Love Lessons

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Love Lessons Page 15

by Gina Wilkins


  “That wasn’t bad, actually,” Mike conceded. “Though I could have done without that kid kicking the back of my seat through the first half.”

  “Or the cell phones that kept ringing with those annoying little ditties. Why can’t people remember to turn theirs off before the film begins?”

  “That’s why my mother refuses to go to a movie theater these days. Noisy food chewing and cell phones ringing and babies crying and people talking through the films—all that makes her crazy. She just rents everything she wants to see. She and Dad rent two or three films a week, taking turns making the selections since they don’t always like the same ones. They bought a big-screen TV and a good surround sound system, and they would rather just stay home than bother with theater crowds.”

  “Sounds like a good plan to me.”

  “Do your parents see many movies?”

  “They actually prefer live theater. Mother’s been known to complain about the behavior of modern theater patrons. She misses the days when everyone got dressed up and made going to the theater a special occasion.”

  “I haven’t seen many plays since Laurie quit acting in high school and college performances,” Mike admitted. “Seemed like all the plays she was in were either just endless, boring talk scenes or incredibly depressing stories about somebody dying tragically.”

  Amused, Catherine turned in the truck seat to look at him as he drove them home from the movie theater. “You never saw any plays that you liked?”

  “Well, yeah. A couple. I like the musicals. Fiddler on the Roof was my favorite. And Guys and Dolls was okay. That ‘Luck Be a Lady’ song? I like that one.”

  It surprised her a bit that he liked musicals, and she told him so.

  “Well, yeah. I mean, I’d rather see people singing and dancing than philosophizing and dying dramatically, you know?”

  She laughed. “Actually, I like musicals, myself, though I also enjoy the more dramatic plays.” She hesitated only a moment before saying, “The local community theater is putting on Seven Brides for Seven Brothers next weekend. Karen and I were going to go, but then she found out that Wayne’s brother from Chicago is going to be in town then, so I’ve ended up with an extra ticket. I was going to ask Julia, but if you’re interested, maybe you’d like to—?”

  “I’d like that,” he said quickly. “Thanks for asking.”

  She didn’t know if he was really interested in seeing the play or if he just wanted the excuse to see her again. Either way, she was pleased that he’d accepted. And maybe a little nervous about it, too. After all, they had just committed to spend another weekend together. And something—perhaps that same annoying inner voice that had nagged her the night before—warned her that the more time she spent with Mike, the harder it was going to be when they inevitably went their own ways.

  Catherine and Mike saw each other nearly every day that week, and when they didn’t get together, they spoke by phone. It was a light week at work for Catherine, so she had time to spend with him. As for him, he kept telling her that his classes were going well and he was keeping up with his studies. Other than that, they continued to pretend the rest of the world didn’t exist.

  This couldn’t last, she reminded herself frequently. They were ignoring their friends and his family. She hadn’t even mentioned him to her parents. They were also pretty much ignoring the differences between them.

  They limited their activities to the very few things they had already tried successfully. They went for long walks along the scenic hiking trail that ran alongside the Arkansas River. They played board games and card games. They watched television when they could find programs that were of some interest to both of them. They dined out at rather generic chain restaurants where both could find dishes they liked. They played with Norman, and they enjoyed each other.

  Catherine had never been in a physical relationship that was so intense. Mike was passionate and demonstrative, making no secret of his desire for her. It was a heady feeling to walk across a room and know that he was watching appreciatively. As much as she valued being admired for her competence and intelligence, it was kind of nice to be on the receiving end of a handsome, virile young man’s—well, lust, she thought with a warmth in her cheeks.

  So maybe it would all burn out very quickly, and both of them would go back to the lives they had led before their chance meeting. Every woman should have memories of at least one exciting, impetuous affair to savor in her later years, right?

  They both enjoyed the play they saw on Saturday evening. Had she attended with Karen, as originally planned, Catherine might have been a bit more critical later of the individual actors and the directorial decisions, but since Mike had seemed satisfied with the production, she kept those opinions to herself. After all, she had liked the play, she assured herself. She was simply in the habit of critically reviewing plays and films afterward with her companions.

  Mike’s review of the play was succinct. “That was fun. And the actress who played Milly was hot.”

  Taking her cue from him, she agreed that the production had been enjoyable, then added teasingly, “I didn’t really notice that actress so much—but the guy who played Benjamin was definitely hot.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Standing in the middle of her living room, he wrapped his arms around her, his eyes twinkling down into hers. “Hotter than me?”

  She walked her fingers up his chest and gazed up at him through her lashes, giving him what she hoped was a coyly seductive smile. “Impossible,” she murmured. “But about that actress—”

  His lips hovering only a millimeter above hers, he asked, “What actress?”

  Satisfied, she pulled his mouth to hers.

  Norman had to be content with entertaining himself in the living room for quite a while that evening.

  “A pathogenic fungus invades a plant. The infected plant produces what in response to the attack?”

  “Have I ever told you how pretty you look in green?”

  “Mike—what does the infected plant produce in response to the attack?”

  Stretched out on her couch with his head in her lap and her cat on his stomach, Mike sighed. “Phytochrome.”

  “Very good.” She popped a red M&M into his mouth as a reward. He grinned and chewed.

  Setting the bowl of candies back on the end table beside her, she glanced at the study sheet in her hand. “Name two plant hormones that might be used to enhance stem elongation and fruit growth.”

  He sighed again, drawing her attention back to him. She almost sighed herself. He looked so darned good sprawled beside her, his long legs encased in faded jeans with a hole in the right knee, his feet in white socks, his blue plaid cotton shirt untucked and unbuttoned enough to reveal a mouthwatering expanse of sleek, tanned chest. His head was heavy on her thigh, his warmth seeping through the thin black athletic pants she wore with her lime green long-sleeved T-shirt.

  It took her a moment to remember what she had asked him. “Mike, are you listening to me? Which plant hormones might be used to enhance stem elongation and fruit growth?”

  “I heard you,” he muttered, shifting his weight a little and almost distracting her all over again. “Auxins and…some other one.”

  “Giberellins,” she supplied patiently for him. “Describe the function of auxin.”

  “I haven’t the foggiest idea.” He reached up to draw her head down to his for a kiss. “But I do know that you have the prettiest eyes…”

  “No.” She pulled her lips from his with an effort. “You’re supposed to be studying. You have a test.”

  “I’ll study later. I need a break now.”

  “A break?” She glanced pointedly at his lazily reclined position. “From what?”

  “From thinking. My brain is tired. Let’s go for a walk.”

  “It’s pouring rain outside.”

  “Is it?” He frowned, listened for a moment to the rain that had starting pounding steadily against the windows only a few minutes earlier, the
n made a face. “Okay. Then let’s do something else. How do you feel about bowling?”

  “I haven’t bowled since a school field trip when I was in the eighth grade. I was lousy at it. My friends called me the queen of the gutter ball.”

  “I could give you some pointers. I’m pretty good.”

  She had no doubt of that. Mike seemed to be good at everything he did—with the exception of concentrating on his studying today. “Auxin acts by increasing the plasticity of the cell wall. You should remember that in case it’s on the test.”

  “And I will,” he said, a little impatiently now. He set Norman gently on the floor and swung his legs around to sit up. “I have plenty of time to get ready for the test. But you and I have only a few hours to spend together today, since you have to go into the lab this evening. Let’s not waste our time with this stuff. I’ll study after you go to work.”

  He’d had a little trouble understanding why she had to go into the lab at 8:00 p.m. and would probably be there until midnight. It pretty much took another scientist to comprehend the tricky timing of most experiments.

  She set his study sheet aside. If he didn’t want to study for his test, she certainly had no right to nag him. She wasn’t his mother.

  “Okay,” she said, “we’ll do something else. But do we really want to go out into that pouring rain?”

  He was already putting on his shoes. “You have an umbrella, don’t you? We’ll only be out long enough to get to the car and then into the bowling alley.”

  “You really want to go bowling?”

  “Sure, why not? It’s something active we can do inside. It’ll be fun. I’ll even buy you some nachos.”

  Setting aside her reservations about his studies and her disinclination to go out in the rainstorm, she compromised. Again. “I’ll get my jacket and my umbrella. But I have to be back by seven.”

  “No problem,” he assured her with a grin that was just a shade too close to smug.

  “So. Dude. When are you going to rejoin the living?” Bob asked, sounding disgruntled.

  Speaking into the headset that allowed him to keep his hands free while using his cell phone, Mike tightened a screw on the new showerhead he was installing in a recently vacated apartment. “I’ve just been busy, Bob. Work, classes—”

  “A certain sexy scientist.”

  The screwdriver slipped a little. Mike quickly corrected it. “Yeah, I’ve seen Catherine a few times.”

  Which translated to every chance he got, he added silently. And even that didn’t seem like nearly enough, which worried him more than a little.

  “You haven’t hung out with Brandon and me for the past couple of weeks. Every time we’ve called, you’ve had other plans. We’re sensitive guys, you know. We could get our tender feelings hurt.”

  Mike chuckled, as Bob expected, but he knew his friend wasn’t entirely joking. He’d been hearing much the same things from his mother and sisters, whom he had been avoiding lately.

  “So how about this afternoon? Want to meet us at Jolly’s for some wings and beer?”

  As it happened, Catherine would be working late that day; she had said she probably wouldn’t be home before eight. He had told her that wouldn’t be a problem because he had to study. He had not just one, but two tests tomorrow. Both of his classes.

  “I guess I could join you for a little while. But I can’t stay long, Bob. I’ve got to study.”

  “Oh, sure, no problem. We’ll just hang out for a little while. You can hit the books later.”

  Even as they disconnected the call, Mike was aware that Bob had brushed off the studying as unimportant. Which meant it was going to be up to him to make sure he got away at a reasonable time, he told himself firmly.

  “How about meeting for sushi this evening?” Julia asked Catherine over the phone in Catherine’s office. “We haven’t done anything together since we went shopping last month.”

  Catherine set down the pen she’d been using to write in her lab notebook. “I’m sorry, Julia, but I’ll be working late this evening. I don’t expect to be able to leave before eight—and it could be even later than that. It has been a very busy past couple of weeks here, and I’ve been putting in some fairly long hours.”

  “Working, huh?”

  “Yes.” Catherine spoke more firmly this time, having heard the faintest note of skepticism in Julia’s voice. “Working.”

  “Okay—so how about tomorrow evening?”

  Glad that Julia couldn’t see her expression, Catherine thought about it a moment. Tomorrow was Friday, and Mike had classes. “Yes, I’m free tomorrow evening.”

  “So you’re not still seeing that guy?” Julia didn’t have to specify which guy.

  “If you mean Mike, yes, I’m still seeing him quite often. But he and I have no plans for tomorrow night.”

  Julia had to have heard the note of warning in Catherine’s voice, but she didn’t back off. “You’re sleeping with him, aren’t you?”

  Catherine allowed her silence to provide all the answer Julia was going to get.

  “Look, I know you’re thinking that this is none of my business, but I just have to warn you again to be careful. I know this is all heady and exciting right now, but just keep your defenses up, okay? You’ve made a good life for yourself. You’re one of the most confident and well-adjusted people I know. You seemed pretty content with who you are and what you’ve accomplished. I hope you don’t let this affair change any of that.”

  Had Catherine not taken a moment to remind herself how badly Julia had been hurt, she might have lost her precarious grip on her patience then. She wanted to snap at her friend that she didn’t need to be given advice on her relationship with Mike. But she kept those comments to herself. Partly because she knew Julia was genuinely concerned. And maybe another part of her was aware that the wisdom Julia had gained through painful experience could prove to be very useful soon.

  “I appreciate your concern,” she said eventually, choosing her words with care. “But I’ll be fine, Julia. Mike and I are just having a little fun, you know? I know better than to take it seriously.”

  “Well, as long as you’re not getting too emotionally invested,” Julia said doubtfully. “Because, you know, guys like that don’t tend to hang around long. They have very short attention spans.”

  “I know.” In fact, Catherine suspected that Mike was already getting restless.

  He was a very social person, comfortable in crowds and at parties. They had been avoiding their friends because it just seemed easier to do so than to deal with the complications. It was entirely possible that Mike was getting tired of spending hours in her apartment—which would explain his eagerness to go bowling last Sunday afternoon, even if it meant dashing through a downpour to get to her car.

  He had seemed to enjoy the outing. He liked bowling—an active sport performed in a noisy venue with lots of other people around. He seemed to be energized by the noise and bustle, and thrived on competition, even against her pitiful attempts at knocking down the pins. He had been visibly disappointed when she had told him it was time to leave so that she could go to work.

  She hoped he had studied that evening, as he had said he would, but she had promised herself she wouldn’t ask him about it—and she had not, even though she’d seen him a couple of times since, and had talked to him almost every day by telephone.

  “It’s just a fling, Julia,” she said, shaking her head to rid herself of the uncomfortable musings. “I don’t expect it to last much longer, but there’s no reason I shouldn’t enjoy it while it does. Right?”

  “I suppose not. But you shouldn’t let him drive a wedge between you and your old friends, either. After all, we’re the ones who will still be here after he gets bored and moves on.”

  She made it sound so inevitable. And so imminent. Not exactly flattering.

  Catherine murmured an appropriate response, then agreed to meet Julia for dinner Friday evening, suggesting they invite Karen, as we
ll. She might as well face both of her friends in one evening, though she sincerely hoped they wouldn’t spend the entire time lecturing her about how Mike was probably going to break her heart.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Mike sat with Bob and Brandon at a table in a downtown club. They had already consumed baskets of buffalo wings and potato skins and fried mushrooms and several beers apiece. Music blared out of speakers all around them, and the mostly young crowd at surrounding tables did their best to converse above the noise. The place smelled like smoke and grease and people, and Mike felt right at home there.

  Though it hadn’t been that long since he had last seen them, it was good to be with his friends again in one of their favorite hangouts. He knew quite a few other patrons in the club, at least in passing, and he spent much of the evening returning friendly nods and greetings. This wasn’t a place he thought Catherine would like very much, so he didn’t know why he couldn’t get her out of his mind.

  “Mike—look who’s here,” Brandon said, tugging at the sleeve of Mike’s shirt. “It’s Jessica Terry. And, dude, she is totally checking you out.”

  Mike glanced in the direction Brandon was not-so-discreetly indicating to where a curvy blonde sat beside an equally striking woman with long black hair. Both were looking their way, and the blonde smiled brightly when Mike’s gaze met hers.

  Jessica Terry. He had met her at a party in September and had left with every intention of calling her—and then he’d met Catherine and had forgotten all about Jessica. The way she was looking at him, along with the open invitation in her eyes, suggested that she remembered him.

  “Hey, I remember her,” Bob said. “She was at Joey’s party, wasn’t she? Oh, man, she’s hot. And as I recall, you and she did a little making out before that party was over. You probably would have ended up taking her home if she hadn’t, you know, been there with some other guy.”

 

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