The Love Square (17 page)

Chapter 15

Alex

Alex made the coffee while Jenna got ready for work and Dylan packed for the airport. Dylan came out first and took the mug Alex offered.

“Thanks,” he said, “and for driving me to the airport. “

“No problem. I got used to having you around. I’m going to miss you.”

Dylan rubbed his clean-shaven chin. “I was getting used to being here.”

Jenna walked out of the bedroom ready for work, wearing a summery work dress and heels. She’d left her hair down, except for the front, which she’d pinned back. Alex admired how it framed her face—her immensely pretty but sad face.

“I guess this is it,” she said. She and Dylan looked at each other as if it were the end of the world.

“Um, I’m going to wait outside,” Alex said. They barely noticed as he walked out into the hallway. He left the door open a crack and listened.

“Thanks for the best weekend ever,” Jenna said. Alex recognized her shaky crying voice.

“I got you something,” he said.

Alex heard Jenna open a package. “It’s beautiful,” she said. He heard them kiss.

Alex gave Dylan credit for a good effort, but he knew nothing would make Jenna feel better except a good cry, a pint of chocolate-chip mint, and her DVR.

“I’m not going to say good-bye, okay? Two weeks,” Dylan said. More kissing. Then Jenna’s keys rattled and her bags shook, and he knew she was ready to go. He knocked gently on the door and pushed it open.

“You okay, Stecs?” Alex asked.

Jenna nodded and turned around to wave to Dylan one last time. The brown stone Dylan had bought the night they were out to dinner hung from her neck.

“Call me tonight. Promise?” Dylan said.

Jenna nodded. “Two weeks.” She smiled and turned to Alex. “See you later?”

“Of course,” he said. He watched her walk to the stairs instead of the elevator and disappear. She’d need him tonight.

Alex turned to Dylan, who didn’t look much better. “This is crazy, right? It’s been five days. Why do I feel so connected to her?”

“Took me about five minutes,” Alex said. “She’s different. Can’t explain it, really.”

Dylan nodded and washed out his mug, then put it in the drainer to dry.

“We have a couple hours to kill, D-Barnes. What do you want to do?”

Dylan zoned out in the kitchen, silent.
If this is any indication, Jenna is going to be a mess later.

“I know,” Alex said. “Let’s go harass Steve.”

Dylan smiled. “To Wall Street.”

At Steve’s office, his secretary, Robin, who hated Alex, collected them from reception. After she scowled at Alex, she recognized Dylan right away and almost fainted, babbling about Maxwell Policastro’s untimely death as she led them through the busy office. Dylan posed for pictures and talked to the gaggle of women who gathered around, while Steve and Alex waited patiently in Steve’s office.

“This is going to get worse after the gladiator thing gets into full swing,” Steve said.

“Little Round Robin almost passed out when he smiled at her, that nasty little witch,” Alex whispered.

“That nasty little witch is the best damn secretary in the place,” Steve said. “This will get me major points with her. How’s Jenna?”

“She held it together for the big good-bye. Dylan’s been pretty spaced out all morning. I think it’s time for everyone to get back to their routines.”

“You mean you want everything back to how it was before Dylan showed up. Good luck with that.”

“I’m not a prick, you know. I want them to be happy, so I decided I am going to support this,” Alex said. “But they need a break from each other.”

“Yeah, all that sex must be horrible,” Steve said sarcastically. “Being apart is way better for them.”

“Fuck you, Steve,” Alex said.

He walked out of Steve’s office to the crowd surrounding Dylan.
“Um, excuse me, Mr. Barnes? It’s time to go back to Hollywood, sir,” he said snottily. Robin rolled her eyes and growled at him.

Dylan kissed the ladies good-bye and thanked them for being so kind. Alex admired how Dylan charmed everyone without trying. Alex had to joke around and spew sarcasm to get people to like him, but Dylan was so naturally pleasant, people couldn’t help but love him.

“You are such a movie star,” Alex teased as they walked to the elevator.

“It’s not as fun as it looks.”

“Yeah, you keep telling me that.”

“You’ll see when you make it to the majors and you’re the famous one.”

Alex chuckled. Dylan always believed Alex would make it.

He drove Dylan through the Holland Tunnel to New Jersey and Newark Airport. At the departures thruway, they embraced without words, and then Dylan grabbed his bag, jumped out, and disappeared into the terminal.

On his way back to Brooklyn, Alex stopped for chocolate-chip mint and flowers for Jenna, knowing it was going to be a long but oddly perfect night. He’d be there for whatever she needed from him. That’s what they did for each other.

***

Clare

Is it finally Wednesday?
Dylan was due home today, but Clare didn’t believe he would ever come back. He’d said he would talk to her on Tuesday but instead sent her a text. Clare knew why when she saw the pictures online of Dylan and Jenna canoodling in Central Park.
Ugh. Double ugh.

Clare dressed pretty for work on Wednesday, hoping Dylan would pop in. She spent most of her time there catching up on paperwork, taking inventory, and making schedules. Her college kids were going back to school soon and she needed to hire, then the retail holiday season would start and she’d be majorly swamped. But if she met the company’s expectations for the holiday season, she’d be in a good position to ask for the permanent general manager job.

Clare decided that no matter what the situation with Dylan and his new “girlfriend,” she was staying in Cali. As tempted as she was to run home to the comfort of Mama and Lucas and Nebraska, she was going to stick it out. She cursed the nagging voice in her head telling her how hard it would be. The voice that always tried to convince her that she wasn’t smart enough or strong enough to make it on her own. The voice that insisted without Lucas and her parents, she was nothing but a shy thirteen-year-old girl.

She wasn’t that little girl anymore. She was capable on her own.

As the day wore down and the evening approached, Clare busied herself stocking the self-help section. As she arranged the books, Mary ran over.

“Clare! He’s back!”

“Dylan?” she asked.

“No. CYM! In the technology section this time,” Mary panted.

CYM was the Crazy Yoga Man, who liked to do yoga poses in the middle of the bookstore, pontificating on life and annoying the customers. Clare sighed. “Today of all days. Can’t you deal with him, Mary? I’m not in the mood.”

“Nuh-uh,” she said. “That’s why you get paid the big bucks. He’s ranting about social media. You have to deal with him before he scares the customers.” Mary scurried away before Clare could object.

Clare found CYM with his ass in the air on all fours on his purple yoga mat.
Lord help me.

“Sir,” she said, “for liability reasons we can’t allow yoga in the store.” It was the same thing she said to him every time he showed up.

“I am in the middle of a pose.” CYM seemed testier than usual. She knew the feeling. “I have an issue today with social media.”

“I am sorry to hear that,” Clare said, noticing Mary peek from behind the stacks. “Maybe you should write your congressperson. Better yet, you could start a Facebook petition.” Through her years in retail, Clare had discovered that sometimes sarcasm worked with crazy customers.

CYM dropped his ass down and lifted his chin, holding himself up with his arms. “You are toxic,” he said to Clare. “You should meditate.”

“You should get out of my store,” she said. She circled him and stared. “What is that you are doing?”

“It’s upward-facing dog. Feels good on the back.”

Clare watched him and figured, what the heck? She joined him on the floor and copied his pose. Mary gasped and giggled from the stacks.

“Keep your shoulders down,” CYM said. “And breathe. Through your nose, not panting like an animal.”

The stretch felt incredible. The tension left her spine, and just when the pose started to bother her, she copied CYM to the “ass in the air” position for instant relief.

“This is downward-facing dog,” he said.

Clare held the stretch. Thankfully, her clothes stayed put. “You know,” she said, “this is kind of great. Am I doing it right?” She couldn’t believe she was asking CYM for advice. “How do I look?”

Suddenly, a beautiful face appeared between her legs, upside down. “You look damn good, Nebraska.”

“Dylan!” Clare flipped back up a little too fast and her head spun. Dylan grabbed her into a hug and swung her around. “Darn, I’m woozy.”

“I leave for a few days and you bond with Crazy Yoga Man?” Crazy Yoga Man glared at Dylan. “No offense.”

Clare giggled as she looked him over. She had almost forgotten how cute he was. Almost. He held a bunch of colorful flowers and wore his navy V-neck T-shirt he knew was her favorite. She wasn’t sure why, but her eyes started to tear, so to hide her emotion, she pulled him into a hug.

CYM scoffed. “We were in the middle of a pose,” he said to Dylan. “You’ve interrupted our flow.”

“Well, I missed my girl here, so screw your flow. I need a hug.”

CYM yelled to the customers and staff lingering around. “See! You cannot hug over social media. This—” he pointed to Clare and Dylan in their embrace, “—is why your online presence will never truly satisfy you.”

“Fight the power,” Dylan said.

With her cheek against Dylan’s chest, Clare watched Mary lead CYM toward the door. Then she whispered, “Thanks for the hug.”

“What time are you off?”

They made plans, and Clare walked him out so she could finish work. She set the flowers into a plastic cup in her office and busied herself with paperwork. When her shift finally ended, she bid farewell to her staff, grabbed her flowers, and met Dylan at her truck. She let him drive.

“I missed navigating this monster,” he said.

“I’m sure.” Clare didn’t want to ask him about New York yet, and he didn’t seem keen on sharing. Nor did she want to talk about Nebraska. He looked tired, or sad. Maybe both.

They sat in the coffee shop and sipped their drinks. “It’s nice to be home,” he said.

“I thought I’d be happy to be back in Nebraska, but I ended up missing California. You know what I missed most, besides you and Angelica?”

“What?”

“Those damn gyros at the truck near the store. Crazy, right?” Clare shook her head.

“That’s not crazy. They are really good,” Dylan said. “You know what I missed most? Besides you, of course.”

“What?”

“Our beach. I was at the beach Friday night, but the beach in New York isn’t like our beach.”

“Yeah, our beach is pretty great.”

They sat in silence again.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Clare asked.

Dylan met her gaze. “Not really. You?”

“Nope,” she said.

“That’s what I love about you, Nebraska,” Dylan said. “We’re always in sync.”

Clare smiled and sighed. It’s what she loved about him too. She wanted to shake him or shout it out, but she held her tongue.

Love was one of the many things she wouldn’t be talking to him about tonight. Maybe ever.

Chapter 16

Dylan

Dylan and Clare lounged in their coffee shop making small talk. She looked different to him. Her hair looked blonder. Her eyes look greener. Her freckles looked more pronounced. Maybe Clare looked different because he had been looking at Jenna’s dark features for the last five days.

Jenna.
He pictured her leaning back to rinse her hair in the shower. Dancing with him on the red carpet.
“I feel like a princess,”
she’d said.

As if she’d read his mind, his phone chimed her newly added ringtone. As part of their decision to try out the long-distance relationship, they’d decided to talk to each other at least once a day.

He answered the call, turning away from Clare. “Hey, beautiful.”

“I miss you already. Come back,” Jenna said.

He smiled at the sound of her voice, then stood and walked toward the door. “Two weeks,” he said. “What are you doing?”

“Alex brought me chocolate-chip mint, and we are watching
The Empire Strikes Back
. He’s reciting the lines and hogging the couch.”

“Lucky guy.”

“What about you?”

“At the coffee shop with Clare.”

“Lucky girl. Everything okay with your flight?”

“Yep.” He stepped outside and paced in front of the shop, avoiding eye contact with the passersby. “I wish I was there with you.” He imagined her hair, her skin, and her lips. The mornings he’d woken up tangled around her.

“Me too. The bed’s going to feel so empty,” she said. “Two weeks, right?”

“Right.”

“I’ll let you get back. Have a good night, Dylan.”

“You too, beautiful. Hi to Pops,” he added.

When Dylan returned to the table, Clare sipped her coffee and scrolled through her phone. She smiled when she realized he’d returned. “How’s Jenna?”

“She’s fine,” Dylan said, not wanting to talk with Clare about either New York or Nebraska yet.

“Good.” Clare leaned forward and showed Dylan her phone. “I have some places I want to find in LA. You think you could help me?”

He appreciated her change of topic. “Shoot.”

“Okay. First, a church. I don’t really care what denomination, I just want to start going. Then a horse farm. And maybe… a yoga class?”

“You
did
bond with Crazy Yoga Man! How could you?” Dylan teased.

His shoulders relaxed, and he leaned back in the chair as he listened to Clare relay the story about CYM and his issues with social media. He laughed at her terrible impersonation and reenactment.

“Did you take any photos while I was away?” Dylan asked.

Clare told him about her photo tour of Nebraska, and that she’d ventured to the Santa Monica Pier and taken some shots of the Ferris wheel.

“But I wanted to take you there,” he whined. “How’d you even find it without me?”

“I’m not totally incompetent. We’ve passed it a million times. And you were otherwise occupied with your new girlfriend.”

“You could have waited. I’m supposed to show you everything. Without that, I have no purpose in life,” he said dramatically.

“That’s the first time you’ve ever sounded like an actual actor,” she said.

“Clare! I’m insulted. I live my craft, you know.” Dylan peeked at her over his cup.

“Yeah, right,” she said, rolling her eyes.

That night when Dylan lay in bed, alone for the first time since Thursday, he listened to the quiet and let his thoughts wander. He still had Clare and California, and the thing with Jenna—well,
It is what it is
, he thought, borrowing Jenna’s phrase about her relationship with Alex. It would work or it wouldn’t, and he couldn’t spend his time worrying about it. Still, he hoped it would work.
It’s time to move on.

***

Alex

After Dylan’s departure, Alex made it his life’s mission to keep Jenna occupied and happy. When he wasn’t playing ball, he spent his time worrying about her, calling her, texting her. She wallowed for a while after that first night of
Star Wars
and ice cream, and she talked about Dylan constantly. Alex was sick of hearing it. But he listened and answered her million questions about everything Dylan. Day by day, she perked up as her trip to LA approached.

The next weekend, Alex finished a day game and Jenna had a nighttime rehearsal, so in between she met him at the ballpark in time for the sun to set on another beautiful August day. One of their favorite things to do, with the help of a ten dollar bill to their favorite groundskeeper, was to sneak into the empty ballpark and play. Alex grabbed a ball and gave Jenna his mitt, and they walked toward the outfield together.

As they strolled to center field, he asked her about work, about dancing, about the class she taught. He asked about Scott, Dom, and Penny. He watched as she told him her news, looking so pretty and animated and alive. He loved her energy. That she could rehearse until midnight, run with him in the morning, spend the day at work, and still glow. To Alex, that’s exactly how he thought of Jenna—a glowing light in his life.

As they played catch, Jenna brought up her favorite subject—Dylan. Alex tried, really tried, to tell her everything she wanted to hear, but something inside him finally cracked.

“Enough, Stecs,” he said. “Can we please
not
talk about Dylan? You’re obsessed.”

She missed his throw, and it hit her in the thigh. Despite her talent for dancing, she had zero athletic ability when it came to team sports. He’d been trying to teach her the basics.

“I know. What’s wrong with me? Maybe I’m in love. Do you think I’m in love with him?”

“How the hell would I know? Even if you were,” he said, leaping to catch her totally inaccurate throw, “where can it possibly lead?”

“What do you mean?” she asked. She missed his throw and had to run after the ball.

“He lives in California,” Alex shouted.

“So what?” she shouted back.

“So that’s kind of far away to have a relationship with someone, isn’t it?” he asked. “Out of sight, out of mind, and all that?”

“There are planes, Alex,” she said snottily. Her throw landed about ten feet in front of him. He jogged to pick it up and tossed it back to her.

“You’re going to fly back and forth to see each other? You almost got fired for calling out two days last week, and you had to lie to get your LA trip approved. Scott blew a gasket with nationals coming up. You had to get someone to cover your pain-in-the-ass girls’ ballet class,” Alex said. “Did you ever think maybe it’s not the best idea? You’re both grounded on separate coasts.”             

She walked the ball back to him, and they sat down in right field. “Stop,” she whined. “You’re making me sad.”

“Why not just fuck around when you’re on the same coast? That’s what I would do,” he said.

“That’s because you’ve never been in love. You’ve never had anyone you wanted to spend your time with, who you can imagine waking up to every morning.”

How wrong you are
, he thought as he looked at his love. His love who thought she was in love with his best friend.

“Every morning with the same woman? Sounds like a nightmare,” he said to cover his true feelings. “Seriously, though, how do you have a relationship with someone who you only see once in a while and spend the whole time in bed with? How do they ever learn all the important, little stuff about you, like…like how you like your coffee? Or whether you are neat or messy? Or whether you floss?”

“Whether you floss? Is that important?”

“I don’t know. I’m trying to think of examples.”

Jenna stretched on her back on the grass, crossing her feet at the ankles and resting her head on her hands.

Alex continued, “What about how you have to be dragged out of bed in the morning? How your shower water is way too hot?” She studied the sky as he recalled all the little facts he knew about her. Softer, he said, “How you like to change your pillowcase every day. How you can only sit on the train facing forward, not backward.”

Jenna switched her gaze from the sky to Alex, and he was sure she could read his thoughts. He leaned back and lay next to her, propping himself up on his elbow to face her. Now only inches apart, she looked at him with big, brown eyes, and he felt that familiar pull, the pull that wanted her closer, always closer.

He shifted his gaze, afraid he’d let her in too far, but kept talking. Almost in a whisper, he continued, “How you’re scared of thunderstorms. Your love of birthday cake. The way you pace back and forth when you talk on the phone.”

“Alex,” Jenna whispered. She reached up and cupped his cheek, her voice pleading with him to look at her. He wouldn’t, but he pressed his cheek into her hand.

“When you’re nervous, how you tug on your earlobe.” She moved her hand to his ear and rubbed his earlobe with her thumb while the rest of her fingers reached the back of his neck.

He knew he was letting her in, but he couldn’t stop. He remembered the word…
intimacy.
He kept going. “How when you’re overtired, your left eye gets bloodshot on the outside. But only the left one, and it’s always on the outside. But it still manages to be one of the two most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen.” His voice cracked, as though it wasn’t his.

Jenna’s fingers touched his hair, and she nudged his head closer. He braved a look at her eyes, scared out of his mind. Scared of his feelings. Scared of hers. Scared of the next thirty seconds and what it would mean for them. She leaned up on her side, on her elbow, his mirror image. Although they lay inches apart, it felt like miles, and he wanted nothing more than to close the space between them.

As he studied Jenna’s warm skin, her big, brown eyes, her pink lips, he remembered Uncle Nino’s party. The day she moved into her apartment downstairs. The first time she told him she loved him, and the time he refused to let her love him. He thought of how angelic she looked on her bed that morning with Dylan, the sun shining on her bare back.

And today, with her on the grass in her dance rehearsal clothes, her hair back in a messy ponytail, he couldn’t remember a time she looked more beautiful, because in her eyes he saw what he had been trying to avoid since he met her.

Intimacy, yes, but more…

Love.

They leaned their heads closer to each other, and Alex stopped caring. He stopped caring about his past, his hang-ups, his two best friends starting a long-distance relationship together, and simply focused on her eyes and that love he could see in them. It warmed him from head to toe, and when he couldn’t stand the distance anymore, he reached his free hand behind her neck and mirrored her. Then, noses almost touching, her eyes widened.

A deafening noise. Scary, loud, close. The ground vibrated. The sound came from the sky.

“What is that?” he yelled, looking up. They jumped as a jet plane flew overhead. The ground shook, and the plane passed over so low that Alex felt he should duck. Jenna covered her ears as she squinted into the sky.

She mouthed something as the boom of the plane passed over them. “Is it crashing?” she screamed.

“No, it’s too low,” he said.

As the plane disappeared, they continued to stare into the blue sky. “Are you okay?” Alex asked, when the ballpark quieted.

She smiled. “I’m fine.”

He knew the moment had passed.

“We should probably get out of here,” she said in a shaky voice.

“Yeah, you have rehearsal. I need sleep.”

They walked in silence to the dugout. Alex carried Jenna’s bags to the subway and watched her train depart before heading back to the ballpark.

On his way home later that night, he thought about the plane, feeling relieved and disappointed at the same time. “I’m a damn mess,” he said to himself as he walked off the elevator to his apartment.

Yolanda’s typical yellow Post-It note was stuck to his door. He peeled it off and reminded himself he didn’t want a relationship. He called Yolanda, because that was what he needed and wanted, not some fucked-up drama with Jenna, and now his best friend, thrown into the mix.