Awake (10 page)

-18-

Just before noon, I slip out of bed. I have already missed two classes, but they are my first misses all semester. I might hit my three o’clock because we are reviewing a genetic sequencing component that will be one-third of the final.

I scramble up some eggs. I wish I had some chorizo to chop into the eggs, but I make do with veggie sausage. Wade will have worked up quite an appetite after hours of breathtaking gymnastics in bed.

The English muffins pop-up in the toaster and as I fish them out Wade wanders into the kitchen looking delicious in his boxer briefs. He gives me a sleepy kiss firmly on my lips. His hand supports my lower back as we embrace.

A morning kiss like that is almost better than sex to most women. It means he wants to be here, but nothing is better than sex with Wade. My body is still recovering from the endless fireworks of his intense affections. I may never recover.

I pinch his ass. “Sit down,” I tell him. “I’ll feed you.”

“Cool,” he says groggily and drags his feet over and plops down on the loveseat.

He rests his head back on the cushions and stretches his arms out yawning like a kitten, only this kitten has like six kinds of hot muscles in his upper arms. I shake my head as I load up his plate. He’s too hot for this world.

I sit down next to him. I’m wearing his tee shirt which fits me like a small dress. Oops. No panties. I truly hope he doesn’t reach down to discover that fact. I worked hard to make this food for him so I hope he keeps his hands to himself long enough to eat something. As I am ever ready for him, one touch of his fingers and I would throw this plate of food to the side and ravish him yet again.

He eats. His jaw is so fucking hot when he chews. I have to bite my lip to keep from moaning. I can barely resist his sexy jaw, his wide shoulders and his big hand resting on my skinny thigh.

“I think Alodia is right,” I say trying to cool my engines somehow.

“About?”

“It might be better if we stay on the down low for a while.”

Wade swallows a mouthful of eggs. “If that’s what you want.”

“We have to be reasonable. Two days ago Tori was on your arm and you were engaged. Have you given any of this some thought?”

“Honestly?” he says. “No. I haven’t. I’ve been thinking about you for days.”

“You need to do that,” I tell him.

“It’s on my list,” he says with his sexy grin.

“What else is on your list?” I say. “What are your plans today? This week? I thought your restaurant opening takes up all your time?”

“There are some contracts to sign today,” he remembers. “Not sure that’s happening now.”

“You don’t know that. These are business men. Reed is your friend.”

“I didn’t get engaged to Tori in order to have a restaurant,” he says. “It was all their idea. I tried to talk them out of it. I don’t want any handouts. That’s not what I’m about.”

“Why did you get engaged?” I ask nervously. “You were with Tori for two years and then you asked her to marry you. Why did that happen and now we are happening?”

He hangs his head and lets out a long breath. It’s as if I’m making him think about this for the first time. “You did not exist a few weeks ago,” he says. “Marriage was just the next step for us. I made a mistake.”

“That’s obvious.” I take the plate back to the kitchen. He follows me.

“It has nothing to do with us,” he says grabbing my hand from behind. “I have never felt anything like this.”

“Really? It has never crossed your mind that I was the very first girl you came across the night after you proposed to her on the beach?”

“How do you know about that?”

I laugh. “Because I heard all about it over Sunday brunch that weekend. The whole message in the bottle thing. A little cheesy but that girl believed you loved her. She won’t just let you go now.”

“What do we care?” he says.

“That’s heartless of you to say for one.” I pull his hand out of mine. “Never mind the effect on your future and my father’s relationship with his partner, but what about Tori? We don’t need to throw this in her face.”

“I know all that, Erin. I don’t disagree and of course I feel for Tori, but you and I belong together. Can you deny that?”

“I don’t know what I know anymore,” I say defeated. “If you knew Tori like I know Tori, maybe you would be a bit more concerned.”

“What do you mean?”

“Forget it,” I say tired of all the complications. “If you want to see me it has to be discreet at least until I graduate in two weeks. Does that work for you?”

“It works,” he says and pulls me back into his arms. “My world is spinning right now. Can you be patient with me?”

“I can,” I whisper to his neck and then rise up on my tiptoes to kiss his sweet lips. “Just go fight for your dream. Sign those contracts.”

“I’ll talk to them. That’s all I can promise.”

* * *

Kat is left speechless. I had considered keeping it from even her, but I need someone I trust to give me their honest take. So far she just bends her face juggling a hundred different reactions in her head trying to find the perfect words.

“I’m not evil, am I?” I finally offer to break the silence.

“Evil? No,” she says. She leans back in her chair and rubs her neck.

“Come on, Kat, say something,” I say.

“I’m just worried about you, honey,” she says.

“What would you have done?” I ask guiltily.

“I can’t answer that,” Kat says. “I don’t think I have ever felt that way about anyone. It’s just so damn wonderful except the parts where you destroy each other’s lives semi-permanently.”

We’re sitting on a bench outside Powell Library at dusk. The sidewalk lamp posts have just started clicking on. I told Wade we need to take a night to ourselves. “Is it really so doomed?”

“It’s not doomed, but it seems delicate,” Kat says. “I just want you to be smart and choose your steps wisely.”

“How about you choose my steps for me?” I say. “Isn’t that what you usually do? You’re supposed to be my own personal psycho protective Momma Bird.”

She smiles in a concerned way. “Not this time,” she says. “I can advise on dating, but real love, the stakes are too high. I would not want to give you bad advice and affect the result.”

“So just the grandmotherly bullshit?
Be careful, choose wisely, hope it all turns out in the end
.”

“Sounds like Grandmothers know their stuff,” Kat jokes.

“Officially, he’s single,” I say to make myself feel better. “We’ll keep it completely hidden as long as we can. Maybe eventually he’ll tire of me and find another girl helpless to his charms. Then none of this will matter anymore.”

“You’re hardly a helpless girl,” Kat corrects me. “And something tells me this thing with Wade will always matter to you.”

“I did not intend for this to happen,” I say to myself but I guess I need someone to hear. “He just came across me helpless that day after Kip’s party and lent his hand when I was in distress. Then a week later he shows up at Yoga out of the blue and they insist I volunteer at the shelter. I knew it was dangerous. I knew he was Tori’s. I tried to avoid him.”

“It’s Kismet,” Kat offers.

“Kismet?” I ask. “That’s like destiny, right?”

“Right. It’s already happened. You’re just seeing it now.”

“I didn’t know you were so mystical.”

“Kip and his family are all into philosophical mumbo jumbo,” she says with a smile.

“Kip, huh? Enough about me, how’s it going with Kip?”

“He’s hardly worth your interest. We have fun, but I am not expecting anything more than that,” Kat says. “Kip needs constant validation and one girl will never be able to give him that for too long.”

“Not expecting anything sounds liberating to me right now,” I confess. “I can’t stop thinking about him.”

“Love will find a way,” she says.

“Now you’ve stooped to fortune cookie advice,” I smile.

“That’s all I got,” she says. “And I love Chinese food.”

“I almost didn’t tell you any of this,” I say.

“I’m not buying that. You had to brag a little. I know you better than you know yourself.”

“I wasn’t bragging. I feel like a total home wrecker.”

“There was no home to wreck, Erin. And to every girl who does not have a true love, the girl who does have it is totally bragging.”

* * *

Monday night I study in my flannel pajamas. When Wade calls I hesitate to answer. I concentrate my energies so I can stay steadfast in my need to study and our shared need to catch our breath.

“Hey there,” I answer.

“Hi, cutie,” he says. “Want company?”

“Wade,” I say with a judgmental tone. “We agreed on tomorrow.”

“I know,” he admits. “Thought I’d take a shot anyway.”

“Let’s cut this short or I will get weak fast.”

“As you wish,” he says. “Good luck studying.”

“Thanks,” I say in my sweetest, girlish voice. “I’m really excited about tomorrow.”

“Me too,” he says. “Goodnight, Erin.”

“Goodnight,” I whisper and click off my phone.

My body had already begun reacting to his voice. We hung up just in time, I think, for me to stick to the plan. It takes me ten minutes to get back into my biochem work. It’s not easy moving from thoughts of Wade’s triceps and biceps and rectus abdominis (that’s his six-pack) to thoughts of Allosteric Control of Signaling Enzyme Function.

When my phone rings it makes me smile. I answer it with my heartbeat accelerating because if he asks to come over again, I’m not going to refuse him a second time.

“You’re relentless,” I answer playfully.

My words are met with silence. “Erin?” her voice finally says.

I recognize her voice immediately. Tori.

“Yes,” I say acting unsure.

“It’s Tori.”

“Tori!” I say with heightened enthusiasm. “How are you?”

“I’ve been better,” she says. “Have you heard about Wade?”

I have to clear my throat and lick my lips to make sure I speak clearly. “My father said something about it.”

“My mother suggested I call you to talk about it,” she says.

“Oh,” I say, “she did?”

“She thought you might know how to get a man’s attention,” she says sadly.

I fight the urge to call Tori and her Mom arrogant bitches after that incredibly hurtful assumption. “Tori, you’ve had his attention for two years and you get every man’s attention just fine.”

“Then why did he ask for time?” she says whimpering.

She must be incredibly sleep deprived, I think, to the point of losing her mind if she’s both calling me and crying on the phone. As for me, I’m a little put off by the fact Wade just asked for time rather than making a clean break with her.

What time does he need? To fuck me until he’s sick of me and then he can roll right back to his whiny, big-breasted meal ticket?

“These things happen,” I say. “Boys get cold feet.”

“I don’t understand. It was always him pursuing me. He cried once when I wanted to leave him. He orchestrated this whole romantic proposal on the beach. He made love to me three times on the sand and talked about our future together.”

“Yeah,” I say when she takes a breath.

“And then, all of the sudden, he turns odd and puts it all on hold.”

“On hold?” I say feeling a little angry, used and extremely slutty.

“Yeah,” she answers. “Is there anything you could suggest that might sweep him off his cold feet, so to speak?”

Right now, I’d like to put a grenade in his shorts, but I don’t think that’s what Tori’s looking for. “You just need to give him time. He’s a man. He’ll start feeling guilty eventually and come crawling back.”

“You think?” Tori says. Her hopeful tone makes me feel evil.

“Love always finds a way,” I say stealing some of Kat’s lame advice.

-19-

I wake up on the wrong side of the bed. Tori’s voice and words from last night haunt me as I eat my light breakfast and then floss and brush my teeth. Wade told her their relationship was on hold. I’m mad at myself for falling into bed with him so easily and suddenly after his broken engagement.

Things got primal and intense between us. I trusted my instincts. Not wise. Not a good girl at all. Of course, he needs time. That’s exactly what he told Tori. Any girl with a remote clue or a shred of virtue would have realized that. Not me. I’m so fucking foolish sometimes.

The dreamer in me wanted to believe it was beautiful and unique. I let go when I should have trusted my brain instead of my heart and bodily desires. I don’t even try to find an excuse.

I’ve always been impulsive but I have never knowingly got down and dirty with another girl’s man. He initiated things in the shower that first time, but I could have sent him away. It was possible. To be honest, though, not many women would ever send Wade away naked. His beauty and singular attributes are beyond tantalizing.

The next time he showed up he had broken up with his fiancé only hours before and he had come to me for one reason, to make love. He was a desperate man by any measure and yet, what do I do? I welcome him with open arms, or more accurately, open legs. It never crossed my mind that he was not whole, that he had ended (oh, excuse me, put on hold!) a two-year relationship, a fucking engagement no less.

I shake my head and try to rid my scholarly mind of Wade thoughts, but it’s nearly impossible as I get through my first class and then make it to the botanical gardens to study for exams outdoors.

I’m feeling claustrophobic today. I want fresh air on my skin. I want to be rural today, not urban. I want the wind in my hair to carry with it the scent of wild flowers. I want a restart button.

Walking through campus everything feels distant. This city is full of eight million strangers surrounding me. The penetrating loneliness of Los Angeles lives in every resident deep in their bones.

I am not alone in being alone here.

Wade spins through my world roughly and I am glass. I carefully built myself back up from the worst shattering a young girl can ever experience. Little by little I learned to breathe again. Little by little I learned to smile and sleep.

Children survive more than recover from the loss of their mother. With every heartbeat I remember her love. It haunts as often as it soothes. I never wanted to risk another haunting. My father is the same way. This is why we are afraid even to love each other.

Maybe if damaged souls fall in love quick enough they don’t have time to be afraid. It might be the only way to avoid the fears that would prevent us from even trying.

When Wade touched me I stopped being afraid. For the first time in a long time I was whole and I could experience life hopefully.

The way we crashed into each other was far from perfect, but every kiss since then has been. For better or worse, I want him. He’s mine.

* * *

I make him wait. I get through my final week of classes before exam week without him. Wade needs sleep. He needs perspective. He needs to get beyond our physical connection and make sure this is not all a huge, lustful mistake.

Friday afternoon I let him in my door. His eyes possess both a hunger I am familiar with and an uncertainty I am not. We do not kiss. We hug in a gentle, controlled manner. It is not night. It is not raining.

Maybe we have returned to the world of the rational.

“If you don’t love me tell me now,” he says.

“Are you serious?” I say.

He walks away from me before I can touch him.

“Can I have you for the weekend?” he says without looking at me.

“I planned to go to Alodia’s tonight and I have exams next week.’

He turns around and approaches me. He pushes my hair behind my right ear. He studies my hair and face but not my eyes. “Bring your books and let’s just go.”

“Go?” I ask. “Go where?” I grab and hold his hand.

“Anywhere. Vegas.”

“Vegas, Wade?” I laugh. “You want me to go to Las Vegas the weekend before my exams?”

“I want to leave right now,” he says as his eyes lift finally to meet mine.

The icy explosion of heat when our eyes connect staggers me after four days without him. “Will it cheer you up, little puppy?” I whisper to him as I rise onto my toes to kiss his upper lip with my two lips.

“Don’t be cruel anymore,” he says enveloping me in his arms. He kisses me with such passion I relax all of my muscle control trusting that he will never let go.

“Such a silly puppy,” I say. My head nestles against his chest so he can kiss the top of my head and I can hear his fierce heartbeat.

In twenty minutes we are driving away from the Ashton. I text Alodia that I will not make it to girls night. Part of me regrets not being able to tell her everything and ask her advice. Her wisdom might be able to divine a path through this fateful romance for everyone involved.

“We’re leaving it all behind,” Wade says just as a light turns green and we begin to move. “That’s the one condition of this trip.”

I like the idea so much I don’t respond. This trip will be just like the dreams I have been having. To be alone with Wade in blissful isolation in a world without others. That might make a good weekend but not so much a good life.

“When in Vegas,” I add as my way of agreeing.

He glances at me as we wind around a freeway on-ramp. “That’s not what this trip is about,” he clarifies. “We’re not trying to get away with anything.”

“I know, big guy. Just teasing you because it’s fun.”

He finally relaxes and turns up the radio a little. I hadn’t noticed before but it’s country music he’s playing and he likes it.

“Is this your jam?” I ask quizzically.

He detects a tone in my voice. “It’s a good song,” he says. “These guys are cool.”

“They’re cool? Really?” I say.

“The Zac Brown Band,” he informs me.

“Sounds a bit like a hillbilly James Taylor,” I offer trying to sound encouraging.

“My god,” he says. “I just realized you’re a snob.”

“And I just realized I know nothing about you.”

He shakes his head switching lanes in traffic. “You rich girls think you are so enlightened but you’re all so imprisoned always trying to satisfy the taste police.”

“Huh,” I say. “Don’t talk about the taste police, because if they pulled us over right now this car would be impounded again.”

Wade laughs his sexy laugh which causes a tickle in my belly.

“If you actually listened and felt the story of the song, maybe your mind might open a little bit,” he says.

“You condescending prick,” I say and punch his shoulder.

“Don’t make me laugh,” he grins. “Even an angry butterfly can’t hurt anyone.”

This would be a bad time to admit the song is growing on me. Something about cold weather keeping lovers apart presumably because planes are grounded. Reminds me of the snows of my childhood. I’m giving this song a pass. It’s tolerable.

“Fine,” I say, “but don’t tell me you plan to imprison me for four hours in this car listening to country music.”

“It’s literally one song, Erin. Don’t worry. I’ll mix it up.”

“Does mixing it up mean country, classic rock and newer rock?”

He looks busted to me. “I listen to everything,” he answers. “I’m not trying to impress anyone.”

“You’re not?” I fight a smile but I can feel it escaping all over my face. “That’s a good thing.”

“You’re a total snob,” he says. “I could tell you exactly what you listen to. Exactly. You think you have such unique tastes.”

This is fun. Verbal combat and playful tension. Everything about this man makes me want him, except his music. “You’ll embarrass yourself,” I tell him. “My tastes are so random.”

“Random, huh? Give me a second,” he says and then stares first at my face and then my clothes. “I will say these in order of certainty.”

“Bring it on,” I command.

“Ah, I would bet my mother’s life you have everything by the Killers,” he begins. “And let’s see, Arcade Fire for sure and Radiohead I bet when you want to feel like an old soul.”

“Is that all you got? Those are three pretty famous bands.”

“You want more obscure?” he challenges. “You like old eighties new wave stuff. I don’t know the names but you do. You like Daft Punk, Bob Dylan and early U2.”

He notices my sudden discomfort. “Everyone should like those things,” I say dismissively.

“Oh yeah, and you have two jazz albums, probably Coltrane because it sounds cool to own,” he says almost taunting me.

“This is boring,” I say hoping he will stop marginalizing my apparently obvious tastes in music.

“How’d I do?” he asks eagerly.

“Totally off,” I lie.

“Really?” he says.

“Yeah, I have three jazz albums, you prick,” I say glaring at him before I reach out to take his hand. We sit quietly now listening to another syrupy, but not altogether bad country song.

* * *

Wade books a small suite at Paris Las Vegas on his cell while we are in extreme slowdown traffic on Interstate 15 near the border town of Primm which is really just two casinos and a small mall.

We cross slowly into Nevada and I think of Alodia’s friend Simone who was born in the real city of Paris. Her mother, like my mother, was truly displaced. A new country, a new language, the loss of everything familiar. That’s a profound jolt to a person’s sense of identity.

My escape fantasies into the midwest of my past are melodramatic martyrdom at best. I don’t want to go back there. I just dream of the different life I might have had if I had never left. Of course my dreams are idealized and therefore pointless as a reference to my life now.

“Want to stop here and hit one of these cheap buffets? We could wait out the traffic,” I suggest.

He squeezes my thigh tenderly. “We’re good. The traffic will thin out and we’ll be on the strip in twenty-five minutes.”

I put my hand on his hand. His warmth has a soothing effect.

“And besides, as a cook, I really enjoy the Paris menu.”

“I love that you call yourself a cook rather than a chef.”

“And I love the way the French prepare pepper-crusted Filet Mignon,” he says ignoring my compliment.

When we reach the hotel I hang back in the lobby and let Wade check us in on his own. Although unlikely, it’s still possible we could be spotted together. On any given Friday night, I am sure there are dozens of people who know one of us in Las Vegas. The odds are long to run into one of them, but not so long that we should stay glued together in crowded places.

We ride the elevator to the twenty-seventh floor. After the sixteenth floor we are alone. Wade kisses me until we come to a stop and the door dings open.

The red room suite is charmingly lush and we have a romantic view of the beautifully lit Eiffel Tower replica.

“Let’s get room service and stay in the room tonight,” I offer as I slide my hand up the back of his shirt and caress his strong back. “My treat. Let’s over order and be decadent.”

“If you insist,” he says as he takes his shirt off. “I’ll order for you if you don’t mind.” He picks up the phone and hits the button for room service. “Why don’t you get in the shower and I’ll meet you there?”

His last line sends an electric pulse down my spine. He turns around and sits in a chair next to the phone. I want to take a big, delicious bite out of his broad shoulders.

Instead I lift my shirt off over my head. I keep my black, fishnet bra on until I turn around and unsnap it. I can feel his eyes watching my back slowly becoming naked as I disappear into the wash room.