Beautiful Dream (3 page)

“You’re majoring in what?” He smirks, and I shake my head, seeing he already knows the answer.

“Math,” I answer anyway.

“There’s little, if anything, you hate more than math,” he sighs. “You struggle with it. So what else is the Luci I know to do but major in it? Not something she loves, like English. No, math, because she doesn’t get it, but desperately wants to. She wants to be good at it, and it’s just your type of endeavor to prove to yourself that you can… and you excel, I’m sure,” his smile widens. “In fact, I bet you’re fantastic at it now.”

I say nothing, because of course he’s right.

“Plus, you’re graduating this year, when technically you should only be a junior. How is that?” He laughs. “Always so committed and determined.”

“Because…” I hesitate as a chill creeps over me. “What else was I supposed to do to take my mind off of you?”

I can tell by the way his eyes water and the color fades that my words punch him. I don’t mean to evoke such a reaction. Despite everything, I don’t wish even an ounce of my sadness or hurt on anyone, not even him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers just as the waitress returns with our salads.

He orders two glasses of wine, and we’re both silent as we eat.

I swallow my first few bites, and his stare cuts into me. “I can’t do it again. You had your reasons for what you did, and maybe it’s selfish of me too, but I wanted to be your first choice.” I put my fork down.

“Say you
are
telling the truth-”

“I am!” He practically shouts.

“Say you didn’t live with her, and you really were in the midst of a divorce when we met,” I pause again, “You found out about this kid in the middle of our…
tryst
,” I question the word, not knowing what to call what we had. “You could have still been involved with your child, but why did you have to go back to her? Why not me?” I’ve always wondered, and I hate that I ask it. “And I know,” I continue, before he has the chance to answer. “I was young and in high school, well, leaving high school, but why should that have ever mattered?” Because it shouldn’t!” I answer immediately. “Not if, as you claimed at the time, that you had loved me.”

His hand is gripping tightly against his fork. He opens his mouth, but I don’t let him get anything out.

“When did I come across as this poor decision maker that you felt the need to make such a big one for me? And I get it,” I jump just as he opens his mouth again. “And we can play at that argument too. I was young. I was your student. I understood how we could never work
at the time
, but what about in September, or hey, what about the next September, or this past September?”

“I told you-” He starts.

“You weren’t a mistake to me!” I confess a little too loudly. “And if for some reason you turned out to be, it was one I was willing to make!” My eyes start to water, and he reaches his hand across the table.

“Maybe I’m over it!” I lower my voice, pulling my hand back before he gets to it. I take a deep breath, wiping my eyes, and whatever he was going to say is gone.

“So what now?” I take a deep breath, my voice barely above a whisper. “Am I supposed to just forget about what happened? Are we supposed to go back to the way things were, two and a half years ago, mind you? That’s a long time! And then what happens when you decide to make another choice, and it’s one that doesn’t involve me?”

I take a deep breath, trying to remain calm as I look at him for the first time since beginning my rant. He’s recoiled in his seat, wearing a look of torment, taking in my words, and listening.

“I can’t do it again. I can’t wait until you somehow decide that we wouldn’t work because I’m too young, or because I’m going for my Master’s, or because I was
once
your student, or whatever other asinine reason you may have. Or, hell,” I continue. “What if in a few months some other girl calls and says she’s pregnant?”

“Well, I can
guarantee
that won’t happen,” he tries to laugh off the fresh wounds I’ve inflicted.

I wave my hand in the air to stop him. “I don’t need to know all about the amazing sex you’ve been having.”

“There hasn’t been any,” he offers, and I give him a look of disbelief, because if he’s saying he hasn’t had sex in two and a half years then that’s a straight up lie.

“There’s been…
other stuff
,” he clarifies. “But no sex.”

“Whatever,” I brush it off, not wanting to get into it. “I don’t need to hear all about the
amazing other stuff
you’ve been up to then.”

“Amazing,” he laughs, and I look up. “Stuff with you is
amazing
. With everyone else it’s just stuff.”

I take another bite of my salad, wishing I didn’t know what he means. I pretend I don’t. Everything with him was different too. Better.

“I guess it would be foolish of me to assume that I’m no longer your only one?” He gives a half, sad smile.

“That’s a little personal for someone I haven’t talked to in so long,” I spit.

“You’re the one who brought it up,” he shrugs before returning to his salad, and I can’t help but watch the way he struggles to swallow it, like he’s eating poison. Not to mention, the way the table is now shaking with his incessant leg bouncing.

“Just call me Guinevere,” I sigh, closing my mouth tightly before I blurt out anything about the fact that I couldn’t get past him to be that intimate with anyone else. Besides, he’d be the only one
who mattered
anyway
.

“Like a nun, huh? He smiles, getting my reference, and the news obviously pleases him. “Well, I’ve been quite the Lancelot,” he pauses. “Like a hermit since you’ve been gone.”

“You haven’t,” I roll my eyes. “Because you’ve clearly been busy doing
stuff
with whomever.”

The busboy clears his throat as he brings us each a glass of wine. I immediately grab mine and take a large gulp, letting the room temperature liquid slide down my throat. It burns, but feels good. Josh smiles, and I look down at the blood red drink to keep from falling under his trance.

“Why are you jealous?” I look back at him, his smirk doing wild things to me. Or maybe that’s just the fiery liquid talking.

“No,” I scowl.

“What about your boyfriend?” He takes his last forkful of salad.

“What about him?” I ask, before repeating his question. “Jealous?”

“Definitely,” he easily admits, and I clear my throat.

“It’s still new,” I shrug.

“Good.” I shake my head, annoyed.

“What?” He smiles. “I’m just seeing how easy it will be to get him out of the picture.”

“Josh!” I groan angrily.

“I always loved it when you said my name.”

“Josh!” I call again, trying to appear be sterner.

“Hey,” he shrugs. “You came to dinner with me after I told you this was a date. My intentions were perfectly clear, so I’m going to say my chances are pretty good.”

“Why are you so cocky?” I’m still shaking my head as the busboy returns to clear our salads.

I take another sip of wine, and the next thing I know, we’re stuck in some sort of staring contest, but I don’t let up.

Bring it, Mr. Harrington.

“So we’ll do this your way then,” he sighs heavily, looking away from my unwavering glare. “We’ll be friends.”

“If this was my way then this would be it,” I choke on my words. “This is our…” I swallow hard. “This is our
goodbye
.”

“We’ll be friends,” he repeats.

“We’ve never been friends,” I laugh at his persistence, and it nearly catches me off guard, because I haven’t laughed so naturally in such a long time.

“We’ve been
the best
of friends
,” he flashes another smile, as if he actually treasured our time together. “You know more about me than anyone.”

“The thrill of me being your student is no longer there,” I point out, not believing I’m actually entertaining the idea of us being friends.

“The fact that you were my student was the hurdle,” he swallows. “The thrill was
you
.”

“Just friends?” I confirm.

“Just one kiss,” he jokes, and I know the blush that creeps over me is obvious.

“See, this is why us being friends could never work,” I point out.

He runs his fingers through his hair, messing up the neatly gelled strands. “I don’t
want
to be your friend, but I will,” he sighs. “If that’s what it takes to talk to you again… and to make you not hate me.”

He meets my eye, and I let out a breathy laugh.

What the fuck am I doing?

“You look like you want to rip my head off,” he laughs.

“That’s because I do,” I chuckle.

The waitress returns with our main course, and we begin picking off each other’s plates, like the last time we ate together was only yesterday, and not years ago.

“So how’s your sister doing?” I swallow my food, needing a change of subject.

“Good!” His face lights up as he grabs a forkful of my ravioli. “She’s getting married in June.”

“No kidding!” I smile, taking my own bite of his chicken parm. “Good for her!”

“Yeah,” he smiles, cutting and placing more chicken on my plate. “She’s marrying this friend of mine, Matt. I grew up with him.”

“Uh oh,” I make a face.

“Nah, it’s okay,” he explains. “He’s a good guy, and he’s fine with moving up here so she can continue teaching. He’s actually giving up his job at his father’s law firm, which you know, went over real well with my parents,” he laughs. “It’s just strange, because he’s my friend, and well, she’s my sister.”

“Yeah,” I laugh, rolling my eyes, watching as he takes another one of my ravioli’s. “You know how sisters can be.”

“Don’t be mad at Gracie,” he begs.

“You shouldn’t have involved her!”

“I would say let it go, but I know who I’m talking to,” he smirks. “So tell me about Italy, and don’t leave anything out.”

Our conversation quickly takes a turn towards smooth and easy-going. I tell him about my time overseas, my best friend, Ren, and all about school. He tells me about his robot winning the science fair, his promotion at the high school, and I’m reminded how talking to him is as easy as breathing.

Friends. Can I let him back in my life and just be friends?

When I talk he listens, and smiles, as if he’s hanging on to everything I say. The way he’s looking at me right now makes me want to pretend that that day in his office, with his wife -
ex-wife
- never happened. We fall quiet, and I stare as he takes another bite of food, watching the way his lips move.

Do I want to kiss him? Kill him? Forgive him? Hate him? Love him?

Our eyes meet, and I sigh. No to all of the above. Right now, I just want to talk like we used to.

We finish dessert, and I know better than to argue about paying, so I don’t even break out my wallet when the bill comes.

“Thank you,” he whispers, feigning shock.

It’s slightly killing me on the inside, but I want to prove to him that he doesn’t know me as well as he thinks he still does.

“I should be the one thanking you,” I shrug. “You paid.”

“But I know how badly you wanted to,” he shakes his head.

“No,” I sigh, and he gives me a look. “Okay, well maybe. But only because of all the times you paid for my lunch. I thought I could finally repay you.”

“You came here tonight,” he sighs. “That’s all I need.”

“I dunno,” I shrug. “Maybe you have to pay child support or something.”

“The kid wasn’t mine, Luci!” He pleads. “Will you please look at the damn paperwork?” He grabs hold of the envelopes in his pocket, shoving them my way again.

“Bad joke,” I hold my hands up, not taking anything from him. “Besides,” I continue, “This isn’t a date, and you paying sort of make it seem like it is.”

“It seems like a date,” he rolls his eyes. “Because we’re drawn together.”

I roll my eyes back at him in response.

“Fine then,” he laughs, helping me into my coat before getting into his. “I paid as a friend, and you can get the next time.” I give him a look of disbelief, and he’s already shaking his head no, fully admitting that it won’t go down that way, ever.

“
If
there is a next time,” I add. “I haven’t decided yet.”

We walk outside, and I stop once we get to the end of the block. “Thank you,” I bow my head slightly. “I’m parked this way, so, um, goodnight.”

I start walking, making a face over how dumb I sounded.

He soon falls in line with me, and I roll my eyes.

“Where are you parked?” I feel the heat of his body.