by Jessica Roe
“Mom!” Reid protests, embarrassed.
She waves a dismissive hand in his general direction. “Hush! I'm meeting your lady friend. You told me you didn't bring girls back to your apartment.” She winks at me conspiratorially. “You must be something special.”
I smile. She's a little batty and totally misinformed, but she's sweet and charming.
“Mom, seriously! For fu-.”
“Watch you language! Now make yourself useful and make us ladies a cuppa, love. I want to get to know your Jemma.”
“We're not dating,” I tell her quickly, because one of us should and Reid isn't exactly jumping up to share that little bit of information. I don't want her to get the wrong idea and start planning our wedding or anything.
“We're just friends, Mom,” Reid calls out from the kitchen area where he's already begun to dutifully make the tea.
Still holding my hand, Reid's mom pulls me down onto the sofa. “Sure, sure,” she says, like she doesn't believe a word we're saying. “For now.”
“Really, we're only friends,” I protest.
She just smiles. “He's a good boy, you know,” she says, her voice too low for Reid to hear. “He lost his way for a while after his father died, but he got himself back on track and I couldn't be prouder. He pays half my rent for me each month. Thinks I don't know, the daft sod, but I don't exactly believe my grumpy old landlord suddenly decided to half my rent last year.” She rolls her eyes fondly.
My heart swells. I mean, I knew Reid was sweet underneath his bad boy exterior, but I hadn't quite grasped how sweet. Or how wonderfully awesome. I'm sure that's the exact reason she's telling me this. “That's kind of incredible.”
“That's my Reid, for you. Incredible.”
She doesn't even know me, but for some reason Reid's mom seems to have decided that I'm perfect for her son. I know this is a big deal, because the love she has for her son is as bright and shining as the sun in the sky.
Suddenly I feel very, very ashamed of myself for ever thinking, even for just one moment when I first met him, that Reid wasn't good enough for me. The truth is that I'm the one who's not good enough for him. I'm shallow and judgmental and bitchy and selfish and sometimes I can just suck.
We may not be a perfect match, Reid and I, he may not fit in with my future, but he's definitely one of the best guys I've ever met.
“It was ever so lovely meeting you,” Reid's mom, who insisted I call her Kae, tells me an hour later after she has thoroughly grilled both me and her son. “I know I'll be seeing much more of you.”
Reid walks her to the door, shaking his head in exasperation. She reaches up and pinches his cheeks, so much shorter than him that it's comical to see such a big, tough guy treated this way. “Make sure you put those clothes away. Neatly. I don't want to see you all wrinkled when you come to tea on Sunday.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“Love you lots, my little love bug.” She glances between us, her eyes shining with happiness. While Reid was still in the kitchen earlier she spoke a little more about his downward spiral after his dad passed away. She told me how nice it is to see Reid happy again. She seems to think that I make him happy. “You two are the cutest.”
When the door closes behind her, Reid turns back to me and leans against it, banging his head back with an embarrassed sigh. “Sorry about that, she's kinda full on. I had no idea she was stopping by.”
“Sure you didn't,” I tease.
“You callin' me a liar, Cindy?” He grabs a beer and flops himself down on the sofa next to me, lifting up my legs and throwing them over his thighs.
“Really, beer? It's like, two in the afternoon.” He just shrugs so I roll my eyes. “You totally brought me here to meet your mom.” I don't really believe that, but I do so love to embarrass him.
“You have some serious fucking sass going on right now.”
I laugh. “I like your mom. She's so much fun.”
“Yeah, she's also deluded. And a pain in the ass. But she's also the best mom in the world.” He cocks his head to the side in that way he does when he's thinking about something and frowns. “Wait, did I just lose some serious guy points?”
I ignore that. “She has an English accent, right? What's with that?”
“Because she was born in England, dumb ass” I fold my arms impatiently and wait for him to continue. He heaves a sigh, but I can tell he's secretly pleased that I'm so interested in his life. “Mom and Pops met when she was visiting NYC on a high school trip. She said it was an instant love kind of thing. The English rose and the dirt poor Puerto Rican boy.” He huffs out a laugh at that. “When she went home they wrote each other every week for the next couple years, then the second she turned eighteen she came back here and married him.”
I press a hand against my heart, already aching because I know this story doesn't have a happy ending. “That's amazing. They kept on loving each other for years even though they were apart.”
“Yeah. Mom's family disowned her when she married him though, the assholes. But they didn't care because they had each other, and then they had me. We were poor as shit, but it was okay. None of us really cave a crap.”
“What happened to your dad?” I hesitate to ask. I almost don't want to know. I want this story to end just like this, just with them being happy.
Pain flashes through Reid's eyes. I take a hold of his hand, resting on my knee, and squeeze. “He died when I was fourteen. Tried to stop a bar fight between two fucking shit heads and got stabbed.”
I gasp. “That's awful.”
“The ironic thing is that all my pops ever wanted was peace. He just wanted people to get along. Be the bigger person and let it go, he always told me.” He shot me a self-deprecating smile. “I was a brain when I was kid, believe it or not. The kids at school bullied the fuck outta me. But Pops always made it feel better.” He shrugs and blows out a long puff of air. “I've made my peace with it. Now, anyway.”
“Your mom said you had a rough time of it, after. . .”
“He was my idol. When he died it was like I lost my whole world.” An overwhelming urge to wrap him up in my arms and never, ever let him go stuns me. “Things just didn't seem to matter any more. Not school, grades, not even my mom. I was a royal ass to her. She worked three different jobs just to help us scrape by while mourning the loss of the love of her life, and I just had no respect for her at all.”
I understand now why he feels the need to pay half her rent – he's trying to make up for the sins of his past. He should know that his mom doesn't hold it against him, not at all. I barely know her yet I know that for sure.
“What happened?”
“I dropped out of school. Started fighting, partying hard, doing drugs. Stupid fucking shit that shoulda killed me. Then when I was sixteen, Digby moved into the apartment next door to ours. He caught me vandalizing one day, spraying some graffiti, but instead of calling the cops he talked up my work. No one had ever given me a break like that before. He got me a job, helped me get my GED, made me start taking my anger issues out at the gym instead of on people. Then when I was eighteen he gave me an apprenticeship. The rest is history.”
“So that's why you don't party hard any more?”
“You got it. If it wasn't for Digby, I'd never have gotten clean. Nothing would make me go back to that life again.”
We sit in silence for a while, reflecting.
“Mom likes you,” he says suddenly, the pain pushed back from his eyes and his regular cheerfulness back in place. “That's good, she's a great judge of character.”
“Duh, I'm totally adorable. What's not to love?”
His head is resting against the back of the sofa, and without lifting it he turns to watch me, smiling with such fondness that my heart skips a beat. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”
I don't know why, but I don't introduce Reid to my friends. Not even Blair or Dahlia. It's not like I'm ashamed of him, or them – no frakking way. I mean, Blair and Dahlia k
now I'm hanging with him, I couldn't exactly keep getting away with disappearing all the time without giving them an explanation. Especially Dahlia, the nosiest girl I've ever met. But Reid and I, it's like the two of us exist in our own special world where there are no rules or guidelines or expectations. A world where I can just be me, where I don't have to be pretty or perfect or anything I don't want to be.
It may be dumb, but I feel like the second I introduce my two worlds, things between us will suddenly become real. Scarily real. And I can't handle that. I have to repeat to myself, over and over again, that Reid does not fit in with my future, with my life. Already I'm beginning to forget why I ever thought that in the first place. It worries me how often I think about him when we're not together. I'll see something funny or interesting or silly and he'll be the first person I want to share it with, just because I know he'll get it. He'll get me.
Most of all I just want to keep him to myself, just for a little while. If that makes me selfish then. . .so be it. I've never cared about being selfish before. In fact, it's kind of my thing. It's not as if he's rushing to introduce me to his friends either, so I know I'm not alone in this.
It's just us, and that's okay by me.
Reid is unlike any guy I've ever known, let alone any guy I've ever dated. How could I let stray romantic feelings ruin what we have?
Reid makes a show of checking his watch for the fourth time. He huffs loudly – and he calls me dramatic. “You said you'd be ready thirty minutes ago. Let's go already!”
I ignore him because he's a guy who clearly does not know the importance of careful mascara application.
“Cindy, I'm bored.”
“Shut up!” I resist the urge to laugh at his impatience. “If you make me lose concentration I'll smudge and then I'll have to start all over again.”
He groans, sprawling back on my tiny dorm room bed and shoving my pillow over his face. “We're just going to a movie,” comes his muffled voice. “No one will even see you, the theater will be too dark. Mm, this pillow smells like you.”
“Shows how much you know about girls. And stop sniffing me!”
The pillow is thrown aside. “I happen to know a lot about girls. A lot. Just ask Carla.”
“You mean Ciara?” I ask, referring to the girl he took out the other night on one of our rare evenings apart. I try to push the icy swell of jealousy down – it's not like I own him.
“Sure, sure.”
That makes me smile and I don't even know why because I usually hate cocky guys. But Reid just has this charm about him that makes him totally able to get away with it.
Sometimes it's so hard to believe we've known each other only a month when it feels so much longer. Already I couldn't imagine a world without Reid, a world where he wasn't my best friend. He's become a part of me I never expected, a part I didn't know I wanted but I definitely needed.
I grin at his reflection in the mirror Dahlia stuck up on the back of our door. His tall body makes my bed look even smaller than usual.
Dahlia is visiting her parents for the weekend so I have the room to myself. I was nervous about Reid coming here at first, almost afraid to be alone with him in a setting as intimate as a bedroom, but things haven't been weird. Yet.
“Jemmaaa,” he whines. “We'll be late.”
“We won't, I swear.” I run a layer or red lipstick over my lips, pretending not to notice the way he watches me with rapt attention. “We'll be there just in time.”
He sits up, rubbing a hand over the scruff on his cheeks in a way I've wanted to do ever since I met him. “But we'll miss the previews. They're the best bit.”
I smack my lips together and drop my lipstick in my purse. “See? All finished, you big baby.” With a laugh, I flop down next to him on the bed. We fall back and he slides his arm under my neck so my head is resting on his shoulder. Suddenly he no longer seems in such a hurry to get out of here.
“What's this song?” he asks as soft music drifts out of my iPod speakers. His eyes are closed peacefully as he listens.
“Ghost,” I tell him. “It's Sir Sly.”
“Hm. I like it.”
“Me too.”
His fingers slide down my arm, leaving a trail of tingles, until he reaches my hand. He lifts our entwined fingers in the air, staring at them like he's trying to figure out why they fit so well. His skin is darker than mine and his hand much bigger, but to me it feels just right.
I swallow hard, wondering how he can touch me like this and still act so casual. I'm feeling anything but casual – all dizzy and light headed and horny.
“Is this like, the first song we've ever agreed on?” I ask, trying to think about anything other than what I want to do now, which involves straddling and lips and much nakedness.
He harrumphs quietly. “Not my fault you don't appreciate decent music.”
“You'd better not be insulting Beyonce right now. You know I'll maim you in all kinds of bad ass ways.”
“Sure thing, tough girl.”
“I saw you bopping that head of yours away to Single Ladies the other day, don't deny it.”
“Whatever,” he says, but I can hear the smile in his tone.
We lay together in silence for a while, the movie we were supposed to catch conveniently forgotten. We can do this for hours, just be quiet and peaceful and not have to say anything at all. I've never had that with anyone before.
“Your heart is beating really fast. I can feel it beneath my cheek.” My voice, though quiet, seems absurdly loud and I immediately wish I hadn't said it. It feels a lot like one of those lines we just don't cross.
“Shut it,” he drawls, wrapping his long fingers around my small wrist to feel my pulse. “So's yours.”
Even though we haven't really said much at all, this is still the closest we've ever come to talking about or feelings for each other, the romantic ones we pretend not to have.
When I tilt my head up to see his face, I find he's already looking down at me. Gone is his usual smirk, his playfulness, his carefree nonchalance. His eyes are hooded as he watches me, filled with want and lust and suddenly I'm finding it hard to breathe. I'm surrounded by him, totally and completely. His heat, his very presence, even his smell. Spicy cologne and smoke and the faint hint of antiseptic from working in the tattoo shop and Twinkies, because he found my secret stash earlier and ate them all. I'm surrounded by him and I like it. I adore it, way more than a friend should. No other friend has ever made me feel the way Reid does. No other guy has made me feel the way he does, not a single one of my past boyfriends.
“Jemma,” he murmurs desperately, pressing his forehead against mine. He drops my hand and cups the side of my head. His hand is so large that the bottom of his palm touches my chin and his fingers still thread through my hair.
Reid's breath dances over my lips, warm and tempting and sinful. All I want is to let go, to let him in. Our lips brush, just the tiniest of secret whispers.
Reality crashes down on me with the force of a truck.
Before it can go any further I pull myself away and stand, smoothing imaginary wrinkles out of my pink wrap skirt to avoid looking at him.
That was stupid. That was so, so stupid! How could I almost kiss him? It's just. . .it's just. . .stupid! Do I not have any self control when it comes to Reid?
He isn't right for me, he just isn't, even if he feels right when we're together. And I'm not right for him either. He's too different to who I imagined I'd be with, too different from guys I've dated before. And I know that a relationship between Reid and I wouldn't be fleeting, it wouldn't be something casual that we could just end quickly and then go our separate ways. It would consume us, own us. I'd never get over him.
Reid is cocky and arrogant and not at all a future doctor or lawyer yet I want him. I want him, but I'm not brave enough, not like Blair or Silver. I'm not brave enough to take that chance. I'm not them.
Gathering my courage, I finally turn back to him. He sits on the edge of my
bed, his hands clenching the covers on either side of him and his hunched shoulders stiff. He's pissed at me, but even worse than that, he's hurt. He understands everything I'm thinking without me having to say it out loud. He understands that I'm saying no to him, that I'm saying no to us.
“We should go,” I bleat, sounding way too shrill and high pitched. I flip open another pocket watch, this one shaped like a heart. “We could still catch that movie.”
Something comes over him, something hard. His eyes grow dark but his expression smooths as he stands. “I changed my mind,” he says, his voice silky and calculated. “Let's go to a party.”
“A party?”
He shrugs. “Sure, a party. With my friends.” I hate the way he's looking at me, all cold and clinical, with none of his familiar warmth. “You got a problem with that?”
I do, actually. I've never met any of his friends, Digby aside, and I don't want to do it right now when he's so pissed. It feels like an epically bad idea.
And if we're finally meeting each others friends, does that mean our world, this amazing one where only the two of us exist, is coming to an end?
I'm not ready for it to end.
Our almost kiss was a very, very bad mistake. It brought to light things between us which should have stayed in the dark and now things feel different, like they're never going to be the same again.
“No,” I lie. “A party sounds great.”
It's not great. It's so not great.
The apartment block we pull up by in Queens is actually nicer than I was expecting, though the area is super sketchy.
On the way Reid rode the bike like a madman. He usually drives fast, but this time he sped and took corners like a possessed racer on crack.
My legs are jelly by the time we get inside. Reid takes me to an apartment on the ground floor and doesn't bother to knock before entering. A wave of sweet smoke hits me the second I step over the threshold. Weed. It's disgusting.