Dying Forever (Waking Forever Book 3) (6 page)

“I’ll tell you what
, Professor Bailey, why don’t you and I have dinner, and I can have one more chance at convincing you to come on board with this.” Tom masterfully walked the line between persistent and pushy, never straying into the latter.

Alison was standing next to her car
, her keys in hand as she considered the man’s offer. “I really -”

“It’s the least you can do for ignoring me the past week
and a half.” Alison was amazed at how even the man’s attempts at manipulating her came across as casual and charming. She felt like she was in a Tennessee Williams play, minus the family drama and latent homosexuality.

“Okay
, Tom. When and where? I’ll meet you.” Alison didn’t bother to mask the amusement in her voice.

“Well alright then.” Tom proposed, and Alison accepted
, an invitation for the following Monday to Two Brothers Barbecue Market. It was a casual barbecue restaurant with expansive outdoor dining, and though she hadn’t personally eaten there, her brother Chad had recommended it several months ago.

Hanging up from Tom, Alison unlocked her car and tossed her purse into the passenger seat. Starting the car, she flipped her headlights on and slowly backed up. Nearing the parking lot exit, a beep came from the dash
board. Looking down, Alison frowned. The tire pressure gauge light was illuminated.

“Shit.” The Honda had been the first car she owned with the gauge feature, and the first time the warning had gone off about a month after she bought the car, it had turned out to be a faulty sensor.

Rolling her eyes, she pulled the car into an empty parking space adjacent to the sidewalk, put it in park, and got out. The parking lot lights cycled on as Alison walked around to the passenger side of the car, and she realized her luck had run out. The nearly flat rear tire was definitely not a sensor malfunction.

Rubbing the back of her neck, she shook her head. “Excellent.” She could call her roadside assistance, but in truth, she could change the tire and be on her way before they arrived.
These pants were due to the cleaners anyway.
Alison thought as she looked down at the light gray slacks.

Popping the trunk of her car, she shifted several bags of clothes she had been meaning to take to Goodwill over so she could access the spare tire and jack.

“Need help?”

Alison jumped, her head hitting the underside of the trunk lid. “Ow!” She grabbed the back of her head as she turned around. “Bryce? Shit, you scared me.” Alison looked around the deserted parking lot. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m sorry - I thought that was you and maybe -” The woman took a step forward, her hand reaching for Alison’s throbbing head before she seemed to think better of it and stepped away. “I live in an apartment a few blocks over and sometimes I prefer to walk instead of driving. I’m sorry.”

A few blocks off t
he stretch of Broadway south of the campus, streets were lined with large, older homes that had been converted into multi-plex apartments. The occupants were often students, but it hadn’t occurred to Alison that Bryce would be living so close to the university, given she wasn’t a full time student.

“We seem to be meeting a lot lately.” Alison managed a smile
, in spite of the ache that was rapidly spreading through her head.

Bryce smiled, her shoulders relaxing. “I was just thinking that.” She looked past Alison and into the trunk of the car. “Can I help with that?” Bryce’s Irish accent was not overly pronounced, but it caused a w
arm flush of heat to Alison’s face to hear the word help being pronounced as
hilp
.

“I can hear that accent of yours.” Alison smiled as she turned back toward the trunk and lifted the tire cover.

“I think after so many years that it’s gone.” Bryce put her black North Face backpack down next to Alison’s car and helped the woman lift the spare tire out of the trunk.

“
Nope, and your
th
pairing is a dead giveaway.” Alison raised her eyebrows, smiled, and mimicked Bryce. “Ya siy afta so miny years. What are ya - tirty?” Alison began unscrewing the jack from its base.

Bryce laid the tire down flat
on the ground and stood up, dusting her hands off on her faded blue jeans, a huge smile on her face. “You do that pretty well, professor.”

Alison hesitated as she lifted the jack
out of the trunk. She didn’t like being reminded of her and Bryce’s primary relationship. “Linguistic classes during undergrad.”

Standing up, Alison looked at Bryce for the first time since being scared to death by her. She was wearing a pair of
fitted, faded blue jeans, a long sleeve navy t-shirt, black leather flip flops, and a thin navy blue elastic head band that held her thick auburn hair off her face. She was the most beautiful woman Alison had ever seen, and suddenly how they knew each other hardly mattered.

Bryce and Alison stood staring at each other, neither woman able or willing to move. A quick flash of light skittered across Bryce’s green eyes, and Alison assumed the culprit was a passing car’s headlights. “Bryce, I-”

Something akin to discomfort crossed Bryce’s face. “The tire.” The spell broken, Bryce turned her attention back to the spare tire on the ground. “Let’s get you on the road again.”

Given Bryce’s demeanor, it was clear to Alison that whatever had just happened between them had
not been entirely in her own head. Without a word, she went about getting the jack positioned under the car, and the two women worked in tandem, changing the tire within ten minutes.

Bryce lifted the flat tire up and into the trunk
. Alison was impressed with her strength, given the tire and rim easily weighed forty pounds. “All done.” The beautiful redhead stepped back from the trunk.

A dime size grease smudge stained Bryce’s left cheek
. Without thinking, Alison reached up and, cupping Bryce’s cool cheek with one hand, gently wiped at the grease with her thumb. “My mother used to do this with spit, so consider yourself lucky.” Alison looked into Bryce’s eyes. They were wide with shock and an even more intense green than usual.

Alison
realized her mistake immediately. She hardly knew this woman and had been completely inappropriate. The tension of the moment was palpable as Bryce’s intense gaze stayed fixed on Alison.

Stepping back
, Alison stammered when she spoke. “Anyway - you, you can get the rest.” Not knowing what else to do, the professor extended her hand. “Ah, thanks. You didn’t have to stop, but I’m glad you did.”

Bryce
blinked several times as if pulling herself back from a trance. She quickly shook Alison’s hand and released it, shoving her own hands into her jean pockets. “I didn’t have to scare the beejezus out of you either, but I managed that just fine, too.”

Alison laughed, and Bryce grinned,
the tension from moments ago gone. “Would you like to have dinner with me?” Alison had no idea where the question came from, or why she allowed it to exit her mouth. She had been thoroughly humiliated by this woman just a few weeks ago, and now she was going back for seconds.

Bryce frowned
, and embarrassment surged through Alison’s body, causing her to start sweating. She could feel her shoulders tense. The awkwardness that was creeping its way forward was her fault, and she should have learned her lesson on that downtown bar stool three weeks ago.

In an effort to mitigate
the feelings of inadequacy tightening their grip around her throat, Alison managed an explanation for the invitation that didn’t have anything to do with her attraction to Bryce. “I just thought since you helped me in the garage and now here, the least I could do is buy you dinner.”
There, that sounded less pathetic.

Bryce shook her head and picked her backpack up from the ground. “There’s really no need. I mean, I nearly gave you a concussion
tonight.”

“Let me at least give you a ride home then.” Alison hated how desperate she sounded when clearly the woman wasn’t interested.

Bryce’s expression verged on pained. “I’m only a couple blocks over. Thanks though.” Not waiting for Alison to respond, she turned and began quickly walking away.

Momentarily surprised by Bryce’s emphatic response, it took Alison a few seconds to get her bearings and walk after
her. “Bryce. Hold up.”
Is she seriously going to act like she can’t hear me?
Determination replaced embarrassment and apprehension as Alison broke into a quick trot. “I can follow you home, but then I would know where you live.”

Bryce stopped
, her back rigid as she turned to face the blonde. Seizing the opportunity, Alison continued. “I think I’ve offended you somehow, and I only meant to show my gratitude.”

Bryce l
ooked intently at Alison, her bottom lip pinched between her teeth. “I’m not offended, I just can’t-” Alison wanted to pry the words out of the beautiful woman’s mouth, but forced herself to be patient. “I can’t have dinner with you.” Bryce managed after several seconds.

Alison nodded. “Okay.” She was going to leave it at that, but there was a sadness in Bryce’s eyes that pushed her forward. “Can you please tell me why you can’t?”

Bryce looked down, her hands shoved deep in her front pockets. “I’m not -”

Alison waited for what seemed an eternity before she spoke. “You’re not - gay
?” She watched Bryce’s reaction carefully. The woman shook her head. “You’re not - attracted to me?”

Bryce’s eyes shot up. “God no, that’s not it.”

Alison was relieved. At least the longing looks and concerned gestures weren’t all in her head. The relief was short lived though, because she was out of explanations. “Then I don’t know what you’re trying to say.”

The uncomfortable woman stabbed at the sidewalk with the tip of her flip flop. “Can we be friends?”

This was not what Alison had hoped for, and she struggled not to hear the question as a euphemism for
I’m just not that into you
, but she liked Bryce. The pragmatist in her thought a friendship was better than nothing. “That would be nice.” Alison was surprised she managed to mask her disappointment. So much so that she nearly believed herself.

“That’s great.” Bryce’s tone and posture immediately relaxed, and she took a step toward Alison. “I like you.”

Alison grinned at the simplicity and sincerity of the statement. “I like you too. Dinner - or drinks, at some point then?”

Bryce nodded, a broad smile pulling at the corners of her perfect mouth. “That would be nice.”

The women said their goodbyes, and Alison walked back to her car feeling better than she had a right to. She had been essentially rejected by a beautiful, albeit mysterious, woman for the second time, but the promise of having Bryce in her life as a friend left her with a secret hope. A hope that friendship might take root and grow into something more.

“Ali, can you bring the bottle of wine out please?” Elaine Bailey’s voice came from the sprawling wood deck off the back of her and her husband Wayne’s Canyon Lake home. She was an attractive woman in her early sixties with light blonde shoulder length hair, and cyan-colored eyes.

Alison was sitting on one of three high back wooden bar stools in her parents’ kitchen with a half-eaten carrot jutting out of her mouth. Her parents had
built the lake house a year ago, and in spite of the drive - Canyon Lake was nearly an hour north of San Antonio - she enjoyed visiting. Alison loved the Craftsman style architecture; the low-slung roof, wraparound porch, and dark wood and granite interiors made the nearly four thousand square foot house seem more intimate.

Balancing on the bottom rung of the bar stool, Alison reached over the
gray granite bar and grabbed the bottle of Joel Gott 815 Cabernet Sauvignon before hopping off her seat. Walking toward the back of the house, her bare feet made a faint slapping sound on the chocolate colored birch floor. In spite of the size of the house, her mother had her interior designer maintain a cottage feel throughout the space. The dark woods had a distressed look and accent walls were exposed stone, giving the house an earthy ambiance.

Walking onto the large deck, Alison took a deep breath. The coolness of the
early night air was a welcome relief from the heat of the city. The lake was a sprawling body of water, and her parents had built their house further away from the more populated and sportsmen dense portion of the lake. It was unusual to hear anything more than the faint sound of a motor boat.

“Just put that on the table
, sweetie.” Elaine smiled at her middle child while basting six large chicken breasts on the built-in Char-Broil gas grill. 

Alison put the bottle of wine down on the long black metal and glass table. Pulling her leg up under her, she sat in one of six metal
chairs, sinking into the plush burgundy seat cushion. “Where is everyone anyway?” She crunched on the last of the carrot.

Closing the
grill lid, Elaine wiped her hands on the red and white striped apron she was wearing. Looking at her platinum Movado watch, she calculated in her head. “Hmmm, eighteen holes, foursome - they should be back in the next half hour.” Handing Alison the electric corkscrew, she sat down in the chair next to her daughter.