Not Looking for Love: Episode 3 (11 page)

"I think that went bad like back in the spring," I say, picking up the jar and checking for the expiration date.
 

He takes the jar from me and unscrews the lid. "This stuff never goes bad." He takes a whiff and slams the lid back on, his nose screwed up. "Or maybe it does."

"I have some cereal somewhere," I say and toss the mayo in the trash.
 

"No, that won't do." He opens the fridge again. "Got any eggs?"

"No, too much cholesterol," I say. "Is that why your fridge is always empty? Because you're so picky about food the store just doesn't stock anything you like?"

"Nah, that's just because I'm too lazy to go buy some." He closes the fridge and pulls a couple of pieces of bread from the bag, layering on the cheese and ham. "Besides my dad's place is just a few minutes away, and Ava insists on bringing me lunch practically everyday, so it's not like I actually have to buy my own food."

He shakes the sandwich at me. "Want one?"

"No, thanks." I brush past him, making sure to slide my body over his, and get the milk. "I'll just have some cereal."

He takes a seat at the table and starts eating. The sandwich is almost gone by the time I join him with my bowl of cereal.
 

"You're really lucky with all those people feeding you," I say and chuckle.

"It's nothing compared to how great it was while David was still around," he says. A shadow passes over his eyes, and I'm very aware that he said 'around' and not 'alive'.

"Really?" I say, because anything more will make my voice shatter into a million pieces.
 

"No, it's alright, Gail," he says, and runs his hand over my forearm, like I'm the one who needs to be comforted over his friend dying. "David was a chef, and he cooked like all the time. Really well, too."

I clear my throat and look into his eyes. But they're blank now, not transporting to me any place safe and warm. "That must have been great. Did he teach you to make anything?"

"Yeah right, he could hardly stand me being in the kitchen while he cooked, and I certainly wasn't allowed to touch anything," Scott says and smiles, the shadows disappearing from his eyes like he's looking all the way back to that kitchen and not regretting the sight. "I actually never saw the point in trying to learn, since he could do it so well."

The shadow returns, and I know what he's not saying like he actually said it aloud. He expected his friend to be around for a long time yet.
 

I want the shadows to go, I want it to be just us in this kitchen. Dead is dead. Why does it have to stay with you forever?
 

"I can't cook at all either," I mutter.

"Judging by the state of your fridge, I can believe that," he says, and eats the last bit of his sandwich like he's happy we're changing the subject too. "Was that some Chinese leftovers I saw in the fridge?"

I screw up my eyes, trying to recall when we ordered that. "I think that's been there since Tuesday. I wouldn't eat it anymore."

He stands and goes back to the counter. "I guess it's just sandwiches for me then."

"We could go out," I suggest.

"What, in this weather?" He shakes his head and looks at me over his shoulder, grinning widely. "Besides, weren't we going to take a shower after breakfast?"

The same grin spreads across my face, and desire forms a channel between us, flowing strong. I can't wait for him to finish that second sandwich.
 

Once we're in the bathroom, I slide off my robe and turn on the tap. I watch Scott undress in the mirror, but the steam rising soon makes it impossible.

I take his hand and lead him to the shower, because he's just standing there, staring at me, and the heat in the room is amplified by his gaze making it hard for me to breathe.

"Don't you think that's a little hot?" he says after placing his fingers under the spray and snatching them away immediately.

I step under the spray, and bend my head back so the water wets my hair and runs down my back. "I like it hot."

I'm still holding his hand but my arm is stretched out all the way now, because he's not getting in with me.

"Seriously," he says and grins sheepishly. "The water's too hot for me."

I adjust the temperature with my free hand. "My, you are difficult to please."

"Not really," he says and steps in, wrapping his arms around me. "I just don't want to have a heart attack from the heat in here."

I swallow the sharp fear that rises from my chest at his words. But he's gazing into my eyes, and I can see for miles through his, into a place worlds away, where even death has no real meaning.

I run my hands over the muscles of his arms, squeezing the hard flesh which doesn't really yield under my fingers. His neck is just as hard as his bicep, he's all muscle. There's nothing soft on him, except his lips pressed against mine now, in a kiss that has no beginning and no end.

My back is pressed against the tiles of the shower wall, the cold accentuating the heat, creating the perfect contrast. I lift my leg and wrap it around his lower back so his erection is pressing into me.
 

I pull away from the kiss and wrap my arms tightly around his neck. "I want you inside me."

His cock is throbbing against me, but he makes no move to obey.
 

"I want you to lift me up and do me against this wall," I whisper into his ear.

He smiles and grabs the back of my thigh. "We're supposed to wait a couple of weeks."

"I don't want to wait," I say.

"Like two or three weeks, right?" he asks. "Besides, if we do it like you want it'll just go in too deep, and you won't thank me for that."

I can't believe he can still say no to me so easily. "A week or two they said, but I'm ready now."

I graze my teeth across the hard tendon of his neck, squeezing lightly.

"Don't start biting again, Gail," he says. "It won't make me change my mind. And we're not doing it without a condom."

The water seems to turn icy cold at his words. I'm on the nighttime beach again, and the cold water is really spray from the rising black waves into which I threw my daughter, our daughter.

Scott's eyes are like shaded windows now, transporting me nowhere, making none of this easier. There's a Gail who knows he's only saying these things because he cares, but she's very far away and speaks very quietly.

Scott grins at me, and his eyes are light blue like the sunniest sky again. "Besides, I hurt my back helping a friend move last week, so lifting you is not really something I want to do right now."

I want to smile back, laugh even, and tell him it's alright, but this feels too much like our first few encounters, and I was sure we left those in the past. I was dumb to think it. Those days will hound me forever.

He lets me go and reaches for the shower gel, twisting his nose up at the flowery scent. "Man, this is way too girly, Gail."

The movie of my past humiliations is still doing a rerun in my head. "Is nothing I can offer good enough for you?" I say it too harshly, too shrilly.
 

The smile disappears from his face, and his eyes are hooded again, dark blue like deep ocean. "How can you even say that, Gail?"

I'm just standing there, staring at him, my mouth open, no words forming from the thoughts racing through my mind. It's all crashing against me, cutting me with the jagged edges. Mom's blind, glistening eyes staring at the ceiling, the crazy Gail who used the gardener for sex, killed her baby, ignored her friends, buried her feelings so deep they might never have surfaced had Scott not been so nice to me.
 

He's not looking at me anymore, not waiting for an answer. He dumps some shower gel into his palm and lathers up, while I'm still just standing there, salty tears mixing with the water running down my face. I burst forward and wrap my arms around his stomach.

"I'm sorry," I say, ignoring the soap now running into my mouth. It's not just for what I said now, it's for all those other things I said, and did, and thought. "I don't know where I'd be now if you hadn't taken me back."

He brushes his hair from my face and keeps his fingers tangled up in it. "You'd be just fine, Gail, I'm sure."

I have a nagging feeling that he's not really accepting my apology, but he's not pushing me away and he's not arguing with me, so maybe he is and I'm wrong, because I'm scared, unstable, seeing things that aren't there.

After we get out of the shower, I take my time blow drying my hair. When I finally emerge from the bathroom, he's lying on the bed, leaning on the headrest, dressed to go out. My heart is racing in my throat, because I'm suddenly certain he'll just say bye and disappear.

I wrap my robe tighter around myself and sit on the edge of the bed, resting my hand on his thigh. "Let's not argue, Scott. I don't know what came over me before."

He shrugs and doesn't look at me, doesn't take my hand. His leg is tense under mine. "You just want what you want."

"I just want you," I say and smile, but it does nothing to soften the hard edges of his face.

"But is that just a "for now" kinda thing?" he asks, fixing his eyes on mine so hard I just might start crying again. How can he take me for such a heartless, manipulative bitch? How can he not?

"No," I whisper, willing the tears to stay away.
 

"Really?" he asks, his voice softer now, like maybe he wants me to say I'm not sure. But I am.

I place my hand on his cheek and look into his eyes, wanting him to know none of this is a lie. Never was. "You're the only person I want to be around when I'm the most hurt, the most vulnerable, and it's been that way since the first time I saw you. I don't know why, and I never believed a thing like that was even possible. But I do know it for what it is and…and…"

"And it is what it is?" He finishes the sentence for me.
 

"And you could start trusting me a little more," I say and run my thumb across his lips.

"Maybe I should." He smiles and cups my face with his hand. "But we can't have sex yet, you'll get an infection."

"You know all this because of that other girl, right? Your ex girlfriend?" I ask.

"There was never any question of the two of us having sex again after she had the abortion," he says. "She wanted nothing more to do with me, though she did stay until she felt better."

"That wasn't very nice of her," I say.

He shrugs like it's not even important. "No, it wasn't. But she just wasn't in love with me. She married someone else like six months later."

"Are you still in love with her?" I don't know where the question came from, or why it was the first one that popped into my mouth.

He shakes his head and smiles at me like I'm simple. "No, not for a long time."

"But you had sex with her," I mutter, trying not to picture Scott kissing another girl, but failing.
 

"Why are we talking about this?" Scott asks. "The last thing I want to know about is your exes."

I pull my hand away from his face and place it in my lap, looking down at my entwined fingers.

He sighs and places his hand over mine. "Yes, I had sex with her. But that was more to get back at her, or something. Honestly, it was almost like having sex with a stranger. You know how it is, you're doing it, and it's supposed to be good, but the room's cold, and the bed's too hard, and you're wondering what the hell you're even doing there and just want to get it over with. At least that's how it was for me."

"It wasn't like that for me, with you?" I whisper, because it's the truth and I'm sure that's what he meant when he said "you know."

"Really?" he asks and lifts my face so I have to look at him.

"Yeah," I whisper.

"Then you should know that I actually Googled all that about sex before I came here," he says and grins, light returning to his eyes like dawn breaking. "And I was really disappointed to find out we had to wait."

I smile and lean forward to kiss him, wet and hungry. It really is enough, I don't want anything more than to just kiss.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Sunday night comes too quickly. I'm standing in the driveway, a cold wind blowing against my back, hugging Scott, unable to let go, fighting the urge to get in the car with him.
 

"The weekend'll be here real soon, Gail," he whispers into my hair.

"I know," I mutter into his chest, but a huge part of me doesn't believe it. Only, I'm acting like a little girl, and I should stop. I release him and take a step back. "I'll come down on Friday, right after class."

"Really?" he says, his eyes wide and the corners of his mouth curled up like he's trying not to smile. "You should've mentioned that before."

I smack his arm. "Just go then, if you're going to be rude."

He kisses me again and then he drives away, and I'm just standing in the driveway, the wind blowing icy drizzle into my face, but I can't move, because I'm still hoping he'll come right back.

A honk sounds and I move out of the way of Phillipa's car.
 

"Did you fall asleep standing up?" she asks as she climbs out of her car.

I shake my head and walk back to the house.
 

"So, how was your weekend?" she asks once we reach the porch.

I know the grin spreading across my face must look maniacal, but I can't stop it.

"That great?" she says and grins too.

"And how was yours?" I ask, because suddenly I don't want to talk about it, fearing that will erase all the magic.

"Pretty good too, actually," she says. "Oh, that reminds me. Greta is organizing a huge birthday party for me next Saturday in New York City. You have to come."

I feel my face fall in disappointment.

"You can bring a date," Phillipa adds, but there's an edge to her voice, like she didn't much like my reaction.

"I'd love to come," I say and smile widely, hoping to erase my slip up from before.

"Good, now let's eat, I'm starving," she says and walks past me to the kitchen, digging in her purse for the phone, likely to order some Chinese. I join her, though all I really want to be doing is lying on my bed, reliving the weekend while I wait for Scott to call.