Time Together
The fluorescent light above me buzzes as I poke at my salad, wishing it was a big juicy cheeseburger instead. The tiny room with the white cinderblock wall feels as if it’s closing in around me, my chair rocking back and forth on its uneven legs.
“I had an inappropriate dream about another man last night.”
Pausing mid-bite, my ears perk up to eavesdrop on my co-worker’s lunch conversation. Normally, you wouldn’t catch me eating in this piss poor excuse of a breakroom, but I’ve spent the last several weeks trying to refocus on my work. That means shorter lunch breaks, which means no time to go anywhere else. The conversations that take place in this room are usually pretty white washed, since it isn’t exactly a very private space. So, when Lucy Seymore—A.K.A. Judgey Judy—busts out something juicy like this, I can’t be expected not to listen in.
Lucy earned her nickname only a few months after I started working at the paper. The way she looked at me, her lips snarled and eyes squinted, made it clear from the start what she thought about me. But one day I had the pleasure of witnessing her comments about me first hand. She was sitting at her cubicle gossiping, completely unaware I was only a few desks down on the other side of that partition.
She was sharing her theory of how I’d gotten the job, Paul being the only reason I was hired and I wasn’t really qualified. He had, of course, helped me get in the door, but she had no clue about his motive behind it—no idea it was nothing to be jealous over.
As if that hadn’t been bad enough, she had plenty to say about my sex life. I believe the word slut was thrown around. I’d seen her overweight husband and told myself it was nothing more than envy on her part. Still, I’d be lying if I said it hadn’t bothered me.
“What do you mean? Like a sex dream?” Judgey Judy’s friend—whose name I believe is Sarah—seriously needs to learn how to whisper, but I’m guessing they either don’t realize I’m in here or don’t care.
“Yes, and I feel so guilty about it.”
Very quietly placing my fork down, I bite my lip to keep from laughing. Leave it to a married woman to feel bad about a sex dream.
“Who were you dreaming about?”
“I don’t know. I don’t remember his face. But I swear to God, the way he kissed me, with my hands pinned above my head…it made my heart race.”
Judgey Judy’s friend giggles, and I roll my eyes. What is the deal with male domination being romanticized these days? Don’t get me wrong, I have no issue with a little red room of pain fun. Ana was also the one in control, not Christian. But I’ve read way too many books lately where women are forced or coerced into a sexual act. The words I would use to describe that would be rape or assault; it’s not sexy or romantic. Believe me, having no control or choice is not a turn on.
“At one point, he did this thing with a cube of ice—”
“Okay,” I say, coming to my feet in such a hurry, my chair makes a loud screeching noise as it runs across the floor. There is no way I can stomach listening to another second of her fantasy and keep my lunch down. “On that note, I think I’m going to make my exit.”
I gather my trash and deposit it into the waste basket, pausing on my way out the door in front of their table. Judgey Judy’s face is so red, I almost feel sorry for her, but her friend is looking at me as if I violated their privacy on purpose.
“Just a couple quick pieces of advice before I go. First, always make sure the room is empty before you go spilling your dirty little secrets. Also, it sounds to me like your sex life is lacking, Ju—Lucy. I’m sure your hubby is feeling the same way and would be more than happy to throw in some slap and tickle if that’s what does it for you.”
Both women stare at me with slacked jaws as I smirk at them. Turning on my heel, I leave the room before either of them has a chance to recover from their shock. Not that they particularly liked me before that exchange, but I’m sure I’ll now be the topic of this month’s book club meeting.
To be fair, that was a totally bitchy thing to do. I think I might have even been a little jealous of Judgey Judy and her sex dream. My dry spell has become a full-on drought. You would think with all this built up sexual tension I’m carrying around I’d be having a sex dream every damn night, but I’m not even getting laid in my dreams.
When I get back to my desk, my cellphone rings and Steven’s name flashes across the screen. Chewing on my bottom lip, I pick up the phone and squint at the screen as my thumb hovers over the answer button. We’ve interacted a couple times since he and Cat started dating, but those were brief, in passing. He’s good to Cat and she’s happy, so I don’t have any issues with him. Still, I’m not sure how I feel about him calling me. Unless…
“What’s wrong? Is Cat okay?”
His laughter sends vibrations through the phone, then onto my skin. I scowl.
“She’s fine. I spoke to her a few minutes ago,” he says.
I let out a sigh of relief and relax back in my chair, only to feel my muscles tense when he begins to speak again.
“I was calling to ask you for a favor actually.”
My mouth opens, ready to shoot off some witty comeback, but it quickly closes as I shift in my chair. I don’t know how to navigate through all of this. As much as I’ve been pretending it’s not weird and doesn’t bother me, it does. All of it. The fact that I’d slept in his arms, been in his house nearly naked with his hands and mouth on me, and most of all, the decision I made not to tell Cat about any of it.
When I don’t respond, he calls out my name, and I clear my throat. “Yeah, I’m listening.”
“Well, I want to buy Cat something nice for Christmas, and I was hoping you would come with me to help pick something out. I hate giving someone a gift they don’t really like or want. Since you know her better than anyone, I thought—”
“Fine,” I say, desperate to end the call. “When?”
“Saturday?”
My pulse races, and I wipe my free hand down my slacks. I take a deep, calming breath as I attempt to sort out the thoughts racing through my brain. Hanging out with Steven alone terrifies me. I mean, I still have the man’s shirt hidden away in my bedroom, and now I’m going to be helping him find the perfect gift for my best friend. This is the definition of fucked up.
“I don’t drive in holiday traffic, it makes me crazy, so I’ll meet you at your house at eleven and you will drive.”
He starts to thank me, but I end the call before he can finish. I drop the phone back on my desk and stare at it, my stomach already knotting with nerves. If he’s going to continue to be in Cat’s life, I’ll have to get over my issues, and there’s no time like the present. I suppose I should give his shirt back too.
The clock on the wall says it’s one minute ‘til eleven as I pull on my coat before slipping my keys into my pocket and walking over to the living room window to watch for Lori. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t feeling uneasy about hanging out with her today. We haven’t exactly spoken much since last month when I showed up at her office. At that point, I was still clinging to the notion that she was the one I should be with. Since then, I’ve developed real feelings for Cat. Things between us are going great, and I think we might have a shot at a future together. For that to happen, though, I need to make things less awkward with Lori.
I’m not entirely sure if it’s on her side or mine. Probably a little of both. At first, it was hard to look at Lori without picturing her in my police academy shirt and thinking about the things that went down between us that morning. The way she avoided looking at me altogether told me she was struggling with that too. Now, for me, it’s the lie that makes me uncomfortable. We should’ve been upfront with Cat in the first place, because telling her now feels wrong. For Lori, I think she’s leery of my intentions with Cat. She needs to see I’m genuine, which is a big part of why I asked her to come with me today.
Lori pulls up to my house at eleven on the dot, making me smile. Even though we met months ago, I still barely know her. Yet, I find myself easily predicting her movements. I knew she’d agree to come with me today, regardless of how much she might not want to, because she’d do anything for Cat. Like I knew she’d be here at eleven o’clock exactly—a minute before might make her seem too eager, a minute late would be too careless.
Maybe it’s the glowing way Cat talks about her best friend that makes me feel as if I know Lori so well. Sometimes it seems as if Cat is trying to convince me Lori is a good person. Probably because none of the guys Cat dated before me got along well with her. Lori doesn’t make it easy to like her, I know that as well as anyone, but I’ve seen her softer side too. Like how she was with Elvis and the way she’s genuinely concerned for Cat’s happiness.
But, in truth, I’ve felt a connection with Lori from the beginning. And I think that has a lot to do with the odd familiarity I feel with her now. Which is comical given how hard she’s always tried to hide from me.
Lori knocks on my door with a quick, sharp rap, and I’m still wearing a big smile on my face as I open it. Her eyebrows bunch as her glare lands on me, her eyes uncertain as they roam, and she moves back.
“What the hell are you so happy about?”
I’d been anticipating her to say something to that affect, but it still causes me to bark out a laugh. Shaking my head, I step onto the porch and lock up the house.
“I was thinking how ironic all of this is,” I say.
She huffs as I walk past her and head down the old wooden steps, following me as I continue over to the truck.
“All right,” she says to my back as I unlock the passenger side door, “I’ll bite. What’s so ironic?”
Pulling the truck door, I step aside and hold it open for her as I meet her gaze. “You practically ran from here that morning because you hated the idea of spending more time with me, and now, here we are, spending time together.”
She stands there, mouth agape, eyes unblinking, regarding me like I have two heads. The right side of my mouth twitches into a crooked grin as I try to hold back my laughter and gesture for her to get in. She presses her lips together and rolls her eyes before finally hopping in, keeping her gaze in front of her as I close the door.
She continues to ignore me as I climb in, and the cab stays quiet as I start the truck and head up the road. Five minutes in, the silence starts to get to me, so I turn the radio up. “Shooting Star” by Bad Company comes on, and I can’t help singing along. It was one of my dad’s favorite songs, and every time I hear it, I feel closer to him.
My love for music is one thing my father passed on to me. He was so passionate about it, and even as a young boy, that stuck with me. I’ve often wondered if he’d lived longer, whether I would’ve followed in his footsteps and became a musician.
For a moment, I almost forgot I wasn’t alone, making me a little embarrassed when I look over and find Lori watching me.
I give her a sheepish grin and she reaches for the radio to turn it down. “You were wrong before,” she says. “It wasn’t spending more time with you I had an issue with. Your company isn’t that terrible.”
“Thanks…I think.” My eyes slide over to her, and I raise an eyebrow at her half-assed compliment. “So, what was it then?”
“You’re looking for a great love story, and I’m a tragedy.” Her hushed voice is filled with so much self-loathing and despair, it makes my chest feel as if it’s been cracked open. Words fail me as my eyes dart over to her again. She shrugs and gives me a sad smile. “You were meant for someone like Cat, not me. That’s why I ran.”
She turns the radio back up, ending the conversation before I have a chance to respond, and I mentally kick myself. When I insisted she go on a date with me, I only wanted her to know I thought she deserved better. Instead, I made her feel unworthy.