Friday, September 9
(Kate)
Shelly's been working on me all week. She's on the phone now, and it's deteriorated into Shelly's version of whining, which is still more like telling than asking. "Kate, you have to come. It's the Back to Grant Bash. It's a stupid tradition, but everyone goes."
"Shelly, why do I need to come? I'm sure all of your friends will already be there." The truth is, I'm just too tired tonight.
I swear she's pouting. "Because, dude, you're more fun." She knows I love the dude. She's trying to butter me up—both sides, front and back, top to bottom. It's working. "No shit, Kate, I have more fun going out with you. You make me step outside my comfort zone."
"But you hate that." She does.
"I know, but I also like it."
That small admission makes me feel less tired. "Will there be dancing? Because, if I can get a guarantee out of you that you'll dance with me tonight, then I'm in."
Shelly exhales. It sounds pained. "I'll dance," she says, although it's a whisper through clenched teeth.
"What? You're going to have to speak up. I didn't hear you," I say the last part in a sing-song voice.
"Goddamn you, Kate. Yes, I'll dance. Do you want me to go outside and scream it for the world to hear? Would that make you happy?" There's a smile in there somewhere. It's wedged between the grimace and the menace.
"Um, yeah, actually that would make me the happiest fucking girl in Grant today. Can you throw in a little booty shake while you're yelling? That would make it perfect."
"Don't push it, Sedgwick."
"But I'm not dressing up. I heard it's a costume party, and I don't do costumes."
"Neither do I," she agrees.
Shelly picks me up from the dorm at ten o'clock, and two minutes later we're parked in front of a frat house on campus. It looks like a ghost town.
"What the hell? Where is everyone?" She looks pissed. I know she said it was stupid, but I think she was looking forward to it. She spots someone coming out of the building's side door, and her whole body tenses. She's like a lion ready to pounce. "Stay here. I'm going to find out what happened."
She tracks down her prey and begins questioning the poor guy like she did me the first time we met. I know how intimidating she can be when you don't know her. (And sometimes even when you do know her.) The guy's hunched over like he's protecting his soft, vulnerable underbelly from an attack. Then she pulls her cell phone out of her back pocket and dials someone. There's a brief conversation with lots of hand gestures, and she returns with the scoop. "Cops broke up the party twenty minutes ago. Some drunken idiot dressed up like Superman decided to jump out of a second-story window on a dare. He broke his femur. It was so bad they had to call the ambulance. That's when the cops came. You know the rest." She rolls her eyes, irritated. Shelly doesn't tolerate stupidity. "Dumbass."
I offer my condolences. "Sorry, dude. To tell you the truth, I'm more bummed about not seeing a grown man jump out of a window donning a Superman unitard. I mean, I'm sorry the party was shut down and I'm really sorry the dude got hurt, but that must've been hilarious."
"It's ludicrous," she corrects.
"Hilarious. Ludicrous. The difference is so subtle." I'm going to babble on until she cracks a smile. "They play well together, like they're both members of the same humorous constituency, but—"
A smile starts in her eyes. "Shut up, Kate." It giggles its way out.
"Seriously, a twenty-year-old in tights who thinks he can fly? That shit's not funny to you? I know I'm simple and easily amused, but to me, that's good stuff."
She's laughing now and even snorts a little. I've only heard her snort once before when she laughed really, really hard at the club in Minneapolis. It's her summit. Every time I hear her laugh, I feel satisfaction in knowing I can bring that kind of uninhibited happiness to this serious girl. She's let me in, and that feels good.
She hits the steering wheel with the heel of her hand. "Thanks, dude. I needed that." She looks resigned. "Now, let's go have a few drinks."
"Okay. But promise me you'll stop before you attempt any superhero, second-story leaps of faith."
When we pull up in front of Three Petunias, I assume we're going up to her apartment. No problem; I can walk back to the dorms from here. When she gets out and crosses the street, I'm confused. "Where are we going?"
"To see The Boyfriend." It's funny that she calls him that. I don't think I've ever heard his real name. It's always The Boyfriend. "Let's see if he and his roommate got their drunken asses home yet. They were almost home when I talked to him a few minutes ago."
"How far away do they live?" I'm rubbing my arms because I'm only wearing a T-shirt and hoodie, and it's unseasonably chilly tonight. I didn't count on walking very far.
"Just down the street. They rent out the room behind Grounds."
The walk is short. We turn the corner at Grounds and walk around behind the building. There's a gigantic, ancient Suburban parked in the alley. It's pale green and rusty, but the driver's door is red. Next to the car is the door to what I assume must be The Boyfriend's apartment, or "room" as she called it.
She tries the doorknob, but it's locked, so she beats her fist against the door.
A tall redhead with a thick beard swings the door open, and then holds onto it, like he couldn't stand without it. He smiles at Shelly—the same sappy smile she wears when she talks about him. But where hers is small and restrained, his is huge and wide open. "Honey, you're home!" I've never seen anyone slur a phrase so enthusiastically.
She kisses him on the cheek as she enters. "When did you two start drinking?"
The slurring resumes. "I don't remember. Three o'clock, maybe? It's the Back to Grant Bash!" This guy is one happy drunk. I like that. I can't be around angry drunks. It reminds me of my mother.
He's physically startled when he glances over and sees me waiting on the threshold. I don't want to be rude and barge in or make any sudden movements because the dude looks like he's seeing double, possibly triple. He's trying extremely hard to concentrate on just one of me.
I raise my hand and wave slowly. "Hey, what's up? You must be The Boyfriend."
He squints like my image is an out of focus apparition floating in front of him. "Kate?" He looks slowly to Shelly. "Hun, is this The Kate? The one you talk about nonstop? I finally get to meet her in the flesh?"
Shelly rolls her eyes. "Shut up, Duncan. Let the poor girl in, it's freezing out there."
Duncan steps back and with a wide, dramatic, sweeping gesture welcomes me into his apartment.
I nod. "Thanks, dude."
He giggles, which is priceless because a guy this big and hairy shouldn't giggle. But there's no other way to describe it. "Wait, I know you. Don't I know you? How do I know you?"
Shelly hands me a beer before I can turn it down or even take my hoodie off. "Duncan, you don't know her. How would you know Kate?"
I look at him again, and suddenly he looks familiar, too. I've seen that beard before, but where? And then it hits me. "Grounds. We met at Grounds before school started. Well, we sort of met. We discussed the weather, I think."
He tries to snap his fingers but fails miserably. He doesn't seem to notice. "Yes. Yes! I knew it." He points at me. "You're in the club." He turns to Shelly. "Hun, she's in the club."
I smile and nod. "Yeah, I'm in the club."
Shelly shakes her head, but can't help smiling at him like a lovesick puppy. "Duncan, please sit down before you fall down. And no more alcohol. I'm cutting you off."
He shuffles over to the small loveseat and tumbles down next to her.
I look around the room and realize now why Shelly called it a room and not an apartment. Because it is a room, just one tiny open space with high ceilings. Everything about it is small, but it's homey and comfortable. There's a small kitchenette along the far brick wall, a small loveseat, and ratty recliner in the middle, and two screens set up on opposite sides of the door I've come through. I'm assuming Duncan's bed is housed behind one and his roommate's behind the other. Virtually no privacy. I can relate, but when I shared a small room with someone it was my sister and privacy wasn't a priority. There are three other doors, all of which are closed. One must be a bathroom. Another is probably a closet. And the other looks like it might lead to the rear of Grounds.
Duncan reaches over and clumsily pats the recliner next to him. "Come sit down, Kate. We won't bite. Better take a seat while you can before my roommate gets out of the shower. Some chick was trying to put the moves on my boy at the frat house, and when he wasn't into her, she threw a glass of beer on him. What the hell? I mean, who does that? He smelled awful. Had to clean up when we got home." He's a very dramatic storyteller and much chattier than Shelly.
Shelly laughs. "I'm sure he was leading her on. You know what a tease he is when he's drunk."
"Hun, he's my boy. Why do you have to be like that?" He leans toward her, practically falling right on top of her. This guy is drunk out of his mind.
"You know how he is. When he's sober, he doesn't give women the time of day, but when he's drunk he flirts like hell just to wind them up." She's looking at me now. "He thinks it's fun getting their hopes up and then when he shuts them down they always get pissed. And he loves it. It's a cruel game. He's such a tease—" Shelly stops mid-sentence because the bathroom door has just opened and she smiles mischievously like she knows she's just baited someone up.
I hear the voice before I see him. "Shel, this door is paper thin. You think I can't hear you? And that happened once. And it was on a dare from your man here. There's no need to exaggerate." He isn't offended. In fact, he sounds like he finds the whole conversation humorous. "Thanks for having my back, Dunc."
Shelly laughs. She's much more relaxed around her boyfriend. I like that.
And then I see him and I freeze and almost lose the grip on the bottle of beer in my hand. Because stepping out of the bathroom, wrapped only in a towel hanging low on his hips, is Keller Banks. The Coffee God. Damn. He's fucking glorious. I need to blink. And breathe. Don't forget to breathe. He hasn't noticed me yet.
Duncan points, ineffectively, in my general direction. "Banks, we have a guest."
"Hey, Keller." That sounded normal despite my heart beating at a ridiculously fast rate.
His relaxed stance stiffens, and his sleepy eyes widen. "Katie? What? How?" he stutters. "What...what are you doing here?" It's not rude; he's just at a loss for words.
Which is kind of flattering, because he doesn't seem like the type of guy who gets tongue-tied, especially around the opposite sex. Not that he's overly confident. It's just that guys this good-looking seem to instinctively know how to talk to women. I may have the upper hand here. "I'm out with Shelly tonight. Party got broken up; I guess Superman's flight was a bust. Literally. We ended up here by default."
Shelly and Keller look at each other and speak at the same time. "How do you know Kate?" "You're friends with Katie?" They both look confused.
I look at Keller first. "I work with Shelly at Three Petunias. Oh, and she's my dance partner when we go clubbing." I can't say it with a straight face, and I'm smiling by the time I look at Shelly, who's rolling her eyes and glaring. It's an impressive combo. "And I know Keller from Grounds. We debate music, and I keep him updated on important town news."
Keller shakes his head slightly. I'm sure it's hard to think through the haze of alcohol in his system. He's clearly not as intoxicated as Duncan, but he's had his share. He puts both hands up, arms outstretched in front of him, like he's trying to tell us to stop and sways back and forth slightly. I almost step forward to make sure he doesn't fall over. "Wait. Sorry. This is just—"
"I think he's freaked out because there's a woman in our apartment," Duncan says to Shelly in the loudest whisper I've ever heard. "When did he bring her home?"
Shelly cuts off the drunken confusion before it goes any further. "Duncan, Keller didn't bring her home. I brought her here...with me. Remember?"
Duncan shrugs and finally lays his head in Shelly's lap.
I take the three or four steps it takes to stand next to Keller. He still looks stunned. I offer my hand. "You need some help there?"
His eyes fight to adjust to my sudden closeness. "Katie." It's more a breath than a word. He's searching my eyes. For what? I'd be turned on if it weren't for the fact that he can't see straight. Maybe he is as drunk as Duncan.
I offer my hand again. "Come on, dude."
He slowly raises his hand and hesitates. "Are you really here?"
"Yup. Had a few cocktails tonight, Keller?"
He nods, his mouth slack, but he eventually takes my hand. His grip is gentle, like he has full control of his motor skills. I know he doesn't. He starts leaning into me, but his grip remains gentle.
"Keep a hand on that towel, chief. We don't need accidental full frontal. Keep your junk under wraps." I mean I wouldn't mind, I think to myself, but...
Duncan laughs from the loveseat. "That's a first, Banks."
I need to get this guy to bed, although the thought stirs something in me, something deep inside...a need...but no, that's selfish. No! No sex.
I want to.
I really want to.
But I won't.
I can't.
He's a nice guy; I couldn't do that to him. No attachments.
Lust-filled, innocent, one-sided crushes? Yes, please.
I need to get this guy to bed so he can pass out and sleep this off is what I need to do. Together, we start to shuffle toward the screens.
Shelly calls out, "Keller's bed's on the right."
"Thanks," I grunt out, because at this point he has both of his arms wrapped around my shoulders and it feels like I'm dragging dead weight. God, he's heavy.
A twin bed and a small dresser are the extent of his bedroom furniture behind the screen. There's an acoustic guitar propped up in the corner next to a fixie bicycle. It's cramped.
"You play guitar, Keller?"
"Yeah," is all he can manage.
I'm doomed. Guitar players just do it for me.
I lean forward at the foot of his bed, and he topples like a domino. A domino that's still attached to me.
We're laying chest to chest, his back on the mattress. I'm sure he's already passed out cold and even though I could lie here all night against his warm skin, I know that's wrong on way too many levels. So I close my eyes and allow myself five seconds of heaven. I inhale the fresh, soapy smell of him, minty and clean. I press my hands against his chest where the visible muscles are taut, even though he's relaxed. Mmm...
Five seconds is up. I open my eyes and rest my hands on the bed next to each of his shoulders and push up, trying to extricate myself from the long arms wrapped around me. They don't budge. I'm about to yell for Shelly to come and help me when I hear his dream-like voice low in my ear. "Stay, Katie."
My heart is racing again. I raise my head and look him in the eye. He's so close. And his lips are so pink. And they look so damn soft. He's just about to drift off, so I whisper back, "You need to sleep, Keller. Close your eyes."
His eyelids drop. He's slipping away. "I listened to Debussy. It wasn't boring. It was beautiful...and sexy." And he's gone, lost to alcohol and exhaustion.
I smile, pull myself forward, and kiss him lightly on the forehead because I need to avoid those lips. "Good night, sweetie." This time, when I try to push up and out of his grip, his arms fall away from me. His legs hang off the bed at his knees, but the towel is still in place. I put his pillow under his head and wrap him up like a burrito in his comforter, so he doesn't get cold. His baby face looks so innocent when he's sleeping. Something stirs inside me, not the sexual urge I felt earlier, but a different kind of longing. A different kind of attraction. My chest aches when I look at him. Every part of me wants to sit here and just watch him sleep, stroke his hair, run my fingertips over every perfect feature of his face, and just be near him. I've never felt like this before. And instead of freaking me out, it makes me feel calm.
I need to go. Now.
When I return to Shelly, she's still sitting on the loveseat. Duncan is snoring, his head in her lap. "Sorry this night was so lame, Kate. You're never going to come out with me again." She looks bummed.
I smile. "This night wasn't lame. It just didn't turn out like you wanted it too. That's not the same thing. Of course I'll go out with you again." I look at Duncan sleeping. "And The Boyfriend seems really nice."
She smiles sadly. "He is, especially when he's sober. Sorry you had to meet him like this. He's at work or in class almost all the time; the poor guy hardly ever goes out. And even when he does he rarely drinks." Her eyes dart down to him. "I can count on two fingers how many times I've seen him like this in the year we've dated."
I hear the love for him in her voice. It makes my heart happy when people feel that kind of love. It's rare. People don't take the time to find it. Or they let it go too easily. Or they don't know how precious it is when they have it.
Shelly knows.
I think Duncan knows, too.
After sliding out from under Duncan and arranging him somewhat comfortably on the loveseat, she covers him up with a blanket and kisses him on the cheek.
"Well, dude, let's go back to my place and I'll make you some scrambled eggs and then drive you home. I don't want you walking around in the middle of the night by yourself."
She knows how much I love scrambled eggs. We talked about it at work last week. They're one of my very favorite comfort foods. "You have yourself a deal."
As Shelly turns out the lights and reaches for the door, she looks at me with a stern, concerned warning. "Please don't fall for Keller. I saw the way you looked at him. Don't get me wrong, he's a good guy. Probably one of my best friends actually. He's the type of person who wants to know everything about you and the type of person that you don't mind telling everything, too. In fact, you sort of want to talk to him because he's such a great listener and always there for you when you need him." She sighs. "But on the flip side, he's extremely private where his life's concerned. He doesn't let anyone in except Duncan, and maybe Romero. He and Duncan have been friends for years. Duncan lived with him and his family in Chicago before they came here to Grant. He's like a brother to Duncan, and I love him for that, but he's...mysterious. Personally, I think there are a lot of skeletons in his closet. For instance, he works his ass off, but doesn't spend his money on anything except flying to Chicago every other weekend—"
"What's in Chicago?" I interrupt.
Shelly shrugs. "Only Duncan knows, and he won't tell. I've always assumed it's a girlfriend because he never dates. Every time I ask him about it, he brushes me off. He's definitely hiding something. It's Keller's big secret."
"Secrets aren't always bad, Shelly. Everyone has baggage." It feels like a confession. Like I should follow it up with a humble "Amen."
"Yeah, I know. But Keller's is like a goddamn pheromone where the females around here are concerned. He's seemingly unavailable, so what do they do? They line up to have their hearts broken. Because, you know, they're going to be the one to lure him out of a long distance relationship and win his heart. To his credit, he doesn't lead them on. I was only giving him a hard time earlier. If he's not in a relationship, I wouldn't be surprised if he's gay or a virgin. Not that I give a rat's ass about Keller's sex life. He's my friend. And so are you. And I want to keep it that way. So, the moral of this little story is that Keller leaves a trail of unintentional heartbreak and destruction in his wake. Please, please don't let him break yours."
"Keller and I are friends, just friends, I'm not looking for anything more." When the words formed in my mind they were true, but as soon as they leave my mouth and are hanging out there between us, something changes. Why do they feel like a lie? It's that damn baby face...and those damn blue eyes...and that damn body...and that damn crooked smile...and that damn sexy voice.
Damn.
Good thing I can't get involved. And good thing I don't do heartbreak. So, I repeat it in my mind over and over again: Keller and I are just friends. Keller and I are just friends. By the time we get back to Shelly's apartment, I almost believe it.
Almost.