Caught Up In Us Page 12

  “He’d been skulking around here too. My place as well. Last night, he kept calling both of us all night, saying nasty things. That’s why Bryan sent his car for you this morning. To keep you safe all day.” Nicole noticed my wet cheek and wrapped her arms around me. “Hey. You’re okay. Everyone’s okay. Wilco’s in police custody now for assault and battery. And the attorneys dropped him as a client, so there’s no more lawsuit.”

  “For now.”

  “For now. But really. That’s all there is. Right now.”

  “Where’s Bryan? How is he?”

  Nicole tipped her forehead to the staircase. “Upstairs on the living room couch. He’s a little loopy right now. We took him to the hospital to get him checked out. His hand was pretty messed up, so they gave him some pain meds. Then he kept asking for you.”

  I felt some of the fear leave my body. “He did?”

  Nicole nodded. “He said he wanted to see you. He wanted me to call you.”

  She gestured to the stairs, and I followed her, unsure of what to expect. When I reached the living room, Bryan was stretched out on the couch, his head resting on a pillow, the TV on a low volume. He was wearing a checked button-down shirt and dark gray pants, but his shoes were off, kicked onto the hardwood floor. The sleeves on his shirt had been rolled up a few times. There was a bruise on his cheek. He smiled at me as if I were the answer to any question. “Hey you.”

  I melted at the sound of his voice and the way he looked at me, his eyes so warm, his smile so soft. I liked him even more when he was a little loopy from meds. I walked over to him.

  “Sit down.”

  I sat gingerly on the edge of the couch, not wanting to hurt him. I pointed to his bandaged hand. “Does it hurt?”

  “Not now. Those little white pills have worked their voodoo magic.”

  I laughed once. “I bet. Are you okay?”

  “Yeah. And if I’d known all I had to do to get rid of a lawsuit was let him land a few punches, I’d have done it sooner.”

  “Don’t say that.”

  “Kat, do you want something to drink?” The question came from Nicole.

  “I’m okay.”

  “Bryan? More water?”

  “How about a beer? When can I have one of those? Or maybe we should get champagne to celebrate the suit being dropped.”

  Nicole rolled her eyes, and headed upstairs.

  “So.”

  “So,” he replied and flashed me another one of his woozy smiles.

  “Those pain meds must be good.”

  “Not as good as you.” Then he reached his un-bandaged hand into my hair and pulled me to him, bringing my lips to his and kissing me softly. It was the last thing I expected, but it was the thing I wanted most in the world, and I gave in to the kiss, to the way his lips knew mine, to the way he tasted sweet and salty at the same time. “Now I feel much better.”

  He closed his eyes and fell asleep.

  *****

  Nicole didn’t know everything. But she knew enough.

  “It wasn’t that hard to figure out,” she said, as we sat on the metal stools in Bryan’s kitchen while he dozed. Nicole’s feet dangled; she looked even tinier on a stool.

  “Really?”

  “I noticed how he talked about you. And I think you’re pretty brilliant too, but there was something else in his voice. It was always more vulnerable at those times. And then yesterday in my office when you looked at him as he walked away, it all clicked.”

  I dropped my head in my hands. “I’m so obvious.”

  “No. You’re just in love.” Nicole sounded like a gruff, tough chick doling out truisms with that husky voice of hers.

  “I guess it’s obvious. But we’re not supposed to be.”

  She waved a hand in the air. “When are we ever supposed to be? I mean, does it ever happen at the right time? I met my partner on a work project too. There are always complications in every relationship.”

  “So what did he say?” I was fishing for information, but I didn’t care. We’d been so careful. I couldn’t just accept the notion that suddenly all his concerns had flown out the window.

  But it was more than that. I wanted to be something with him. I didn’t want to be his phone booty call. I didn’t want to be the girl who always had to lie low. I wanted to be out-in-the open and for real with him. All or nothing. That’s what I wanted.

  “I just asked him point blank at the hospital if he had a thing for you. He said yes.” My heart fluttered, and even with Bryan banged up downstairs I couldn’t help but grin wildly. “And he was all worried about the board and how they’d look at this because of Wilco’s affair. And then there’s Caldwell, who’s Captain Conservative.”

  “Right, and those are all still true.”

  “Yes, but you’re twenty-three and not an employee.” Nicole reached out and took my hand. She had this satisfied look in her eyes, like a good matchmaker pulling off a match. “So when I asked him if it was the real thing with you, and he said yes to that as well, I told him I’d talk to the board and to Caldwell in particular. The guy’s conservative as hell, but he didn’t freak out when I brought my partner to the holiday party last year so I think I can convince him.”

  This was all I wanted. To be more than just playmates. To be a real thing. A rush of happiness warmed me all over.

  “What about NYU though? And the mentor program?”

  “I told Bryan that as long as he recused himself as your mentor, everything should be fine.”

  Ah, there was a catch. There was always a catch. Without this class how would I graduate?

  Chapter Eighteen

  You know when they tell you that you can have your cake and eat it too?

  They’re wrong.

  You always have to pay the piper. You can’t take the money and run.

  As Nicole returned to her home, leaving me with a pint of Ben & Jerry’s Chocolate Therapy, all I could think was Bryan might be free and clear, but there was no way I could come out of this unscathed. Not now at least. Whatever we might be would have to go back on hold once again. I couldn’t have him end the mentorship. I needed to finish school for a million reasons.

  I went to the kitchen, feeling a bit like an intruder as I rooted around for two spoons. I’d never been in his place before, and now here I was, for all intents and purposes, taking care of him after a trip to the ER. I found a white wood-paneled drawer that held utensils. I grabbed two spoons, then two cloth napkins from the holder in the island and returned to the living room. Bryan was awake now, reading a book on his tablet. Night had fallen, so the only illumination was the screen. When he saw me, he put the tablet on the table. I surveyed his living room once more. The hardwood floors in his home were a polished blond, and the walls were eggshell, giving the room warmth. There were a few pieces of art on the walls — reproductions of the Magritte with an apple in front of a man’s face, and one of Mark Rothko’s abstract images in solid red. The couch was comfortable and classy in a dove gray color, and the coffee table was made of a sheet of sturdy glass atop two brushed metal blocks. His tablet rested next to his wallet, and I noticed the crinkled edge of a tiny white bag sticking out of his wallet. The bag was well-worn, as if it had set up camp there for years. Something about it felt vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place why.

  I joined him on the couch, opened the pint and presented him with a spoon.

  “My favorite. How did you know?”

  “Nicole knew, silly.”

  He tapped his forehead with the spoon. “Still a little slow on the uptake tonight.”

  “It’s a good thing you haven’t had the ice cream yet or you’d have a huge chocolate spot on your forehead.”

  He dug into the ice cream, and I joined him. We ate quietly for a minute. After a few bites, he put the spoon down on the coffee table. I placed my spoon and the pint next to it. “Did Nicole tell you?” he asked.

  “Tell me what?”

  “Anything interesting?”

>   I shifted so I could look at him. “Maybe you should tell me something interesting.”

  He swallowed, and the soft sleepiness of the crazy day disappeared. He was Bryan again. Strong and in control. There was no hemming and hawing. No lengthy preamble. He was direct and clear, as he looked me in the eyes. “I’m totally in love with you, Kat.”

  I was speechless for a moment. Overcome. This was the movie-like moment I’d wanted my whole life. Only it was real. It was happening. And I was no longer sitting in the theater in the dark, watching. I was the girl in the scene who was crazy for the boy.

  And the boy loved me too.

  I was a flood of colors. I was the center of a sunburst, as my heart beat faster, and happiness rushed all throughout the freeways of the intersecting veins inside my body, filling me with everything good in the world.

  “I’m so in love with you, Bryan.”

  He kissed me again. This kiss was deeper, closer. I was careful with him, sensitive to his damaged hand, and the tender spot on his ribs where Wilco had slammed a fist. But the painkillers must have muted all that, because Bryan seemed only to be enjoying every touch, every movement between us. My arms wrapped around his neck, while my hands worked their way up into his soft hair. His good hand pressed firmly onto my back, while his bandaged one rested by his side. I felt hungrier than I had that afternoon many weeks ago at the factory, but maybe that’s just because I hadn’t eaten anything for dinner. Then there were Bryan’s lips on mine, sweeter than the ice cream that would surely turn to a puddle if we kept going like this.

  But we couldn’t keep going like this. We had to stop. We had to put the whole thing on ice for real this time. No kissing. No bathroom trysts. No phone calls.

  I pulled back. “We need to talk.”

  He tensed, but then shifted to a sitting position and to his standard business voice. “Okay.”

  I was reminded how quickly he could segue from one mode to another. I wasn’t sure if this was an admirable trait or not.

  “Nicole told me the advice she gave you. That we could pursue a relationship or whatever.” I found myself blushing and looking away when I said those words.

  He smirked, then flashed that lopsided grin. “A relationship or whatever? Is that what the kids are calling it these days? Relationships or whatever?”

  I pretended to punch his arm.

  “Hey. I’m damaged goods now. Be careful.”

  “Anyway. So yeah. Relationship or whatever.”

  “Do we call it boyfriend-girlfriend these days? Or is that too high school? Lovers just seems so weird. Especially, since, you know, I haven’t seen you fully naked yet.”

  “Okay. I thought we were being serious,” I said, but it occurred to me that maybe he was avoiding the serious conversation.

  “Fine. I’m serious.”

  “But we can’t right now. You have to tell her that even if we’re —” I stopped talking. I couldn’t bring myself to say in love out loud. I was too afraid the words were a fragile bubble that might burst.

  “In love,” he said, completing the phrase.

  “Yes. That we can’t be involved until I graduate. Professor Oliver won’t stand for hanky panky or else an F, as you know. And I have to get my degree. Not just to get the investment, but because I want to. So we have to really, truly, for real this time put everything on hold. Yes, we could sneak around. Yes, we could try not to be caught. And maybe we’d be successful, but I just don’t want to take the risk, especially with all that happened with Wilco. I feel like we only narrowly escaped. I want to do things the right way. I want to start over with you in the open, not in hiding.”

  I’d always swayed with him, bent to my own wishes to be with Bryan no matter the cost. But there was more at stake now than us. “So I guess what I’m saying is you kind of have to be my mentor. You can’t recuse yourself or I might not be able to finish school.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Oh, so you’re kind of giving me an order.”

  “Kind of. Or more like a request. Can you please let Nicole know you have to stay as my mentor for the next several weeks, and that we’re going to be good boys and girls, and then when I graduate, we can…”

  “Be together?”

  “Yes. But we really have to cool it til then. No taking chances. No calls. No nothing.”

  “I think I could be amenable to waiting for you under one condition.”

  “What’s that?”

  He put his good hand on my waist and gently pulled my chest to his. Then he whispered in my ear, his voice low and smoky. “Let me touch you tonight.”

  “Bryan! That’s not fair.”

  “Fair to who?”

  “You’re all hopped up on pain meds. I’m not going to take advantage of you.”

  He scoffed. “First off, you could never take advantage of me. I will always want you.”

  “But we’re supposed to be behaving! Didn’t we just agree to that?”

  “Yeah. But think of me like a wounded soldier. You wouldn’t leave me without giving me a little something to keep me going for the next several weeks.”

  “You’re terrible. We might as well just have sex then.”

  “What a brilliant idea.”

  I wagged a finger at him as if he were a very naughty boy. “The answer is no, no, no.”

  He pressed his palms together – a sight that looked as amusing as it was sympathetic given his gauze-wrapped hand – and batted his eyelids. I pretended to swat him, and he deftly reached for me with his left hand, shifting my body alongside his and spooning me on the couch. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders, his right hand resting carefully on the couch. He layered kisses on the back of my neck that turned me inside out. He pushed my hair out of the way and traced his tongue lazily across my skin, over my earlobe, and down to my shoulder blade. He moved his hand to my waist, slipping his fingers underneath my sweater. I gave in to the feeling of his fingers dancing on the waistband of my jeans. His hand was warm, his skin was soft, he felt amazing. I closed my eyes.

  “Good thing I’m left-handed,” he said.

  Even though I could feel the soft little hairs on my arms standing on end, I moved his hand off my belly. “Yes. That means you can use your left hand to work the TV remote.”

  He heaved a long, laborious sigh of playful resignation.

  “You have a will of steel, and it only makes me want to get you naked even more. But for now, I surrender. Want to watch a movie?”

  “I’d love nothing more.”

  I handed him the remote and settled in next to him. We scrolled through the options on-demand, debating whether we wanted to see Pitch Perfect or Bridesmaids. Anna Kendrick was my girl crush, so that movie won. Plus, I didn’t have to worry about whether that sexy scene where the cop and Kristen Wiig spend the night together would make me break my vow.

  Besides, it was better this way, curled up and warm in his arms. For tonight at least.

  Chapter Nineteen

  I surveyed my open suitcase, thumbing through my folded clothes and neatly aligned shoes. I was ready for four days in Paris. As I doubled checked that I’d packed a power adaptor, and triple checked that I’d included extra tights since November is cold in the city of lights, I chewed the inside of my cheek with worry.

  What if I returned from Paris empty-handed? Or worse, what if I brought back a brilliant prototype for a new line of necklaces and it still wasn’t what Claire and her contacts at the Elizabeth’s department store had in mind? Where would my parents be then? I had a chance with Claire; it was in my grasp, and I needed to hold on tight and not let go.

  I took a deep breath, shut my black suitcase and reminded myself not to catastrophize.

  I left the suitcase in the middle of my purple comforter, and checked the inside pocket of my carry-on computer bag. My passport was safely tucked away, zipped up and secured. I looked up the weather on my phone. A storm was headed towards Manhattan in a day or so. I would probably just miss it, and escape the c
ity in the nick of time. Maybe that was a favor from the universe for being good again.

  I lifted the suitcase and computer off my bed and placed them on the floor, then pulled back the covers and slid into bed. I turned on my eReader, closing out the sexy Simone Noelle novella I’d finished last night and toggling over to the new book I’d downloaded about a college girl in love with insanely hot twin brothers. The story had started to steam up when I heard the sound of the door crashing wide open. Jill always had to make an entrance.

  “KatGirl! I’m coming to get you and tell you my news!”

  Her heels banged across the floor as she ran down the hall and jumped onto my bed, bouncing a few times on her butt.

  “Tell me your news.”

  “I got a callback for the new musical. The new Frederick Stillman musical,” she said, referring to the revered composer. Theater actors fell all over themselves to land roles in his shows, be they new productions or revivals. He was nothing short of a legend and had attained God-like status in the thespian community.

  I knocked fists with her. “You are a rock star!”

  She twisted her index and middle finger together. “Don’t jinx me. But I hope so! I hope I’m a Broadway star.” She flopped back on my bed. “Oh my god, Kat. This is my dream. This is my fucking dream. A role in a Stillman musical. It’s called Crash the Moon and the score is to die for. Well, the song they gave me. It’s a rock ballad I have to sing. But the casting director saw my Eponine and called me in for a supporting role.”

  “I didn’t even know you were auditioning for it.”

  “I didn’t tell a soul. I was so terrified I’d blow it, so I kept it totally secret. Now, she wants to bring me in for the producer. And, word on the street is that Patrick Carlson is going to win the lead. I might have a chance to act with Patrick Carlson. He only pretty much inspired me through all of high school.”