Kiss in the Dark

by Marcia Lynn McClure

  As Logan moved closer to her—began to pull her to him, saying, “Good night, Boston”—her heart pounded like a kangaroo pent up in a barrel. She studied his face as he moved toward her. Surely the drop-dead gorgeous guy standing in front of her didn’t really mean to kiss her—not Boston Rhodes, the boring, auburn-haired girl who worked at Channel 7.

  “Oh! You’re home!” Steph exclaimed, opening the apartment door at that very, very, very inopportune moment. Logan sighed with veiled exasperation, dropping his hands from Boston and stepping back.

  Boston was furious, entirely vexed—she couldn’t even look at Steph! She wondered how long Steph had been standing at the window, waiting for Logan to bring Boston home so she could muff the whole thing up.

  “Yep. I’m home,” Boston said. She was fuming, livid that Steph had managed to ruin the moment between her and Logan.

  “Well, it’s a good thing,” Steph said. “You left your cell here, and Danny’s been calling like crazy.”

  “Danny?” Logan asked.

  “My friend, Danielle,” Boston explained. Oh, she was so angry! She knew exactly what Steph was trying to do—trying to make it look like Boston had another man on the line.

  “You better get in here and call her back,” Steph said. “It must really be important.” Steph then leaned against the doorframe and waited. She had no intention of retreating back into the apartment so that Logan and Boston could finish saying good night.

  “I had so much fun today, Logan,” Boston said.

  Logan glanced to Steph, and Boston saw understanding wash over him.

  “Me too,” he told her. “I’ll call you, and we’ll do something next weekend, okay?”

  “Okay!” Boston smiled at him, hoping her stupid roommate hadn’t reflected too badly on her.

  “Well,” Logan began, shoving his hands into the pockets of his plaid shorts. “Good night.”

  “Good night,” Boston said.

  She watched him walk away, astounded that Steph had managed to ruin the moment—again. Boston had lost track of the fun, tender, or private moments Steph had ruined for her. Yep—she’d put up with Stephanie Crittendon for far too long.

  “You’re a real piece of work,” Boston grumbled as she pushed past Steph to enter the apartment.

  “It’s not my fault that he’s too shy to kiss you in front of me,” Steph said.

  Boston went to the coffee table to retrieve her phone. She’d intentionally left it home. She’d been afraid Steph would spend the entire day texting or calling her, just to attempt to interrupt her time with Logan.

  “Danielle called once, Steph,” Boston said. She held up her cell, displaying the missed call on its screen. “Once! And it was only twenty minutes ago!”

  Steph shrugged. “Once, twice, or forty times…it was still irritating.”

  Boston gritted her teeth. She wouldn’t be provoked further—wouldn’t let Steph engage her in the contentious argument she knew Steph Crittendon wanted to have.

  “Well, Logan’s gone home, and I’ve got my cell if you need me for anything,” Boston said, heading back toward the door. She grimaced, irritated with herself for giving Steph the upper hand by telling her she had her cell if she needed anything.

  “Where are you going?” Steph asked. “To Danielle’s, I suppose. I swear, I don’t know why you didn’t just move in with her in the first place. You’ve always liked her better than me. That’s been clear from the very beginning!”

  How true that was! Still, Boston wouldn’t drop to Steph’s level—she just wouldn’t.

  “But I’m guessing it’s not just Danielle you’re running off to see anymore, is it?” Steph continued as Boston grabbed her purse. “Remember, Boston…I saw Vance first! You can dream about him if you want to…but I’ll get him. You just watch me.”

  Boston drew in a deep breath, attempting to calm her infuriated temper. She had to make it—endure a couple more weeks of Steph’s junk while she worked out a place to stay until Vance moved out and she could move in with Danielle.

  “I’ll see you later, Steph,” Boston said through tightly clinched teeth.

  With Steph angrily babbling on about how Boston was such a terrible friend and roommate, Boston hurried toward her car. It was late, and she was tired, but she just couldn’t endure Steph’s berating.

  She started her car, grabbed a chocolate Tootsie Pop from the glove compartment, unwrapped it, and popped it in her mouth. The moment the flavor of the sucker flooded her mouth with the soothing taste of sweet confection, Boston sighed. As both her hands rested on the steering wheel, she leaned forward and rested her forehead against it too.

  What a weekend! Boston tried to calm her frazzled nerves as she thought about what a chaotic whirlwind she’d endured at work the day before—how an evening at Danielle’s that was supposed to be her respite after a long week ended up with her and Stephanie at odds—with Danielle’s brother, a complete stranger, reading her like an open book. Sleep deprived and anxious, she’d somehow managed to have a great time in Logan’s company. But now—now Steph had vamped her again. Boston felt tears begin to well in her eyes. Why had she waited so long to move out? There was being nice, and there was being used—and Boston had certainly been used. She felt stupid and embarrassed and experienced a self-loathing and disgust she’d never known before.

  As she inhaled a deep breath and backed out of her parking space, a tear escaped her eye and traveled over one cheek. Boston was “too nice”—Stephanie herself had always told her that. But how could someone be too nice? And what was wrong with being nice? Nothing! But why did it seem—of late, anyway—that nice people always finished last?

  Yet as Boston drove toward Danielle’s—hoping Danielle wouldn’t mind her hanging out until late again—she shook her head. No! Stephanie was just mean, that was all. Danielle’s brother was right: Stephanie Crittendon was a poisonous friend, a poisonous person in many ways. She liked the term—poisonous friend. It was so perfectly descriptive. Poison was often something that killed people slowly. Sure, it could be quick and painless, but most of the time, being poisoned was a slow, tedious process—a process the victim was often unaware of until it was too late. That’s exactly what Stephanie had been to Boston—she could see it clearly. As, in an instant, her entire experience and friendship with Stephanie flashed through her mind, Boston could see that the relationship had been poisonous.

  “She ought to have one of those yuck-face poison stickers glued to her forehead,” Boston grumbled. Of course, being too nice as Boston was, she immediately scolded herself for even thinking such a thing. Stephanie had baggage and issues just like everyone else on the face of the earth. It’s just that Boston had begun to realize Steph’s baggage and issues weren’t the kind she could healthily deal with any longer.

  “But I’ve got a plan now,” she said, pulling the sucker out of her mouth for a moment. “Or, at least, I’ve got part of a plan.”

  She could move in with Danielle in a month. It was like being lost in the desert and seeing a waiting oasis just ahead in the distance. Yet Steph had demanded Boston be out of the apartment in two weeks. Compound that with the fact Boston wasn’t sure she could even last two weeks in the apartment with Steph—she’d had to escape two nights in a row already—and her plan hit a brick wall.

  She was sure Halle would let her bunk in with her until Danielle’s brother was in his own place, but Halle had three other roommates. Though Halle would welcome Boston with open arms, Boston wasn’t sure Halle’s roommates would. Kara would probably beg her to move in with her family too—she still lived at home. Kara’s parents would be hospitable enough, but Kara’s six other siblings were still living there. It would be a profound imposition on Kara’s family. Boston briefly wondered if Max had proposed to Kara while she’d been out golfing with Logan. Still, there had been no text or missed call from Kara on her cell, so she guessed not.

  Other than Dempsey—and that was totally inappropriate and thus out of
the question—Boston couldn’t think of one person she could impose on for two weeks to a month. As she often did, but for different reasons than she did now, Boston wished her parents hadn’t moved to Kansas. She wished they still lived in Oklahoma City, and not just because she needed a place to live for a while. She hadn’t told her mom about how awful Stephanie was. Boston’s mom got so wound up and worrisome when she knew one of her children was unhappy, but Boston still wished her mom was closer. She could really use her mom’s nurturing comfort and advice.

  Pulling into Danielle’s apartment complex, Boston put the Tootsie Pop back in her mouth and parked her car. It was only ten p.m., and Boston was glad Danielle’s lights were still on. It would be a couple of hours before Steph settled down and went to bed. In that moment, Boston was more grateful than ever for Danielle’s unconditional friendship.

  Oh sure, Danielle would say she still had never given enough to Boston to make up for what Boston had helped her through that first summer they’d met while working at the North Pole. But to this day, Boston didn’t even know what she’d helped Danielle through that summer. She just remembered Danielle crying every night—sobbing as she struggled to overcome the deep, emotional pain she was dealing with. She’d explained to Boston that it was something she couldn’t talk about—not specifically anyway—just that she was dealing with a terrible pain, the worst of her life. Boston had sat up with Danielle many, many nights that summer, simply to cry with her or encourage her that life was good and would brighten again someday.

  Of course, Boston’s wild imagination had been on overdrive where the mystery of Danielle’s pain was concerned. At first she’d wondered if Danielle had broken up with a boyfriend. But it soon became apparent that whatever was causing her such misery was much more serious. Thus, Boston began to wonder if Danielle was terminally ill—or if she’d had a baby without being married and had to give it up for adoption—or if there were some sort of problem between her parents. All these things proved not to be the reason for Danielle’s pain, and Boston had quickly decided just to be Danielle’s friend, no matter what. The summer together, the shared emotions, had solidified their friendship, and Boston knew they would always be close—always.

  Still, as she knocked on Danielle’s apartment door, she hoped she wasn’t asking too much of her friend.

  Danielle opened the door and smiled. Giggling, she said, “Did you have another fight with Medusa?”

  Boston sighed with relief, feeling as if she’d just returned home from some long misadventure. “There’s no way I’m going to last two more weeks with her,” Boston sighed.

  “Well, quit dating hot guys, have somebody beat you with the ugly stick, and she might make it endurable for you,” Danielle teased as Boston entered the apartment.

  “You won’t believe what she did tonight,” Boston began, plopping down on the sofa.

  Danielle giggled and sat down too.

  “Oh, yes I will,” Danielle assured her. “Spill it!”

  “Well,” Boston began. She paused, however, glancing around the room. “Is your brother awake?”

  “He’s out for a run,” Danielle said. “I swear that’s all he does—work and run, work and run. He won’t be back for a while…so feel free to tell me anything and everything!”

  “So,” Boston began, “Logan drives me home…and, of course, walks me to the door.”

  “Ooo! Smooching stories! I love it!” Danielle exclaimed.

  “Nope! No smooching stories…thanks to Stephanie Crittendon.”

  “You have got to be kidding me,” Danielle whined, rolling her eyes. “Tell me!”

  “So, Logan walks me to the door. He takes hold of my arms…thanks me for spending the day with him—”

  “So you’re ready to vomit, as you always are just before a first kiss,” Danielle interjected.

  “Exactly!” Boston admitted. “So, he moves in…and…”

  “And?” Danielle prodded.

  “And Steph opens the door and says, ‘Oh! You’re home,’ all innocent…and then proceeds to tell me that ‘Danny’ has been ringing my cell phone all day long!”

  “You have to be lying, Bost!”

  Boston shook her head. “Nope! So…of course I have to explain to Logan that ‘Danny’ is really ‘Danielle’ and all. But by then, Steph has planted herself in the doorway…with no intention of leaving.”

  “So what happened?”

  Boston shrugged. “He said goodnight, asked me if we could do something next weekend, and left.”

  Danielle shook her head, disgusted. “Why have you put up with this for so long, Boston? I would’ve clawed her eyes out!”

  “I don’t know. I guess I’m just stupid,” Boston sighed.

  “No, you’re just nicer than any of the rest of us…and that’s a good thing. Kindness is a vanishing virtue in this world, and you’re the kindest person I know. I’m just afraid that all this junk with Steph will harden you up too much. That’s why I want you out of there. I just want her to quit making your life so miserable.”

  “Well, it won’t be long now. I just wish I hadn’t waited so long. I should’ve moved in here when you first asked me to. But I admit…I was too chicken. I didn’t feel like dealing with the emotional upheaval I knew it would cause.”

  The apartment door opened, and Vance entered, stripping off his T-shirt as he closed the door behind him.

  “Did you have good run?” Danielle asked.

  Vance nodded, wiping the perspiration from his face with the T-shirt. “Yep,” he said. Then, looking to Boston, he added, “Hi, Brooklyn.”

  “Hi,” Boston said. She smiled, amused he hadn’t remembered her name—yet a little disappointed too.

  “It’s Boston, Vance,” Danielle corrected. She nudged Boston’s leg with her foot. “You should’ve corrected him.”

  Boston shrugged. She didn’t like correcting people—ever.

  Vance grinned and winked at Boston. “I knew it was some big city with a girly name. Sorry about that, Savannah.”

  “Oh, now you’re being an idiot,” Danielle scolded.

  But Boston giggled. He’d known her name all along—she was certain he had.

  “Well, I may be an idiot,” he said. He raised his arms, flexing massive biceps. “But you better get a Band-Aid, little sister…’cause I’m ripped!” He raised one bulking bicep to his face and kissed it with pride.

  “Oh my heck,” Danielle moaned with disgust. “Just ignore my brother, Boston. He can be so stupid sometimes.”

  “Stupid maybe…but ripped,” he teased. He sauntered over to the sofa, tucked the sweaty T-shirt in the waist of the back of his shorts, and asked, “So, you get driven out by that venomous she-serpent you call a roommate again?”

  “Yeah,” Boston admitted. She blushed, embarrassed, for she could only imagine how spineless she must seem to Danielle’s brother.

  “Well, it’s probably safer for you to be here,” he said. “They make slasher movies about chicks like her, you know.”

  “Vance!” Danielle scolded. “What the heck? Don’t scare her! She’s still gotta sleep there for a while…you dork!”

  But Boston was amused. He was right, after all.

  “Sorry, Boston,” he said. He grinned—a totally mischievous grin, a handsome, alluring sort of grin. “But if she tries to get you to eat, like, soup or something…don’t do it. Or if you notice certain large knives are missing out of the utensil drawer…”

  “Vance!” Danielle said, tossing one of the sofa throw pillows at him. “Go take a shower! You’re all sweaty.”

  “All right, all right, I’m going,” he chuckled. He turned to leave the room but paused. His eyes narrowed, and he lowered his voice as he said, “Boston…count the knives before you go to bed. That way, in the morning, you’ll know if—”

  “Shut up, Vance!” Danielle interrupted, tossing another pillow at him.

  He smiled, chuckled, and headed for the bathroom.

  Danielle sighed,
shaking her head with exasperation. But Boston giggled. Vance was funny and had managed to lighten her mood a bit.

  “Oh my heck, I swear, he’s such a dork!” Danielle laughed.

  “But he’s a totally ripped dork,” Boston offered.

  Danielle nodded. “And he made you laugh…so I guess I’ll let him slide.”

  “Thanks for letting me hang out, Danielle,” Boston said. Vance’s amusing antics had lightened her heart and mind a bit—but she still felt guilty for being such a parasite on Danielle’s time and space.

  “Don’t start that, Bost!” Danielle said, smiling. “You’re going to live here in a month. You might as well start spending the bulk of your free time here now…just to make sure you’re gonna like the apartment and everything.”

  “Yeah,” Boston teased. “I might not like living in a nice apartment with a nice roommate.”

  Danielle smiled. “Hey! Wanna watch a movie? I figure it’ll be couple of hours before you can go back, right? We never got to watch one last night.”

  “Okay,” Boston giggled. She and Danielle loved watching movies late at night, especially romantic comedies or scary old black-and-whites. “What were you thinking?”

  “I don’t know. Let’s make popcorn and then decide.” Danielle paused and looked at Boston with an almost timid expression. “Will it be okay with you if Vance watches it with us?”