“Well, let me start again. Hi. I’m Thea, and you’re Lorelei right? We have Profe
ssor Cash’s class together. I just saw you and thought I’d come over and introduce myself. I also wanted to see if you’d want to get together before midterms and prep a little.”
“Um, yea. I’ve got work and a study group for my other classes but, yes, definitely.” I racked my brain but I couldn’t remember having seen her before.
“Good. Well, I’ve got to get going, but if you give me your number, I can text you and we can work something out.”
“Yea, that’d be perfect,” I replied, giving her my number before beginning to pack up my things.
“You leaving, too?” she asked. “Where are you headed?”
“To the library. A couple of girls are starting this study group for these two classes we have together.”
“Well, my next class is that way. Mind if I tag along?” Thea smiled broadly.
“Of course.”
“What classes are you guys taking?”
“The American Revolution with Professor Brooke and African American History post-1877 with Rucken.”
“I had Brooke’s class last quarter for Colonial History, and he was great, except for the spittle that forms on his mouth when he’s getting really into his lecture,” she trilled.
“Oh, I know!” I exclaimed. “And how his arm always jerks out and flails around when he’s making a point.” I imitated his arm movements as we continued laughing.
“The perfect absent-minded professor,” she said.
“That’s exactly how I describe him.” Our laughter grew.
“I haven’t had Rucken, but I hear he’s pretty fierce.”
“He’s definitely intense and passionate. He doesn’t let anyone slack off. I’ve seen him kick students out for not taking notes, but he’s also really easy. At the beginning of class, he gives you a list of terms. You take notes based on the list he gives you, and those are the terms that pop up on quizzes and exams,” I explained.
“Wow. That does sound straightforward. I don’t know about you, but I’ve honestly found that all my major courses have been so much easier than the GEC courses.”
“That’s why I’m kind of sad to be graduating this quarter. There are so many good classes left to take. I feel like most of college was spent on classes that had nothing to do with history. Then when you finally get to your major, you have to squeeze in as many good classes as you can. Not to mention some of them only come up once a year.”
“I know what you mean. I graduate next quarter, and I can’t seem to narrow down my final classes. But there’s always grad school,” she replied as we rounded another quarter.
“I suppose so.”
She looked at me, hearing my hesitation. “That is … if you want to go to grad school.”
“Oh, it’s not that,” I said quickly. “I want to go. It’s just that undergrad was expensive enough with my student loans. I just don’t know if I can afford the added expense. But I’ve already started to see what’s out there with my bachelor’s degree, and it’s not pretty.”
“Believe me, I understand, but you seem smart and capable. You’ll find your path,” she consoled.
We had come to a slow pace as we neared the library. “Well, I’ve got to go,” Thea said, “but I’ll text you later, and maybe we can study soon or just go have a beer. There’s a couple of new bars I want to try out.” With that, she was gone.
I stared up at the library, a nervous energy coming over me as the thought of Patrick crept into my mind. Smiling to myself as memories of Patrick and I in the shower flooded me, I entered the library, only to be immediately greeted by Greta.
“Hey! I saw you walking with Thea and thought I’d wait for you. I didn’t realize you knew her. She’s so great, isn’t she?” Greta said animatedly.
“I actually just met her,” I said, “but, yea, she seems all right.”
“Well, come on. We’ve got a lot to cover.” Her voice was bright and optimistic. I smiled, following her to one of the workrooms. This was why I liked Greta. She was a genuinely good person, unmarred by bitterness and anger. She was one of those do-gooders with stick figure bumper stickers and a Jesus fish on her car. God-fearing parents who adored her. Nothing bad had ever happened to her. I was slightly jealous of my friend. Here was a girl who’d go far, while I … well, I couldn’t even think about the future without getting anxious and nauseous. All I saw was darkness, nothingness. Shaking myself, I glanced around trying to escape the darkness.
Nicole was already there. A born leader, she was giving directions to two other boys in our classes. I wasn’t quite sure of their names.
“Hey, Nicole,” Greta greeted her before turning to me. She pointed to one of two open seats at the opposite end of the table from Nicole. “Sit here, and then Patrick can sit there.” She winked, walking off to help Nicole organize some papers. I greeted the two guys—I thought they might be Greg and Chris—and sat down, pulling out a notebook and pencil.
The air in the room changed suddenly, becoming potent, and my body tensed.
“Patrick,” I whispered. Peering up, I saw him walking toward me. Our eyes locked. His eyes never leaving mine, he greeted everyone and sat down across from me. His dark, bold eyes were so severe. My entire body sighed. I needed a cold shower; every fiber of my being wanted to launch myself at him. The intensity, the heat, the passion. His eyes radiated the same desire, his lips twitched into a knowing smile.
For the next hour, I was in absolute Hell.
I tried to be good. I really did. He had never texted or called. He hadn’t even shown up to class after our encounter, and I was mad, despite the fact that I had no right to be. But all I could think about were his lips on mine, gently caressing my skin. Trying desperately not to look at him, I fidgeted mercilessly, tapping my feet. When I couldn’t stand it anymore, I would glance his way, only to see him staring at me, his eyes somehow darker, hungrier.
My body was rigid, my hands white from clutching the notebook so tight. My breathing was erratic, my heart beating like I was running a marathon. Nicole was talking, papers were being passed, I had no idea what was going on—and I didn’t care.
Something pulled me back into focus. Nicole.
“Lorelei? Lorelei!” Nicole’s voice was shrill.
“Sorry,” I pulled my eyes from my blank notepad. Everyone was staring at me, and I flushed scarlet.
“Are you okay?” Greta asked, concern in her voice.
“I… I… I… actually, I’m not feeling well. I should go. So sorry.” With all their faces gawking at me, I grabbed my things and ran, stopping the second fresh air rushed into my lungs.
My breathing slowed; my head cleared. What the Hell was that?
I mean, yeah, we had sex. Twice. But that intensity was way more potent than before. I couldn’t figure out why he affected me that way. It was absolutely mortifying with everyone staring at me. I started a slow pace to my car, trying to make sense of the intensity of what I’d felt. Embarrassed and worried, I made my way to the parking garage, only to stop short a few feet from my car.
Leaning against it was Patrick. How the Hell…? My thought trailed as our eyes met.
“I wanted to make sure you were okay,” he said, his voice dreamy to me.
“How did you get here so fast? How’d you know where I parked?” I whispered, my heart accelerating.
“Took a short cut and a chance after our first encounter at the crosswalk,” he mused.
Disbelieving, I shook my head, closing the distance between us. I unlocked my door. He took my arm, turning my body toward his, gently lifting my chin to meet his gaze. I shivered, suddenly apprehensive.
Patrick immediately dropped his hand. “Sorry,” he muttered.
Silence enveloped us for several minutes until I murmured, “You surprised me; that’s all.” I reached out to touch his arm, but he cringed away. Rejected.
“I should go,” I said.
“Are you okay?” he asked suddenly.
“I’m okay,” I managed. “I don’t know what ca
me over me back there.” At that, he smiled broadly. The questions burned in me, begging to be unleashed. Why didn’t you text? Or call? Or, hell, show up to classes? I swallowed them down to the best of my ability. I’d never been a needy person before, and I certainly wasn’t about to start now.
“Here,” he said, handing me a small stack of papers. “Notes and outlines Nicole prepared. Stuff to go over. We’re meeting same time next week. I circled the part you’re supposed to have ready. If you need help with it or want to work on it together….” His voice trailed off.
“Yes,” I said quickly—too quickly, and I inwardly cringed at myself.
“I’ll try not to sit so close.” He winked at me, the smile reaching his eyes. “I seem to have an adverse effect on you.”
I flushed. “When?” I asked, outwardly ignoring his remark while I inwardly warred between anger and embarrassment.
“Tonight, maybe, if you’re free. Your place, if you don’t mind. Mine is crowded. You’ve seen my family.” He gave a small laugh at that.
“Okay.” As I moved to get in the car, he leaned in suddenly, so close our faces were almost touching. My breath quickened.
“Lorelei,” he whispered.
“Yes.”
“I’ll see you later.” Winking, he shut the door, leaving me flustered and breathing heavy.
Driving home, I chastised myself for still being so enthralled by him. I had no rights to him. No reason to be jealous and wanting but it still stung, that he didn’t try to reach me and all of a sudden popped back up. And I had jumped so eagerly to his side.
When I got home, Heath was there waiting for me, looking annoyed and distracted. I wasn’t surprised. Since he had a key, I was used to him being there. Besides, I hadn’t talked to him since we all had gone to dinner and the movie.
“We should go out tonight,” he said by way of greeting as I sat on the couch next to him, “to a bar or something.”
“Why?” I heard the suspicion in my voice. We never went to bars. Heath never drank.
“I want to go. I want you to come.”
“I can’t. I have plans, and I have to work early tomorrow.”
“Please cancel them. I won’t keep you out late. I just need you to go,” he persisted.
“Why?” My eyes narrowed, knowing full well he was bullshitting me for some reason.
“I told Mads you’d be there,” he said awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Mads…?” I paused, “Mads. Madison! You mean Madison! You’re calling her ‘Mads’ now?” I giggled, bouncing on the couch animatedly.
“She broke up with that idiot and wants to hang out with us,” he mumbled.
“She wants to hang out with you, not us. Besides, I’m so not going to sit there and watch you two ogle each other all night. No way.”
“Shut up.” A grin lit up his face. “You think she’s really into me?”
“Oh, hell yea. Trust me.” And just like that, our easy banter, reminding me of our years of friendship made me feel like it was time to be honest and tell him what had been happening to me.
“So, what plans do you have?” he asked, his smile still alight.
“Just studying with a friend from school.” I tried to sound aloof.
“Who?” Now it was his turn to sound suspicious.
“No one you know,” I said, feigning innocence, suddenly very interested in the seam of the couch.
“Lorelei! Who?” He nudged me with his elbow.
“It doesn’t matter,” I said, smacking his elbow away. “Besides, there’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about, and it’s important. Please?” I added as he glared at me. He hated when I kept secrets from him but he nodded anyway.
Taking a deep breath, I told him about each instance of freaky blue sparks and how, each time it happened, it seemed to be growing in intensity. I described the rush of energy, the adrenaline, the now-useless clock and coffee maker. I even went so far as to bring them out and show him that they were broken now. He sat there silently, taking it all in, nodding at some parts, shaking his head at others. I commended him for not shutting me down or looking at me as if I’d lost it.
When I was finished, he leaned forward and grasped my hands in his. He looked at me with understanding and compassion, reminding me why our friendship had persisted through the years.
“You’re my best friend, and I love you. I would never do anything to hurt you.” I nodded, swallowing back my rush of emotions, the tears threatening to break through.
“I know,” I whispered. “I love you, too.” We sat like that for a moment, holding hands, sitting in companionable silence.
“There’s so much I have to talk to you about, Lor. I just…. I don’t want you to ever hate me, okay? I need you to remember that everything is because of our friendship.”
Fear gnawed at me. He’d just said he’d never do anything to hurt me and yet now that statement made me wary whereas before I had known it as fact.
“What’s going on? Do you know something about all this? Or … oh no. Do you think I’m going crazy?” I dropped his hands like they were burning me and sank back deeper into the couch.
“No, Lorelei, no! Please just let me explain. But first, I need you to tell me who you’re hanging out with tonight.”
“Why?”
“Please, Lor. There’s a reason.” He stared at me intently as we sat in silence for a moment.
“Patrick,” I said slowly.
“The guy from the store?”
“Yes.” As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I regretted them. Heath’s face contorted in anger, his hands clenched, and I could swear there was steam coming out of his ears.
“No. Absolutely not. He’s dangerous,” Heath thundered suddenly.
I gaped at him, momentarily stunned, before I found my voice.
“You don’t even know him!” I stood, beyond furious. “Who the hell do you think you are?” My own hands clenched, anger coursing through my veins.
“Lorelei, no. You don’t know this guy either. You need to stay away from him. We need to talk, and then you’re coming with me tonight.”
“No. I’m not. I’m studying with Patrick tonight, and that’s it.”
“Like hell you are!”
“What did you just say to me?” I froze, my voice quiet. He opened his mouth to respond, knowing full well he’d crossed a line. I shut him down. “You know what? Shut up. One minute you love me. I’m your best friend, but then the next you freak out on me. I’m having a hard time here, Heath. I needed you, but no more. Get out! It’s none of your damn business what I do!” I roared. “You’re not my father or my lover. Stop acting like a jealous boyfriend and Get. Out!”
“Lor—”
“Get out! Now!”
“Please listen,” he began, pleading.
“Go.” I pointed shakily to the door, tears in my eyes.
“Fine.” He sulked to the door, pausing momentarily. He turned and started to say something but, thinking better of it, he walked out.
Blind rage grew in the pit of my stomach and what happened next, I can only imagine as being a dream. He had exited the door, swinging it slowly behind him. My hand flew out, a diaphanous light blue flame leaping from my fingertips and slamming into the door so hard the frame shook.
Frantically, I scurried away into the farthest corner of the room. Okay, okay, reason it out. Blue flames spurting from your body, doing your bidding isn’t reasonable. It’s certainly not possible.
Think, think, think.
Fuck. Why did I let Heath leave? He said I wasn’t crazy, so that must mean he knows something.
Reason. Use reason, Lorelei.
I was on the other side of the room. Heath had let go of the door; it would have been impossible for him to slam it. I ran to peer out the window, but he was already driving away. Still baffled, I stood there, staring at my hands, watching as a blue hue faded from them.
What. The. Hell. What is happening to
me?
Maybe I was overtired from lack of sleep, and my mind was playing tricks on me. But I knew, deep down, that wasn’t true. Heath had answers, but I just couldn’t face him. I felt angry. Why did Heath have answers? He knew what was happening. My gut tightened with the knowledge that he was keeping things from me. Turning away, I sat on the sofa and tried to tune out Heath’s words and what had just happened.
If there was one thing I was really good at, it was denial, having lived in a state of it most of my life. Growing up poor with unstable parents had taught me to cope through denial. It also taught me to watch TV. Every major life trauma was connected to a memory of a television show or movie that helped me through the dark times.
Just as I had as a child, I sat in silence, watching bad reality TV. Until there was a knock on the door.
Patrick!
I’d forgotten. I gave a cursory glance around the room, adjusting my clothes as I went to the door. Feeling nervous, apprehensive, giddy even, I opened the door, fully aware that I must look horrible. There he stood: Patrick, lean yet muscular, as handsome as ever.
“Hello.” He smiled wickedly at me, his eyes twinkling. He carried a backpack on one shoulder. “May I come in?”
“Of course.” I flushed darkly and moved to let him enter.
“So, this is your apartment,” he said, winking. “I didn’t get a chance to look around the last time.” He sat down on the couch before glancing at the TV. “What are you watching?”
I flushed again. “Nothing. Just flipping through the stations,” I mumbled. “So, did you want to study in here or in my super small kitchen?”
“Actually, I kind of filled out your section of the outline already.” He grinned, embarrassed. “I thought maybe we could just go to dinner or hangout.”
“You filled out my part? How did you even have time? You didn’t have to do that. Really. Thanks…. Um, yea. What did you want to do?” I felt incredibly addled and thrilled. He wanted to spend more time with me? I mentally gave myself a high five. I’ve always prided myself on having a good front when it came to confidence. But in truth it was all an act. I was deeply insecure.
He looked me up and down, making me turn a deep purple before he said, “Let’s go to dinner.”
It was at this point that I genuinely looked at him. Dressed in a dark suede coat, a tan sweater underneath, and a dark pair of jeans, Patrick looked casual yet high class.
“Okay. Let me change real quick,” was all I could say as my eyes finally dared to meet his, again. My urge to jump him was quietly being checked by my more rational side.
In my room, however, I began to panic. His clothes were so nice, while I had nothing even close to chic, or high end. Sighing, I started digging through my clean pile of clothes and closet, eventually deciding on a dark pair of jeans, black boots, and a black sweater with a white camisole underneath. Re-doing my ponytail and adding a touch of makeup, I went back to the living room, where I found Patrick checking out my bookshelf. I felt my stomach churn. Who was this man? And why was he interested in me? I was beyond repair, a broken mess, who was now bordering sanity.
I pushed the thoughts away as he turned to meet me, his eyes appraising me appreciatively.
“You look good.” He glanced back to the shelves. “You have quite a collection here. I see you like to read.”
“I’ve always been an avid reader.” I smiled. Books were a subject that relaxed me, brought me comfort. “So, where are we going to eat?”
“It’s a surprise. Come on, we should go.” A flicker of trepidation crossed his face as he glanced at the door. He turned back to me, his face suddenly light, the transformation so quick I wondered if I had imagined it. After all, I clearly couldn’t trust myself lately.
Grabbing a small handbag from my room, I followed him to his car. As we drove away, he kept his gaze on the rearview mirror, his eyes narrowing, hand clutching the steering wheel fiercely.
“What is it?” I said, turning repeatedly, unable to see what he was looking at.
“Nothing,” he said. After a few minutes of silence, we reached the freeway. His eyes kept flicking to the mirror. Before I could ask what was wrong, we were flying down the road. Cringing, I clung desperately onto the dash as we weaved in and out of lanes, bobbing through traffic at dangerous speeds. Just when I was about to scream, he slowed. My body trembled, my mind rushing with adrenaline.
A few minutes later, we came to a stop in front of a restaurant I’d never heard of. “Sorry about that. Are you okay?” he asked as he turned off the engine. I stared at him as he nodded to my hands, which were snow-white and clutching the dashboard.
“You ask that a lot,” I said, my voice uncontrollably high.
“I’m sorry. I was distracted.” He sighed, running his hand through his hair before reaching for my hand. I moved my hands swiftly to my lap, clenching them together so I wouldn’t slap him.
“Distracted? Distracted?! By what? Were we being followed? Were we in a car chase and I was unaware, or do you just drive like a maniac for kicks?”
In one moment, I’d exited the car, slamming the door shut, and walked away from the restaurant as I pulled my phone out of my purse. I was going to have to grovel to Heath, beg for forgiveness. He’d been right all along.
I moved quickly, but Patrick was too fast for me. Like an apparition, he appeared in front of me, my phone in his hand. Dumbly, I stared at my now-empty hand, wondering how the hell he’d done that. How did he get in front of me? Let alone grab my phone? The crazy was mounting, and I was going to lose it soon.
“Where are you going? Are you planning on walking home?” His voice was light, playful.
“No. I’m going to get a ride from someone who’s not trying to kill me,” I growled.
“Please stay. Please. I’m sorry. I was just ensuring our time together.”
“What? You know that makes no sense, right?” My voice was so high-pitched, soon only dogs would be able to hear me.
“Please come inside. Have dinner with me. Afterwards, if you don’t feel safe, I’ll call and pay for a cab myself. Please.” His intense eyes pleaded with me, and I felt myself buckle.
“I want my phone back.” I tried to sound angry still, but he knew I’d faltered. A smile eased his face as he dropped my phone carefully into my hand. He gestured back toward the restaurant, and we walked in tandem, our steps slow.
“I didn’t mean to scare you.” His voice sounding remorseful.
“There’s not a lot that scares me.” I chuckled softly as I calmed.
“Oh, really? So what does scare you?”
“Aside from people driving crazy?” I chuckled again. Always the gentlemen—well, almost always—he held the door for me and got us a corner booth. Private, dimly lit, warm atmosphere. It was perfection. Sitting across from him, I found his eyes burrowing holes into me, his expression concerned.
“What’s wrong?” I questioned.
“Before, you laughed and said there’s not a lot that scares you. So, what does? Scare you, I mean.” His brow was furrowed as he waited expectantly for an answer.
“You’re inquisitive,” I murmured, turning my eyes down from him.
For the second time since we met, he reached over, lifting my chin to meet his gaze. Just as before, I shuddered with desire and something else … trepidation. I breathed deeply. Instinctively, he dropped his hand, murmuring something inaudible.
But then he took a deep breath and said, “I just really want to know you. I find you very easy to talk to and interesting, to say the least.”
“You want to know me? I mean…. Don’t get me wrong, but no one ever really wants to know me. I have friends, but even my best friend doesn’t truly know me.” I closed my eyes, seeing Heath’s face was before me, a lump rising in my throat. Clearing my throat, I continued. “Besides, I’m far from interesting. But I do…. I do find you easy to talk to, too.” My face could not possibly get any redder. “Aside from the fact that you’ve almost m
urdered me twice now.” I slowly opened my eyes to face him.
“I find you,” he paused for a moment, a smile playing at his lips, “enchanting. And I can’t imagine anyone not wanting to know you.” His eyes locked on mine as I felt the heat, the burning passion again attracting us together like magnets. But how could he be for real?
I wanted to cry at that moment. Most girls would do anything to hear those words being said to them. Not me. I felt terrified because I knew it couldn’t possibly last. This would end and end badly. Everything did. This was how Heath had gotten so close to me. Friendship trumped romance and love. Even as my friend I could still hold him at a distance. I sighed heavily.
“Please,” he murmured. “Please tell me what scares you?”
“Why? You haven’t answered my question yet.”
“I will. Please. Your laughter was disturbing to me,” he tried again.
“Well, death doesn’t scare me. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not crazy. In fact, I’m all about self-preservation,” I added this last part as his eyebrows went up in doubt. “But death itself? No, it doesn’t scare me. Neither does aging or being alone. Most people are terrified of those things. But not me. That’s the cycle. Time keeps moving forward.”
“So, what does scare you?”
“Life.” I whispered so low I thought he couldn’t possibly hear me, but he had.
“Life?” he sounded confused.
Luckily for me, our waiter picked that moment our waiter to come over and greet us. I sat in silence, not hearing a word the waiter was saying. My eyes were only on Patrick’s face, examining every detail. I knew I had to stop this before it went farther. The longer it went on, the more mangled I would be. Then the waiter was gone, and it was just us, Patrick waving his hand in front of my face as concern and confusion etched his eyes.
“Where did you go?” he demanded.
“Off for a stroll in my head,” I tried to smile.
“You do that a lot, you know. Welcome back,” he added, his concern fading. “I hope you don’t mind I ordered for you since you went catatonic on me.”
“I don’t mind. Thank you. I appreciate it.”
“Life?” He prompted after a minute. Here we were again. My luck had run out too quickly. I thought for a minute.
When I felt Patrick’s unease growing, I finally responded.
“It sounds stupid, but … yes, life. Really living. Unfulfilled dreams, expectations. Doing nothing, being nothing. I can handle that. I can deal with this shell of a life, mostly. It’s the dream of love and joy, family and friends. A life of real happiness. Seeing it around me, happening for everyone else, I start to let that desire seep in. But I know, I actually know it will never happen for me, and it crushes me. Knowing your life is over before it even begins, that’s the worst part. The failure of it all. It’s the hope, the secret unfulfilled promises in the dark, that’s what scares me. That’s what haunts me….”
And that was it. So quickly my eyes couldn’t see it, he was next to me, where a moment ago he’d been across from me in the booth. His lips were on mine, cool and needy, while his hands were in my hair, pressing my face gently yet urgently into his. Cool breath mingled with my warmth, and I felt my body lighting up.
Just as quickly, he was gone. Back in his seat. His kiss still lingered on my lips. I touched them gently to make sure that it had been real, that I hadn’t just imagined it. I looked at him, my need for him growing, but my eyes questioned.
“Do you feel that?” He breathed erratically, his eyes jet black.
“Yes,” I stuttered.
“That’s life. That’s real.”
“Is it? I’m not so sure.” Instinctively, I touched my lips again, tracing where his lips had been. Then the waiter was back, placing drinks and a bread basket in front of us before taking off. I took the moment to pull myself back together.
“Why not?” He hadn’t taken his eyes from me.
“If you left. If this feeling faded. If something happened to you….” As I listed each scenario, I ticked off a finger on my hand. By the third one, I couldn’t finish. I was revealing too much, too soon. Heath was right, as always. I barely knew this man, yet my feelings were so vivid. I’d never felt this passion, this unbelievable pull. Sex had been a way to kill the pain of loss, the void of loneliness. I knew that this wasn’t just lust, and that was what was so horrible.
Lust you can get over. Lust you can work out of your system. Love, love was dangerous. I’d loved before—not in this sense, but I’d loved my mother, father, and sister, and they had broken me. I couldn’t let myself fall for him or let him see that I was. Then he would have the power to destroy what was left of me. I mentally started counting, tapping my foot in sequence, trying to counteract my anxiety.
“What are you thinking?” His voice pitched low, over the murmur of conversations surrounding us. I had to lean in closer to hear him clearly.
“That this is wrong. You want something else. Someone else. I’m not for sale.” My words were cold, harsh. The food arrived, and our waiter hurried off, sensing the tension at our table.
We sat in silence, both of us suddenly furious with the other.
“I want to know you,” Patrick said at last, sounding sincere. “Be your friend…. Well, really, I want to be more, but I can settle for friend. For now. I know you feel the pull. Believe me, I feel it, too. The other night was beyond anything I’ve ever felt, Lorelei. It’s never been that way for me. Then you didn’t want me to stay, and I was suddenly an insecure boy, wondering if I should call or text. I don’t want to scare you. Just know you. Understand you. Protect you. If that’s all you want.” His voice was soft, patient.
Again I wanted to cry. Why did I have to be so broken? His last words clung to me and triggered a flood of unpleasant memories. Nobody had ever understood me. Not really. And protect me? Ha. Only Prue, but she was gone, off in New York.
And Heath, I reminded myself, but I was feeling insecure about where we stood. I felt my eyes sting, but I fought it back, refusing to let him see me so weak. Instead, I shoved another forkful of food in my mouth, working to swallow it, the lump rising in my throat. I nodded slowly, unable to respond, continuing in silence for a few minutes. He politely looked away as I struggled to pull my face into submission.
Before I knew it, the waiter was back with two boxes and a check. Patrick handed the man cash, saying something to him I didn’t hear, for that was the moment I realized he’d barely touched his food even though. In fact, it looked as though he’d just shoveled his food around on his plate. I looked at his glass. Full.
I stared at my own things, my glass and plate half-empty. I hadn’t even realized I’d taken a drink, let alone eaten so much! Then I looked back at his plate, my brows furrowing together. The reasoning part of my brain kicked in as if to tally this to a list of strange happenings. Shaking my head slowly, I knew something was off. What wasn’t I seeing? Then his plate was gone. He was looking down, pulling the contents of his plate into the white Styrofoam box left by the waiter. His eyes never moved from his meticulous actions. Sighing, I tried to shake it off, boxing my own food.
He mumbled, “Guess I wasn’t that hungry.” I nodded, trying to comprehend what I was and wasn’t seeing.
We left, making our way to my apartment in silence. He drove very carefully, a few miles under the speed limit—to appease me, I guessed.
When we got close to my place, he turned to me, as sly grin crossing his face. “No distractions.”
“I have no idea what that means. You still owe me an explanation.” I said, slightly annoyed.
“I’ll explain in your apartment,” he promised.
As soon as I opened the door, I turned on him. “Explain,” I demanded.
“Your friend was following us. I was just shaking him loose.” His face relaxed as he strode to my bookshelf and ran his finger along the stacks.
“What are you talking about? Who was following us?” Fear creeped into my voice.
“Heath. That’s his name, right? He seemed very determined to be wherever you were. I just wanted to … steer away from him.” Patrick said calmly.
“Heath? He wouldn’t. He … he … he would never violate me in that way.” Anger began to mix with the fear.
“I’m afraid he did. He doesn’t like me much. He thinks I’m dangerous.” His serenity was starting to piss me off now.
“You couldn’t possibly know that. Besides, you saw him once. How on earth could you tell he was following us?” I mentally started counting to three, trying to calm my apprehension.
“It was all over his face that day. Besides, I have very good eyesight. Never doubt that. Black jeep, right?” I swallowed hard, nodding my head slowly as I counted to three again. Seeing my fear, he added, “Don’t worry. It’s not about you so much. It’s me. He’s truly concerned for your safety. He needn’t be, but he is. Why don’t you sit down and we can talk.”
I nodded numbly as he led me to the sofa. Flipping on the television, he lowered the volume so it was just background noise. He turned to me, waiting for me to tune back in.
“Talk to me,” he said finally. “You creep me out when you do this.”
I immediately pulled myself back into focus. “I don’t know. I just don’t understand. He’s never been like this before. Acted so jealous or overprotective. I just don’t get it. We’re like family, you know? I know he’s crazy for Madison, so this makes even less sense.” Seeing the confusion on his face, I told him about my argument with Heath earlier, leaving out the crazy door details and all the freaky stuff.
“I think Heath just wants what’s best for you. He’s a good friend to be worried.”
“But not to be a stalker!”
“No. But, not all of the facts are in yet. I’m not a threat to you, but I could be.” Patrick looked at me, his expression blank. A shiver escaped at his words. He could be a threat to me. Meaning, if he wanted. “I’m not a great person, Lorelei. When he saw me at the store that day, he knew it. I can be dangerous.”
“What does that mean?” I was still slightly freaked out by the hint of a future threat from him in those words could be. But I believed him when he said he wasn’t currently one.
“It means give him a chance to say his peace. We’re just getting to know each other and he’s protecting you from the unknown.” His mask fell, a small smile forming, reaching his eyes. I nodded in agreement.
“Will you be a danger to me?” I couldn’t help myself from asking.
Looking deep into my eyes he said, “To your heart.” With a wink he leaned back as I chortled.
“That was the best you could come with? That was the line?” I gasped out.
Relaxed, we talked for most of the night with Patrick asking me superficial details, I think to keep me at ease. I’d had enough crazy for the evening. Mainly we discussed books and music. Books were a great passion for him as well. We both loved the classics and a good Poirot novel. Our tastes were expansive in books and music, and we found we had a lot in common. Our conversation turned to movies and television, and I was thrilled to finally have met someone who knew all the same old movies and shows as me, along with all the more recent ones. We discussed favorite authors and actors. Who was truly great versus who was just bolstered for beauty’s sake. We laughed and joked, and I never wanted it to end. It had been a long while since I’d had such a good time.
Eventually, talking turned to intimate whispers, to jokes, to sweet caresses. Before any sense could be made, we came together again, our bodies crashing into each other rhythmically. Tonight, I wanted him to stay.
When I yawned, he took it as a cue to leave. I protested, but he simply said, “You have to work early, remember?”
Nodding, I walked him to the door where he turned and said, “You’re far more interesting than you give yourself credit for. Good night, friend.” Kissing me softly, he was gone.
Maybe I can do this, I thought, have a friend and a lover rolled into one.