“Really.”
“Yeah. I’m starving – you wanna get something to eat with me?”
I knew I shouldn’t. I knew I really, really shouldn’t.
“Yes.”
46
I drove us downtown in my car, and we decided on Five Guys Burgers. It was pretty crowded inside – lots of students studying for exams, or pretending to, anyway. A lot of them were talking, so it was pretty loud.
I started to order dine-in when we got to the cashier, but Derek stopped me. “It’s pretty noisy in here… can we take it to go?”
“Yeah, sure,” I said. “If you let me pay.”
He narrowed his eyes at me. “I thought we were supposed to go Dutch.”
“I’ve seen where you live. It’s a pity date, on me,” I teased him.
“Oh, well, if you’re going to emasculate me entirely, by all means, I want a double burger with the works,” he grinned.
That’s how we ended up eating takeout across the street, in a deserted faculty parking lot, sitting on the trunk of my car.
We bantered a bit and chatted about how great Five Guys was… and then finally he said, “So… did you have a good weekend?”
I shifted uncomfortably on the trunk and wouldn’t look at him. “…yeah. It was nice.”
“It was ‘nice’? That’s it, that’s all you’ve got to say?”
I scowled at him. “What do you want to hear, about how much crazy sex we had?”
He winced just the slightest. Barely enough to detect – but it was there.
I liked seeing him react like that.
And that worried me a little.
But he played it off.
“No, I definitely don’t want to hear about that,” he said in a tone like I had just suggested I tell him all about feminine hygiene products.
“Well… we didn’t, anyway, so there’s nothing to hear about,” I mumbled, and immediately thought, Why the hell did I just say that?
Derek looked at me like I had an alien growing out of my forehead. “You didn’t have sex?”
“N-no, we had sex,” I stuttered.
And I thought of you so I could come.
I blushed furiously.
Thank God it was too dark for him to see it.
“So why’d you say you didn’t?” he asked, puzzled.
“I… it just wasn’t crazy sex, that’s all,” I said, blushing even harder.
“Ohhhhhh,” he said knowingly, and sipped on his drink as punctuation. “Yeah.”
“What does that mean?”
He grinned. “No offense to your boyfriend, but… I don’t exactly see that guy making you scream his name over and over.”
That got me angry. “For your information, he’s very good in bed.”
I mean, I thought Kevin was good in bed.
I’d only been with one guy – him – so I didn’t have much to compare him to. But I was happy.
Or… I’d been happy before this weekend.
Well… minus a half-dozen breakups or so.
Derek started to say something – then caught himself and raised a hand in a conciliatory gesture. “My bad. I shouldn’t be bagging on your boyfriend. Sorry.”
I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I just mumbled, “…apology accepted.”
“Cool.”
“Besides,” I said in a voice that was probably close to lecturing, “it’s not all about sex.”
“That’s what they tell me.”
What the hell does THAT mean? I thought, but was afraid to go there.
“Besides, we… we have a lot of history,” I said. “We’ve been together three and a half years.”
Derek whistled. “Damn, that’s a long time.”
“Yeah, for somebody who can’t make it past three days,” I teased him.
“Hey – I don’t bag on your boyfriend, you don’t bag on me,” he said good-naturedly.
“…fair enough,” I agreed.
We ate in silence for another ten seconds… but something compelled me to keep opening my mouth and talking.
“And I’m going to Syracuse next year, and we’re both going to be journalists – ”
Derek looked as though somebody had punched him. “Whoa – wait up. You’re going there, too?”
“Yeah.”
“You mean, you’re going to school there?” he asked, his eyes wide. “Not just to visit?”
“…yeah,” I said, taken aback by how shocked he seemed. “Next fall.”
He was frowning now. “Why?”
He was starting to freak me out a little. “Because it has an awesome journalism school.”
“I thought UGA had a really good one.”
“It does… but Syracuse is better. I think. Plus, Kevin’s there – that was our plan ever since we were juniors in high school – ”
Derek put down his food as though he’d lost his appetite.
I stared at him. “Are you okay?”
He stayed silent for several seconds.
“No, not really,” he finally said.
My stomach began to tighten.
“…what’s wrong?”
“‘What’s wrong?’” He looked at me like I was clueless. “The girl I’m totally in love with is leaving next week to go a thousand miles away, that’s what’s wrong.”
As soon as he said the girl I’m totally in love with, my heart almost broke through my ribs.
I put down my food, too. I suddenly wasn’t hungry, either.
“I’m not actually going next week,” I mumbled. “I’m just… going home…”
“You know what I mean.”
I did.
“…I thought you knew,” I said quietly. “About next year.”
“No, you kind of neglected to tell me that part.”
“What did you think I was going to do?”
“I thought you were going to go back home for the summer, and you’d eventually break up with him, and then you’d be back here in the fall. With me.”
He said with ME with such passion, with such ferocity, that I had to steady myself on the car, I got so weak.
He turned and stared at me. Looked at my lips… and then looked into my eyes.
And then leaned forward to kiss me.
I put out a hand to ward him off.
“No,” I said, my voice anguished.
He kept pressing forward, his lips within an inch of mine –
I scrambled back across the trunk, my body trembling.
But it was trembling with disappointment and heartache, not fear.
“No, I… I can’t,” I whispered.
“Why not?” he demanded – not angrily, but bewildered, like he couldn’t understand and desperately wanted to.
I sat there for a long, long moment, completely silent.
When I finally answered, I had to stifle a sob.
“My… my mother… she cheated on my dad when I was a kid.”
Getting those words out was incredibly painful, like pulling out an infected splinter… but it was a relief to finally say it. I’d never told anyone about it, not even my closest girlfriends when I was a teenager.
As soon as I said it, Derek’s body slumped the tiniest bit.
“Oh,” he said, as though he finally understood.
“It almost destroyed my family. Actually, it did destroy my family. Even though they stayed together, it was never the same.”
He nodded somberly. “…I can imagine.”
“That’s why I can’t… do anything with you. I don’t want… I can’t cheat on him,” I said, almost pleading with him.
He was silent a long time.
Then he nodded gently. “I understand.”
“…you… you do?”
“Yeah.” Then his voice changed from somber to playful, although he managed to not sound callous as he said it: “You should break UP with him so you’re not cheating on him, but… you can get around to that soon enough.”
“I’m not going to bre
ak up with him,” I whispered.
He shrugged noncommittally, like, If you say so.
“He’s a good guy,” I insisted.
“I know he is.”
I frowned. “How do you know?”
“Because if you love him, he’s got to be a good guy.”
That knocked the wind out of me.
I didn’t say anything for a long while.
“Do you love him?” Derek asked quietly.
“I… yes.”
It didn’t sound convincing, even to me.
“Are you in love with him?” Derek asked.
“It’s the same thing.”
“No, it’s not. You can love somebody and care about them deeply… but being in love with somebody is your heart skipping a beat when they walk in the room. It’s waking up happy because you know you get to see them that day. You can’t wait to be with them again, and leaving them is torture.”
Derek’s words…
…it hurt my heart to hear them.
I tried to play it off by teasing him. “So your heart skips a beat when I walk in the room?”
But he answered me sincerely… and passionately.
“Yes.”
I didn’t say anything to that, because I was afraid I was going to cry.
He kept going.
“When you walk in the room, Kaitlyn – God, the way you walk… the way you swing your hips, and toss your hair… the way you smile at me? My heart stops every time.”
“That just sounds like you want to sleep with me,” I said, though without accusation.
“I do want to sleep with you. Badly. But I know the difference between being in love and being in lust. And I’m in love with you.”
I had to turn away. It was too intense – his gaze, his words… everything.
I was afraid of what I might do.
“Does he make your heart stop when he walks in a room?” Derek asked, his voice almost a whisper.
I looked out into the darkness, away from where I really wanted to look. “…I really care about him.”
“I didn’t ask you that.”
“…yes.”
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, my heart stops when he walks in the room.”
It was a lie.
And Derek knew it.
But he was too kind to call me on it.
There was a long, long silence, and then he said, “Lucky guy.”
He got off the trunk of the car, then walked around in front of me.
I looked at him, my heart thudding in my chest.
I thought he was going to try to kiss me again –
– and part of me desperately wanted him to.
But part of me was terrified.
Because I wasn’t sure I could resist this time.
But instead he wrapped his arms around me – those massive, powerful arms – and cradled me against him.
I could feel every curve of his chest, the firm hardness of his muscles. And I could hear his heart beating against my ear.
Then he released me and backed up a few feet.
“I… I need to get back.”
I inhaled raggedly, my breath taken away. Then I nodded and got off the car, dumped the leftovers in the takeout bag, and went to the driver’s side door.
Derek hadn’t moved.
“Aren’t you coming?” I asked.
He smiled… but it was a sad smile.
“No… I need to walk.”
I felt fear rising in me a little. “I can drive you, it’s not a problem – ”
“I know. But I need to walk. I just… I need to be alone for a little while.”
The fear was turning to panic.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you mad at me?”
He smiled and shook his head. “No.”
“Then what’s wrong?”
“I want you… and I can’t have you. That’s what’s wrong.”
We stood there in silence, staring at each other in the shadows.
“I’ll see you tomorrow. Around four,” he said quietly, and then he turned around and disappeared into the darkness.
I watched him leave, then got in my car and sat there, stunned.
And burst into tears.
47
I barely slept that night. I was frantic that I would never see him again – and I chastised myself endlessly for even caring.
But Derek was good as his word. He came by the next day at four o’clock sharp.
When he showed up, he was his old self, laughing and teasing and grinning. Shanna was there, and she told him all about how she’d covered for me. Derek joked with her about it, though he never mentioned shocking the living daylights out of me with the whole coming over to have Shanna ‘rock his world’ incident.
I was thankful for that, at least.
Derek and I went and played pool at the student center. The entire time we kept up an easy banter back and forth. He had an incredible way of putting me at ease; it was like the previous night had never happened.
But of course, it had. And we both knew it.
I wanted to say, Aren’t we going to talk about last night?
But I was afraid to talk about it.
And I was even more afraid to hear him say, What’s there to talk about?
So I just let sleeping dogs lie.
He flirted with me a little, but not nearly as much as he could have. There were no double entendres about how I handled the cue stick or the billiard balls. And even though he instructed me on how to shoot better, he didn’t take the opportunity to get behind me and press his body against mine, to fold his arms over mine, the way you see in the movies. He kept a respectful distance the entire time.
I kind of wished he hadn’t.
48
There was one extraordinary thing that happened that night, though.
We were sitting on park benches outside the Student Center, eating soft-serve ice cream cones from the café. Since the student movie theater was right there, we got to talking about Eastern Promises again – and from there it turned into what kind of movies we liked.
“You probably like movies where they blow stuff up reeeaaal goooood,” I said with a hick accent.
“What’s wrong with that?” he asked defensively.
“It’s such a guy thing.”
“Well, I’m a guy.”
“So I’ve heard.”
He probably could have followed that up with all sorts of naughty comments… but he didn’t.
“Just because I like action movies doesn’t mean I don’t like emotional shit, too,” he said.
“Emotional shit,” I said, nodding mockingly. “That’s exactly what I think when I choose a movie: ‘I want to watch some emotional shit tonight.’”
He laughed. “You know what I mean.”
“Mmmmmm mm, us chicks loooove that emotional shit.”
“Yeah, you do.”
“So, what kind of ‘emotional shit’ do you like, then, Mr. ‘I’m in touch with my feminine side’?”
“I’m not going to tell you now,” he said in fake indignation.
“Why? You get embarrassed when you cry during Steel Magnolias?”
“Okay, A, I don’t cry. And B, if I did cry, it sure as hell wouldn’t be during Steel Magnolias.”
“What about Field of Dreams? Every guy I’ve ever met says they cry during the end.”
Derek looked down at his ice cream cone and gave a secret, grudging little smile, like he’d been caught and didn’t want to acknowledge it.
“Ohhhhhh – you do, you do!”
“NO – I mist up a little. Maybe.”
“‘Cause you’re Mr. Tough Guy, huh,” I nodded in fake sympathy.
“Whatever. That wasn’t the one I was thinking of.”
I pulled back and exaggerated my surprise. “Ohhhh – so you have one in particular!”
“No,” he said tersely, but with a suppressed grin.
“Wh
at is it?”
“I’m not going to tell you.”
“Tell me.”
“No.”
“Telllll meeeee...”
“I don’t want to tell you.”
“Pleeeeeaaaase?”
“No.”
“Why not?” I asked, a little hurt.
“You’ll make fun of me.”
“I won’t make fun of you.”
He looked at me from underneath his eyebrows like Give me a BREAK. “You’ve been doing nothing but making fun of me for the last five minutes.”
“It hasn’t been five minutes,” I teased him, then relented. “Okay, I promise, I won’t make fun of you.”
“Yes you will.”
“No I won’t! God, don’t you trust me by now?”
“I know you now. That’s why I don’t trust you.”
Ouch.
But it was still a little funny.
“Are you talking about the boyfriend thing?” I asked, not sure whether to be incensed or to laugh. “Because I am going to kill you for – ”
He spoke hurriedly, as though to shut me up about Kevin.
“Dumbo. Dumbo makes me cry.”
I fell silent and just looked at him as he quite conspicuously stared at his ice cream cone instead of me.
“You want to make fun of me soooo bad right now,” he said, grinning – but not looking up from his ice cream. “I can feel it.”
I laughed. “You deserve it for that ‘trust me’ crack.”
“Yeah. Maybe.”
“What is it about Dumbo that makes you cry?” I asked… and I tried to hold back, but I couldn’t, I just couldn’t. “Is it because his ears are so big, and so are yours?”
(For the record, his ears were absolutely perfect.)
He busted out laughing and pointed at me in righteous indignation. “SEE? I knew it, I knew it – ”
I was giggling and pulling at his arm as he leaned away from me. “I’m kidding, I’m kiiiiiidding, come ONNN – I’ll be good, I promise – what about Dumbo makes you cry?”
He was quiet for a second and then looked back down at his ice cream cone. “It’s one scene.”
And right then, just like that, I knew exactly what he was thinking.
We both said it at the same time:
“The scene with his mother.”
He nodded excitedly as our eyes met. “When she’s in the cage, and he goes up to her late at night – ”
Rock Me Hard (The Rock Star's Seduction) Page 13