In the Wake of Wanting (16 page)

“I booked them all to have the whole floor.”

“What?” she asks.

“It’s a security thing we always do,” I explain. “So if you hear anyone come up here, call down to the front desk. No one should be up here except you.”

“I’m still stuck on you having the whole floor. So I can, theoretically, stay in any room I want?”

I look at my watch. “Can you just trust that I already did the legwork and picked the one with the best of everything? Really, the most expensive one has the best rooms and the best view. It’s 3101, where my stuff is.”

“I mean, not everyone has the same taste, but I
guess
,” she concedes playfully, following me into the room. I hand her the key, as well as the keys to the other three rooms on the floor.

“You can go scope them out, too. Whatever.”

“I’m just kidding, Trey. If you told me I had to sleep in the janitor’s closet at the Carlyle, it’d probably be more spacious and quiet than my dorm room.” She gives me back the other keys. “Take them. I’m not going to use them.”

“Okay.” I smile down at her, finally moving my foot and allowing the door to close. I’ve never been alone inside a hotel room with any girl other than Zaina, and it’s exhilarating and terrifying at the same time. I can’t gather my things fast enough. I stuff all the toiletries I’d had out into my small bag haphazardly. I hadn’t even unpacked any of the clothes I’d intended to wear beyond tonight. “Here are sodas and some snacks. That book has menus for room service and the number for the concierge. Go crazy, order whatever you want. It’s fine. They’ll even do in-room massages. You should get one.”

The thought of her naked body laid out on a table is too much for me to take right now. I attach my duffle to my rolling suitcase, fold up the luggage that held my tux, and hurry past her.

“I’ll just take this,” I say, picking up the bottle of bourbon on the desk.

“Hey! I thought you said I could have that.”

“I can’t leave you with a full bottle of bourbon.” I shake my head. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, but if you got caught with it… I just… want me to pour you a glass?”

She nods. I sigh as she takes the bottle and I drop my things.

“I’ll go get some ice,” I tell her as I grab the bucket and the key that’s still by the door
. Do I stay and have a glass with her? Because I really, really want to. It’s just a friendly glass of bourbon and Coke. I’ll pour way more Coke than bourbon. And I’ll hang around for five minutes, tops.
I check my watch again.
It’s already been ten minutes. Gavin will wait. I shouldn’t do it. I absolutely should not do it.

Coley has a Coke set out with two glasses set on either side of it when I come back in the room.

“I’ll tell you what,” I say, placing ice in both of the glasses and then putting a splash of liquor in the bottom of each. “I’m going to take a rain check on this drink and make two for you. Put one in the fridge to keep it cold.” I pop open the soda and split it evenly between the two glasses.

She looks at me, smiling strangely. “They
were
actually both for me,” she says, trying to let me down gently.

“Of course they were.” I glance in the mirror in front of me, just to make note that my face is the same color as the Coke can. “I’m a stupendous idiot.”

“Just a little one,” she says, gesturing with her thumb and forefinger. “Why don’t you let me know when you get home? We can have a drink remotely. Deal?”

“That would be better,” I say. “Yeah.” I still feel incredibly stupid. “Gavin’s downstairs, so I better run. Enjoy the next sixteen and a half hours. Get some studying done–or don’t. It’s Coley time. Just… uh… love it, okay?”

“I will. Thank you.”

“I’m happy I could do it for you.”

We both look at each other awkwardly for a second or two before moving to hug one another. It’s nice to hold her like this again. The last time I hugged her, it was to comfort her; to take away her sadness. This time, it’s a show of gratitude, and I get great pleasure out of it. I hold her long enough to learn the scent of her shampoo and to feel the end of her silky hair through my fingertips.
Piña-colada
. I’m already drunk.

“So… good night,” I tell her.

“You, too.”

She walks me to the door and opens it, handing me the bourbon on my way out. At the elevator, I realize I probably shouldn’t be wandering around with an open bottle of alcohol in my hands and tuck it safely in my toiletry bag.

When I get back to my apartment, I don’t bother to change or unpack. I grab a highball and pour myself a drink, thinking about my gaffe with Coley.
How could I make that assumption? I’m such an idiot!

After digging through the Valentine’s basket my sister brought over this morning, I find some sour gummy hearts and start binge-eating them. They’re my weakness, and I need something to make me feel better. They taste like shit with the bourbon, but I pour myself a second glass when the first is done and then a third glass when I’ve downed the second. It’s only then that I have the courage to call my friend.

She answers while I’m mid-chew with a mouthful of gummies. “I’m really sorry about that,” I tell her, alternating between talking and chewing and swallowing.

“What?”

“Thinking you wanted me to stay and have a drink with you. I don’t know what I was thinking–”

“Don’t worry–”

“I
am
gonna worry. This fucking holiday is just messing with my head.”

“Wow. You just went straight to launching the f-bomb. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say ‘fuck’ before, Trey Holland.”

“I’m on my third drink. It brings out the fucks in me. I’m sorry.”

She bursts out laughing audibly into the mic. “Three, already? My second is still in the fridge! How long have you been home?”

“Long enough to have three bourbon and Cokes and about twenty-three gummy hearts.”

“Awww,” she says. “Are you an emotional eater?” My chuckle comes out as a snort.
Nice, Trey
. “Why do you let this holiday get to you?”

“Believe it or not, I’m a little bit afflicted by romanticism, too. It’s not just you,” I explain.

“Do you miss her?”

I sit in silence, rubbing my thumb against my forefinger because I swear I still feel her soft hair there. “Sure,” I say softly.

“Go pour yourself another and grab some more gummies. I’ll go get my second and we’ll talk about it.”

“’kay,” I say, dropping the phone on the sofa and pushing myself up off the couch with some difficulty.
Did I eat dinner tonight? Oh, the hotel had that salmon dish
. I didn’t eat much of it. It was too awkward, sitting at a table of couples and then just… me.

I squint at the amount of liquor I poured this time. It’s half the glass. I’m definitely going to regret this in the morning. After finishing it off with the soda, I choose chocolates instead of the gummy candy and go back over to the couch again.

“Did you leave me?” I ask her.

“I’m still here.”

“Good,” I say with a sigh.

“So, if Zaina were here, what would you be doing with her tonight?”

“Well, we’d be staying in that room you’re in, I guess,” I tell her bluntly.

“Yeah,” she says quietly. “I guess I can figure out what you’d be doing.”

“I don’t know about
that
. If it’s what I
think
you’re insinuating.”

“What do you think I’m insinuating?”

“I mean… you know…”

“What, the third drink brings out the ‘fucks’ in you. Does the fourth one make them go away?”

“Wooow…” I say, over-exaggerating the word. “
That
is…
that
is
forward
.
That
is what
that
is. Wow. You think we’d be fucking, huh?” I wish I had
never
said that out loud. I close my eyes and let my imagination do whatever it wants to with
her
.

“It’s what couples do… especially on Valentine’s Day.”

“What messed up world do you live in, Coley, where couples
fuck
on Valentine’s Day? I thought you were a romantic. Where’s the romance in that?”

“Maybe you’ve never been fucked right.”

My eyes are wide open. I sit up straight on the couch and every damn part of me is alert to what she just said even though she was quiet and meek and as sweet as the chocolate that’s melting in my hand when she said it. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“I don’t think I did.” I can hear the ice cubes in her glass on the other end of the line. I take a drink, too, needing something to cool me down. My heart is on the loose in my chest. It’s out of control, running wild, and I’m afraid Coley’s listening to its cavorting over the silence that’s now overtaken the conversation. “Is this how friends talk?” I ask her.

“I don’t think so,” she whispers.

I think about that for a minute or two. “I’d better go.”

“I know.”

But I don’t want to.

“Sleep well, laureate.”

“Sweet dreams, Trey.”
She has no idea.

On second thought, I think she does.

chapter nine

“Thank you for calling the Carlyle Hotel. How may I assist you today?”

“Room 3101, please.” I can hear faint typing in the background.

“I’m sorry, sir, but the guest in room 3101 has checked out already.”

“This is Trey Holland.”

“Oh. Sir, the room was checked out to you… it shows you checked out this morning? At seven-thirty-five a.m.”

“That’s right,” I say. “Just checking. I was making sure I did. Thank you.”

Why won’t you answer your cell phone, Coley?

I decide to leave her a message this time. “Hey, Coley. It’s a little after two. Look, I’d like to do the cowardly thing and say I don’t remember what was said last night, but we both know I’m not the cowardly type, so I’m just going to say I’m sorry. I should have just gone to bed when I got home. That conversation was completely inappropriate. I hope you’re not mad at me. I hope you’re not diverting all my calls directly to voicemail, but it’s kind of seeming like that now. And the hotel said you checked out really early. I feel like such an ass. Can you call me so we can talk and work this out before class tomorrow? So it won’t be all weird? Please? Thanks.”

Feeling unwell, I have another sip of chai tea at Starbucks and go back to my blog to work on some coding and pray that the right summary paragraph of my latest entry will magically appear in my head while I do. It’s not working. I just keep kicking myself for getting into that conversation with her last night. I wish I had someone to talk to, but I can’t talk to anyone in my family; if I could find Asher, he’d probably kick my ass for having feelings for her; and I’m afraid that Max would side with Zaina, even though he was my friend first and he’s as good as my brother. I know they’re close, and of course he’d be sympathetic to her. No matter how I frame this scenario, I’m the bad guy.

Callen
. Max’s ex. Sure, we’re not as close as we used to be because of their breakup, but I could still talk to him. He’s pretty much my last resort. It’s only eleven in the morning on the west coast. There’s a good chance he’s not awake yet, but I try him anyway.

“Mmmm…” he answers groggily.

“Man, I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“S’okay. What’s up?”

“I need to talk. Like, a serious talk. Do you have some time?” I look around the coffee shop, speaking low to make sure no one’s eavesdropping. I feel good, having nabbed the only single table in the back corner.

“Sure, yeah. Wow. I feel honored. Me over Max, huh? Is it about Max? Is everything okay?” He’s suddenly awake and worried.

“Everything’s fine with everyone. It’s nothing like that.”

“Okay. Okay, good. Yeah, shoot. Whatcha got?”

“You hung out with me and Zai that day over Christmas. What did you think?”

“Uhhh… it was a little boring, but I didn’t have high expectations. We all needed to go shopping and that was the only free time we all had, so… lunch was fun.”

“No, that’s not what I meant. What did you think of things between me and Zaina?”

“Oh.” He’s quiet while he thinks. “You guys were normal. A little boring, but I didn’t have high expectations.”

“Come on, Callen. Be serious!”

“You’re Zai and Trey! I don’t know. It seems like you’re in a groove.”

“In a rut, you mean.”

“Well, maybe.”