Head Over Feels

by Scott, S. L.

  “Grammar jokes. Lame to most, but funny to me.” She pulls open a drawer. “I have snacks if you want a candy bar or gum.”

  Various packages of gum slide around, but the Mars bars and Milky Ways are stacked in a clear bin. A clipped bag of chips and a few pieces of root beer candy are shoved in a white bin along with pencils, Sharpies, and what looks to be feminine products. “What else do you have in that drawer?”

  “Survival tools. Coffee. Candy. Spoons. Mugs. Tampons. Baby food.” She shuffles stuff around. “And a knife.”

  “What kind of knife?” Tealey wielding a knife was not something I had on my bingo card. Impressive.

  “A switchblade. I was thrown against the wall once when I denied benefits to someone. I felt horrible about it and gave him twenty dollars. Guess it wasn’t enough.” Anger burns in my veins, and I clench my fists. He physically attacked her. Twenty bucks wasn’t what he was after. It’s bullshit she was put in that position.

  “What the hell, Tealey? I never heard about that.”

  “I think you were in Aspen at the time.” She starts eating again, leaving me stunned. What the hell? I was skiing when I should have been here for her. No one could have predicted the attack, but I had a right to know and make my own decision on how to react. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

  “We didn’t want to put a damper on your trip,” she says as if the attack was nothing. “And now we have a security system.”

  I never thought about her job being dangerous. Glancing over my shoulder, I stare at the front entrance. Anyone could walk in off the street, and her cubicle is the second closest to the door. “That’s good, but how will another attack be prevented?”

  “Sometimes people do desperate things. That’s the only time I’ve ever been threatened. Every other time I had met with him, he was fine, even optimistic about the future.”

  I’m not going to harp on this to her, feeding a fear that I’m sure she’s tried to bury. But I’m glad she’s letting me in, sharing parts of herself that I never knew about before. Sharing her life with me—the good and bad parts. We all have them in varying degrees. I just hope her life isn’t on the line because of her chosen career.

  Pushing aside my feelings on the matter, I turn back to her. I shift on the chair that was never meant to be comfortable and redirect. “You ready for the move?”

  “Ready to get it over with. Cammie has a clipboard and printouts. I suspect it will move fast if she has her way. If Cade has his, he and Jackson will be drinking beer and taking their time.”

  I chuckle. “That’s for sure.”

  “Not sure if Marlow will be there. She said she will, but . . .” She looks around conspiratorially. “Cammie and I have our suspicions that she’s secretly dating someone.”

  She brings a spoonful of soup to her lips and grins before shoving it in her mouth. There’s something in her eyes—an amusement—and I want to ask her about it, but I don’t.

  “This soup is so good,” she says, the words punctuated with more gusto than I’ve ever heard over a liquid.

  I might have ulterior motives—to see her, feed her, make her smile. It worked, and I give myself a mental pat on the back. I did good.

  “She’s single,” I say. “She doesn’t have to sneak around.”

  She’s quick to shrug, and then using her spoon to talk, she says, “That’s my point. Why is she sneaking around when she doesn’t have to?”

  I think I got lost somewhere in this conversation when I got distracted by Tealey’s smile.

  She says, “Marlow loves to talk about her dates; the good, the bad, and the ridiculous. She loves to share the details, and we love to hear them. That’s like our group M.O. when it comes to dating. No detail is off-limits. But she hasn’t said a peep in a week or so.”

  “Maybe she hasn’t gone on a date worth talking about this week.”

  She plants her elbows on the desk, resting her chin in her hands. “You’re close with her.” Not that close. “Do you know anything?”

  Only that she roped me into some scheme to get an apartment out of the deal . . . A hookup possibly the other night, but nothing out of the ordinary. “No.”

  “Bummer. I was hoping for insight.” Though she starts eating again, her gaze keeps flicking to me. She then takes hold of her water bottle, twisting the cap on and off, seeming to contemplate.

  “Something on your mind, Bell?”

  As if the acknowledgment comes out of left field, she pulls her attention back to me. “I’m told I ask too many questions.” She sighs softly. “Hazard of the job.”

  “Are you wanting to ask me a question?”

  “I don’t mean to pry.”

  “You can ask me anything. That’s what roommates do. We pry into each other’s lives.”

  Under rolling laughter, she asks, “Is that what they do? Pry into each other’s lives?”

  “I don’t know.” I laugh. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had one. But I imagine getting to know the person you live with isn’t an intrusion. It’s a part of building a friendship. Right?”

  She thinks about it. “The other night was nice.” She looks down, shaking her head. “Not that we’ll be spending much time together after I move in. You have a life. Your work. I know you’re super busy. I just meant—”

  “I know what you mean, and I’m looking forward to spending more time with you as well.”

  I watch her smile bloom. “Thanks.”

  That smile is one of the reasons I came here, but now I’m starting to think I’m driving this friendship off the rails entirely. Nothing good could come from us hooking up, yet I’ve put myself in a position as though it could.

  What am I doing?

  The last thing I want to do is hurt Tealey, and that’s what will happen if we date. Romantic relationships aren’t my thing. They require more time than I have to give. The sound of a bell that needs tuning buzzes, and I stand abruptly. “I should get back to work and let you do the same.”

  Disappointment contorts her expression. “So soon?” Then she checks the clock on her desk. “I guess you do.”

  Ducking out from the cubicle, I take a few steps, needing the space between us to allow more rational thoughts. She stands, resting her hip against the side of the short, upholstered wall, and a smile anchors the stars in her eyes. “Whoever said divorce lawyers can’t be noble is just plain wrong.”

  “Do people say that?”

  “Rumor on the street.” She rocks back on her heels, giggling softly, and tucks her hands into her pockets.

  “I guess if they thought otherwise, I’d be out of business.”

  Her laughter feels better than anytime I won an award. She says, “Your reputation is safe and will remain intact. I promise. I’m like Gringotts vault.”

  Confusion wrinkles his brow. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Gringotts.” Her eyes go wide. “From Harry Potter.”

  I tighten my lips and shake my head. “Never read the books.”

  A gasp echoes around us before her hand covers her mouth. She comes closer and plucks lint from my lapel. Her eyes remain focused on my chest when she whispers, “There’s an indescribable feeling of magic, like anything is possible. Have you ever felt that?”

  “I have.” With you. What am I saying?

  Her gaze slides up to mine, her chest noticeably rising and falling as her hand flattens against my jacket. “You have?”

  What am I doing?

  Stars still shine in her eyes as if I’m one of the good guys.

  A heaviness starts pressing on my chest as silence overcomes the fun, and the hour demands my attention. I do the impossible and take a step back, away from her, and clear my throat. “Sure. I saw the movies.”

  “Oh,” she replies, her hand falling to her side. “Thanks for the soup.”

  “No problem.”

  “And for delivering the key.”

  “My pleasure.” Rubbing the back of my neck, I kee
p my eyes on her and say four words that feel more like a beginning than a goodbye, “I’ll see you tonight?”

  Leaning against the wall again, she crosses her arms over her chest and smiles. “See you tonight.”

  12

  Rad

  Clearheaded.

  Reasonable.

  Straightforward.

  I sigh as I think back to the old me—the old me that I’m starting to miss. This dazed and confused version of Rad Wellington that comes out every time I see Tealey is starting to bother me. Why? Mostly because it’s silly. There’s nothing between us. We’re the same friends that we were last week.

  So what if she’s moving in? It’s temporary.

  When did temporary turn into opportunity? Fuck, drop it.

  Needing my ego kicked in the ass, I text the man for the job.

  I drive deeper into Brooklyn to a neighborhood that hasn’t been reinvented with prices to match the rest of the borough—a hidden gem. The homes have been here for generations and still have chipped paint, rusty awnings, and people parked on their porches who wave at strangers.

  Jackson, Cade, and I would make the long run from my building, literally run, and stop here to recover before heading back to the city. I should start running that route again. With the spring breeze blowing in through the open window, it feels good out here, like my lungs are free to breathe.

  I park where the street dead-ends and the East River is the only thing separating me from Manhattan, then get out and wait. Cade parks next to me and gets out. Tugging at his belt, he looks around. “We haven’t been here in a few years. Good to see some things never change.” When he shakes my hand, he asks, “What gets you out of the city, Wellington?”

  The question feels loaded, although I know it’s not. While I’m sure he’s curious about my last-minute text to meet by the water, there’s no way he knows what’s on my mind—that she’s on my mind, and I’m worried about that.

  “I checked in on Tealey. I needed to get her a key and wanted to see how she’s doing,” I say as naturally as I can.

  “Cammie told me Tealey’s staying with you until she finds a new place. Could take a while in this market.”

  “I don’t mind.”

  He picks up a stone and fiddles with it. “Didn’t know you had it in you.”

  Staring at the water and ignoring the smirk on Cade’s face, I ask, “Helping a friend out? Thanks . . . You guys really think I’m an asshole, don’t you?”

  I glance over at him.

  He tosses the stone into the dirt and kneels to pick a weed. His brown is pulled together as if he’s actually having to consider my question. “No, not an asshole,” he says finally. “You’ve isolated yourself in a lot of ways since graduation.”

  This is news to me. “We watch games together all the time.”

  He shrugs. “I wouldn’t say all the time. Sometimes.”

  “Sounds like you miss me.” I pop his arm with my elbow.

  “I wouldn’t go that far.” Laughter bellows from him as he discards the weed. “I’ve been buried at work and spend most nights planning this wedding. I’d marry Cammie today at the courthouse if she’d let me. But a big wedding makes her happy, and her being happy makes me happy.” He looks down and kicks the curb. “What I’m saying is I know busy. I get that you’re busy and want to make partner to break some record at the firm, but are you happy?”

  Am I happy? Is he wanting to talk about real feelings? I’m surprised by the changing tide of his mood. I might have contacted him to help me see things clearer, but instead, the water feels muddier than before, causing my chest to tighten. “I wasn’t expecting a therapy session, Cade.”

  “Sometimes we get what we need, not what we want.”

  I could apply that to many aspects of my life, but the words hit home more today.

  Stepping over the curb, I get closer to the water’s edge. “Why didn’t I know Tealey and Steve broke up until this week?”

  “Refer to my previous statement.”

  Fuck.

  He adds, “And I can’t say I lost sleep over their breakup. Cammie was thrilled when she heard, but don’t tell Tealey.” He studies me. “If it makes you feel better, I hear everything from Cammie.”

  I cross my arms over my chest, watching the water lap at the shore. We don’t need to fill every minute that passes between us, but so much seems to have changed overnight. Work is a nightmare, and now I have Marlow and Bob throwing a wrench in things.

  Why does the best opportunity I have come with strings that dangle into my personal life? And it’s not like my personal life isn’t complicated enough. I now have these foreign feelings starting to become more familiar with each passing day for Tealey, who has always only ever been out of reach moving in with me. There’s the logistics of that life change, too.

  I wish I could sort all that out myself. I should be able to. I’m Rad Wellington—I sort other people’s shit for a living. So why can’t I make sense of all this?

  Here goes nothing . . .“I’ve had some things on my mind and wanted to get your opinion.”

  “I’m here. Might as well make the most of it.”

  I take a deep breath and then confess on the exhalation, “I need answers, a solution to a problem I can’t seem to riddle myself out of.”

  Something in my tone must strike a chord because he says, “You know I’ll help if I can. What’s going on?”

  Confusion on his face greets mine. Rubbing my chest, I say, “Emotional crap I can’t seem to shake.”

  To himself, he mutters. “Emotional crap?” Then he squints his eyes at me, reading me like a wide-open book. “Feelings?”

  Bingo. Feelings for Beginners—the CliffsNotes version. That’s what I need. A crash course in why the fuck I’m suddenly turning soft. I’m not even thirty, dammit.

  I shove my hands in my pockets. Why is this so fucking embarrassing to talk about? “There’s a lot of shit going on, and most of it I can’t talk about.”

  “Stuff at work?”

  Nodding, I briefly glance over at him. “Cases I’m working on.”

  “Trouble with women?” Stuck in an agreement with Marlow wasn’t on the agenda, but it’s something I have to contend with. “In business?”

  “You could say that.”

  “Are you going to make me work for every last tidbit?”

  “You’re doing a good job so far,” I reply sarcastically.

  He volleys right back. “Thanks, Dad.” Pacing, he adds, “Trouble with women in your personal life?”

  I blow out a breath.

  I wouldn’t say that I’m having a problem with Tealey exactly. But maybe that is the problem. It’s so easy to be with her—a newfound fact since I’ve stopped my self-imposed ban on being alone with her. For this very reason.

  It’s not really my fault. Who wouldn’t want to spend time with her? She makes me laugh, smile, and forget about the pressures of work. I’m funny around her, more intelligent, more interesting. She makes me feel that way, at least.

  Around Tealey Bell, I’m not just a high-profile divorce attorney. And, for some reason, I like that.

  “So, women in your personal life too?” Cade asks again.

  “Probably.” Because I’m going to be in a whole lot of trouble if I keep letting my time with Tealey veer off sideways into areas we shouldn’t travel.

  A hot pink lace thong comes to mind, and I can’t say any of my thoughts on those have been platonic.

  Cade would kick my ass if he found out. Tealey’s like a little sister to him and Cammie. She spends the most time with them, eating dinner over there at least once a week.

  Not sure if he’s joking since his expression turns serious when he crosses his arms over his chest. “When did this start? Are there any other symptoms?”

  “Clammy hands. I’ve got ’em.” I hold up my hands and then press two fingers to my wrist, fighting a smile “Racing pulse. And sometimes,” I say, restraining a chuckle. “I even hear bird
s singing, but when I look around, there are none.” Cade’s eyes grow wide as he pretends to be concerned. “What’s wrong with me? Give it to me straight, doc.”

  He moves in front of me, his large frame blocking the view. “Hate to tell you this, but you’re either about to have a heart attack or . . .”

  “Or?” He sounds so serious, keeping me on pins and needles.

  “You might be in love.”

  I think my performance was too convincing, maybe even Oscar-worthy. “I think I’ll get a second opinion.” I burst out laughing.

  In love?

  Me? That’s a stretch.

  Who would I possibly be in love wi—Shit.

  Blond hair. Bright blue eyes . . . Nah. Not possible. I even cringe at the term crush. Infatuation probably works better. It was a short-lived infatuation back in college.

  Nothing more.

  Never has been.

  Holding his hands up in surrender, Cade says, “I’m just a Sunday afternoon armchair sports enthusiast. I can write you a prescription to watch a day of sports to get your balls back, but that’s the best I can do.” I receive another well-meaning pat on the shoulder. He finally breaks into a grin, a shit-eating one at that. “But here’s the good news. Although I know it’s scary for you to develop feelings for the first time, worse things could happen, Rad.”

  I let my posture sag, you know, to add dramatic effect from learning that I might have caught a case of “feelings” for the first time. “Like what?”

  Stepping back a few feet, he laughs. “Like having an actual heart attack.”

  “Don’t put that into the universe.”

  “Eh, you’ve never been superstitious,” he says, kicking a rock into the grass.

  “There’s a first time for everything.”

  He punches me in the arm, and teases, “Like joining the love club.”

  “I’m not in love, Cade.” Even though we’re joking around, I don’t know why his words hit close to home. My neck is itchy under the collar, so I pull at it. Ah, fuck it. I tug my tie loose and undo my top button. “And I’m definitely not in the club.”