The Firefly Effect

by Gail, Allie

  “Did something happen?”

  “No. Not really.”

  “You two have a fight or something?”

  “No.”

  “She tell you to hit the road? Is that why you’re leaving?”

  “No. I just have to get back to work is all.”

  I hear the huff of a sigh from her end. “Look, Butthead. You gotta give me something to work with here. I don’t know how to give you advice if you won’t tell me what’s going on.”

  “What makes you think I want advice?”

  “Because you called me. You never do that. You hate talking on the phone. Now are you gonna help me out just a little bit or should I give you the number of a good therapist so you can pay a hundred bucks an hour to say nothing to her too?”

  “Don’t be a smartass.”

  “Better a smartass than a dumbass. At least answer me this. Straight up. Are you in love with her? With Melanie?”

  I gaze out the window at a colorful billboard as it whizzes past. Myrtle’s Chicken Shack – Next Exit. I’ve always wondered about that cartoon rooster. He looks way too happy about being featured on the menu.

  “Something like that,” I murmur softly.

  “Okay then! Finally, progress. Now we’re getting somewhere. So how does she feel about you?”

  “Hell if I know. Sometimes I think…” I hesitate uncertainly. “I don’t know. With her, it’s kinda hard to tell.”

  “You want me to find out for you?”

  “No! What are you, high? You can’t come right out and ask her something like that!”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you can’t!”

  “Oh…okay, whew. For a minute there, I was afraid you didn’t have a good reason.”

  “Don’t ask her that, Leah.”

  “Why? You afraid of what she’ll say?”

  My first instinct is to protest, but the argument never leaves my lips. Maybe she’s right. Maybe I am afraid of knowing the answer.

  “Anyway, I won’t have to ask her outright. I’ll be able to tell just by talking to her.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask suspiciously.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll be subtle.”

  “You? Subtle?”

  “Hey, I can be subtle.”

  “Like James Bond subtle or Elton John subtle?”

  “Oh, ye of little faith…would you just trust me?”

  “I trusted you with my tarantula when I left for college. And let’s see…where was Amadeus when I came back? Remind me, because I keep forgetting. Was he still in his tank or was he squashed into the carpet like a spider casserole?”

  “Hey, it wasn’t my fault the hairy little booger got out and decided to take a trek up Dad’s leg!” A loud snort is followed by unrestrained giggles. “I still say it would’ve been awesome to have that recorded for posterity. I never heard him scream like that before. Who knew he could reach such a high octave?”

  “Yeah. Real funny. I’m sure Amadeus was in stitches over it. Why did I even call you?”

  “Because you’re an idiot man and men wouldn’t be able to tell their own buttholes from a prairie dog burrow if they didn’t have a diagram of their anatomy. That’s why. Does Melly know you’re cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs over her? Did you tell her?”

  “No, I didn’t tell her.” Not in so many words. I may have strongly hinted, but…

  “You want my advice, Shane? This is it. Do exactly what you’re doing. Go back home. Keep yourself occupied with work. Give her some space. You know that saying…if something loves you it comes looking for you or some sentimental crap like that.”

  “I’m not sure that’s the saying.”

  “Whatever, it’s close enough. I’m telling you, trust me. Give her a week or two and I promise she’ll be ready to reveal her true feelings.”

  “But you won’t say anything to her, right?”

  “No, not if you don’t want me to.”

  “I don’t. I don’t want you talking to her about me.”

  “Okay.” Her voice sounds a little too guileless for my comfort.

  “Leah, I mean it. Let it go. She needs to figure this out on her own, without you getting all up in her business.”

  “All right.”

  “Are you even listening to me?”

  “Not really, no.

  “Leah. So help me God–”

  “You know what? You shouldn’t even be on the phone when you’re driving. Hang up and pay attention to the road.”

  “If you–”

  “See you at Thanksgiving, camel spooge!”

  Then she’s gone, and I’m left shaking my head in bewilderment.

  Camel spooge?

  Still, everything else aside, talking with Leah has left me feeling considerably more optimistic. She was right. I don’t want to scare Melanie off by coming on too strong. I mean, how pathetic would it seem if I was declaring my undying devotion already? After less than a week together. That’s pretty aggressive and she’s already had enough psychotic stalkers in her life. No way do I want to be filed in the same category with that Martelli freak.

  My jaw tightens when I think of that guy. It’s probably a good thing he’s six feet under because my fists are itching to reconstruct his face after what he did.

  Pressing the audio button with my right hand, the left one accidentally jerks the steering wheel when Shaun Morgan starts belting out Remedy. In the oncoming lane, some asshole lays on his horn when my Tahoe swerves across the yellow line. Startled, I quickly refocus my attention back to the road.

  Melanie’s ringtone. Jesus, of all the songs in the world – talk about coincidence!

  Now this here? This is definitely a sign. It's like the universe is trying to tell me not to worry. That things have a way of working out.

  And if they don’t…

  If they don’t, then I’m not any worse off than I was before she came back into my life. Nothing’s really changed. Right?

  Yeah. Sure.

  If I keep telling myself that, maybe eventually I’ll believe it.

  ~ Chapter Twenty-Five ~

  I’ve always hated texting. Somehow I just can’t get the hang of using my thumbs, so I end up picking out the letters one at a time using my index finger. Besides, to me it’s always seemed like such an apathetic form of communication. I guess it’s okay for quick impersonal messages, but the way I look at it, if someone wants to have an in-depth conversation with me then they can at least call so I can hear their voice.

  But it’s early afternoon and I figure Shane must be at work right now. I don’t think it’s a good idea to interrupt him while he’s busy neutering a turtle or whatever it is vets do, so I peck out a brief message: The flowers are gorgeous, thank you so much. Really brightened my day!

  I follow it up with a smiley face before sending, then lift my gaze to admire the flowers that were just delivered. They’re sitting in the middle of the coffee table where I can moon over them all I want. It's a stunning array, a vibrant assortment of yellow roses mingled with lilies, asters, carnations, freesia and birds of paradise. A rainbow of colors creatively arranged in a bamboo basket.

  But it wasn’t the flowers that nearly brought me to tears. It was what was written on the card attached.

  My new favorite color. All of them.

  Maybe it's wonky hormones making me all emotional. Or maybe it's the fact that it's been three days since he left, and other than a brief and rather weary-sounding call to let me know he made it home, this is the first I’ve heard from him. I could have called him, of course, but I figured I should at least try and be considerate. Give him time to breathe. Catch up on his appointments and stuff.

  Well, that and I didn’t want him to get the idea that I’m clingy or anything.

  His reply comes less than a minute later: Are you not having a good day?

  I smile like a goofball at his prompt response. Not bad. Better now.

  Glad to hear it. Miss me?

  Now I’m not only
grinning like an idiot, I’m practically hugging myself with giddiness. Not even a little bit. Why? Should I?

  Don’t make me drive all the way back down there just to turn you over my knee, Felony.

  I’m glad he can’t hear the giggle I just snorted. Are you threatening or promising? Because I could really get on board with that.

  Just had to button up my lab coat to hide a raging boner. Nice job.

  Exactly what kind of job are we talking about here?

  Wow! Someone has a dirty mind today. If you were here, I’d have to wash out that pretty little mouth of yours.

  Ha! Hastily I type: Oh? With what?

  I better leave that to your imagination for now, babydoll. I have a golden retriever that needs an x-ray. Owner suspects Miss Bigglesworth has been consuming her hair scrunchies.

  I'm assuming Miss Bigglesworth is the dog?

  I guess we'll find out! Can I call you a little later? I should be home around six.

  OK.

  Good. Keep me in your thoughts until then.

  I will if you do the same.

  You can count on that!

  It's absurd how ecstatic I am. All it takes is a few words from Shane to send my mood soaring above the clouds. It's only two o'clock, which means I still have four hours until I hear his voice. Four. Long. Hours.

  Hm…I should probably get back to work on my manuscript, but come on. There is no way in hell I’ll be able to concentrate now, not when I’m suddenly so full of pent-up energy. The guy is good for more endorphin rushes than a truckload of Belgian chocolate.

  I spend the next three hours burning off some of that excess stamina by cleaning the house. Dusting, mopping, vacuuming, washing, scrubbing – by the time I’m done, the only grimy thing left in the whole house is me. So after I’ve got everything spic, span and sparkling, I reward myself with a long soak in a tub overflowing with bubbles.

  It’s 6:04 when he calls. I know this because I’m curled up on the couch with a book, cell phone conveniently within reach, watching the clock with all the patience of a kid waiting for Christmas morning.

  I know. Pathetic, right?

  “Hi,” I say, and the word comes out sounding unintentionally breathy.

  “Hey, pretty girl.” Oh man, he has a sexy phone voice. All deep and sensual. “What evil shenanigans have you been up to today?”

  “Oh, you know…same old thing. Finished writing a chapter, caught up on some freelance editing, washed the dishes, did some laundry. Then I got bored so I stole another car and drove it into a lake. By the way, if you see surveillance footage on the news, just pretend you don’t recognize me.”

  “Don’t worry, babe,” he chuckles. “I got your back. So I’m assuming you haven’t had any more issues with the power since I talked to you last?”

  “Nope. None at all.” The electricity was restored by the time he made it back to Tennessee. “How was your day? What happened with Miss Bigglesworth?”

  “She is perfectly fine. False alarm. I’m not sure where her owner’s hair ties are getting off to, but the dog is not the culprit.”

  “Oh. That’s good.” And a little wacky. Then again, I’ve never had a dog, so maybe stuff like that happens all the time. “Thanks again for the flowers. They’re beautiful. That was really thoughtful of you.”

  “It’s nothing. Just thought you could use something bright to look at after all that nasty weather.”

  “I don’t mind the rain.” Turning to recline on the couch, I cross my legs while wrapping the tie of my bathrobe around one finger absently. “Anyway, it was fun.”

  “Yes. That it was.” His voice has dropped to a low murmur, and I feel a thrill of excitement rush through me. “We’ll have to do it again sometime.”

  “Okay then. Next time a hurricane warning is issued, give me a call.” I bite my lip to keep from giggling.

  “How about the next tornado watch. Can you make do with that?”

  “Well, I don’t know. Are you available during ice storms?”

  “Ice storms, blizzards – you name it. As a matter of fact, it’s partly cloudy here today. All those cirrocumulus clouds…damn, they make me horny.”

  I can’t help but laugh. “You are so weird.”

  “Don’t pretend you’re not just as weird. What are you wearing right now?”

  “A prom dress and combat boots. And one of those little beanies with the propeller on top. How about you?”

  “I just got out of the shower. So use your imagination. Have I ever mentioned how turned on I get by propeller beanies? Something about those little plastic blades spinning around…”

  “You should really talk to someone about these deviant urges. Oh, speaking of prom dresses, I just remembered something I meant to ask you.”

  “Sweetheart, I’ll admit I can be a kinky sonofabitch. But I have to draw the line at putting on a prom dress. Sorry.”

  “No, dummy! I was just wondering. I meant to ask you before, but I forgot. How come you weren’t at senior prom? I’m almost positive you weren’t there. I don’t remember seeing you.”

  “Were you looking?”

  “Um. No. I just don’t remember seeing you there.”

  “That’s because I wasn’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Why didn’t I go to senior prom. Hm. That’s an interesting question.” He makes this little groan in his throat that sounds like he’s stretching, and I wonder if he really is wearing nothing but a towel. “Let’s see. Maybe it’s because the only girl I was interested in wouldn’t spit on me if I was on fire. Not that I blame her. Kinda stands to reason that once you’ve lied about a girl having an std, she’s probably not gonna go all banzai over a prom invite. So I just skipped it. The one the year before was a drag, anyway. I doubt I missed much.”

  I take a moment to let this sink in. “You wanted to ask me to prom?”

  “Au contraire, my dear. I wanted to be there with you, yes, but I sure as bloody hell didn’t want to ask you. I was way too proud to suffer that humiliation.”

  “But…why me? We didn’t even get along.”

  “Melanie. Come on now. Did you never once stop to ask yourself why I was always picking on you?”

  I stare up at the whirring ceiling fan in hypnotic fascination. Maybe I should have but in my defense, how could a naïve teenage girl be expected to pick up on the nuances of the male mind? “No. I never did. I always just assumed it was because you hated me.”

  “I never really hated you. Maybe there were times when I thought I did, but the truth is…the truth is, I was crushing on you so bad I thought I’d never get over it.”

  It’s suddenly hard to breathe in here.

  And did you? Did you get over it?

  I desperately want to ask, but then I realize it’s a pointless question. Of course he got over it. He went on with his life, didn’t he? Went to college, built a lucrative career, never once tried to contact me, never once stopped to look back. Until now. Until I was practically airdropped back into his life.

  He walked in on me sleeping naked in his vacation house, for chrissakes.

  Swallowing nervously, I decide to try and keep it light. “Is that why you kissed me at graduation, hot lips?”

  “Well, yeah. That was one regret I couldn’t walk away with. I had to know what it was like to kiss you. Just once.”

  “And what was it like?”

  “You tell me. You were there.”

  “I mean, for you. What was it like for you?”

  “Meh.”

  I burst into astonished giggles at his ambiguous reply. A moment later I hear him laughing softly.

  “See if I ever kiss you again!” I huff, pretending to be insulted.

  “You know better than that, babydoll. I thought about that kiss for weeks afterward.”

  “Damn right you did.”

  “I was just glad you didn’t punch me in the mouth.”

  “You did take me by surprise. But I can’t say I didn’t like it. To be
perfectly honest, even though you drove me crazy, I always did secretly think you were cute.”

  “Damn right you did.”

  “Are you really naked right now except for a towel?”

  “No.”

  “You’re not?”

  “No. I just dropped the towel.”

  “Oh, my.”

  “Are you really wearing combat boots? ’Cause that’s kinda sexy.”

  “Sorry to disappoint you. No boots. Just a plain old ordinary robe.”

  “That white satiny-looking one?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “I like that one. I can see your nipples right through it.”

  “I guess that explains why you were always staring at my chest.”

  “Anything going on underneath it?”

  “No.”

  “Commando, hm?”

  “Well, I just got out of the bathtub a little while ago.”

  “Is your hair all wet?”

  “Kind of. Why?”

  “No reason. Just trying to picture you. Where are you right now?”

  “Lying on the couch.”

  “Is your robe tied?”

  “Yes.”

  “Untie it.”

  My lips curve into a smile as I loosen the belt with one hand. Whatever game he’s playing here, I think I’m going to like it. “Okay.”

  “Open it up, baby. So if I were to walk in there right now, I could see everything. Just like you were that first night.”

  “I wasn’t wearing anything that night.”

  “You don’t have to remind me, honey. That is an image I will never forget. Did you do it yet?”

  “Yes.”

  “And how does it feel?”

  “Um…a little cold. The ceiling fan is blowing on me.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll get you warmed up.”

  “Mm. I bet you will.”

  “Do you have any idea how hard I am right now, just thinking about you? I could pound a railroad spike into the ground with this thing.”

  “Are you…” I feel a little strange asking, but I really want to know. “Are you touching yourself?”

  “Oh, yeah. I have my hand wrapped around it right now. Wishing it was your hot little pussy. Just so you know, this is what I’ve been spending my nights doing. It’s all I’ve been doing since I left. I can’t stop thinking about you.”