A Kind of Truth (13 page)

“Something.”

“Mystery isn’t your style, Rand. What’s going on? Did you meet someone?”

I ran my calloused fingers over the strings of my guitar softly as I tried to think of a riff to make Tim laugh and get him off my case. Nothing came to mind. My fingers ached and my head was elsewhere. I snuck a peek at my watch and stood up. I had plenty of time to go home, shower, and get across town to meet Will, but I was antsy.

“Let me rephrase. I know you met someone.”

I set my guitar in its case and looked up. “Oh really. How?”

“You’re distracted. Not in a bad way, though.”

I huffed a short laugh and started to brush him off with a flippant reply, but I stopped. I could use a little perspective from a friend I trusted.

“Have you ever been on a real date before?”

“Of course. Remember Jenna? She was super old-fashioned.” Tim cleared his throat, then pitched his voice in a woman’s falsetto, “‘Pick me up at six. Our dinner reservation is at six fifteen, so we can make the nine p.m. movie, and maybe if I’m up to it, I’ll pencil you in for sex.’ Geesh, by the time it was eleven, I was barely interested.”

I chuckled appreciatively. “Poor Timmy.”

“Who’s the lucky girl who got Rand O’Malley to agree to a date? She must be hot.”

Oh. Right. I hadn’t gotten around to talking to Tim or Cory without Terry or Mike around, but… now was as good a time as any.

“He is.”

Tim stared at me with his mouth wide open. When the incredulous silence went on two seconds longer than I could stand, I reached for my jacket. So much for share time.

“He? What the hell?”

“It’s not serious. Don’t get excited.”

“But you’re going on a date?”

“Kinda. Yes. What do you know about dates? Like dinner, movies, and stuff. I’ve never really done it.”

Tim threw back his head and guffawed merrily.

“Never mind.” I grabbed my beanie from my pocket and pulled it on before picking up my guitar.

“Wait! Sorry, but you sound so… serious. And maybe a little nervous too. Who is he, Rand?”

I let the silence stretch before answering. “Will. My guitar teacher.”

“Oh. I thought he was a band geek. From what I’ve heard, he doesn’t seem like your type.”

“What you’ve heard from whom? Whatever. Forget I asked. See ya.” My hand was on the doorknob when he came barreling at me.

“Whoa! I’m sorry. He must be special if you’re this nervous about going out to dinner or—”

“The movies.”

“The movies? You never go to the movies. My seven-year-old nephew can sit still in a theater longer than you can. What’s up with you? This must be one bigass crush for you to sit two hours in the dark when sex isn’t part of the equation.”

I leaned against the door and observed Tim for a moment, deciding to let his teasing remark slide. “I like him. A lot. He’s… sweet. Different. Kind of innocent but interesting. And he’s easily the best musician I’ve ever met in my life.”

“Oookay. But the movies?”

“It’s a long story. Do you have any words of wisdom to add to ‘it’s boring as hell ’cause you may or may not get some at the end’?”

Tim stared at me for a second before shaking his head. “Uh… no. I mean, it can be nice too. I’ve never dated a man, though. I guess I always assumed guys don’t date. We meet up, hang out, and if it’s working, we move on to the physical stuff. Honestly, the word
date
makes me queasy. But what do I know?”

“Obviously nothing.”

I neatly dodged his halfhearted punch and slung my guitar case over my shoulder.

“Have fun, sweetie. And bring him around sometime. Maybe he can show Terry some tricks.”

I stopped in my tracks and shook my head. “Actually no. Don’t say anything about him to Terry. Will doesn’t like him any more than I do. Terry is temporary and—”

Tim closed his eyes and let out a long, exasperated sigh. “Rand, Terry isn’t temporary. We need him.”

“No, we don’t. We only need him until the Brooklyn show, but that’s it. He’s bad energy. One minute I could almost be convinced he’s trying, and the next, he purposely baits me. We have a glaring personnel issue here. Stop fooling yourself. I’ve asked Mike to be on the lookout for a possible replacement.”

“God, you’re infuriating!”

“Just keep quiet about Will for now. Got it?”

“Got it. Do you need any more pointers?” he teased.

“Nah. I think I’ll be all right, Timmy.” I gave him a cocky grin as I pulled on my gloves.

I was mindful of Tim’s watchful gaze as I swaggered down the hallway toward the elevator with the supreme confidence of a man who didn’t have a care in the world. But the second I stepped inside, I tore the gloves off and shook my clammy hands. Fuck. Who was I trying to kid?

WE DECIDED
to meet at an art house near campus known for showcasing foreign, classic, and offbeat indie films. I was relieved when Will said they were screening animated shorts, aka cartoons, that night. I took for granted the word
short
meant I wouldn’t be crawling out of my skin and checking my cell for the time every few minutes. Tim was right. I didn’t have the attention span required to sit still for long stretches. I couldn’t believe I’d suggested a movie in the first place, but the gesture was what counted. I should have just asked if he felt like grabbing something to eat. Dinner would have been a safe bet, but I was equally lost there. I knew a few pubs and pizza spots but nothing special. At least nothing I could afford. No wonder I never dated… men or women. It was too damn stressful.

And going to the movies was like being tortured in the dark. I held a tub of popcorn on my knee and pondered stupid things like the etiquette of sharing snacks. Was I supposed to hand it over every once in a while, or was I the official keeper of the popcorn? If the atmosphere lent itself to direct questioning, I would have just asked, but I was too self-conscious. And that wasn’t normal. I felt a heightened sense of awareness about the oddest things. Like the man sitting in front of me wearing his baseball cap at a sideways angle. The outline of his stupid hat was in my peripheral vision and was an inch shy of impinging my view of the screen. Not that I cared. The annoying baseball cap and the ten-pound tub of popcorn were minor irritations. If nothing else, they kept me from spinning about the guy sitting next to me.

Will had met me after filling in for another intern at the theater. He was flushed from racing downtown to make the showtime. His cheeks were red from the cold and something else I couldn’t quite identify. Maybe rouge. Something was different about him, but I couldn’t tell. I glanced sideways and tapped his knee, silently asking if he wanted popcorn. It gave me an excuse to stare at him for a moment without seeming creepy. He looked over at me with a smile and shook his head. No glasses. That was it. I wondered why he wasn’t wearing them. There was something else too. I stared unseeing at the screen and waited what I thought was a decent amount of time before letting my gaze wander back to him.

“What?” he whispered, leaning over the armrest.

“Why aren’t you wearing your glasses?”

“I’m wearing contacts.”

“Oh. Want some popcorn?”

“No thanks. You just asked.”

I turned forward again. Eyeliner. He was wearing makeup. And there was something in his hair. Maybe gel. Huh. My gaze darted left. I was desperate for more information. I had zero interest in the avant-garde animated film the audience found hilarious. I reached for my water bottle and took a small drink, then passed it to him.

“Want some?”

“No thanks.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

The guy with the baseball cap turned in his seat. “Shh!”

I scowled at the back of his head and maturely resisted the urge to kick his chair. Will gave me a sharp look and put a calming hand on my wrist. He probably wondered what the hell my problem was. I was so fidgety. All I wanted was a chance to figure my date out. Was the makeup a theater thing? Was he wearing cologne? He smelled good. When I shifted in my seat again like a kid on a serious sugar high, he pulled my sleeve and twisted his hand to hold mine. I was taken aback by the sweetness of the gesture.

My heart swelled, making me feel light-headed but somehow grounded. Like I was a balloon and he was the string tethering me to earth. I took a deep breath and willed myself to remain in the moment. To not overthink or act on impulse. It worked. Until he caressed my palm with his thumb in a sweet, soothing motion. That simple touch sent my pulse skyrocketing.

I shifted in my chair to get closer, forgetting I was the purveyor of the popcorn. As I leaned into him, my left knee dislodged the box from its perch and popcorn exploded. Everywhere. Pieces flew in the air, showering us and a few unlucky bystanders. I lunged for the almost-empty tub and knocked my water bottle from the cup holder. It began a slow roll down the cement floor, picking up steam as it cascaded from the third-to-last row all the way to the front of the theater.

“Shit.” I winced as the full, jumbo-sized plastic container hit the wall.

“Now might be a good time to make a phone call too,” snarked the dude in the baseball cap.

I held my tongue, knowing I deserved his scorn. Will was the one I couldn’t read. He sat motionless with his lips pursed in what was either irritation or amusement. I just couldn’t tell in the dark. His shoulders convulsed as he nudged my elbow.

“Wanna get out of here?”

“Fuck yes.” I sighed in relief, not bothering to whisper.

Perturbed moviegoers gave us dirty looks as we scrambled out of our middle-row seats and headed for the exit. I blinked in the lobby light and gave Will a sheepish, lopsided grin.

He busted up laughing and shook his head in disbelief. “Wow. You don’t get out much, huh?”

I made a comical face and shrugged. “Sorry. I’m a little out of practice at—” I waved my hand around me as if encompassing the movie theater and, hell, life in general.

Will chuckled as he dug his hat and gloves from his coat pockets. “Come on. I know a place nearby that serves amazing pizza and cheap wine. Sound good?”

“Very.”

WILL LED
the way to a nondescript eatery off of Sixth Avenue in the heart of Greenwich Village. This part of town played up its bohemian-chic vibe, but the fact was, it was really expensive to live or even eat here. It was home to a number of world-renowned restaurants, many of which enjoyed regular glowing write-ups in foodie magazines. However, there were still a few family-owned bistros to be found nestled between the well-known posh establishments. Johnny’s was one of those places. It was tiny. As in there were maybe twelve tables squished so close together you were sure to hear a good portion of your neighbors’ conversations. Every table had a red-and-white checked tablecloth and an empty bottle of Chianti that had a second life as a candleholder. It was warm and inviting. But packed. There was no hope of being seated without waiting for a long time.

“Wait here. I’ll be right back.” Will squeezed through the cramped entry and waltzed with confidence toward the kitchen.

I watched as he hugged a small, thin, young man with jet-black hair wearing an apron. They engaged in a short conversation involving a lot of gesturing toward the tables. I was too far away to catch details, but I clearly heard his friend squeal before he was shushed by another employee. I shoved my hands farther into my coat pockets for something to do. That jumpy feeling was coming over me again. I hoped Will hurried it up before the desire to move overrode reason.

“Benny is clearing a table in the front for us. He said it will be five minutes or less,” Will whispered as he shrugged off his coat and removed his gloves.

I nodded and leaned into him, snatching his beanie from his head. “Who’s Benny again?”

Will held out his hand, wordlessly admonishing me with a look that said “Cut it out and hand it over.” I started to but changed my mind at the last second and pocketed his hat with mine in my coat. I grinned at Will’s exasperated huff. He’d opened his mouth to say something when he was jostled from behind. I caught his elbow to steady him and took advantage of the close quarters to wrap my arm around his waist. He looked up at me in surprise. Hell, I was surprised too, but I didn’t release him. I stared at him, trying to figure out what it was that—

It was the makeup. Maybe. I couldn’t be sure, but I knew he was wearing more than I’d realized at first glance. I studied the black eyeliner and the foundation covering his sweet freckles. His lips were pink and glossy. And there was a hint of glitter under his eyes. He held my gaze with a bold grin that made my heart skip. I wasn’t sure if the mysterious show of new confidence was cosmetically enhanced, but it was sexy as hell. He still looked masculine but with an edge I really liked. I licked my upper lip and gulped when he reached for my hand. I felt connected and aware of him at that moment as we stood in an overcrowded restaurant with his fingers threaded through mine. When his friend called his name from the tiny table for two at the front of the restaurant, he dropped my hand and the moment was gone.

“Your timing was perfect, honey. I have to get back to the kitchen, but I’ll tell Maria to be sweet to you. Introductions?” Will’s friend batted his eyelashes as he held out his hand.

“I’m Rand. Nice to meet you,” I said.

“I’m Benny. And I’m about to faint.” He shook my hand and fanned himself with the other theatrically. “How could you leave out details like he’s gorgeous? Oh my!”

I threw my head back and laughed at the outrageous flirtation. It was too over-the-top to be taken as anything other than funny. Benny peered at me speculatively with one brow raised. I didn’t mind the scrutiny. It gave me a chance to size him up too. He was small and lean with light brown eyes and golden skin that offset his dark hair and the electric blue highlights in his bangs that I hadn’t noticed from afar. His soft features gave him a feminine look he certainly played up with campy affections… and, yeah, lots of eyeliner.

“Benny!” Will narrowed his eyes at his friend meaningfully.