Love Show (17 page)

He didn’t call me the next morning. And I didn’t call him
either. I sat on the couch with David, paralyzed by three little words that
scared me. Three little words I didn’t fully believe.

“It doesn’t count if you say it
during sex,” David said. “Don’t freak out.”

I nodded. “Right.”

“Maybe he just meant it like—you
know,
I love you
right now?” he said.

“Right.”

“Either way, don’t freak out.”

“Right.” I took a breath. “I just
don’t want to let myself go like that.”

“Do you love him?” David asked.

I shook my head. “I can’t do this,
David.”

“Why not?” He looked at me.
“Hadley, you're not your parents. That cannot be an excuse for not going after
something that could be really good."

“It’s not an excuse. It’s a reason.
A good reason. And I'm trying to get this job. I'm trying to make sure the
paper stays in good shape. I barely have time for classes."

“Well, what's the problem? If he
loves you, what's so wrong about that? Why can't you go to class and love him?”

“The problem is that he makes my
head spin,” I said, exasperated. “We established the terms of the relationship.
We made
rules
.”

“Which is what you wanted. But what
if you want to change the terms? Would that really be the end of the world?”

I sighed. “I don’t want to change
the terms”

“Then, just, I don’t know...tell him
to hook up with someone else for awhile.”

I made a face. "I'm not
telling him to hook up with someone else."

“Why not?”

“Because it could ruin things. I
like things the way they are. I don’t want them to change.”

“So, tell him that,” David said. He
was wearing Ben’s sweatshirt, which was big and loose on his skinny frame.

“How’s Ben?” I asked. I had no idea
how to tell Jack I didn’t want anything to change. What was I supposed to say?
Hey, can we talk about the fact that you said ‘I love you’ last night? It
sounded stupid. Even in my head it sounded stupid. He was drunk. It probably
didn’t mean anything. He might not even remember.

David shrugged. “He’s fine. They
have a formal next weekend. He’s going with some girl.”

“He should go alone if he’s not
going to take you.”

“He thinks people suspect. He was
mad Jack found out.” He shrugged. “He doesn’t want us to be exclusive anyways.
Anyways, I asked this guy out. If he's going to see other people then so can
I."

I squealed. “Who?’

He smiled. “Friend of Nigel’s.” He
shrugged. “His name is Sam.”

"Sam sounds
great
,"
I said enthusiastically.

David nodded. He shrugged. “Yeah. I
would rather be exclusive with Ben. But I don’t want it to be just me always
waiting around for him while he puts on this big show. I mean, he doesn't let
his guard down around anyone.”

“You should absolutely see other
people if he wants to see other people,” I said. “That’ll be fun. What are you
doing?”

“Dinner, movie, drinks.” He
shrugged. He sounded less than thrilled, but I was happy. Anyone who was
actually out of the closet would be an improvement.

"That will be great."

"I don't know about that, but
it can't hurt."

“Give it a chance. If he’s not your
boyfriend—”

“Ben
is
my boyfriend,” David
said, sounding suddenly heartbroken. “He is. He just…” His voice caught.
“Fuck.” He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. “This is pretty stupid,
huh? You’re upset because he said ‘I love you’ and I’m upset because Ben never
will.” He laughed bitterly, shaking his head. “That’s what you get. Whenever
you have expectations, that’s what you get. The exact opposite.” He got to his
feet. “You want tea?”

“Sure,” I said softly. The pain on
his face was unbearable.

He put the kettle on, composing
himself. “I’m just pissed off. I mean…I’ve done everything he’s asked.
Everything
.
I got a new haircut, because my last haircut was too gay. I don’t dress like I
want to. I don’t ever make any plans, because the plans I’d make would be at
places he’d never go to. All of my friends aside from you are just like, not
even in the picture anymore.”

I rubbed my chin. “Have you told
him that?”

“No, because he’s under so much
pressure just seeing
me,” David said. “I’m the first guy he’s ever been
with for more than a night. He keeps telling me how big of a risk he’s taking.
But…” He shook his head. “I want it to be real.”

“Tell him that. Tell him all that.
What you just told me. You deserve real.”

“I just—I know he’ll break up with
me.”

“That’s his loss though, David. If
he breaks up with you, then good riddance. You deserve those things. You
deserve to see your friends and to wear your hair however you want to wear your
hair. It’s your goddamned hair.”

He smiled.

“It’s not his hair. Your hair.”

He laughed. “Yeah. Yeah. I know.
But it’s hard.”

“It is hard,” I admitted. “Why is
it so hard to talk to people? Like, that’s the main thing we do with each
other. We talk.”

“Technology.”

“I don’t think it’s that simple.”

“I do.” He lifted his shoulders.
“Think about it. You can basically figure out what someone is doing and
thinking without asking them now. Facebook, Twitter, whatever. And if you have
a question, you can text it. And that’s like it never even happened. Talking.
Talking is hard.” He nodded.

“Well,” I said. “Fuck talking. I
think we should do something fun. Just you and me. Like old times.”

He laughed. “What do you want to
do?”

“Practically anything.”

“Let’s go into Chicago.”

“Yes. Let’s go into Chicago.”

“Let’s go to the museum.”

I smiled. “Let’s.”

“This is a fabulous plan,” David
said. He smiled. “Do you still want some fucking tea?”

“I do want some fucking tea,” I
said. “We ditch everything Friday. No paper, no classes, it will be glorious.
Make arrangements, David.”

Juliet had done an incredible job on the proposal for the
Valentine’s Day issue, which was just around the corner. I sat down with her to
discuss it and was blown away.

“Juliet, this is unbelievable,” I
said, looking at the layout and at the outreach she had already done.

“Right?” she smiled. “So, we have
450 admirer tweets. Which is going to be crazy. We’ll do them all from the
Daily Social Twitter feed.”

I nodded.

“And then we’re going to print them
in small print on a foldout,” she said. “So that people can read them in the
paper too.”

“The tweets?”                     

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” I said. I smiled. “This
sounds awesome, Juliet. Seriously.”

“Thank you!” she smiled broadly.
“So, um, when do you hear about the
Times
?”

I shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t
think my interview went that well.”

“But, when do you hear?”

“By the end of the week,” I smiled.
“We’ll see.”

“And when do you get off those
stupid crutches?”

“Ugh.  Soon,” I said. “Another week
or two.” My knee felt fine when I just put my weight on it. But walking still
hurt. “I can’t wait.”

My phone buzzed on the table. It
was a phone call. Jack.

“Can you hold on a second?” I asked
Juliet.

“Well, I’m actually—that’s about
everything. So, I can just go.”

“Thanks. It looks really, really
great. Let me know if you need help with anything.”

Juliet shuffled her papers together
and closed the door to my office behind her.

I picked up the phone. “Hey.”

 “Can you talk?” Jack asked.

“I’m at…”

“The newspaper, I know. I mean. Can
you get away for an hour?”

“Why?” I asked cautiously.

“I just…I’d really like to see
you,” he said softly. “I’m sorry if…Saturday freaked you out.”

I took a sharp breath. “No,
it’s...it’s really fine.”

“Come over?”

I took a breath. “Jack, I have like
all of ten minutes.”

“That’s fine. That’s—I really just
want to talk to you.”

I chewed my lip. “Alright. I’ll be
right there.”

I hadn’t been nervous to see him
for weeks. But I was nervous when I parked and when I opened the door. He was
standing in the living room, absently watching the TV.

“Hey,” he smiled and nodded and I
walked up with him to his room and sat down on the floor with my back to a
wall, my feet stretched out before me

He gave me a wry grin. “I told you
I love you.”

I cringed. “Yeah.”

“You’re freaking out.”

I swallowed. “A little bit.”

“Why?” he asked.

“Well, did you mean it?”

He threw his head back. “Jesus.”

“What?”

“Tell me what to say,” Jack said.
“If you want me to say I don’t love you, I don’t love you. Is that what you
want?”

“Do you love me?” I asked
cautiously.

He took a breath in. “You’re like
my favorite person.”

I smiled at that.

“I’m not going to propose. I’m not
going to buy a ring or buy you flowers or force you to date me or issue an
ultimatum,” he said quickly. “It just, I don’t know. I’m not going to say I
don’t care about you.”

But are you in love with me
?

 “Could you say something?” he
asked. “Because I’m freaking out.”

“Why?” I asked.

“I’m freaking out because I think
you’re going to walk away because I said something stupid.”

“I’m not going to walk away,” I
said. I shrugged. "I think it made me worry that you might want something
I can't give you right now. But, I don’t want to walk away. I
won’t
walk
away. Okay?”

He let out a loud, enormous sigh
and he paired it with a toothy smile. “Okay.”

“I have to go back to the paper,” I
told him matter-of-factly. I hesitated at the door. “And, you know, for what
it’s worth, I care about you, too. A lot. Like, in a way that makes me afraid
we'll screw something up and stop talking."

He smiled. "We won't."

I nodded. "I think it's easier
than you think."

"No, I swear to God. I'll
never say anything stupid again in my life." He gave me a goofy grin and I
smiled back at him.

"Okay. I really have to
go."

He nodded and kissed me.

Still, I couldn’t help but feel
like something had changed as I walked down the stairs. I didn’t know if it was
for the better of for the worse. I just knew something was different.

I came home to see David looking like David. It was an
extraordinary change. He was wearing pants he liked and a tight t-shirt and
staring at his reflection in the mirror.

“Hi,” I said, almost shocked. I smiled
at him. “You look good.”

He shot me a bitchy glare. “Oh,
shut up. I look totally average.” He rearranged his hair, fussing with the
haircut in the mirror. “Why did you let me do this to my hair?

I smiled broadly. “Oh, I
so
did not let you do that.”

“I’m done, by the way.”

“What?”

“With Ben,” he said flatly. “I’m
done. That girl he’s bringing to his semi-formal? He slept with her.” He took a
breath and failed to maintain the campy air of total assurance. His voice shook
as he explained. “I mean, I didn’t think he would ask me. I mean, let’s be
real, I never expected him to ask me. I knew he was bringing this girl. But a
girl he slept with? And why does he even
have
to go? He could have made
any excuse. Any. But I did everything he asked. I practically stopped talking
to you, because he thought you were trying to break us up.”

Well, that explained so much.

“I’m sorry,” I said softly. And I
genuinely was sorry to see him so upset. But I was relieved that he had
realized he deserved to be treated better. I sat down on the couch next to him
and curled underneath his arm.

“You can say it.”

“Say what?”

“That you told me so.”

“I’m not going to say that to you,”
I murmured.

He exhaled. “I hate that I care
about him.”

I smiled at him weakly. “Yeah. I
know.”

“I absolutely hate it. Will you get
drunk with me?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” I said. I
laced my fingers with his. “You’ll be okay. You won’t care forever.”

“I know. I’ll be better.” He shook
his head. “I just feel like an idiot.”

“You’re not one,” I smiled. “I would
never live with an idiot.”

He was already pouring the tequila
shots. I raised an eyebrow. This was going to get messy.

“OH WHOA WE’RE HALFWAY THERE! OH WHOA LIVIN’ ON A PRAYER!
TAKE MY HAND AND WE’LL MAKE IT I SWEAR!”

It was hard to tell who was screaming
louder in the mostly deserted bar that Thursday evening, but David and I were
making enough noise to clear the place out.

When we both staggered out the
door, I glanced at David and burst into laughter.

“Oh my god, I
hate
him,”
David said. “I absolutely fucking hate him. He is the goddamn worst. Fuck you,
Ben Mitchell.”

I sighed heavily. “I know.”

“Now what?” he asked.

I shrugged. “Call a cab?”

He nodded. “Right. Cab. Right.” But
I didn’t call a cab. I reached into my bag and I called Jack.

Drunk and happy, I called him baby.

“What have you done with Hadley?”

“I got her very, very drunk,” I
said. “Come get me, please.”

The demon sun crawled through the blinds and declared war on
my eyes and my head. I rolled over and crashed into Jack’s body. He grunted.

“I think I died,” I croaked.

He laughed happily. “Nah, I
wouldn’t let that happen.”

 “I am never drinking again. Ever.
I am fucking allergic.”

“Okay.”

“I never want to hear last night
mentioned,” I said. “There are massive blanks in my memory. And I do not want
them filled.”

Jack smiled wryly at me. “You threw
up.”

“Stop.”

“And you said I was adorable.”

“Stop. Cease and desist.”

He laughed and reached for a glass
of water on the bedside table. He handed it to me. “And then David accused me
of killing you, but he was wasted, too.”

“I remember none of this.”

“You looked kind of dead.”

“Stop.”

“This was before you also took off
your clothes and did the Macarena.”

“I did
not
do the Macarena
naked.”                      

“That might not actually have
happened.” He kissed my cheek. “You did throw up, though.”

“Bastard.” I looked down at the
glass of water he had given me and then I looked up into his kind face. I took
a sip. “You’re too nice to me.”

“No,” he said simply. “I’m not.”

“You are,” I said seriously. “I was
very responsible when I didn’t expect anyone to be nice to me. This is your
fault.”

He laughed. “I was nowhere
near
you. I found you in this condition,” he said. He rolled his eyes. “Clearly, you
should not ever go to bars with David. Also, I heard some stories about tequila.
That should be against the rules.”

I made a face, remembering tequila.
I really couldn’t disagree.

I peeled myself out of my bed and
pressed my hand to my forehead. “Fuck.”

“Advil. You need Advil, coffee, and
a liver transplant.”

“I don’t know anybody who’d give me
their liver.”

“I’d tell you that I would, but
then you’d freak out again,” he said softly.

I smiled at him. “
And
you
slept over.
Again.
” We hadn’t talked further about the ‘I love you’
thing. But it had to be a good sign that he was joking about it.”

“You made me.”

“I don’t remember that.”

“Well,” he said. “You don’t
remember very much. Do you?
Jack, I’ll never let go
,” he mimicked.

“Oh god.”

“Never let go.”

“I don’t believe you,” I said, even
though I totally believed him.

“Jack!” he mimicked.

“My voice does
not
sound
like that.” I got out of bed. His laughter followed me down the hall and into
the bathroom, where I turned on the shower and stepped under the water. I was
washing my hair when I heard the door open and close.

Jack stepped into the shower behind
me. He smiled when he felt the water. “You would like it boiling.”

I kissed him and he gently eased me
toward the wall. He pressed his hands against the tiles, close to my head,
while he kissed my lips bitingly. He ducked his head and brushed his lips
against my neck, his wet hair tickled my chin and the muscles in his shoulders
rippled as he bent and kissed the flat ridge of my breast bone. I took a breath
and felt his mouth against my fluttering heart.

He dropped to his knees and kissed
me lower. My hipbone and my groin and then just a bit lower. His tongue was
soft and warm and when I felt it in me, I rose up onto my toes.

I heard his hitching breath, the
pleasant gurgle of water running down the drain, the quiet roar of the shower.

He sat back on his heels, his hands
on my hips, his tongue driving me crazy, and I nearly lost my balance.

“Jesus, Jack.”

He laughed and the muffled
vibration ran through me. I grabbed his wet hair and bit my lip to keep from
crying out as he skillfully took me higher and higher.

I lifted my arm to my mouth, and
bit into my wrist when I came. “Oh my god, oh my god,” I murmured when he was
done.

“Hey, girl,” he said softly. He
pulled me down, so we were both sitting in the shower and he washed the shampoo
out of my hair as I leaned my forehead against his shoulder.

“Where’d you learn that?”

“Took a seminar,” he whispered.

Afterwards, I lay on my bed breathing deeply while he sat on
the edge of my bed getting dressed. He was staring at a framed photograph of my
father.

“So, what’s your deal with your
dad?”

“No deal, really,” I said. I looked
up at the ceiling. “Wasn’t around much for there to be a deal.” I took a breath
in.

“Hm,” he said.

“What’s your family like?” I asked.
I only knew the basics. His mom and his older brother. That his father had died
when he was a kid and he didn’t ever talk about it.

He exhaled. “Soldiers and
do-gooders, the lot of them.” He smiled.

“Really?” I asked.           

“Yeah, I don’t know where I came
from either,” he joked.

“I didn’t say that,” I said.

He dropped the aloof grin.
"“My grandfather was an Admiral in the Navy. Old-school.” He finished
buttoning his soft flannel shirt and smiled. “My older brother idolized him.”

“Are you still close?”

“He died,” he said softly. “Five
years ago. Heart attack.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. He was old.”  Jack
cleared his throat. “He’d be really proud of Alex.”

“I’m sure he’d be really proud of
you too.”

“Yeah, maybe,” he smiled. “I didn’t
really mean it like that. Just that Alex is so much like him.”

I nodded. “It must be hard for you
knowing he’s in Afghanistan.”

“My mom worries,” he said,
deflecting the question. “But doctors usually stay pretty safe.”

“You told me he was perfect, right?”
I asked, remembering our first conversation in the car.

“Yeah,” he rubbed his chin. “Alex
is perfect. He had to grow up kind of quick. He was always trying to get me in
line.”

“How’s it been for you? Knowing
he’s over there?” I asked softly, pushing a little bit.

“It sucks,” he said. He exhaled
heavily. “It sucks like you wouldn’t believe.” He smiled and picked up a
picture of me and my mother. “Is this your mom?”

I nodded. I didn’t know why I kept
that picture on my dresser. It mostly made me sad about how I felt like I
hardly knew her.

“God, she’s beautiful.”

“Mm,” I said. I’d heard that so
many times. “Yeah, she is.”

“She looks just like you.”

“Not really.”                  

He smiled. “Just like you. Your
smile is different, though.”

“How?”

He shook his head studying it. “I
don’t know…when you really smile? It’s warmer. Are you close?”

I shook my head. “No.”

“Why not?”       

“She never lets her guard down,” I
said. I shook my head. “Not with anyone. Not even with me.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Well, that
explains a lot.”

He set the photograph back down on
the dresser and then climbed onto the bed. 

“I let my guard down with you.” I
looked at him. “More than I probably should have.”

“Yeah, after I put up a fight,” he
kissed my forehead. “So, you have no deal with your dad. And your mom doesn’t
let her guard down. Divorced?”

I nodded.

“Remarried?”

“Oh, more times than I’d care to
count. Both of them. My dad’s single again, but my mom’s on her sixth husband.
I went home for Christmas. And I went to my house, and there was someone else
living there.” I laughed. “She didn’t even tell me she had moved. Or that she
had gotten remarried.”

“Seriously?”              

I laughed. “Yeah.”

He let out a low whistle. “Did you
say sixth husband?”

“I said sixth husband,” I said.  “Are
you close to your mother?”

He shrugged. “I was a handful in
junior high and high school. Just an angry kid. Got kicked out of a couple
schools. I told you that, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Anyways, the third time it
happened she sent me up here to live with Bobby. Which helped.” He cocked his
head. “Some.”

“I didn’t know you lived with him.”

He nodded. “Yeah. Senior year. I’d
have never gotten into Northwestern if he didn’t teach here.”

I looked at the mix of
vulnerability and regret on his face. “Did you get less angry?”

He smiled. “I got in a few fights
freshman year.”

“Really?”                                                  

“That’s how I met Xander. He kicked
my ass,” he said. I rolled my eyes and he laughed at me. “Nah, I’m not angry
anymore. Maybe I never actually was angry. I just think I missed my dad a lot.”

“So you fought people?”

He nodded. “When you lose someone
important, not everything makes sense. Being angry was easier than being hurt.
Being alone was easier than letting people get too close. I feel like you know
something about that.”

“Yeah,” I said softly.

“Because of your parents?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. I could
never really count on them. They were always making promises they could never
keep,” I breathed. “But then I met David. And he’s always been there.” I bit my
lip.

“David’s a good kid,” Jack said
decisively. He rolled onto his back.

“He broke up with Ben.”

“That’s good,” he said. He smiled.
“That’s really good.”

“Yeah,” I said through a yawn. “I’m
relieved.” I stretched my back “God, I’m so hung-over.”

He got up.

“Where are you going?”

“Gimme a sec.”

He came back with a Gatorade,
kicking the door shut behind him.

“Oh, you are a good, good man.”

He smiled, handing it to me. “Wait
until you hear my demands.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“We have our parents' weekend
semi-formal,” he cleared his throat. “In two weeks. I’ve never gone before,” he
confessed. “But I kind of want to this year. Alex is on leave and my mom and
Bobby will come. Anyways, I thought we could go together.” He shrugged. “Only
if you want.”

I was startled, really, by the
invitation to meet his family, more than to his formal. “Yeah,” I said.
“Definitely.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Of course.”

He nodded. “Good.” He grinned. “I
was kind of worried you’d say no. It’s like so against the rules it’s not even
funny.”

I smiled. “Well. I have to say,
Jack Diamond, you’ve demonstrated a deplorable lack of respect for
all
of my rules.”

He chuckled. “Never met a rule I
couldn’t break.”

“Mm-hmm,” I said. “At least you
deliver Gatorade.” He got back under the covers and kissed my damp hair.

“I’m disappointed my shower
performance was less impressive than sugar water delivery,” Jack said.

After we had breakfast on Sunday, we scarcely had a moment
that wasn’t spent together. Maybe it was the hangover, but I couldn’t get
enough of him.