Back to You (15 page)

And before this night, all those memories had belonged to Michael.

M
iserable did not even come close to describing how Lauren was feeling. She laid in her bed, her comforter and an extra quilt tucked up around her chin and a tissue crammed in each nostril. A sudden flash of heat overcame her, and she sat up and kicked off her covers with an angry huff, which quickly turned into a violent coughing fit.

“God,” she groaned, her voice gravelly as she scooped her matted hair into a makeshift ponytail just to get it off her neck.

“Damn, Red. You look like shit.”

Lauren’s eyes flashed to her bedroom doorway; through her coughing, she hadn’t even heard anyone come up the stairs.

“Gee thanks,” she said, pulling the tissues out of her nose as discreetly as she could. She was lucid enough to realize she should have been humiliated at being seen in this condition, especially by Michael, but truth be told, she was too sick to even pretend to care. “Why are you here?” she croaked. “You should be at the dance.”

“I already told you, I don’t do school dances,” he said, taking off his jacket and throwing it haphazardly over the papasan chair in the corner of her room. “Besides, I can’t go. Anyone who’s been suspended out of school more than three times this year isn’t allowed.”

Lauren used a crumpled tissue to wipe her nose. “So is that why you behave the way you do? So you won’t have to attend school functions?”

Michael smiled. “Yeah, you got me. Every move I make comes down to avoiding some cheesy-ass school dance.”

Lauren shook her head. “Idiot,” she laughed under her breath as she tossed the crumpled tissue into the trash bin near her bed.

“You sound like a phone sex operator with your voice like that.”

“God, shut up,” Lauren groaned, covering her face with her hands and dropping back onto her pillows.

“I’m serious,” Michael said, leaning against her dresser and folding his arms. “You should try to make a couple of extra bucks for yourself while it lasts. Might as well, since you’re stuck here in bed anyway. If you’ll give me a cut, I’ll give you the numbers of some guys that would stay on the phone for
hours
. We’ll bleed them dry.”

“Please just shut up,” she said through her hands.

“Mmm. Just like that, baby. Keep talking,” Michael said throatily, and Lauren pressed her lips together, fighting a laugh but failing.

“Honey?”

Lauren dropped her hands from her face and turned toward her bedroom doorway. “Hi Dad.”

“You doing okay?” he asked, sending a quick glance in Michael’s direction.

“I’m hanging in there,” she said as she sat up.

Her father nodded, lingering in the doorway for a second. “Do you need more tissues?”

“No, I’m good, Dad, thanks.”

He nodded again, looking around the room, his eyes landing on Michael one last time before he turned. When they finally heard the muffled sounds of him trudging down the stairs, Michael turned to look at her. His eyes dropped to the bed, taking in the three boxes of tissues that surrounded Lauren.

“More tissues?” Michael deadpanned, lifting his eyes to Lauren’s face.

Lauren shrugged, fluffing her pillow up against the headboard before she leaned back against it. “That was just him making sure the door was open.”

“Well shit, the man should give me a little credit, don’t you think? You’re a walking science experiment right now. As if I’d actually touch you.”

Lauren grabbed the pillow next to her and threw it half-heartedly at him, missing by several feet. “Did you come here to make me more miserable than I already am?”

Michael laughed, walking toward his jacket on the other side of the room. “Relax. It’s just the flu. You’ll feel better soon.”

“It’s not just that,” Lauren mumbled through a pout as she grabbed a fresh tissue from one of the boxes.

Michael stopped, giving her an amused look. “Oh come on. Did you really want to go to some winter formal?”

Lauren glanced up at him before blowing her nose. The truth was, she did.

But all her visions were of being at the formal with
him
.

And if he wasn’t going, she really didn’t care about going either way. But there was no way she was giving that away.”

“Not really, I guess,” she said with a pathetic shrug.

“Good,” he said, continuing toward his jacket, and he half-lifted it off the chair, digging in one of the pockets. “I got you something,” he said, turning and tossing a plastic bag on the bed.

Lauren leaned over to grab the bag from the foot of the bed. As soon as she pulled out what was inside, she gasped, holding it to her chest.

It was a DVD of the movie
Dirty Dancing.

“Oh my God, you remembered!” she squealed, although it came out more like a grating rasp. Jenn had borrowed her copy of the movie last summer and lost it, and Lauren had complained about it to Michael one day when she’d been in the mood to watch it.

“I only remembered because I didn’t understand how someone so smart could love something so stupid.”

She dropped her hands to the bed, still clasping the DVD, her expression defensive. “Have you ever even seen it?”

“I don’t need to see it to know that it’s crap.”

“Yes, you do. It’s a classic. It’s practically a rite of passage!” Lauren expounded, and he smirked, shaking his head. “Here, put it in,” she added, holding the DVD out to him.

“No way.”

“Come on,” she said, thrusting the movie at him again.

“You’ve lost your goddamn mind if you think I’m watching that.”

Lauren dropped her hand to the bed, tilting her head at him. “Please?” she said softly, and for a brief second, something that resembled sympathy flickered behind the contempt in his expression. “It will make me feel better. Just stay and watch it with me for a little while. You don’t have to watch the whole thing.”

Michael stared at her for a second. “Did you practice that whole pathetic thing in the mirror before I got here?”

The corners of Lauren’s mouth twitched, and he exhaled heavily. “Fine,” he said, pushing off the dresser and extending his hand.

Lauren handed it to him, not allowing herself to fully gloat until his back was to her and he was putting the movie into the machine.

He hit play and walked back to the foot of the bed, sitting down and folding his arms.

The lyrics to “Be My Baby” filled the room as the opening credits played in front of black and white slow-motion clips of Kellerman’s dance instructors dirty dancing in the clubhouse.

“Well shit,” Michael said after a minute. He turned toward her, quirking his brow. “Whatcha got me watching here, Red?”

Lauren shook her head as he added, “You know, if our school dances looked like
this
, I might go.”

She was attempting to ignore him, her eyes pinned on the screen over his shoulder, but as soon as he realized she wasn’t going to give him a reaction, he got up.

Against her will, Lauren’s eyes drifted from the television to where Michael now stood, both hands clasped behind his head as he gyrated his hips, biting his lower lip.

Lauren pressed her lips together, trying her hardest not to react, but then he bent his knees, dropping a bit lower as his gyrations grew more pronounced, and one of the hands that was behind his head dropped to spank the air in front of him.

“Lauren?”

She nearly jumped out of her skin at the same time that Michael straightened abruptly, his arms dropping to his sides as he whipped around to face her door.

Her father stood in the doorway, his arms folded. “Do you want some tea?”

Lauren knew the question was directed at her, even though her father’s eyes were pinned on Michael.

“No, I’m okay Dad. If I need anything, I’ll call down, okay?”

He looked at his daughter and nodded with a smile, turning to shoot daggers at Michael before he pushed the door open a little farther and walked back down the hall.

As soon as she heard his footsteps on the stairs, Lauren burst out laughing, falling back onto her pillows. But within seconds, her laughter transformed into a nasty, hacking cough.

When she was finally able to catch her breath, she glanced up to see Michael standing next to her bed, holding out the glass of water from her nightstand.

“I don’t even feel sorry for you right now,” he mumbled, and Lauren laughed again, sitting up and taking the water.

“Oh come on,” she said, taking a small sip. “That was hilarious.”

“How many more times is he gonna come up here?” Michael asked, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Now I remember why we always hang out at my house. Who cares if my mom is always drunk? At least she leaves us alone.”

“Stop,” Lauren said, leaning over to smack his shoulder. “You know that was hilarious.

“I know your parents hate me.”

Her smile dropped. “No they don’t.”

Michael looked at her, clearly unconvinced, and she added, “My dad just gets nervous with me spending so much time with a boy.”

“You mean spending so much time with
this
boy. It’s okay. I get it.”

Lauren sighed, leaning over to place the glass of water back on her nightstand.

“Cheer up, Red. At least your mom does her best to tolerate me.”

She exhaled heavily. “My mom just kind of agrees with whatever my dad says, even if she secretly disagrees.”

Michael looked down, nodding silently.

“My little brother loves you,” Lauren offered.

“Yeah, well,” he glanced up at her with a crooked smile. “He’s too young to realize I’m an asshole.”

“Stop it,” Lauren said, her voice no longer playful. “You’re not an asshole.”

“Yes I am,” he said dismissively. “Are we gonna watch this movie, or not?”

Lauren looked at him for a second, knowing it would be a waste of time to try and argue with him. She sighed again, scooting over on the bed, and Michael slid a bit farther on, sitting back against the headboard.

They watched in silence for a few minutes, and every so often, Lauren would steal a glance at him. His eyes were on the screen, but his expression was blank. She had no way of knowing if he was actually watching or if he was lost in his own thoughts, until he finally said, “This d-bag waiter. The college kid. What’s his name?”

“Robbie.”

“Yeah, Robbie. Is Patrick Swayze gonna kick his ass at some point?”

Lauren smiled, her eyes going back to the TV. “Yes.”

“Thank God,” he said, looking back at the screen. “Soon?”

Lauren laughed. “Just watch.”

As he shifted on the bed, facing the screen again, Lauren glanced at him and smiled. “Why can’t you show everyone this side of you?”

He didn’t look at her, but she saw his brow pull together. “What side?”

Lauren licked her lips and looked down. She didn’t know how to answer that. She didn’t even know why she said it in the first place.

“I don’t know,” she finally said. “The side that clearly has a crush on Patrick Swayze?”

Without even looking in her direction, Michael shot his hand out and shoved her to the other side of the bed. He didn’t even need the element of surprise; she was so pathetically weak that she would have gone flying anyway, and she grabbed at air, nearly falling off the other side.

Michael leaned over at the last second, gripping the back of her shirt and yanking her back onto the bed.

Completely disoriented, she flew back toward him and collided into his side, her head landing on his chest and her hand splayed across his stomach to stop her fall. She froze there for a second, getting her bearings, and just as she was about to push away from him, she felt his arm come around her, holding her against his side.

Her breathing momentarily stopped, and when he pulled her a bit closer, her body began to relax against him without her mind’s permission.

His eyes were still on the television; she knew that from the way his chin rested on the top of her head. His body seemed totally at ease, totally content.

She turned her eyes to the television, trying to refocus on the movie, but she was not digesting a single word. She was too focused on the heat of him, which she could distinctly feel through his thin T-shirt, and the gentle thud of his heartbeat under her cheek. The smell of his soap or his detergent filled her nose, making her lightheaded in a way that had nothing to do with the flu.

“You’re gonna get sick,” Lauren said softly.

“It’s cool,” he said, his eyes still on the screen as he began absently twirling the end of her ponytail. “It would be nice to miss school for something other than a suspension.”

Lauren smiled then, the last of the tension leaving her body as she fully rested against his chest with a sigh.

“You know what the best part of this is?” he asked.

“Hmm?”

“Your dad’s gonna shit a kitten if he comes up here.”

Lauren laughed, and she felt him tighten his arm around her for a second, hugging her into his side.

“See?” he said. “Isn’t this better than being at some stupid school dance?” And Lauren nodded silently against his chest.

It was definitely better.

Because she was with him.

M
ichael closed his daughter’s door softly as he left her room, careful not to wake her. She was so exhausted that she’d fallen asleep halfway through her bedtime story, something she hadn’t done since she was a baby.

He smiled sadly at the thought. He could remember those days with perfect clarity, as if it were just last night he was putting a cooing, writhing bundle down to sleep instead of a beautiful, intelligent little girl.

It was going too fast. He had the horrifying image of her declining a bedtime story one day, followed by one of her not being home at all for bedtime, spending the evening out with her friends, or worse, some boy.

He sat down with a sigh at the kitchen table, reaching toward the cell phone he’d left there earlier and spinning it absently on the smooth wood. As it slowed, he flattened his hand over it, stopping it completely before dragging it back toward himself.

Michael stared down at the phone, contemplating what he suddenly had the urge to do. He hadn’t felt the need or the desire to call her for years, and he was pretty sure it was the image of Erin as a teenager that brought on the urge now; he didn’t know what he’d do with a teenage girl, but he knew it would be so important for her to have a female figure in her life. Someone she could talk to.