Starting Fires (27 page)

Lacey was sitting next to me and I pulled her into a conversation, trying to get Paul involved. “This is Lacey,” I told him. “What’s that band you like so much?” I asked her. “Shark Banana? Paul has seen them live. Twice.”

Her eyes grew large. “Really? Tell me everything,” she said. “I can never get tickets.”

He smiled and started recounting the first time he ever saw them. Once it was clear they would be talking for a while, I walked over to Lucas. I was standing in front of him when he pulled me into his lap with a jerk, and, without warning, opened his mouth over mine, pushing his tongue in. It was aggressive and foreign. Nothing about it was romantic or said
I miss you
. I could smell the alcohol on his breath, and feel his hands groping. Wanting it to be over, I pulled away. “What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Nothing now,” he said, bringing his mouth to my neck. His hands were roaming over my body, and I felt my face heat when Paul looked in our direction. His eyes lingered on the hand below my breast. Lucas was squeezing inappropriately, his other hand high on my thigh, nearly touching me between my legs. Normally, this might not have bothered me. It was a little much since I was sober, but his touch was always welcomed. Just not in front of Paul. He knew so little about Lucas and I, and all he
did
know was that I was crazy about him, but that we weren’t dating. From the way he was touching me, it was obvious that we’d done other things. It made me feel like a floozy.

“I’m gonna go get a drink,” I smiled at Lucas. “Do you need anything?”

He shook his head and gave me a gentler kiss on the mouth. That was more like it. Gladly, I returned it before walking to the bar. Within a few minutes, Kate had served me my drinks. One for me and one for Paul. I walked back to him and placed the drink at his hands. “Thanks,” he smiled up at me. “Lacey told me that you’re from New York. How come you never told me?”

I shrugged. “It never came up in conversation.”

“There is so much about you that I don’t know,” he said, grinning and shaking his head.

“Tons.”

“Come here,” he said. “Sit. Tell me how you got to Louisiana.”

As I sat, I looked in Lucas’ direction. He was laughing with Wally, cackling hysterically. His huge grin made me smile, too. Focusing back on Paul, I was vague about my move, not wanting to spill the whole story. “I moved with a boyfriend. It didn’t work out, and I stayed.”

“You’re not telling me something,” he said, taking a big gulp of his beer.

“There is so much I’m not telling you,” I laughed. “But maybe another time.” I leaned into him and whispered, “What do you think of her?”

Lacey was right next to us, to keep her from hearing his response, he leaned into me. “She’s nice,” he whispered. “Pretty. Cool as hell if she likes Shark Banana, but…”

“Here we go,” I said, rolling my eyes, but smiling.

“What?” he laughed. Lowering his voice, he continued with, “She’s not into me. Trust me.”

“Well, what about Nicole?”

He pursed his lips. “I feel weird, chatting one up and then moving on to the other. Maybe another time.”

“Fine,” I sighed. “I guess I’m not very good at playing match maker.” I sat back, bringing the beer to my lips.

“Is that Lucas?” he asked, nodding in his direction.

“Yeah.”

We didn’t talk about it further, joining in on the conversation around the table. Paul fit in perfectly, and even got Ian to talk quite a bit about his auto shop. Nicole and Lacey both were looking at him with curiosity and I wished that I were better at this. If they gave him a chance, either one would really like him. Nicole even gave him her flirtatious eyes when he asked her where she was from.

Our beers finished, Paul and I went back to the bar for another round. We were standing behind some patrons, sipping them and talking about work when two arms came around my waist. “Let’s go back to my office,” Lucas loudly slurred. “Your shirt is driving me crazy.” Nothing about my shirt was seductive. It was high on the neck and only slightly form fitting. But Paul looked at me with wide eyes and brought his lips into his mouth, trying to hide… his disgust? His smile? His embarrassment? I didn’t know. But I was a little mortified. Seeing our relationship through Paul’s eyes made me feel sleazy.

“Not right now,” I said quietly, and tried to slip out of his hold.

Lucas let go of me, and moved to stand at my side. “Why not?” he asked, looking as close as he could to pouting.

Never once had I denied him. It didn’t matter who was around or where we were. If he said the word, I went. Well, not this time. I was embarrassed. And confused. Why was Candace with him earlier? “Because,” I said.

His face looked sad for only a moment, before anger took its place. He took a deep breath through his nose, setting his jaw. “Is it because of him?” he asked, pointing to Paul.

“No!” I said, not wanting to drag him into this.

“Are you fucking him?” he asked. It hadn’t been a yell, but it was loud enough that several heads turned towards us.

“I think I’m going to leave,” Paul said.

Now I was even more embarrassed. People were staring, hoping to see a showdown. “Stop it,” I whispered to Lucas.

“No! Tell me. Are you?”

Humiliated tears filled my eyes. What right did he have to ask me that? After all the women I’d suffered and never said a word. “I’m leaving, too,” I said through clenched teeth and left my beer on the bar. He called after me, but I didn’t stop.

Charles said something to him. Whatever it was, his response was a loud, “Fuck that!” My feet sped, knowing that all eyes were on my back as I left. Once in the parking lot, I couldn’t get to my car fast enough. If he came running out after me, I didn’t see, refusing to look in my rearview mirror as I pulled onto the road.

We’d gone from
I miss you
to
Are you fucking him?
within a matter of hours. My cell phone was lighting up the entire ride home. All calls from either Lucas or the bar. I ignored them, too emotional and angry to talk to him. Once I made it to my driveway, I texted Paul and told him I was sorry.

A few minutes later, he responded with
No, I’m sorry! Though we should have seen that coming. He wasn’t exactly giving me a warm welcome.

He was right, but I didn’t respond. I’d hoped that Paul would hit it off with Lacey or Nicole and I would be wrapped up in Lucas’ arms all night. But I hadn’t anticipated Lucas’ level of intoxication or my friends’ somewhat disinterest in my coworker. Feeling sick to my stomach, I curled into bed and turned on the television. I didn’t really watch it, my eyes unfocused and my insides numb.

For the next hour, my phone buzzed periodically. Lucas never left a voicemail or sent me a text, just endless calling. Just as I was about to turn my phone off, Ian’s name flashed across my screen. Worried that something might actually be wrong, I answered.

“Are you home?” Ian asked.

“Yes.”

“Well, can you-”

“Is that Marzy?” Lucas said in the background. “Give it to me. Let me talk to her.”

“I’m not talking to him right now,” I said.

Ian sighed. “Listen, you need to come over here. I can only keep him from marching to your house for so long.”

I wasn’t sure that I wanted to see him. This was ridiculous.

“Give me that fucking phone, Ian,” Lucas said.

“I’m serious,” Ian said. “Just get it over with and come talk him down.”

With a deep breath, I hung up and made my way to their house, hoping Ian was right. Maybe I could talk some sense into Lucas and make him see how crazy he was being.

Their front door was unlocked and I walked in. The sounds of Lucas’ curses echoed from the kitchen. He was yelling at Ian—taking his anger out on him. I came into the living room and saw him standing next to the refrigerator, his back to me.

“Lucas,” I said quietly, making him whirl around.

“Were you with him?” he asked, charging towards me.

“No!”

“You left together. Has he been at your house this whole time? How long, Marzy? How long have you been screwing him?”

“I haven’t. NOT ONCE! We’re friends. Stop it!”

“I don’t believe you!” he yelled with so much pain and anger that his eyes looked glassy. This had to be the alcohol talking. There was no way he would have done this sober. “Tell me the truth!” he demanded.

“I am!” My fists were clenched, and my throat felt tight. This was bringing up bad memories. Memories of Mark accusing. Mark yelling. Mark insulting. I’d decided that I wanted more from Lucas. This wasn’t the more I was hoping for.

“Don’t give me that,” he said. “All those late nights and weekends. You spend all your time with him. You can’t tell me that nothing has happened.”

“NOTHING HAS HAPPENED! And you’re one to talk about late nights and weekends. Gwen. Candace. Stephanie. Have you fucked all of them? Wait, that’s stupid. You’ve already fucked two of them! The only one still up in the air is Gwen.” His breath was calming, and his body relaxed, as if he’d suddenly realized how crazy he was acting. But I was on a roll and couldn’t stop myself. “And you know what? I don’t ask because it’s none of my business. I’m not your girlfriend, Lucas. And you
aren’t
my boyfriend!”

He flinched, taking a step back. Anguish passed over his features before his hands went to his face, hiding it from me. Over his shoulder, Ian was leaned against the counter, this time actively listening, and I felt ashamed that we hadn’t done this more privately. Lucas took his hands away, looking more collected. “You did ask me once,” he said quietly. I realized that I had. At the beginning of December, when he’d helped me study for my finals. “But you’re right,” he continued. “I’m not your boyfriend.”

Without another word, he left and went to his room. I wouldn’t have known how upset he was, his face didn’t give anything away. It was the slamming of his door. It shook the house, and made me wince. I moved to the hallway and stared at it, wondering what I should do. Was it a bad idea to go to him? Would I make it worse?

“Go,” Ian said as he walked by me to his own bedroom.

I tried to decide what he meant. Go home? Or go to him?

I went to him, creeping slowly down the hallway, trying to decide what I would say when I reached him. His door was closed, and I knocked lightly, but didn’t get a response. I knocked a little louder.

“Yeah,” I heard on the other side.

“Can I come in?”

After what felt like at least a full minute, he said, “Sure.”

I opened the door and saw him sitting on his bed, typing into his phone. He tossed it on some clothes and looked up at me. “I’m sorry,” was all I could think to say.

“No, I’m sorry,” he said. “I wasn’t thinking straight.”

I walked into the room and knelt down in front of him. He looked so tired and sad. Was it because of me? “You don’t have to worry about Paul,” I said, bringing my hand to his face, hoping to reassure him.

His face was still hard, but then whatever resolve he had dissipated as he turned into my palm, taking a deep breath. My fingers curled along his cheek and rubbed his skin. For the longest time, he let me. His eyes closed, his breaths deep, as if he was savoring my touch. “You should go,” he finally said. “Before I say something that I shouldn’t.”

“Like what?” I asked, not sure if I wanted him to tell me or not.

He sighed. “I’m still very drunk. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Okay,” I said, standing to give him a soft kiss on the top of his head. His hand gripped my leg as I let my lips linger there.
There’s only you, Lucas. Only ever you.

“Tomorrow,” he choked out and gave my leg a pat.

I left him sitting on his bed with his elbows propped on his thighs, his fists together, and his head hanging down.

 

Chapter 25

W
h
en I woke
the next day, I walked to my window, wondering when Lucas would be coming over. He and I needed to talk. Our previous understanding no longer worked. For either of us. But his car wasn’t in his driveway. And it never returned. It was gone even when I slipped under the covers at midnight.

Having had a restless night, I overslept the next morning. I was rushing out the door, about to get in my Jeep when I looked across the street. His Buick was there. I held onto the door of my car, trying to decide if I should go to him. It was early and he was probably still asleep. Instead of waking him, I reached in my glove box and pulled out a sheet of paper. The top half was a receipt from a recent oil change, but the bottom was blank. I ripped it and grabbed a pen out of my purse, writing
Lucas, I missed you yesterday. Call me soon. XO- Marzy.
Taking a breath, I walked across the street, placing it on his windshield. He never called me. And his car was gone when I returned home. All night, I left the light on in my room, just in case. But, again, he didn’t come.

It was Tuesday afternoon and I still hadn’t heard from him. Everyone in the office had gone to lunch, but I worked through it, hoping to be gone by 1 p.m. Lucas was leaving the next day. So much needed to be said between us, and I didn’t want to wait twelve days to say it.

A knock on the door drew my attention, and I saw Paul standing outside my office. “Got a minute?” he asked.

“Sure,” I smiled, pushing the papers away from me. “I’m tired of looking at this.”

He came in, sitting in a spare chair. “How’s it going?” he asked.

“Okay,” I shrugged.

“So everything worked out with Lucas?”

I worked my lip around, thinking about it. “Not really,” I said. “I went over to his house later that night, but he was acting crazy. Accusing me of hooking up with you and wouldn’t believe me when I told him that we hadn’t.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “I feel like this is my fault. Have you talked to him since?”

“No,” I frowned. “He was supposed to come over Sunday, but never did. I don’t know what to do. He’s leaving tomorrow and he’ll be gone for twelve days. If we don’t talk about this, it’s only going to get worse.”

“What did he say to you Saturday?”

“He just kept accusing me, and I sort of snapped, telling him that he wasn’t my boyfriend. He’s not, but he might as well be.” I took a strangled breath. “It’s all I’ve been able to think about for the last few months. But now he’s avoiding me and not giving me the chance to make it right. I hurt him. I could see it in his eyes as soon as the words left my mouth.”

“I don’t mean to pry, but do you love him?” he asked. I didn’t respond, not wanting to admit it, at least to him. If those words ever came out of my mouth, it would only be in front of Lucas. Knowing I wasn’t going to answer, a sympathetic smile passed over his face. “Call him, Marlowe.” He got up from his chair. “Call him or text him or wait at his house. You don’t want to have any regrets. Trust me. I have enough to last a lifetime.” He let out a pained sigh. “I don’t lose sleep because I told the love of my life that she was the most important, wondrous thing to ever happen to me. I lose sleep because I didn’t.”

As soon as he left, I pulled out my phone and opened my messages to Lucas. Hesitation set it as I tried to decide what to say. I wanted to see him, but my pride wouldn’t let me beg or plead to convince him. I decided on
You’re leaving tomorrow
.

I sat back in my chair and stared at my phone. A few seconds later, it buzzed with his response.

Yeah.

That was it? Just ‘yeah?’ Why did he always have to make things so difficult?
And you’ll be gone for twelve days
I said, hinting that I wanted to see him before he left.

Yeah. First thing in the morning, we’re heading out. Be back a week from Sunday. I’ll bring you the bar key just in case no one is there when you do the books.

His words made me feel cold. There was no hidden love or affection in them, just straight and to the point. I didn’t respond, knowing I’d at least see him when he brought me the key.

All night I waited for him. I took my test and felt good about it, but fell on my bed with a defeated thud. What if he didn’t come? What if he only said that to placate me? I stayed there, still in my work clothes and clutching my pillow. My eyes had just started to close when I heard his car across the street. In a rush, I jumped from my bed and raced down the stairs. I opened my door just in time to see him placing a key under our welcome mat.

“What are you doing?” I asked, not able to hide the hurt in my voice.

“It’s late,” he said, rising to stand. “I thought you’d be asleep.”

“I was waiting for you.”

He cleared his throat. “Well, here’s the key. I don’t know if anyone will be there with you or not.” Our fingers brushed when he handed it to me, but I didn’t grasp his stiff hand. “Lock the front door if you’re there alone.”

“I will,” I said, stuffing the key into my slacks. “Do you want to come in?” My heart felt hopeful, but I could see the rejection in his eyes even before he answered.

“Better not,” he said. “I need to finish packing.”

“Oh, okay.” We were silent. I was looking at his shoes, but he was looking at me. Reluctantly, I raised my eyes to his.

“Do you want me to call you while I’m gone?” he asked.

I nodded.

He took a step towards me and placed a dry, tight, kiss to my mouth. I wished he wouldn’t have even bothered. It was almost worse than no kiss at all.

As he turned to leave, my body moved on its own, reaching out for him before I even had time to decide if I wanted it to. My hand grabbed his shirt, and I pulled him back to me. He came willingly, and didn’t pull away when my hands cradled his jaw, or when I raised up on my tiptoes.

My
kiss was not dry and I poured every ounce of my emotion into it.

At first, his lips barely moved, but then he let out a tiny, barely audible moan, and pulled me into him. One of his hands went to the back of my head, his other low on my back as he held me close, kissing me as I wanted him to. We finished, still holding each other, our eyes locked. “I’ll miss you,” I whispered.

He closed his eyes, his face locked in pain, before he kissed me softly again. “See you in twelve days,” he said.

I nodded and let him go.

While he was gone, the hours were long and tiresome. All I did was think about him and why he hadn’t called. I didn’t talk to anyone as I wallowed in my self-pity. Work was boring. The house was quiet. Wally was in and out, and Charles had a girlfriend, so was spending all of his time with her. He brought her over Wednesday night to meet me, and she was wonderful. Breathtaking and kind. It was clear from the way she looked at him that she thought Charles was amazing. Within ten minutes, she had my approval. But seeing them so enamored with one another made me depressed and I left them watching a movie in the living room.

Thursday I organized my closet and bathroom, ending my night with a book. The story was decent, but I couldn’t concentrate, looking at my phone every ten minutes. I wanted to call him, but didn’t. He already knew that I wanted to hear from him, and if he wanted to speak to me,
he
would call.

As I was lying in bed, trying to sleep, I kept thinking,
Maybe he doesn’t want to speak to me
. Maybe he thought that we had run our course. New Orleans. Christmas. Valentine’s Day. They all seemed like they happened forever ago. I was wearing his necklace and ring. The picture of the girl by the lake was hanging on my wall. Everywhere I looked in this room was a memory of him. Us sitting on the bed, laughing. Him watching me put on makeup in the bathroom. The feeling of his arms wrapping around my stomach as I stood in my closet changing clothes.

To keep from becoming wrapped up in my emotions, I turned on the TV and fell asleep watching a bad Sci-fi movie.

By the time I made it home Friday, I was ready to give up. All my sadness and moping wasn’t doing me any good. To get out of the house, I went to dinner with Lacey and Nicole. All Nicole could talk about was some amazing guy she met, and Lacey was glued to her phone, texting someone constantly. She didn’t tell me who it was, but if I had to guess, I’d say it was a guy, too. Her shy smiles were hard to miss. We were eating dessert when Nicole said, “Alright, so what’s up with Paul?
Did
you sleep with him?”

I choked on the water I was drinking, and threw a scowl at her. “NO! Not even close. Not even anything. We’re just friends. Why can’t a guy and girl be friends without screwing each other?”

She held up her hands in surprise. “Whew, sorry,” she chuckled. “We just haven’t talked since that night. Or about Paul. At all.”

“If I’m being honest,” Lacey said, “it did look like something might be going on with you two.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “You’d whisper to him and then he’d smile and whisper back. It looked a tad intimate.”

I sighed and rolled my eyes. “Look, he wanted me to introduce him to both of you. He just had a bad break up and wants to get back out there. I thought one of you might hit it off with him. That’s what we were whispering about.”

“Oh,” Lacey said.

“Weird,” Nicole added. “You two were talking about us, right there, and we didn’t even know it.” She looked thoughtful a moment before saying, “Well… did he like me?”

“Why do you care?” I chuckled, stuffing some ice cream into my mouth. “You’re with Felix and he’s
soooo awesome.
”

She smiled. “He is, but I can’t help but be a little curious.”

“He said that Lacey wasn’t into him and that he felt weird chatting you both up on the same night, but didn’t seem opposed to getting to know you better.”

“I’ll keep him in reserve,” she said.

“What about Lucas?” Lacey carefully asked. “He was pretty upset. Did he calm down?”

“Yeah,” I said, not elaborating. I don’t know why I was so guarded, even with them. They were my friends. I should confide in them, but sometimes I felt like, when I wasn’t around, they discussed and judged my life. It was in the way they looked at each other while I spoke—just a small shift of the eyes, but enough to keep me reluctant about sharing.

Lacey didn’t press, and we left shortly after. I had just gotten out of the shower and wrapped my hair in a towel when my phone vibrated against the bathroom counter. The display said Lucas. A picture of him strumming a guitar while he sat on my bed flashed across the screen. My pulse quickened and to keep from seeming overeager, I waited a few seconds before answering.

“Hey!” he said, sounding happy. “What are you doing?”

“Just got out of the shower. You?”

“On the road. Mia’s driving my car back to my Aunt’s house.”

“You’re letting Mia drive?” I asked with a smile, trying to enjoy the easy way we were speaking.

“I know. But she insisted. And she better not wreck it,” he said, loudly speaking the last to her.

“Please,” I heard her say. “I’m a better driver than you. Tell Marlowe I said ‘Hey!’”

“Hey, Mia,” I told him.

“She said hey,” he said to her and then more quietly to me, “We’re going to the lake tomorrow. We’ll be there a whole week. I don’t know how good my reception will be.”

Was that the only reason he was calling? Just to tell me that he
wouldn’t
be calling next week? A disappointed “Oh,” came out of my mouth.

“But, I, uh, I’ll be thinking about you,” he said, so low that I barely heard it.

“Me, too.” The sound of the radio playing in the background amplified our silence. I wanted to tell him so many things. To reassure him. To let him know how much he meant to me. “Lucas…” I said softly trying to get my nerve.

“Yeah, baby,” he said, just as gently.

“I wish I was with you.”

“I know. I do, too.”

“Next time,” I said.

“Next time. I’ll try to call if I get reception.”

“Alright,” I said. Without worrying about how he would take it or how vulnerable it would make me feel, I added. “I really do miss you.”

“And I miss you,” he said. “Talk to you soon.”

“Bye.”