Fix It for Us (18 page)

             
Evan chuckles at me as he opens the door wider and gestures me in.  “B, you are fine, but if it would make you feel better, I don’t have breakfast finished, so go take a shower and then we can eat and talk.”

             
“I’ll just have to get into my gross stuff again.” I say, putting off the idea.

             
“Borrow some of my shorts and a t-shirt.  Just grab anything.  Bedroom and bathroom are right through there.”  He points through an archway into what I can see is his bedroom.

             
A shower sounds like a great idea.  I am seriously hot, sticky and smelly.  I search around Evan’s room and find a black t-shirt and a pair of shorts.  He doesn’t really have many clothes to choose from.  I take them into the bathroom with me.  I lock the door and check that it’s secure – twice.   I take off my clothes and pile them on the floor.  I’ll ask Evan for a bag to put them in to take home.  The shower feels delicious.  It is such a good feeling to get clean after being such a mess.  I’m naturally nosy, so I check out Evan’s toiletries in the shower.  He has very expensive shampoo, conditioner and body wash.  I wash myself thoroughly and rinse off smelling like amber and sandalwood.  Manly.  I’m drying myself with a fluffy dark gray towel, thinking about how wonderfully soft it is, when I hear loud voices through the bathroom door.  I recognize Evan’s voice, but it takes me a moment before it registers that the louder voice is Davis’.  Davis?  What is he doing here?  I finish drying myself, grab the t-shirt and shorts, rake them onto my body and wrap my hair with the towel.  After scooping up my dirty running clothes, I hold them in a ball against my chest and open the bathroom door with my other hand.  Davis’ voice is louder.

             
“Where is she?  Where is Biz?”  He sounds really angry.

             
“She’s fine, Davis… It is Davis, right?  Hey, B, Davis is here!”  Evan yells to me matter of factly.

             
I move through the arch just in time to see Davis lock eyes with Evan and then shove his shoulder and say even louder, “B?  You call her B?  YES, IT
IS
DAVIS.  HER FIANCÉ.  DAVIS.  NOW, WHERE THE FU—“

             
“Fuck is she?”  I say evenly, but loud enough to be heard, since it looks like a fight is about to begin.   Davis and Evan disengage.  Both of their heads turn to find me in the archway and they slowly stand down.  “Right here,” I add.  There is a long, incredibly painful pause as Davis and I regard each other.  It is impossible to correctly describe the emotions flying through me right now.  He’s here!  Davis is here!  He’s okay.  He looks… terrible.  His hair has gotten longer and it’s disheveled, like he’s been running his hands through it repeatedly.  Not a good thing.  His eyes are red with dark circles under them.  He looks exhausted.   Oh, I’ve missed him.  I want to run to him.  But he’s mad.  Why is he mad?
I
should be mad.  He hasn’t been in contact.

             
“Liz-ard?” Davis says with a hitch in his voice, “What?  What’s going on?”

             
“Nothing.  I came over here to have breakfast with Evan and talk about a job.” I spit out.

             
“Why are you in his clothes?  Why is your hair wet?” Oh my God.  He thinks I’m cheating on him.  He thinks I’ve been with Evan.  Doesn’t he trust me?  I have to tell him plainly he is wrong.

             
I sigh and explain slowly so he can’t miss what I am saying, “I ran over.”  I hold up the ball of dirty running clothes to make my point.  “I took a shower.  End of story.  What are you doing here?”

             
Davis pushes past Evan to come toward me.  I can’t bring myself to move toward him, even though I want nothing more than to hold him and reassure him, but his palpable anger is not allowing me.  I catch Evan watch the scene unfolding in his apartment and shrug at me.  He puts up a hand to tell me it’s okay and backs away into the kitchen.

             
As Davis comes toward me, he is manipulating his cell phone, pulling up something on the screen to show me.  When he gets close enough he holds it up.  It’s a photograph of me.  With Evan.  On the Red Carpet.  Evan’s arm is around me.  We are looking at each other and smiling. 

“What …” he says and then pulls the phone away
from me and swipes his finger across it’s front, “the hell is…” swipe, swipe, “THIS?”  He holds the phone up to me again.  It’s a picture of Evan and me, slow dancing, at the moment right before I stopped him from kissing me.

I drop my head, in a move I quickly realize looks incredibly guilty. 
“Where did you get that picture?  Who sent you that?”  But I already know.  It was Suzette.  I saw her at the party.  I saw Jake there, too.  And nobody else would send Davis those kind of pictures of me.  They were sent to cause trouble.

“What does that matter?” he yells, then says softly, “You kissed him.”

I quickly pick my head up and engage him visually.  “Davis, I DID NOT kiss him.”  I tell him the truth, as emphatically as I can without screaming.

Davis puts his head down and shakes it back and forth.  I take a step toward him, but he puts up both his palms to stop me.  “Don’t.  Don’t lie to me.  I didn’t stay.  I told you I would and I didn’t and now you’ve moved on.” 

Moved on?  What is he thinking?  I suck in a loud breath and steady myself.  I am so focused on Davis, his anger and pain that I don’t hear Evan enter the room and say in a very calm voice, “She didn’t kiss me, man… I tried to kiss her and she stopped it.” 

Davis head flies up, his beautiful, curr
ently bloodshot eyes wet and burning with rage.  I nod to acknowledge that what Evan is saying is true.  Davis turns and moves to attack Evan, I can sense it, so I run between them and push my front into Davis, securing his gaze.  “Davis, baby … don’t, don’t go after him.  Just…” I don’t know what to say, so I tell him to go home. “Just go home.”  Davis’ face drops, his expression moving from fierce anger to supreme hurt and confusion.

“You want me to leave?  You want to be with him?”

I elaborate on my direction and stroke his chest to try and calm him. “No.  I want you to leave and go home before you do something you’ll regret.  I need to gather my stuff and my thoughts.  Evan will drive me home.”  I also need a minute to calm myself down.

Davis makes a grunt of protest.

I insist.  “Mavis, I need to talk to Evan.”  I turn my head away from Davis briefly to catch Evan’s eye, “We can do that while you drive me back to the condo, right, Ev?”   Evan indicates that yes we can do that.   Turning back, I hold Davis’ attention again and firmly tell him, “You and I can talk when I get home.  I’ll be right there.”

Davis goes reluctantly.
It kills me to watch him walk out the door of Evan’s apartment.  I don’t hug him or kiss him.  I send him home.  I only hope he’ll be at the condo when I get there.

***

Evan drops me at the front door to the condo and asks, “Are you okay to go in there and talk to him alone?  He’s pretty mad.”

I nod and press my lips together to keep from making any noise.  I am barely holdin
g it together. “Yeah, I’m good,” I gasp out, “It would only make it worse if you went in with me.  I’ll call you later.”

“You better.”

“I will.”

Evan makes me promise. 
“B, swear you’ll call if you need me, okay?  I am always here for my ‘partner in crime.’”

Evan
’s joke name for our relationship takes on a whole new meaning at the moment, so I tell him, “I just hope Davis doesn’t think we were partners in anything else.”

Evan
reassures me, “You’ve done nothing wrong, B.  Nothing.  Hey, we’ll talk about the job on Monday at work, okay?”

I nod and press my lips together harder and get out of t
he car, still holding the ball of dirty running clothes.  I never did get a bag.

Opening the door to the condo,
I only have to look up from taking the key out of the lock to be immediately struck down by a pair of green eyes.  My favorite green eyes, shining with tears and rimmed with red, boring into me.  Davis is leaning against the back of the sofa that is about six feet away from the front door.  He appears to have taken a shower, because his hair is wet.  He is wearing his WARNING t-shirt, the one he had on the first day I met him.  Some moisture from his skin is seeping through, making wet spots on it.  He’s got on gray lounge pants.  His feet are bare, crossed at the ankles.  His arms are crossed, too.  His whole posture tells me he is closed off, but his eyes look like they are searching.

I stand just inside the condo after absentmindedly closing the door.  Finally, in a thick voice and almost forcing the words out between inhalations, Davis says, “
You didn’t stay where I left you.  I wanted to find you at home in our bed when I came back.  Not coming out of some other guy’s shower.”  He finishes the statement with a half sob/sigh, like he’s relieved to have said it, but barely holding back.

“No, I wasn’t where you left me.  I gladly would have been right there waiting for you
…” I attempt to raise my voice and succeed a bit, but my anger is being tempered by my own impending tears, “IF YOU HAD TOLD ME YOU WERE COMING!  Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?  Why did you rush down here?  Why didn’t you just call me?  Call Kathleen?  Have her get a hold of me?  What were you thinking?”  I am shaking in my spot a few feet away from him.  Why can I not go to him?  I am so confused, angry and sad and excited to see him.  It’s all mixed up in my head and heart.

Davis is shaking too.  He explains his actions.  He got my selfie pictures and it made hi
m ache to see me.  I inhale and sob more when he says that.  He couldn’t reach me and, then he received the OTHER pictures, the ones of Evan and me.  He didn’t think, he just got in the car and drove all night.  He got to the condo this morning, apparently right after I left to go to Evan’s.  He woke Kathleen and she told him where I was.  I don’t know how he knew where Evan’s apartment was exactly and I don’t bother to ask.  Davis still seems tentative, uncertain, and neither of us makes a move toward one another.  It feels like some force is pushing me away and pulling me toward him at the same time.  Like the feeling when you try to force the poles of magnets together.

I take a deep breath.  My mantra has been playing in my mind for minutes now.  I am actively panicking, trying to hold it together.  I exhale and say, “Davis, I’m sorry.  I didn’t do anything. 
Evan and I are friends.  He’s my boss.  That’s all.  Do you believe me?”

Davis swallows hard and answers, “Yes, I believe you.  I’m just a jealous asshole.  We’ve been apart for too long.  I never should have gone.  I should have stayed.  We are not doing this again, ever.”
 

I still don’t move toward him, but I want to relieve some of the hurt, “No, I don’t think we should ever do this again either.  I think we are better when we are together.  I mean, I learned a lot this summer.  I learned I can function on my own, be independent.  I also learned I don’t like it very much.  I was pretty misera
ble if you get right down to it, but I survived.  I’m sorry.  I was only trying to have a little fun last night.  I’m sorry you saw those pictures.  You can get so much from pictures, but in this case the pictures aren’t telling the whole story.  I was just acting.  Acting happy, forcing fun to forget I wasn’t there with you.  Believe me, I was missing you, thinking of you the whole night.  GOD DAMMIT!  I am SO pissed at Suzette.  It has to be her that texted you that crap!  Who else would do that?  I want to strangle her.”  I sob and totally shift gears, “Mavis, I love you so much… I… I am so happy to see you.  I am so happy you are back.”  Then I laugh like a maniac, because for someone who is so happy, I am crying uncontrollably.

Davis smiles, his big beautiful smile t
hat goes right up to his eyes.  His shoulders visibly relax and he uncrosses his ankles and arms.  Warmly, invitingly he asks me, “Then what are you doing way over there?  Please let me hold you.  I can’t believe we are in the same room and you are so far away.  If you are so happy to see me, come over here and let me hold you, Lizard Breath.”

I’
m crying and laughing at the same time.  Laughing so hard my shoulders shake.  Davis, still propped against the sofa, opens his arms wide and spreads his feet apart and invites me to him.  I walk right into the space between his legs and into his arms.  Nothing has felt better in a long, long time than his firm, encompassing embrace and being pulled right into his chest.  I slide my hands up his arms and loop them around his neck, immediately tangling my fingers in his, now much longer, silky dark brown hair.  I dip my head to the space between his neck and shoulder and take a big inhalation of him.  The t-shirt I’ve been sniffing all summer has been a sad substitute for his amazing smell in real life.  I can’t stop telling him I love him.

Holding me tighter, bringing one of his hands to my hair and stroking it back repeatedly, he tells me slowly and sincerely, “I have missed your breath on me.  I have missed you telling me you love me.  I have missed your chatter.  REALLY missed your chatter. 
Lizard, I ADORE YOU.  I FUCKING LOVE YOU. And obviously, by my actions, I CAN’T LIVE WITHOUT YOU.”

             
I can wait no longer.  My lips are on his, biting and sucking.  I am practically trying to consume him, it seems.  He slows me down by placing both hands on the side of my face and then he kisses me slower and deeper than ever before.  His tongue opens my lips wider and I give in to all the sensations, letting it ignite me everywhere.  His hands move from my face.  One of his arms reaches around, grabs my backside and pulls me even closer into him.  I am completely straddled by his legs and I feel his growing hardness.  I want him so badly.  I pull away from our kiss with the intention of leading him to the bedroom, when his other hand appears between us, palm up, with a small red leather Cartier box in it.  I look down, confused.  Is that what I think it is?  Now?  After a huge fight?  In the middle of making up?