by Lynn Galli
She smiled, familiar with how our dean’s drop bys killed thirty minutes more than was ever necessary. “You’re right on time. Ready?”
“Mind if I use your bathroom? I didn’t get a chance before Gene cornered me, and I had to leave to get here.” She hesitated briefly but stepped back to let me inside. “Sure, second door on your left at the end of the hall.”
“Thanks, I’ll just be a minute.” My bladder rushed me through the living room and into the hallway. I caught a glimpse of her home office on the left as I walked past the first open door.
As pristine as her living room and kitchen, a black and white workspace where I guessed she spent a good deal of her apartment time.
When I resurfaced from the immaculate bathroom—clearly, she didn’t have kids—I made my way back at a much slower pace.
As I passed the next door, what I saw brought me to a standstill.
Her bedroom, smaller than her office, was awash in color. Two tones of yellow on two walls butted up against the other two walls with burnt orange blending up into cinnamon. I was immediately reminded of the fall season in Vermont. Color must represent some sort of comfortable place for her. To see it everywhere would strip it of its meaning. That it was in her bedroom told me she needed the security it brought to help her sleep. Along with the clustered furniture in the small area, it made for a cozy, sheltered space.
Not wanting to get caught, I hurried back out into the living room. M was just grabbing her skates from the front closet. I studied her again, piecing together what I knew about her. She’d had a hard childhood. She didn’t make friends easily. She was painfully shy. She didn’t like people violating her personal space.
She needed a security blanket. And she was slowly stealing my heart after years of being locked in limbo.
“All set?” she asked when she turned back.
More than you know. “Yep. Do you have a specific trail in mind?”
“We can get to the park pretty easily from two streets over.” She opened her door and waited for me to head out in front of her.
I resisted the urge to brush up against her on my way by. After Quinn told me about Willa’s personal space theory, I realized that I needed to get M to trust that I wouldn’t infringe on her space without her permission so that she could drop her guard around me. As much as I was starting to feel for her, I knew it would be one of the hardest things I’d ever do.
“M?” I started before my brain could issue the signal to stop.
“Are you gay?”
She stepped backward until her body banged against the open door. Wide eyes screamed at me as loudly as my own head did.
How could I have asked such a private question? I’d just done the exact opposite of what I promised myself I wouldn’t do. It didn’t matter that I hadn’t touched her. I’d just violated her personal space, especially for someone not used to answering personal questions. My own wish to know that I wasn’t developing feelings for a straight woman should never have been put ahead of her comfort level. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
“Don’t answer that. Sorry, I’ve lost my mind. It’s none of my business. Forgive me, and please forget I said anything.” I stepped out into the hallway to give her more space. “I keep making you uncomfortable. Believe me, I don’t like it any more than you do.” I chanced a glance at her. She clutched the doorknob, a stunned look on her fact. “I’ll understand if you want to call this off. Maybe another time.” Like when I had some duct tape for my mouth.
I was turning to leave when she shook her head and joined me in the hallway. After locking the door, she adjusted the laces on her skates so they’d fall more comfortably over her shoulder and started off down the hallway. At least I hadn’t frightened her back into her shell.
While we strapped on our skates on the street, we didn’t attempt to speak because of the continuous stream of cars on the street. That and the fact that apparently my brain could only contain me physically or verbally but not both at the same time. I didn’t want to chance saying something that would make her permanently rethink our friendship.
We threw our shoes into my car and started south until we hit the park entrance. She was incredibly good on skates, as sure as she was standing in front of her classroom. Her lean muscles worked effortlessly to make her glide like a professional skater on the blacktop. As often as Megan and I had done this, I had to struggle to keep up with M’s pace.
When the path turned from pavement to cobblestones, she pulled up at one of the benches that edged around a flower garden. I wanted to shout in triumph that she was giving us a break after what felt like hours of blading but was maybe forty-five minutes. She floated down into one corner of the bench, watching me as I took a seat close to the other side. We were the only ones in the area. In fact, we hadn’t passed anyone for over a mile.
“Whew!” I exclaimed, catching my breath. “That was fun. It’s been a while for me, and you’re better than good. You must do this a lot?”
She stared out at an unusually shaped dogwood tree for a moment then spoke for the first time since we’d left her apartment. “I don’t know.”
“Take it from me, I know. You’re a very good skater. Are you better on the ice or with rollerblades?”
“No, that’s the answer to your question. I don’t know.” My question? Oh, that question. She didn’t know? “That’s usually something someone knows,” I offered tentatively, having never heard that response.
“I realize that.” She still wouldn’t face me.
“But you don’t know?” I repeated, and then it dawned on me.
“I see. You’ve only been with men, so you wouldn’t know if it’s a curiosity thing or not.” The realization made my heart sick. “Well, if you ever have any questions…” I trailed off in a dejected voice.
“Although, if you still date men, you probably don’t have any questions.” Lame, stupid, idiot.
“I don’t.” She turned her gaze on me.
“Of course not,” I agreed readily, embarrassed to have brought up a subject that she clearly had no way of relating to.
“I meant that I don’t date men. I never have.”
“What?” I used a stall tactic while I tried to make sense of what she said. “You’ve never dated a man?” She shook her head.
“Have you ever dated a woman?” Another shake of her head. “Are you saying you’ve never been with anyone?” She turned away, blinking harshly to hide a film of moisture.
The knuckles on one hand grew white from the strain of gripping an armrest. “Not by consent.”
She hadn’t chosen the person? Had it been—wait, that wasn’t what she’d said. She used the word “consent”. Oh, no! Please, no.
“Tell me, please?”
When she spoke, her voice was raw from straining to keep her tears at bay. “The boy I hurt was the much adored son of the third foster family I lived with. When he came into our room, I was awake. I waited for him to come to me like he had before, but when I heard SueElla’s muffled scream, I bolted out of bed and took him off her. She was only twelve. I couldn’t let him do to her what he’d done to me. He was almost eighteen and so much bigger than me. I honestly don’t know how I’d managed to hurt him when I couldn’t stop him before.”
“Jesus!” I wanted to hold her and let her know how much I cared that she was safe now and that her past couldn’t touch her anymore. But I knew that was the last thing she’d want. “That’s an unspeakable thing to have happen to you. I’m so sorry. I wish that hadn’t been part of your life.”
She nodded once, continuing to look out over the brightly colored flower garden. “This isn’t how I expected today to go.”
“Have you ever told anyone?”
She shook her head, and I felt a physical pain bloom inside my stomach. “It’s not a subject I like to dwell on, which is why I don’t have an answer for you. I’m pretty messed up.”
“No, you’re not. You’re wonderful, M. An amazing teacher, an inspiring men
tor, and an incredible friend. You’re remarkable.”
She shook her head, sighing. “I don’t get you. Everyone else at work avoids me. Even the people I consider my acquaintances don’t press for anything from me, but you never give up. You’ve made sharing our class so easy for me. You’ve made working together fun. You’ve made getting to know someone simple.”
“You meant to say ‘you’ve made becoming friends simple,’ right? Because we’re friends, please know that.”
“I do,” she admitted softly, shyly darting her eyes away then back again. “Thank you.”
She just thanked me for being her friend. This extraordinary woman could make me fall deeply for a second time in my life when she’d never known it once. That hardly seemed fair.
Chapter 23
She moved from the rowing machine to the treadmill, the one in the corner, away from the televisions and other treadmills.
Almost no one used it, but it was her favorite. She’d run for thirty minutes until her friend arrived. Her friend. She liked thinking that. She’d not had many friends in life, and now she seemed to have an abundance.
Setting off at a rapid pace, she glanced around to make sure she was alone in her little corner. Only then did she zone out. She thinks I’m beautiful. I’ve never been beautiful before.
“How’s it going?” Jessie was suddenly at her side. Like that time in the D/s club, she’d managed to appear dangerously close without her sensing it.
She stumbled when her left foot didn’t stride as far as the right. It took some concentration before she got back into rhythm. “Fine, Jess. You?”
“Couldn’t be better. How’s the class going?” She wiped her brow unnecessarily, wondering why Jessie was asking about her work. “Really well, thanks. It looks like it’s going to be a huge success. Of course, I’m not responsible for that.”
“I don’t believe that,” Jessie pointed out kindly. “Plus, I’ve heard otherwise.”
“She’s too quick to give away credit.”
“Now, that, I believe.” Jessie gripped the bar of her treadmill and casually glanced around the room. Only half full on this late morning with the closest patron working out about twenty feet away on the free weights. “You’re becoming friends?” She smiled fondly, unable to stop herself. “Yes.” Jessie matched her smile. “Good friends?”
“I hope so.”
Jessie nodded, seemingly in approval. “Maybe something more?”
The heart rate monitor on the machine betrayed the clattering in her chest. She pulled off the finger clip before Jessie noticed. Jessie never pried; she could count on that. In all the time they’d known each other, Jessie never pried. Why was she starting now?
“She’s very special,” Jessie commented softly.
With a press of a button, she increased the grade of the treadmill, somehow hoping the harder she ran the farther she’d get from this conversation. The part of her mind in charge of counting began ticking off each step while the part responsible for feeling irritation flared up at how easily she’d slipped back into the protective habit. Neither the habit nor the irritation helped her situation, so she dropped the irritation but kept up the running count. When Jessie didn’t move away after a prolonged silence, something that usually got to everyone else, she had no choice but to agree. “Yes, she is.”
Jessie glanced behind her and on each side again to make sure no one had come closer. “Listen, I’ve got no right to say this, but I can’t help looking out for my friends.” The comment caused her brow to furrow. “That’s what good friends do.”
Jessie nodded and trained her gaze on the treadmill readout.
“If you tell me you don’t need it, she doesn’t ever have to know.” She squinted in confusion. “Need what?” Dark brown eyes flicked back to hers with worried concern.
This conversation was making Jessie uncomfortable, too. “The D/s club.”
Oh, God! Jessie had known all this time and never said anything. A dread she hadn’t felt in years returned with enough force that she forgot about the counting and gripped the handrails to steady herself.
“I’m not judging you. I don’t have any room to judge. I was there, too, if you’ll recall.” Jessie’s voice was even, not judgmental or filled with shame.
But it was your first time, and you never returned. It was something you wanted to try once, she thought.
“I’m just going to say this,” Jessie plowed on in a tight voice.
“If you still need that, then I’m going to ask you as a person who very much wants to be your friend, please tell her before anything happens between you two. I don’t know for sure, but she didn’t seem the type to have those…proclivities. I wouldn’t want her to become involved only to find out later that she couldn’t handle that kind of scene. She’s had enough heartbreak.”
“Nothing’s going to happen,” she admitted against the protest of her heart.
Jessie studied her with sad eyes. “Because you don’t want it to?”
She pressed the cool down button and slowed to a walk.
“Because it can’t.”
The sadness in Jessie’s eyes deepened. “I know all about desiring certain things and then not. About being thought of a certain way but not being that way.”
Walking through her cool down, she waited for Jessie to tell her that her fledgling friendship had no chance of getting off the ground because Jessie had to protect her friend. She wanted to tell Jessie that this wasn’t any of her business, but she’d do the same thing if a friend of hers had the potential to become involved with an abnormal freak. From what she knew, Jessie was too good a friend not to warn her off.
“If that’s not you anymore, I get it. My marriage proves that someone can be one way and then not be that way anymore. Not miss it, not desire it, not even think about it. Lauren did that for me, and I thank every higher power for giving me the chance to become who I am with her.” Jessie tilted her head wistfully. The fingers of her right hand absently twisted the shiny platinum and rose gold wedding ring on her left. Joy from her new life was so apparent on her face and in her relaxed stance. “If you don’t want something different, or if you’ve already moved on to something else, then ignore me. I’ll just be a nosy friend who overstepped and begs your forgiveness.” She bared a timid smile. “But if you’re like me at all, I’m certain that Briony is the kind of person who can do for you what Lauren did for me.” Her fingers tightened around the rails. She knew how true Jessie’s statement was. Too bad she couldn’t find out just how true. As much as she longed to be something more with Briony, it wasn’t possible. Recently, just staring at Briony’s beautiful face with its exquisite cheekbones, fine nose, golden eyes that darkened to ginger when she spoke passionately, and delicate pink mouth caused pain. Every time Briony dipped her head, she ached to brush the blond bangs from her right eye and tuck the strands behind her lovely ear. Or finger the elusive dimple that only appeared when Briony was trying to fight back a smile. She wondered often what it would be like to bury her face in the hair that almost reached to the bend in her neck. To brush her lips over the silky skin there. To feel Briony’s reaction to her mouth sliding along her neck. Would the touch be welcome? Would Briony shiver or tremble or moan? She wished she could find out.
But she couldn’t do any of those things. Normal people did things like that. Normal people didn’t have issues with touch, didn’t have issues with intimacy, didn’t have issues with sex.
She came to the end of the cool down and stepped off the treadmill. With a quick glance up at the towering figure of Jessie, she nodded but said nothing. There wasn’t anything she could say.
Chapter 24
Usually, when a woman blushes in your presence, it’s a flattering thing. But after the fourth flush on M’s face, I was starting to worry. It wasn’t a shy blush of romantic interest, nor was it a self-conscious flush of temporary embarrassment. No, this looked like she was uncomfortable in my presence. I really thought we’d moved
past this.
“Everything all right, M?” I asked without looking at her because that seemed to increase the redness.
“Sure,” she responded, but I caught the quick flick of her eyes to check if I was looking at her.
We sat side by side in my office, going through the finalized business plans. Our class was coming to a close tomorrow. Far more successful than anyone imagined, and I sat next to the reason why. The symposium would turn into an independent study course to keep the businesses up and running. M would take on the two manufacturing heavy businesses, while my three were in the service industries.
“What do you have planned for the break?” I’d tried asking her this several times over the last few weeks but never got an answer. I wanted to know what she’d be doing, but mostly I wanted to know if she’d miss seeing me as much as I would miss her.
She tilted back in her chair and gave me that hand brush off again, her way of saying she didn’t think her answer was interesting enough to share or that she didn’t want to share.
“What about you?”
Since I’d already answered this before when she tried the same deflection, I slowly turned and pegged her with a glance that said I knew exactly what she was doing. Her tempting neck grew pink as the flush made it up to her cheeks. I would have insisted on an answer right then if my cell phone hadn’t started the familiar ring that my son had programmed in for me. “Excuse me, that’s Caleb. Do you mind?”
“Please.” She gestured toward my messenger bag and pushed back to stand.
I reached out to keep her in place but took my hand back, remembering. “You don’t have to leave.” Her eyes widened at the movement of my hand, but she didn’t leave. “Hi, handsome,” I spoke into the phone as soon as I’d dug it out.
“Hiya, Mom. Camp’s so great. I wish I could stay forever.” I laughed at his simple declaration. “I’m that horrible of a mother, huh?”
“No!” he exclaimed. “I just meant I wish I didn’t have to leave here to go back to school.”