Sparks Fly, Tires Skid: A Modern Pride and Prejudice Variation Romantic Comedy

by Ari Rhoge

  “Pemberley.” The response was automatic, and he had stopped. She opened her eyes.

  “Really?” Darcy murmured, surprised.

  “Yeah,” Lizzy said, softly. She turned her head, and Will examined her profile. The cute, upturned nose. The soft curve of her mouth. “I was really happy that weekend.”

  That was months ago, he thought.

  “Why did you stop?” She elbowed him gently in the ribs. Will grinned, and continued the massage.

  He moved her loose, dark wavy hair over one shoulder. Lizzy felt his lips brush over her neck, just below her ear, and she tilted her head into his touch. After a few moments, Will's arm wrapped around her waist, tugging her gently toward him. “What'cha doing?” she said, smiling impishly.

  “Claiming you.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  Darcy rested his cheek between the groove of her neck and left shoulder, and Lizzy smiled wide. He traced his hands over the fabric of her shirt, beneath the hem and over her soft warm skin. “You can tell me to stop, you know,” he teased, voice low in her ear. “It's only been one date.”

  “You're such an ass,” Elizabeth said, laughing. Will smiled. His hand slipped beneath the waistband of her jeans, slow and hesitant. Lizzy turned her face so she could look at him. He moved forward and kissed her, fitting his lips to hers.

  His hand moved carefully past her underwear, caressing. Will sloped his fingers downward, and Lizzy inhaled sharply against his mouth. Then she bit his bottom lip, and he pulled back, laughing.

  The intercom buzzed.

  “Fuck,” Lizzy muttered. She sighed, and stalked across the foyer. It was eight o'clock. Jane's voice came through the speaker, static but joyous. “Buzz me up, loser!” Of course, she had to.

  Darcy was leaning against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest. Lizzy frowned at him. He smiled. “Don't look so put out. We'll have lots of time to — oh.”

  “Stop talking.”

  She had pulled him in for another kiss, and he grinned against her mouth. His hands moved to her hips, and she backed him up against the corner between the kitchen table and the cabinets. Will pulled his face away, breathless. “It's gonna be really awkward when your sister walks in—”

  “She won't—”

  “Yoo-hoo!” Jane hammered on the door.

  “Fuck!” Lizzy whined. Will chuckled, and she shoved his shoulder playfully.

  25

  —

  Morningside

  Jane pursed her lips together a minute after a greeting rolled off her tongue. No words had to be uttered to explain the situation. After all, Will Darcy was grinning (widely, insincerely), and reaching forward for a handshake. It was obvious he was pumping up the friendliness to compensate for Lizzy's chilly reception.

  “It's good to see you again, Jane. —— How have you been?”

  “I, um —— good, thank you, Will.” Jane clasped her hands together, and her blue eyes darted toward Lizzy. “Have I… interrupted something?”

  “No.” He shook his head.

  “Yes.”

  “Do you want some tiramisu?” Darcy offered, helpfully. Jane protested. He turned. “Shit, where did it go? Did you put it back in the freezer?”

  Elizabeth sank into a bar stool, and rested her elbows against the island counter. She pouted, dejected. “Yes.”

  Jane fought a smile, but it came out anyway, one dimple present. “I'll, uh, leave you guys alone in a second. My mistake. —— Lizzy, I just wanted to tell you that I have located Greg Wickham, by complete and total accident — and, if you still have that nine-iron, I'm prepared to do some serious damage to his car. I've brought it up with Lydia, and she wants to inflict the damage to his face and —— um…” Her eyes flickered demurely to Darcy. “… pelvic regions… but you get my drift.”

  Lizzy had perked up a little. Darcy looked considerably more pissed off, as if only the man's name had cast a physical burden right on his shoulders. He started to scowl.

  “Also, Charlotte is getting a divorce.”

  “What?” Lizzy gasped, and nearly reeled from her chair. “Since when?”

  “Since now. She's even throwing a party.”

  “A party,” echoed Darcy.

  “A party,” replied Jane.

  “To celebrate a divorce?”

  “To celebrate a divorce!”

  “Are you just going to repeat everything he says? Because it's getting a little annoying, Jane,” Lizzy butted in. She was beginning to wonder if she would ever get a private moment with Will Darcy, or if the universe was just out to piss on her parade. She had also never irrationally despised her older sister as she did now. She also wondered if Charlotte could move back in, or if more cock-blocking was bound to occur. I need to find a girl equivalent for cock-blocking... “Twat-swat, maybe.”

  “Excuse me?” Jane blinked, her mouth gaping open.

  Will covered his mouth with his hand. His shoulders were shaking.

  Jane did eventually succumb to a cup of tea and a small piece of half-frozen cake. Will was friendly, thoughtful and open while catching up with her. Lizzy's mood dissipated, and the evening ended with her on the sofa, watching The Devil Wears Prada on FX, with vague interest, since she had seen it at least a dozen times before. Then her sister left, and she kissed her goodbye.

  “Still pissed off?” asked Darcy with a sly grin, coming up to sit beside her in the dark living room. The TV cast eerie blue shadows on their faces.

  “I think I'm over it. Just sleepy now,” Lizzy said.

  “It's half past eight,” he said, grinning, challenging her.

  “Yes, well… I'm on kindergartener schedule.” Lizzy yawned, stretching out. She tucked her legs under herself, and rested her head on one of the purple cushions, hugging it around the middle. “In fact, if you want to get me a juice box and a cheese stick from the fridge, I would certainly appreciate it. And then we can finger-paint.”

  “I'm not much of an artist.”

  “Then, just go get me my juice.”

  To her surprise, he returned a minute later with a pack of Capri Sun, and handed this to her, thoughtfully removing the straw from its wrapper. Lizzy blinked up at him in astonishment. She laughed. “I wasn't serious, Will. You didn't have to go all the way to the pantry.”

  “Oh.” He took it from her, and punched the straw through. “More for me, then.”

  She smiled and sat up, and Will sat down beside her with his arm stretched out on the back of the couch. They watched the end of the movie together, with Lizzy's head on his shoulder. He laced his fingers between hers. By the time the credits rolled, they were kissing, the collar of Darcy's blue T-shirt firmly in Lizzy's grasp, with his hands under her shirt at the small of her back.

  He pulled away, and Lizzy, disoriented, furrowed her brow. “What? What's up? What did I do?”

  Will rubbed his jaw, trying to be light and affable. “No, nothing. Nothing. I'm just thinking.”

  “Well, what'cha thinkin' about?”

  He raised his eyes, almost guiltily. “Did Greg Wickham ever come up here?”

  Lizzy tilted her head. Her mouth twisted into a smirk. “Jealous?”

  “A little bit.”

  “I kind of like that,” she murmured, leaning forward to kiss him again.

  “Wait,” came Will's muffled laugh. He put his hands on her shoulders, and they broke apart again. “Did he? —— Because he said some things to me, and I don't know if they were said to set me off or what. He's always been pretty skilled at getting under my skin. But I was pretty jealous, and I have to know.”

  “Um.” Lizzy sat back on her heels, and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “He did come up one time, yeah. Made dinner — chicken and sweet corn. I wasn't very impressed. But… nothing really happened. He kissed me, and I wasn't feeling it. I was still salty for having been stood up.”

  “At Netherfield?”

  “Mm,” she said, nodding. She was looking down, tracing invisible patter
ns on his jeans. “He was supposed to be my date.”

  “I'm thrilled he stood you up,” Will murmured, leaning close to kiss her beneath her ear. Lizzy closed her eyes, and smiled. “And that I found you alone —— we should try that dance again sometime.”

  “We really should. God, I was so pissed off when you cornered me in the hall.”

  “I did not corner you.” Darcy spoke haltingly, affronted. “You make me sound like some predator — and quite frankly I — mm.”

  Lizzy had kissed him — this time, he reciprocated with enthusiasm. He threaded his hand through her tousled dark hair, and she felt his fingers nimbly working on the buttons of her blouse. He slipped her shirt off, exposing her pale, smooth shoulders. She pulled his blue T-shirt up over his head, and tossed it onto the coffee table, knocking over a tissue box and the empty pouch of Capri Sun. And then Will lowered her back onto the sofa cushions delicately, her arms still wound around his neck.

  “Hi,” Will said. He pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose, then her cheek. And then he gently kissed her forehead.

  Lizzy was smiling. She rubbed the scruff on his jawline, and murmured, “hi.” She tilted her head, watching. She was beginning to notice details of his face she hadn't picked up on before. The laugh-lines that crinkled his eyes. The red in his beard. He bent down to kiss her, before his face screwed up in pain. “Ow, ow. —— Ow.”

  “What is it?”

  Will removed some house keys from between some cushions — they had embedded themselves in his hip. Lizzy's face lit up brightly, and she lurched forward. “There they are! Oh, yes.” They clattered on the coffee table. He arched an eyebrow. Lizzy shrugged unapologetically. “Listen, this apartment is kind of like a spiderweb — things get snatched up left and right.”

  “I don't mind being snatched up,” Will murmured, half smirking as he lowered himself to kiss her again. “——Oh, Jesus Christ.” He pivoted to the side, and pulled out an Elmer's glue bottle and a 24-pack of Crayola markers. “Really, Lizzy?”

  “Oh, yeah. Arts and crafts.”

  “Unbelievable,” Will said, laughing.

  “Sue me, I'm a kindergarten teacher. I have to test-drive the papier-mâché owl masks at home before I bring them to school and they're declared toxic or something,” she started. “Which has happened, come to think of it. —— And that's not a front clasp.” She looked down at her black bra, with its miniature pink bow between the cups, which Darcy seemed to be examining diligently.

  Will puffed out his lower lip. “Well, shit.” His arms fell to his side.

  “I don't make it that easy for ya,” Lizzy said, laughing, and propping herself up on her elbows. He grinned, and she kissed him again.

  “In my defense, it's pretty dark in this room.”

  “Yeah, yeah.”

  “Do you have a bed?”

  “Mm-hmm,” Lizzy murmured, tracing her finger around the ridge created by his collarbone, then up to his Adam's apple — Will moved his head to the side accordingly. She fought the urge to tell him that his clavicle was sexy. Were clavicles even supposed to be sexy? Whatever, his certainly was. “Bedroom's down the hall. But I'm pretty lazy so you're gonna have to carry m— holy fucking shit,” she yelped, laughing. He had gotten to his feet, and swept her up in one fluid motion. “Thanks for the warning. Been bench-pressing there, buddy?”

  “Little bit, yeah,” Will said, grinning, almost boyishly smug. He adjusted his posture, and kissed her.

  • • •

  From: Jane

  Hon, do your sister a favor and sleep at my place tonight. Lizzy brought a boy home.

  Lydia nearly sprayed her chai latte all over the table at Starbucks. Her classmate, Jenny Wilkinson, moved her notebook out of the way. She stared at the screen of her iPhone.

  From: Lydia

  Are you serious? FML, I wanted to use her Netflix tonight. Who's the guy?

  From: Jane

  She picked up a drifter at the corner of Second Street Pike and County Line.

  From: Lydia

  Haaaawt. Oh well. Can we watch Gilmore Girls at your apartment?

  From: Jane

  You can watch it but I'm having company over too. I don't think he's staying over though. Sorry, sweetie.

  Lydia slumped back in her booth, and her mouth hung open. Her thumbs moved furiously over her keypad.

  From: Lydia

  He? I hate you both. Sisters before misters, Jane. Sisters before misters.

  From: Jane

  You're cute.

  • • •

  Daylight was streaming harshly through the cracks in the blinds, but Lizzy was determined to pretend she was still sleeping for at least another 10 minutes. She was not entirely sure why. Maybe it was the gut instinct that conversation would lag, or start awkwardly, and she just couldn't deal with a common letdown like that after such a pleasant evening.

  Pleasant evening? She inwardly cringed. It made her sound like she had just had tea and crumpets at Nana Bennet's house up in Scarsdale.

  Lizzy turned over on her side. Will was awake, staring out the window with his arm propped beneath his head. He was still shirtless, and she took an appreciative eyeful — simply because she could, and wouldn't get any smugness or shit-eating grins from Lord Darcy, because he had not noticed y—

  “Like what you see there, Lizzy?” Will clicked his tongue.

  She flopped down on her back. “God, you are so annoying.”

  He smiled, and curled up next to her. His fingers traced the spattering of freckles on her shoulders. “Really? Because you kind of held a different opinion last night and —— oh, my God, you are blushing and it is fucking adorable —— don't ever stop, that, that which you are doing, right this second.” Lizzy burrowed her face into her pillow, and began giggling. Will took the pillow away, then tried earnestly to pry her hands from her face. “You're so cute — why are you hiding? C'mere.”

  Lizzy curled up into him. She nestled her head into his chest, and Will wrapped his arms around her. He dropped a kiss onto her forehead.

  “I am wearing yesterday's eyeliner, and I bet that I totally have sex-hair,” she mumbled.

  “You do,” Will said, encouragingly. “But it's pretty hot — so no worries there.”

  “And it's Sunday.”

  “It is.”

  “And I have a lot of errands to run. —— Ugh.” Lizzy tilted her face to look up at him, but Will was, of course, letting his hands drift due to the convenience of having a naked girl beside him under the sheets. “Hey, you.”

  “I'm sorry,” he said, laughing. “Let's go run some errands, then.”

  “What, together?”

  “Sure,” Will said, grinning.

  “You want to go grocery shopping, then go to the dry cleaners and pick up a load of laundry from the laundromat.” Lizzy spoke dryly, resting her cheek in the palm of her hand. “And then scope out where my little sister is, and possibly get breakfast with her, to discuss her life plan and all that nonsense.”

  “Yes,” he said, eagerly. “Because I would be spending time with you, which I bet makes everyday occurrences a lot more enjoyable than they're normally supposed to be.”

  “I don't know, man. I've been in my own company for 20-odd years now, and it's gotten pretty boring, so…” She giggled and squirmed, because Will had poked her side. “You're sweet. Let's go. Where are my pants?”

  “Hanging over the door.”

  “What.”

  Will began to laugh. “You seriously chucked them. —— It was hilarious. That's why I was laughing so hard, before you practically rammed me into the dresser. I'm gonna have a bruise on my hip tomorrow morning — guarantee you that.”

  “That was an accident! I couldn't see because the lights were off,” Lizzy explained, sitting up now. Apologetic was hard to pull off while clutching a white bedsheet earnestly around one's breasts. Then again, Will seemed very forgiving. He cupped her chin, and tilted her face up, pressing a light kiss to her li
ps.

  “Yeah… I forgive you.”

  Lizzy clicked her tongue, and winked. Then she got up from the bed, removed her plaid robe from its hook beside the dress mirror, and went into the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee. Will grinned.

  26

  —

  A Force to Be Reckoned With

  Lydia had never felt so single in her entire life — indeed she was edging on bitterness. Loneliness and poor judgment had driven her to Greg Wickham, bookish and attractive at first, then selfish and hopelessly bad in the sack. Eight minutes, the blond thought, with a snort. Eight fucking minutes! She couldn't decide what was more depressing — the terrible sex or that she had been deserted, penniless, in Atlantic City — the trashy, watered down cousin of Las Vegas. It had been weeks, and it seemed to her that she could never wash the smell of cigarettes and old people out of her hair.

  And now Elizabeth, her newfound confidante, had ditched her for a man. Jane was reuniting with some old friend Lydia had never met, had mumbled hello to, the other night, before disappearing into her oldest sister's bedroom to watch Gilmore Girls alone. She felt some sort of adolescent-jealousy spark and ignite in the pit of her stomach, and she annoyed herself. It was different now than it had been growing up.

  The busboy poured her another glass of ice water, and Lydia smiled in thanks. Then she sighed, and rested her cheek in the palm of her hand. Lizzy was late. She plucked at her wristbands and bangles, removed her rings, put them back on, checked her phone for any new texts. This was absolutely ridiculous. So, maybe she had pushed it too far, had shoved her siblings away with one too many red flags. With an empty sigh, Lydia dove right for the bread basket.

  “You gonna leave any for me, Pudge?”

  Lydia glanced up sharply, a well-constructed insult at the tip of her tongue. And then her mouth gaped open.

  Lizzy and Will fucking Darcy were standing beside her table. His hand was on the small of her back.