After Math (4 page)

“Tucker. You have to go somewhere.”

His head rises. “Can I just stay here for a little bit with you?”

I press my back into the counter while I study his face. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Confusion scrunches his forehead. “Why?”

I gesture toward him. “You’re Tucker Price. You’re…” I shake my head. “I’m not like that, Tucker. I’m not that kind of person.”

The emotion on his face shifts to a look that resembles contentment. “I know.”

Something in his eyes tugs on my heart, unraveling the seam that separates us a bit more. I don’t feel threatened by him. I don’t even get a feeling that he’s looking for sex. It’s something deeper than that.

“Can I stay for just a little bit?” he whispers. “Please.”

This is the worst idea in the history of ideas, yet I can’t stop myself from nodding. He looks so lost. “Okay.”

He tries to get up and almost falls on his face.

“How much did you have to drink tonight?” I grab his arm and help him stand.

“Not enough. Not nearly enough.”

My plan is to take him into the living room, but it’s obvious he needs to lie down. I stop in front of the hallway and close my eyes. I should call a cab
right now
.

“Scarlett.” He sighs, resting his cheek on top of my head.

“Come on.” I lead him to my room and turn on the lamp on my nightstand. “Don’t get any ideas.”

I push him so that he’s sitting on my bed, and he lays down, grabbing my hand and tugging.

“I told you not to get any ideas.”

“Just sit with me.”

I sit on the edge of the bed, his hand still wrapped around mine. His eyes are closed as he buries his cheek into my pillow.

“Tucker?”

“Hmm?”

“Who’s Marcel?” I expect him to get angry or tell me to mind my own business.

“My brother,” he mumbles.

“What was he going to do?”

We sit in silence. His breath is less ragged than it was outside, but still has the shallow rasp of a drunk person.

“Ruin his life. And it’s all my fault.”

A soft snore comes from his mouth, and his grip relaxes on my wrist. I sit for a few moments then start to pull my hand away, but his fingers tighten. “Don’t go,” he slurs.

“I have to go to the bathroom.”

His grip tightens. “Promise you’ll come back.”

I pause. “Okay. I will.”

His fingers relax, and I pull free, easing off the bed and wandering to the bathroom. I pee and wash my hands, looking up to see my face in the mirror. The girl in the reflection looks just like me, but she can’t be me.

The Scarlett Goodwin I know would not have Tucker Price in her bed.

But then again, I don’t. He’s lying on top of the covers, and I have no intention of having sex with him.

I hear the front door open, and Caroline comes in. “Scarlett! Where are you?”

“What are you doing home so early? You were having fun.”

“I was worried about you. Tina told me you took Southern’s man-slut home.”

I watch her as she takes off her coat, unsure how to answer.

She lifts her gaze to me as she tosses her coat onto the sofa. “Did you really take him home?”

“Define
home
.”

My meaning sinks in, and her eyes enlarge to twice their size. “No, Scarlett. Please tell me you didn’t.”

“It’s not what you think.”

Her face hardens. “Then what is it?”

I sigh, uncertain what
it
is myself. “I’m not sleeping with him, if that’s what you think.”

Relief washes away her fear, but wariness remains. “Then why is he here?”

“I found him beating up a Dumpster, and he was so drunk he could hardly stand. His hands were a mess, and I don’t know…I felt sorry for him.”

Her mouth drops, and then her eyes narrow. “You felt sorry for Tucker Price?”

“There’s something more to him, Caroline. Something no one else sees.”

“How drunk are you?”

I sigh. “I’m not drunk and it’s not just tonight. I’ve seen it before when I tutor him. He seems so sad. And lonely.”

She rolls her eyes. “Is that what he’s doing to try to get you to sleep with him? Playing Mr. Sensitive?”

“I seriously doubt he has to play anything to get girls to sleep with him, Caroline. So why would he waste the effort?”

I head into the kitchen and clean up the mess I left.

Caroline follows me in. “Why is there blood on those washrags?”

Turning my back to her, I wash out the rags in the sink again. “I told you that he beat up a Dumpster.”

“And you cleaned him up?”

“Yeah.” Why does it sound so wrong the way she asks it?

“If you need something to take care of, we can get a cat.”

I turn to face her and burst into laughter. “A cat?”

She shrugs. “I hate cats, but I’d rather see you get attached to a cat than Tucker Price.” She looks over her shoulder. “Where is he anyway? Is he gone?”

I take a deep breath and turn back to the sink. “He’s passed out on my bed.”

“
What
?” She stomps down the hall to my room and throws open the door.

I run after her and put my hand across the doorway. “Caroline! What are you doing?”

She watches him with a scowl. “Well, look at that. Tucker drools.”

I swivel my gaze and sure enough, he’s drooling on my pillow.

She leans her shoulder into the door jamb. “I have to admit he’s kind of cute, passed out in your bed.”

“Sure, if you like the drunk look.”

Her face softens, and she turns to face me. “You don’t, do you, Scarlett?” Her question comes out as a plea.

The corners of my mouth lift into a hint of a smile. “No. You know me better than that.” I close the door, and we go back into the kitchen.

“Tell me about the guy I saw you dancing with.” Caroline grabs a Chinese container from earlier tonight out of the fridge and eats her leftover lo mein cold.

I put mine in the microwave and watch the glass base spin around and around. “His name is Daniel, and he’s a business major at Southern.”

Caroline squeals and claps her hands together. “A business major? Two boring people! It’s a match made in heaven.”

I tilt my head back as I look over my shoulder. “He is not boring. He’s sweet. I like him.”

“And?”

“And what?” The microwave dings and I take my food to the table. I know what she wants to know, but I’m going to make her dig for it.

“You’re so mean!”

I laugh and take a bite of my cashew chicken. “He wants to see me again. I didn’t have my phone to put his number into, but he said he’ll find me.”

Her smile falls. “Oh.”

I remember his face and his smile. “He’ll find me.”

She tips her head to the side, her fork in the air. “Well, listen to you. A man in your bed and a man waiting in the wings. I always knew you were an overachiever.”

I purse my lips together. “It’s not like that.” I look into her eyes. “Sometimes you just know when you connect with someone, you know?”

She grins and nods. “I do. And I’m happy for you.”

Sighing, I look down at my food. So why am I thinking about the man in my bed and not the man who kissed me?

Chapter Nine

I text Caroline while I’m walking across campus to the tutoring center, asking if I can borrow her running shoes. We wear the same size, and she bought a brand new pair after Justin broke up with her last fall. Her plan was to run away from her problems by taking up jogging. It lasted two sessions.

She quickly responds:
Yes, why?

I thought I might try running.

No response. She’s probably trying to figure out why I’ve suddenly decided to do something physical. She knows about Daniel and our coffee dates. Maybe she thinks I want to get in shape for him.

The next few hours fly by, but my stomach has begun to tighten like a noose. Why have did I agreed to this? Sure, I’ve hung out with Tucker at Panera, but that was for studying.

If the Tucker I knew before our tutoring sessions had suggested we run together, I would have been sure it was a practical joke. But oddly enough, I know this Tucker. We’ve only been together a handful of times, yet I know he wouldn’t hurt me. He said he shows a different side of himself to me because he trusts me. I guess I trust him, too. The revelation is shocking. Other than Caroline, I can’t remember the last time I’ve trusted anyone.

When my session is over, I hurry home. Caroline has left a note that her shoes are in my room. I make a peanut butter sandwich and eat it while I search my dresser drawers for workout clothes. I tried yoga a year ago as a form of relaxation and while it worked, I had trouble finding time when I was alone in the apartment to do it. I was too self-conscious to do it around Caroline.

So what makes me think I can run with Tucker? In front of people? My hands are shaking as I tie Caroline’s shoes, and I sit on the side of the bed, sucking in air.

I can’t do this, which is stupid and makes me more upset, which increases my anxiety. I consider canceling, but I realize I don’t have Tucker’s phone number, and the responsible part of me would never leave him there wondering where I am. I lie down on the bed and try to relax, using guided imagery to settle down. When I try to envision running on the track with Tucker, my mind can’t go there. For one thing, I’m too anal to imagine a place I’ve never been. And for another, I simply can’t picture Tucker working out with me.

I finally get myself under control and drive to campus. The grounds are dark when I pull into the parking lot, but I’ve never felt unsafe here, one of several reasons I picked Southern. Still, I’m careful as I walk toward the brightly lit fitness center. I’ve been in college for two and a half years and never entered that building, but I know it’s divided into two sections. One for the student athletes, and the other for the general student population.  It never occurred to me to ask Tucker which side. One more thing to worry about.

It’s a needless concern. Tucker is standing in the lobby, waiting, with a duffel bag over his shoulder. He smiles when he sees me. “I was worried you’d chicken out.”

“I almost did.” Why am I always compelled to tell him the truth?

“I’m glad you didn’t.” The weird thing is he really looks happy.

He opens the door to the general student body side and waits for me to enter. I’m relieved. I’ll make enough of a fool of myself without doing it in front of trained athletes.

Tucker sets his bag down on the side of the indoor running track. Leaning over, he pulls out two water bottles and hands me one. “It’s important to stay hydrated.”

I nod and take a drink.

“I’m not sure how much physical exercise you’ve gotten lately, so I decided to start as though you’re a beginner.”

My eyebrows lift. “Is it that obvious?”

He cocks his head to the side with an ornery look. “Is that a trick question where there is no right answer?”

I laugh. “Probably.”

“Then I plead the fifth.”

“Smart man.”

“Interesting choice of words.” He teases. “You may be smarter with algebraic equations, but I know about running. You’re in my territory now.”

Something about his wording sets off a buzz in my stomach, but it quickly ebbs away. This is a totally friendly venture. I’m amazed how relaxed I am. I expected to be a nervous wreck, and while my nerves are on edge, it’s only a twinge. Why? I’m in an unfamiliar situation that sets off all my trigger points, but I’m comfortable. Is it because of the activity or who I’m with? Before I can puzzle it out, Tucker takes the bottle from my hand and sets both on the ground.

“Let’s get started.”

“Do we need to stretch?”

“You don’t want to stretch cold muscles. We’ll stretch when we’re done.”

“Oh.” This is no big deal, but I hate not knowing things. My stomach tightens.

“Scarlett.” Tucker’s voice is soothing, and I look up into his face. “Breathe. For once, you don’t have to know everything. Let me be in charge, and you just do what I say.”

Does he know what he’s asking from me? I inhale a gulp of air and stare into his eyes. Strangely enough, I think he does.

“The goal here is for you use your body to relax you, not just your mind. Okay?”

I nod.

“Good. Now I know how driven you are, but it’s important to not push yourself. Not your first time or two. Otherwise you’ll overdo it, and this will be counterproductive.”

I take another breath and nod.

“I’m going to be watching you closely, but I know you hate people to watch you, so I wanted to warn you.”

How much of me does he actually see?

He senses my unease and looks into my eyes. “You have to trust me. Okay?”

Trust. There’s that word again. I do trust him, but this is still hard. I nod. “But won’t other people watch me?”

“Everyone else is busy with their own workout. They’re not going to pay attention to you.” He grins. “Not unless you start running like Forrest Gump.”

His answer makes me laugh, and I find myself relaxing a bit.

“We’re going to start out walking first, then work our way up to a run. The walk will warm up your muscles.” He starts walking, and I stay beside him, trying to match my strides to his. Someone approaches from behind us, jogging at a brisk pace, and we move to the side, walking a quarter of the track in silence. I’m concentrating on my breathing and my strides, trying to find equilibrium for the two.

He turns toward me. “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

My stomach clenches. “A younger sister.”

“Why are you tensing up?”

“What?” My head jerks toward him.

“Was it the question or what you’re doing?”

I look away. “The question.”

“You don’t like to talk about your family in general or just your sister?”

He’s much too perceptive. “My family.”

“Okay, No talking about family. I get that. I’m not a fan of talking about my family, either.”

Now I wonder even more about his brother Marcel. “That’s okay. We don’t have to talk.”

“Actually, we do. Your being able to carry a conversation is a good indicator of how much you’re pushing yourself.”