Chasing Peace (5 page)

* * *

Luke eventually sat on the arm of my chair and I turned
sideways as we talked. He kept other guys away, serving a purpose. I didn’t
mind talking to him either and that helped pass the time, until interest began
to sprout in his eyes.

“I’m here with someone, you know.” The light in his eyes
dulled a bit, but didn’t completely extinguish.

“He’s not taking very good care of you Sterling, leaving you
to be hit on and picked up by these drunken bozos.”

“What makes you think I need someone to take care of me?” He’s
right and I’m defensive. Boston isn’t proving to be much of a date and I’m
thankful because it’s not supposed to be a date. Now I feel guilty about using
him as an excuse to keep Luke away when I have no plans for anything more.

I’m beginning to think Annie has the right idea. A fake boyfriend
at home would give me just the excuse I need to put off guys who might be
interested.

“Everyone needs someone Sterling. We’re not meant to do this
alone,” he says watching me closely, the flecks in his eyes going from green to
almost blue with the lights dancing in the dim room. “Do you wanna dance?”

I almost said yes. There’s something about eye contact that
draws me to others, so I’ve learned to avoid it as much as possible, hiding
inside my own head.

“There you are.” I look up and startle as I meet Boston’s
eyes. He’s standing behind Luke, looking past him, pinning me to the spot.

Luke turns, craning his neck to look behind and up at
Boston.

“Let’s dance.” His hand reaches past Luke’s shoulder to help
me from the chair.

I don’t move. I want to, but I really shouldn’t. I start to
use my boots as an excuse, “I don’t…” and then I remember.
Oh hell!
I
just told Luke that I’m here with Boston. Now I have to dance with him. Taking
Boston’s hand, I stand just in time to see Annie coming our way.

Her eyes are shiny and her cheeks flushed and she wanders,
not quite charting a straight path toward us, she moves with the telltale
caution of someone trying to hide that they’re drunk. “I’ve been looking for
you.”

“Annie? Are you okay?” I grasp her hand as she sways. Boston
takes hold of her shoulders from behind. She doesn’t seem to notice. A bright
smile flashes white teeth, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

“Fine…. Tired…. Can we go?” She slumps a bit into Boston’s
hands, but he has her. She doesn’t fall.

“Sit here for a minute.” Boston guides Annie into my vacant
chair. “Sterling and I are going to dance. Then we can go.”

“Annie this is my new friend Luke.” I turn to him, “Can you
watch her for a minute?” I know how to handle drunks, and hope Luke knows
better than to antagonize her.

“I’ll keep a close eye on her.” He’s mollified by the
assignment. Annie’s cute too. I’m sure that helps. He sits up straight on the
arm of the chair as if guarding Annie while she slouches, chin nearly resting
on her chest, feet together near Luke’s feet, knees tipped sideways pointing in
the opposite direction as if she’d collapsed in the chair or been dragged limp
to the seat.

I didn’t want to leave her, shuffling my feet as Boston tugs
me near to other couples dancing to the sinuous music.

“She’ll be fine,” he says, sliding his arm under mine.

I can feel the heat of his palm against my shoulder blade,
warmth radiating from fingers spread across my back. Boston holds my hand tight
as if afraid I might bolt. He’s right. I want to run.

Maintaining distance between us, I keep my eyes trained on
his collarbone as we sway. “Where’d you disappear to?”

“There’s a poker game upstairs.”

“Oh.” Conversation is difficult with the lump in my throat.
That and I really don’t know what to say.

“Sterling?”

“Hmm.” The party had quieted some, the rhythmic swaying
almost hypnotizing.

“Why did you invite me along?”

My head snaps up at the question, my eyes locking on his. “I
thought you and Annie might make a good couple.”

“Annie’s nice, but I’m not really interested.”

“Oh.” I can’t say anymore as my breath catches in my throat,
depriving my brain of oxygen. His eyes turn dark and fathomless, smoldering
where they used to be bright. There’s a thrumming within me as if I can feel my
blood hot and liquid coursing through my body, pounding in my ears, entrained
to the movements of our bodies, or maybe the music.

Taken in by his eyes, I don’t notice that we’re swaying
closer and closer. I’m not yet aware of the gentle pressure against my back
drawing me in until my nipples tingle and tighten as they brush against his
chest. I pull back at the jolt to my system, flame scalding me, my pulse now
erratic instead of rhythmic.

“I’ve got you,” Boston breathes, his lips near my ear.

I try to preserve space between us as my brain stops working
on oxygen and logic, instead reverting to the visceral, subsisting on sensation
alone. Our bodies mesh, feet entwine, knees alternate, hips align and his cheek
rests against my temple.

When the song ends, and something with a driving, pulsing beat
takes over, Boston pulls away composed. “Ready to go?” I ask, my voice low and
thready, my eyes sliding sideways now to avoid his.

“Sure. Can you get Annie’s keys?”

“I already got ‘em.” Pulling the keys from my pocket, I give
him an assessing look. “Can you drive?”

“Sure.”

“No I mean have you had anything to drink? Are you okay to
drive?”

“I don’t drink and drive Sterling and I haven’t had anything
to drink.”

“Okay.” I can feel the heat stain my face and I’m thankful
for the darkness that hides my reaction. I toss the keys to Boston as we head
back toward Annie and Luke. It’s a throw made bad by an unexplained weakness in
my limbs, but he manages to snag the keys from the air above and just behind
his left shoulder.

“Thanks Luke.” I turn in his direction smiling, my composure
returning. “By the way, this is Boston.”

Boston offers his hand, nodding to Luke as they clasp
thumbs, no dap or elaborate synchronization, but not a traditional handshake
either. “Can we give you a lift?”

“Naw, man. I can take the shuttle. It stops a couple of
blocks up.”

“Or we can give you a ride if you’re ready now. We have one
more seat.”

“Yeah?” His voice holds a hint of surprise at the offer. “Yeah
… okay.” Nodding toward Annie, Luke asks, “What are we going do about her?”

“I’ll carry her if you can get the doors.”

“Sure,” Luke takes the keys from Boston.

I feel a bit useless standing by watching as Boston pulls
Annie to an almost standing position. She protests feebly but doesn’t object.
Tucking his knee between her legs and ducking his head under her arm, he
crouches slightly positioning her torso across his shoulders before standing
with Annie draped over him like a shawl. He stabilizes one arm and one thigh
with his hands while the opposite arm and leg dangle down his back. His
shoulders support her body and her head lolls just past the breadth of him.

Luke watches, his eyes large and round. “Cool.”

I object. “You can’t carry her like that. Her skirt’s too
short.”

“So I should drag her back to the car?”

“Of course not, but she’ll be embarrassed by this.”

Boston moves toward the door. “She should have thought about
that before she got too drunk to walk.”

* * *

We drop off Luke first and then Annie. She revived enough to
stumble her way to her room with only a little assistance. It started raining
as we left her dorm and made a dash for the car.

I slam the door thinking I’m next and then Boston will drive
off with Annie’s car. “Where will you park the car?” I ask, not wanting to
leave such an expensive car at my place and not really keen on walking home in
the rain, especially now that the busses have stopped running.

Boston flicks his finger at the tag hanging from the mirror.
I read the lot and space number printed on the parking permit.

“Then you’ll walk home from the lot?”

“Better me than you.”

Right now we’re insulated, the sound of rain outside the car
muffled, the ticking of hazard lights warning others we’re stopped, the swish
of wipers clearing the window, but never getting ahead of the rain.

“My apartment is a couple miles away. Maybe it’ll stop
raining by the time we get there.”

“Yeah maybe,” he says, doubt heavy in his voice as he pulls
away from the curb.

I give Boston directions as the wipers swish back and forth.
We’d barely left Annie’s dorm when they begin to pick up speed, adjusting
automatically to the rain. At first they’re hypnotic, but as their speed
increases, so to does my anxiety level, as if I can’t trust myself.

Rain pours from the sky in sheets by the time we pull into
my parking lot. Boston parks in a space saying, “We should wait a couple
minutes. Maybe it’ll let up.”

Now I’m the skeptical one and I don’t want to wait. “Can you
turn off the wipers?” He does and my anxiety level drops, until he turns off
the car and there’s nothing but the drumming of relentless rain. My elbow rests
on the passenger door armrest. I push on my hand, popping my wrist. The sound
would have been explosive in the void where the engine noise used to be but for
the rain pounding on the roof.

“Cold?” He turns on the key, without starting the car and
hits the button for my seat warmer. Heat seeps into me almost immediately. It’s
soothing and scary at the same time like I’m melting, losing my willpower.

“Why not you Sterling?”

I’m massaging my wrist once again, and the question takes me
by surprise. “I thought the two of you would make a good couple. You’re
comfortable in her world,” I respond, not really answering the question.

“What about your world?” he presses.

“I’m not in the market right now.”

“You have a boyfriend?” He rests his wrist on the top of the
steering wheel, his face turned away from me as he looks out the driver’s side
window.

He’s giving me just the excuse I need, the very same excuse
I’d thought about earlier, but I can hear disappointment in his voice and a
sliver of hope that maybe he’s wrong. I can’t lie, so I ignore the premise. “I’m
not in the market right now.”

“You’ve been hurt?”

“I’ve learned that all things being equal I always pick the
wrong man.”

“So you won’t pick me?”

“I’d pick you. That’s the problem.”

“You know Sterling,” he turns toward me, the leather of his
jacket creaking against the leather upholstery. “We’re all broken and still, we
pretend we’re not.”

“You don’t even know me. You can’t imagine,” I snap. Boston’s
presence fills the car, a danger to my equilibrium. He smells of leather and
citrus and something warm, as if warmth is a scent. The car closes in around
me, I have to get out. I can’t stay.

Pushing open the door, I hop out, dashing across the parking
lot to my apartment. I don’t have my keys handy and water pours into my purse
as I rummage.

My building is a two-story. It looks like an old motel, but
without the pool in the parking lot. You’d think a roof or awning above would
block the rain, but the original porch-style roof is gone and the upper walkway
has been rebuilt like a deck. Rain pours off the roof onto the walkway above
before running between the boards and dousing me with of water. Tonight it
comes through the decking above in sheets. I find my keys and unlock the door
just as Boston arrives behind me.

“It’s like taking a shower in a waterfall,” he says,
apparently not at all bothered by the icy water sluicing over his head.

I open the door and Boston pushes in behind me, our bodies
almost touching until he stops to close the door.

The rain has reset my emotions like a glass of water to the
face might wake someone who’s sleeping or startle a screaming woman, enough to
make her stop. “Whew.” I run my sleeve over my face, trying to move the water
from my eyes. I drop my purse, turning to look at Boston. He’s dripping water
all over my floor. I guess I’m dripping too. “I’ll get you a towel.”

Ducking into the alcove between the bath and bedroom, I grab
a towel and toss it in his direction before closing the door to dry myself. In
the privacy of the bath, I wonder what he thinks about my shabby apartment with
the old gold carpeting, cracked vinyl floor and efficiency kitchen that has
seen better days.

I strip off my drenched shirt, the thin material nearly
transparent. “This won’t do,” I whisper to myself, pulling the tee over my head
and quickly toweling my hair. All my clothes are in the living room, but
thankfully I have a robe on the back of the bathroom door. I pull it on before
tying my wet hair back in a messy knot. My jeans are wet and my bra clammy, but
I can’t take off any more while Boston is here.

I stop short the second I step back into the living room.
Boston is toweling his hair dry, the towel hanging over his head and face, but
that’s not what stops me. His jacket and shirt are gone. My eyes cascade down
his body, much like the rain that went before. I found his belt undone and the
top button on his jeans unbuttoned.

My head spins as I drink him in, his chest sculpted, abs
mushrooming across his belly. With his jeans slouched low on his hips, I can’t
help but trace that vee of muscle that disappears below his open belt.

As my eyes roam back up toward his face, they catch on
something on his bicep. It’s a raven, wings flaring, talons grabbing hold and I’ve
seen it before. I find myself fighting through the dizziness, fending off a
shiver. This is not supposed to happen. I had a plan to focus on school and
avoid guys, remain self contained. Then the first thing I do is make a friend
and meet a guy who’s attractive and fascinating and hard to resist.

I don’t make a sound until Boston lowers the towel, his eyes
finding mine like a ship seeking a beacon of light.

“Would you put on a shirt,” I squawk, in a voice not my own.

“It’s too wet.”

My clammy bra warms in the span of one breath. I’m trapped
by uncertainty as his gaze clings to mine, reaching inside me and looking for
answers. I’m ready to give up on my convictions, ready to take a chance, yet
not nearly ready enough. “You can’t be here. You have to leave.” My words come
in a whisper.

I’m not even sure Boston hears me. He looks away, seemingly
lost for a moment until his eyes find his jacket on the back of my desk chair.
Pulling it loose by the collar, he slips it over his hands, arms, shoulders.
The raven disappears and he’s mostly covered. The hint of his chest and belly
are even more mysterious in the shadows behind the jacket. His belt hangs loose
and is nearly hidden, obvious only if I look.

He must have seen the struggle in my gaze. “It’s okay
Sterling. I’m leaving now,” but he steps in my direction instead, his eyes
connecting to me with amazing tensile strength that I don’t bother to test.

I don’t cower. I’m afraid of myself, of the choices I might
make. I’m not afraid of Boston, although right now my greatest wish is that he
scared me silly. Life would be so much easier then.

He stops in front of me, his hand resting lightly at my jaw,
thumb stroking my cheek and fingers lingering just below my ear. I’m a
jellyfish under his touch, drifting and pulsing and beautiful, lit up by some
mysterious internal light.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says, pulling his hand away.

“Wh.… What?” I slam back to reality, the cold and sucking
dampness of jeans that I couldn’t bear to remove, the tattered grimness of my
apartment and the warmth coming from Boston, from his eyes, his skin, the
feather of breath that ruffles my hair.

“I’ll see you at work tomorrow”

Oh ... yeah ... right, tomorrow’s Friday. My thoughts are
scattered, but I manage to squeak out a response. “Yeah. Tomorrow.” He’s too
close. I can feel his body, steamy from the rain, scorching me and lighting a
fire within me that threatens to burst through my skin at any moment. I want to
reach out and touch him, feel his skin, taste him.

“Bye Sterling.”

He’s gone, slipping out the door without a sound.

I grab an oversized tee from the dresser next to my desk. I’d
moved my belongings to the living room, sleeping here now and avoiding the
bedroom at all costs. I pull off my still damp jeans and bra, leaving both on the
floor for a moment while I yank the dry tee over my head. Thinking to hang the
wet clothing over the back of my desk chair to dry, I find Boston’s shirt still
hanging there. I leave it, but not before rubbing the soft fabric between my
fingers. I toss my jeans over the shower door, hang my robe along with my bra
on the hook behind the bathroom door and head to bed.

Pulling my duvet up to my chin, I realize there’s no way I
can set up Boston and Annie now.