Come Undone (20 page)

He
shook his head. “That won’t be necessary. How about you?”

“I’m
good,” I said, fighting the blush that was creeping upward. “Bill has great
taste in that department,” I added. Lucy raised her eyebrows at me, but I
pretended to make notes on the clipboard.

“Glad
to hear it,” he said. “You know what I could use though? Shoes. Size fourteen.
And a half,” he said with a wink. “They’re hard to find, so don’t forget to
write that down.”

It
took me a second to realize I had dropped my pen. Lucy froze, and I was sure I
saw her sneak a peek upward from where she was crouched.
I wonder if that’s true? He
does
have big hands. And if . . . ?
I shook my head and looked up. He
was watching me in the reflection again.

“Shoot,”
Lucy said, causing me to break the stare. “I pricked myself. I’m going to get a
Band-Aid. I’m done if you want to get dressed, David.”

“So
Brian Ayers, huh?” he asked when we were alone. “Do you really think it’s wise
to go around drinking wine in strangers’ apartments?”

“I
thought you knew him.”

“He’s
still a stranger to you.”

“Is
he a bad guy?”

“No,
but that’s not the point,” he said, running his hand over his face. “And in
that dress.” He exhaled loudly.

“It’s
just business.” I smoothed my hand over my dress self-consciously.

He
inclined toward me, and I stiffened instinctively. “Do you really find him
attractive?” he asked near my ear while he picked up his phone from the desk. His
hair was styled into that lustrous wave again, and when he stood back, I was
left with a waft of men’s hair product.

I
shook my head slowly without breaking eye contact. “I suppose some women might
think so,” I echoed his words. “But no, he’s not my type.” David raised his eyebrows
and looked pleased.

I
leaned over for my apple and settled back against the desk. “Speaking of which,
how’s Maria?” I asked casually.

“Hmm,
not sure. We can call and ask if you’d like.” He waved his phone at me and I
scowled. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know. You just have to ask,” he
said. I looked into my apple, searching for an answer it couldn’t give me. I
shook it slightly, hoping for an eight ball miracle.

He
disappeared into the other room, this time leaving the door ajar. I hesitated,
wondering if I really wanted to know. It was fair to say that the image of her
perfectly browned skin and slitted green eyes had haunted me since the night
we’d met.
Why am I so pale?
I
lamented.

“So?”
he called from the other side of the door.

“Okay.”
I took a bite of the apple and chewed slowly. “Is she your girlfriend?”

“No,”
he stated.

“Do
you have sex?”

I
listened to him chuckle and then fall silent. “Yes,” he said after a moment. I
felt the divergence of my heart drop and my insides tighten simultaneously. Although
I tried to look away, I couldn’t help noticing flashes of his tanned skin through
the sliver of doorway. “We have an unspoken arrangement. We go out, she
accompanies me to some events.” He paused. “We sleep together sometimes. But
we’re not exclusive.”

“Not
exclusive?” I asked incredulously. He reentered the room, crossing his arms and
positioning himself in front of me.

“No,”
he confirmed, looking me in the eye. “We see other people.”

“I
thought you didn’t gallivant.”

“It’s
hardly gallivanting,” he said, lifting his chin fractionally. “It’s
cut-and-dry. I normally don’t have time to seek women out, but sometimes things
develop.”

“Are
you seeing other women?”

“Not
technically at the moment,” he said. “But I can, and I do.”

I
didn’t know why his honesty startled me. I’d known all along that he was a
player – casual encounters and all. I had been right about one thing
though – I wasn’t the only person who had experienced this connection
with him. I suddenly felt out of my league, which was becoming an all too
familiar feeling. My indignation from our first introduction resurfaced, and I
found satisfaction in the fact that he couldn’t notch me on his figurative post
like the others.

“Well,”
I said uncomfortably, at a loss for words.

“Anything
else?” he asked, arching an eyebrow. His words were measured, and I knew he’d
heard my request for restraint earlier in the week. I got the feeling there was
something he wanted me to ask, but he was playing indifferent. I decided I’d
heard enough, though.

“No.”
I forced a smile, a front for the confusion I was feeling.

“What
is it?” he asked with a short nod.

“Nothing.”
I shrugged. “I should check on Lucy,” I said after a moment.

“Olivia,”
he said, and stopped. His face changed then, and I noticed his shoulders loosen
slightly. “I’ve been reading your articles on-line. I enjoy your writing.”

What?
I gave him a
funny look as my insides flipped over, taken aback by the unsolicited
compliment.

“No,”
I shook my head, turning red. “My mother is a writer. I’m an editor. She used
to make me sit and edit her stuff for hours, in fact.”

“Hmm,”
he whirred. “You are a great writer, though.”

“Thanks,”
I whispered, embarrassed that it came out sounding like a question. We sat that
way for a moment as silence settled over the room. Before he could say anything
else, I threw the apple rind I’d been holding into the trash across the room,
sinking a perfect shot. “Three-pointer,” I said, throwing my hands up.

“Basketball
fan, huh?” he grinned at me.

“Bill
is,” I replied without thinking. “How about you?”

“I’m
a Bears fan myself.”

“Ah.
Football. I could see that.”

“Oh?”

“Sure,
I can picture you as a quarterback, working the field. Leaving a trail of
cheerleaders in your wake,” I said, biting my lip as I smiled. “Did you play in
high school?”

“Yes,
though I would’ve preferred to focus on the swim team.”

“So?
Quarterback? Linebacker?” I paused, running my hand along the edge of Lucy’s
desk. “Tight end?”

“QB.”

I
nodded. “Thought so. I had a crush on our high school quarterback.” I cocked my
head. “He looked a little like you, but not as tall,” I said, letting my eyes
wander down his body.

His
hand twitched, and he quickly crossed his arms tighter. “What are you doing?”

I
lightly lifted my right shoulder, staring him down. “What do you mean?”

“You’re
flirting with me, even though you asked me to back off. Just like on the roof
the other day.” He stopped and I blinked at him a few times, unsure of what
he’d say next. “Olivia, I’ll put on a show in front of your friends, at your
work, whenever we’re in public. But I’m growing tired of pretending when we’re
alone. Don’t tempt me,” he warned.

I
knew by his indelicate tone that he meant to reprove me, but my insides liquefied
in response.
Pretending. What is he
pretending?
I swallowed as a tingling grew between my legs. For a quick
second, I wished I were single so I could find out what he didn’t want to
pretend anymore.

Lucy
burst through the door again sporting a bright pink Band-Aid. “Sorry! I had to
go all over, but I finally found a mom with one in her purse. I don’t even
think it’s bleeding anymore.” Despite the carnal reaction my body was
experiencing, I couldn’t help but smile at her; she could be so clueless at
times. “So David, I think we’re all set. You can take your card back. Did you
want to join us for lunch?”

He
hesitated for maybe the first time since I’d met him. “I would love to,” he
said and then looked at me pointedly. “But I really shouldn’t. Thanks for your
help today. Good luck with the, uh, dresses,” he said, grabbing the rest of his
things from the desk and backing away.

“Thanks,
David! I’ll have your items delivered as soon as they’re altered.” She turned
to gather the suits, but I watched him go. “Isn’t he sweet? Let’s go eat,” she
said. “I’m starved.”

~

“Thanks for
being flexible. I don’t think we have time for anything other than fast food.”

“No
prob,” I said, sliding into the booth. “Oh, I supersized the fries.”

“You’re
so bad!”

“We’re
indulging! Before a dress fitting!” I exclaimed, unwrapping my burger.
“Gretchen would not approve.”

“Oh,
look.” She reached into her handbag. “This can be dessert so I don’t feel
guilty,” she said, palming an apple.

“Really?
I’m having a milkshake.”

“Olivia!”
she scolded. “Should I have asked for a size four instead of a two?”

I
laughed. “Shut up. So I haven’t even seen Gretchen since the restaurant
opening.” I dipped a fry in ketchup.

“I
was a little wasted,” she said, skewing her mouth.

“I
think we all were. What’s the latest on the chef?”

“She’s
still stringing him along, in true Gretch fashion. Sometimes it really bugs me,
the way she treats those guys,” she confessed. It bothered me too, although I
couldn’t be sure why. I didn’t mind that she played the field, but she seemed
to revel in making them squirm.

“Well,
it takes two,” I said, trying to be fair. “Sometimes I think they like it.”

“That’s
true. But I just don’t see why. Was she always this way?”

“No,”
I said, swallowing my food. “Growing up she was actually a bit shy and always
hid behind these big glasses. A little pudgy too, but don’t tell her I said
that. She’s so smart though, you know. When she met Greg, her appearance
changed – she started doing her hair and lost some weight. That started a
few weeks before the visit where you guys met. And when he left, well, you sort
of know since you were there. That’s when something inside changed.”

“Greg
was great,” Lucy said wistfully. “But I hate him.”

“Me
too.” I laughed before pausing to think. “He was one of the closest friends
I’ve ever had,” I said seriously. I realized then how much I missed him. After five
years, I still considered him a close friend. I hadn’t been allowed to grieve
his abrupt departure, since I had wanted to be strong for Gretchen.

“There
was always something about him though,” Lucy continued, as if she hadn’t heard
me. “Sometimes I felt like he was living behind a glass wall, like I could see
him and he could see me, but I couldn’t quite touch him. Sometimes I wonder how
I ever fit in with you two.”

“Lucy,”
I laughed, wiping my hands on a napkin. “What do you mean? I never heard you
say that about him.”

“Well
we weren’t really supposed to talk about him after. I just think you guys were
similar, which is why you got along so well. And Gretchen and I aren’t
necessarily alike, but I’m surprised by how close we’ve become.” I nodded in
agreement. Even though I’d introduced them, I sometimes envied their
relationship. Their connection had developed quickly, and I’d often thought
that they’d have found each other regardless. “And Andrew, well,” she smiled.
“He’d get along with just about anyone, so I’m not surprised that he fits so
well into the group. I’m just thankful I snagged him before anyone else did.”

“He’s
a good one,” I nodded. “But you guys were meant for each other.”

“Do
you really think so?”

“Without
a doubt.”

“Do
you feel that way about Bill?” she asked suddenly.

I
stopped chewing before swallowing with a gulp. “Of course I do, Luce. But, you
tell me. Where does poor Bill fit into all this?” I teased.

“Bill?
Well, he’s . . .” Her face became still as she thought. “He and Andrew are
becoming close, which I’m so happy about. It’s a dream come true that we found
guys who get along so well. And he loves you so much.”

I
wasn’t quite sure what she meant by that. She was being sincere, but it felt
like a cop out answer compared to what she’d just said about everyone else.

“Are
you guys excited for our fishing expedition?” I asked, pretending to cast a
line.

“Oh
my gosh, you’re a nerd. Andrew is over the moon.” Just then, her phone chimed.
“And that would be him,” she said, pulling it out. “‘Gonna catch you a big one
tomorrow,’” she read aloud. We burst into laughter. “Did I mention that he’s
excited?”

“That’s
sweet,” I said with a big smile. “Should we invite Gretch? Do you think she’d
come this year?”

“We
can try.” She balled up her trash and tossed it on the tray.

~

I stood with
my arms planed, trying not to laugh as the seamstress pulled at the armhole.
“It tickles,” I whined to Gretchen as she watched.

“I
told you.”

“So
I guess I can’t wear a bra with this,” I observed, looking over my shoulder at
the back, or lack thereof.