On Wednesday afternoon, I left my doctor's office in Cambridge with an extra spring in my step. After getting a check-up, I had been cleared for pretty much any physical activity again (including the kind that Brandon was clearly dying for, if his texts that week were any indication). On top of that, the IUD that the doctor in New York had inserted was good to go. There would be no more scares or decisions like this again in my immediate future, and for the first time, I felt like I could begin to move on from the black hole of the last month. At least, I could try.
But there it was again: that strange feeling like I was being watched. In the middle of the sidewalk, I froze, trying to figure out where it was coming from, but I saw nothing out of the ordinary among the red brick buildings. I was starting to feel like I was going crazy. Frowning, I took out my phone to send Brandon a text.
Me: is there still security following me around?
There are benefits to dating someone who is basically married to his phone. One of them is near-instantaneous communication.
Brandon: no one was ever following u, Red. they were just watching the apartment.
Me: ...
Brandon: relax. u r completely alone and unsafe. why do u ask?
I glanced around, but still there was nothing but the busy din of sun-drenched tourists and summer students filling the intersection. I really was going crazy.
Me: just checking. love you.
Brandon: u have no idea.
With a smile, I put the phone back in my purse.
"Hey, Skylar!"
I whirled around, my sage-green jersey skirt floating up with the motion. I shoved it down and looked for the owner of the voice, casting my hand over my eyes like a visor.
Jared smiled as he jogged across the street in a momentary lull of traffic, looking golf-course ready in a pair of chino shorts and a red polo shirt with a turned-up collar.
"Hey!" he greeted me as he leaned in to kiss my cheek. "What are you doing up here?"
"Doctor's appointment." I gestured at the nondescript brick building behind me.
"Everything okay?" Jared looked me up and down, as if trying to determine for himself what I might be hiding. His eyes flickered to the brass sign that clearly stated "Cambridge Obstetrics and Gynecology."
I chewed on my lower lip as I followed his glance. "Um, yeah. Everything is fine. Just getting checked out, you know? What about you? What are you doing up here?" I was eager to shift the conversation away from my reproductive health.
"Oh, I still live in the neighborhood," Jared replied with an easy smile as he shoved one hand through his floppy brown hair and adjusted his aviator sunglasses. "Porter Square, remember?"
I nodded. Jared had the means to live alone in a one-bedroom apartment in one of the most expensive neighborhoods in Boston, and had been doing so throughout his days as a poor law student.
"I was actually just picking up a late lunch before heading to your place for our study group. Do you want a ride?"
I blinked. "Oh, that's right! I'm sorry, I had completely forgotten you were coming over today."
Jared frowned. "Is it a bad day? I mean, we can reschedule if you want, although we do have a lot to get through this week. I could use the help."
I shook my head and clutched my purse to my chest, stepping closer to Jared as a large group of students crowded the sidewalk. "No, no need to do that. Does Eric at least remember that you're coming?"
Jared nodded. "Yeah, we were talking about it in the car on the way back from class today, remember?" He peered at me curiously. "You sure you're okay?"
I didn't say that I had been nervous about my doctor's appointment. I knew there was little chance that any complications had arisen, but too much time on Google had put all sorts of terrors in my head.
"Just a lot going on these days," I said obliquely. "But I'll take you up on that ride if you're offering. Save me getting stuck on the Red Line again."
I followed him to where the now-familiar BMW was parked in a small lot a few blocks away. Jared held my door open for me as I slid into my seat. He winked after I sat down and closed the door.
"So, small world," he said once we were on our way. "I didn't know your stepdad was Maurice Jadot."
I snapped my head up. "How did you know that?"
Jared smiled easily as he steered onto Mass. Ave. "My grandfather mentioned it the other night. Apparently, Maurice requested a meeting with him. Grandfather said he's fishing for clients in Boston."
I frowned. That was a little bit odd. Maurice worked for BNP Paribas, a massive bank headquartered in Paris. They had a big branch in New York, but as far as I knew, only had a small presence in Boston, and I couldn't for the life of me think why they would be interested in a tax law firm. Maurice was deputy CEO of the bank. Getting involved with what was essentially a satellite office was below him.
But it wasn't the only thing that was bothering me.
"Why does your family know who I am?"
Jared quirked his mouth. "Are you always this suspicious?"
I opened my mouth, then shut it again. With everything that had recently happened with my family, my instincts were verging on conspiracy-theorist levels. Poor Jared was about as harmful as a golden retriever.
"Sorry," I mumbled. "New Yorker. It's in the blood."
Jared laughed, a full-bellied shout that was almost too much for the remark. I smiled back anyway. At least he thought I was funny.
"But really," I said, "I am curious why your family knows my name."
Jared gave me a particularly boyish glance. "I, um, might have mentioned you a few times," he admitted. "I did have kind of a crush on you, if you remember."
The innocence in his eyes shifted for a minute to something slightly more aggressive.
I flushed and looked down to where I was clutched the thin leather straps of my purse. "Oh."
"Anyway," Jared pivoted easily, turning the conversation as easily as he turned onto Memorial Drive. "So, your mom is coming to visit? You must be excited. Isn't she some kind of hotshot artist?"
When we'd gone out on our one date, Jared had been particularly interested in my mother's "profession," although I hadn't been very forthcoming about the fact that she'd abandoned me and my father in supposed pursuit of that art. It was a bitter subject, especially since I also knew she hadn't really done a lot in the last several years.
"I think she's mostly just involved with her family," I said as I stared out the window.
Across the Charles River I could see the tall brick buildings of Back Bay, slowly giving way to the rows of ivy-covered brownstones clustered in Beacon Hill. It was one of my favorite neighborhoods in Boston, had been even before I became intimately acquainted with one of its most affluent residents. Brandon's house was so close.
"Are you planning to see her while she's here?" Jared pulled me out of my reverie as he steered past the MIT campus.
"Um, I don't know," I said, turning back. "We're not very close. Although she did contact me a few weeks ago. Sent me a graduation gift, actually."
"Oh yeah? What did you get? Not a car, I know that. Let me guess: a down payment on an apartment, maybe?"
I furrowed my eyebrows when I realized he wasn't joking. Jared's family clearly had some money, and, like a lot of my affluent Harvard classmates, frequently assumed that most of us had the same kind of wealth. He had a better reason for that assumption now that he knew who my stepfather was, and the truth was that Janette's gift was pretty damn extravagant, but still...it seemed a bit tone-deaf.
"Um, no," I said. "It was a piano."
"Oh, cool. Do you play?"
I nodded.
"That's so cool," Jared said again. "Maybe you can play for me sometime."
When I didn't respond, he drummed his fingers on the edge of the steering wheel while I continued to watch the river.
"So do you mind if I ask what happened with you and Sterling? I still can't believe he let you go, the loon."
I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. There wasn't anything specific about Jared's comments that were that awful, but something about the way he said them made me feel like...prey. I bit my lip. Brandon and I were supposed to be keeping things on the down-low. But at the same time, Jared was a friend, and I'd already blown him off once before about Brandon. There was just something about the way he looked at me...it made me afraid of how he'd react if I did it again.
"It's complicated," was all I said. "I don't know that he did, really."
Jared pushed his sunglasses on top of his head. The movement made his hair stick out like floppy, light-brown ears so that he resembled a golden retriever even more.
"What does that mean?" he asked.
I shrugged. "It's...we're...I don't know. You probably know that he's married, right?"
Jared nodded. "My grandfather was actually really good friends with Stan Keith, Miranda's father. Our families have known each other for years. I was actually really surprised when I saw you and Sterling together, to tell you the truth, because she's always talking about him."
I cringed. Jared was on a first-name basis with Brandon's wife. And yeah, that night at the symphony had probably looked suspect to a lot of people who had known about Brandon's marital status. Everyone, it turned out, but me.
"Right. Well, then you probably know that they're in the process of getting a divorce. We're...taking a pause until it's finished."
It seemed safe enough to say. Let him know I wasn't really available without blowing Brandon's cover.
"I know what most people know," Jared replied as he turned off the highway. "That he filed a few years ago and hasn't done much since to move it along."
"That's because his wife wants to contest it," I countered. "She's nuts and won't let him go."
Jared just gave a skeptical shrug. "Is that what he said?"
"That's not fair."
Jared shrugged again. "I don't know him, but I do know Miranda. She's not a psycho. Maybe that's just what he's telling you."
We sat in awkward silence again while Jared drove down the congested streets by the Garden and into the North End. I crossed my arms over my stomach and tried not to let the seeds of doubt plant in my mind. Brandon and I were just starting to rebuild what we had. I wasn't going to let some rich kid who was clearly on the wrong side of the situation poison that process.
We drove down my crooked, cobbled street, and Jared easily found a parking space. The guy had the best parking karma I'd ever seen. After he turned off the engine, he gave me a sympathetic look.
"I'll say one more thing, and then I'll leave it alone. I think you can do better, Skylar. I think you deserve better."
Someone like you? I wanted to ask. But instead I continued to sit with my mouth pressed into a thin line as I stared at the soft green fabric of my skirt. Jared reached out to squeeze my fist for a second, but when I didn't respond, he pulled his hand back.
"All right," he said with a little more acerbity. "Message received. Should we go up and get to work?"
I gave a brief nod, then turned to let myself out of the car. There wasn't anything more I could say, and we needed to focus on the bar exam instead of my complex love life.
Jared followed me up to the apartment, where Eric was already sitting in the living area with his study materials spread over the coffee table.
"Hey, sports fans!" Eric greeted us. "I got the homework divided into threes. I figure we can teach it to each other and then do a review. Thoughts?"
"Sounds good to me," Jared said as he joined Eric on the couch.
"I'm just going to change clothes," I said, and headed to my room, ignoring the way Jared's eyes followed me.
While I changed into a pair of cozy black harem pants and a gray tank top, my phone buzzed on my bureau: another text from Brandon.
Brandon: so i never asked: how's the day, beautiful?
I smiled half-heartedly, even though I knew he couldn't see it. No matter how hard I tried, Jared's words still rankled.
Me: Good. study session in a few. what's on your agenda this afternoon?
Brandon: a barrel of laughs. I'd rather be studying for the bar again.
Before I could ask what he meant, my phone buzzed again, this time with a photograph. I opened it up to see a screenshot of Brandon's schedule, where most of the afternoon had been blocked off with "mediation with Miranda."
This time my smile was genuine. Jared had no idea what he was talking about.
Me: good luck.
I tossed my other clothes into my laundry basket. My phone buzzed again, and we traded a few more texts.
Brandon: we're on for Friday?
Me: yes.
Brandon: I made a reservation. 7 o'clock here.
A few seconds later I received a map pinning a Brazilian restaurant in Brighton called João's. I flipped through the menu. I'd never been there, although Boston did have a pretty big Brazilian community. It didn't look like a fancy place, which I was happy to see. Before I could reply as much, my phone buzzed once more.
Brandon: what r u wearing? can i get a hot pic to get me through the day?
I bit my lip, then typed out a quick reply.
Me: r u srsly asking me to sext u before your divorce meeting?
The reply was instantaneous.
Brandon: That might be the only thing that WILL get me through it.
I giggled, then sent one more text.
Me: I'll show u mine if u show me yours.
I put my phone down on my desk and started winding my hair into a loose bun at the crown of my head. Our third-floor apartment was heating up in the summer sun, and we didn't have an air conditioner. That was going to have to change soon.
My phone buzzed again, and when I swiped to reveal the message, I was glad to be sitting down, since the picture Brandon sent made my knees feel like Jell-O. It was selfie shot he'd taken down his be-suited body. He had untucked his white dress shirt and unbuttoned from the bottom, spread aside with his black tie to reveal the washboard abs he knew made me drool. Below, one big hand rested on the front of his pants, grabbing an obvious erection.
I bit my lip and squirmed, suddenly very aware of the fact that I had just been cleared for sex.
My phone vibrated again in my hand.
Brandon: Your turn, Red.
I pushed up from my seat and stood in front of the mirror mounted over the vanity desk. I decided to go for a similar look. I'd show him mine, as I said. I pulled up the bottom of my tank, revealing my own flat stomach and the cut of my hip bones set off by my low-slung joggers. For good measure, I pulled the shirt high enough to reveal the underside of one breast, since I'd forgone a bra for comfort. Then, just because I knew it would torture Brandon, I put my glasses on, bit my bottom lip, and took the picture.
"Crosby!" Eric yelled from the living room. "You coming?"
After checking that I didn't look like a complete alien in my photo, I fixed my shirt and pressed send.
"Keep your pants on," I said as I walked back to the living room. "I'm coming, I'm coming." I set my phone on the table and picked up the study packet Eric had prepared for me. "Ready?
My phone buzzed, and Jared's gaze flickered down to the message clearly displayed on the front.
Brandon: daaaaaaammmmnnn. u know how to tease a guy.
I flushed and snatched the phone off the table.
"Come on, boys," I said, unable to meet Jared's sharp glance. "Let's get to work. This exam isn't going to pass itself."
~
The rest of the afternoon passed easily, and when dinnertime rolled around, Jared happily volunteered to order pizza while we plowed through the rest of the assignments for the week and got a few days ahead on the course readings. I didn't miss the way Jared occasionally peeked curiously every time my phone buzzed, but he didn't say anything more about Brandon, and I had to admit that studying together as a group worked well. At this rate, we'd all pass easily.
Sometime past nine, Jared left with a smile and a "See you tomorrow", since we'd be carpooling with him back to Andover the next morning.
"You're going to have to be careful with that one, Crosby," Eric remarked from the couch as I shut the door.
I turned around with a frown. "What? Why?"
Eric stretched his long arms out across the back of the sofa and gave me a look that basically said, "Seriously?"
I rolled my eyes. "We're just friends."
Eric snorted. "Um, you're his friend. I just carpool. But that guy is definitely looking for something more, and as nice as he seems, he's not the kind of guy who likes to hear no. He looked like he wanted to kill me when I pointed out his mistake on the statute of limitations question."
"He knows about Brandon," I said as I picked up the empty pizza boxes and started breaking them down. "He knows I'm not interested that way."
"Does he?"
I set the flattened boxes on our small kitchen table, then came back to take a seat on the couch next to Eric.
"He does," I said as I started to shuffle together all of the notes I'd taken over the afternoon and evening.
Eric did the same, but sent me a considerable side-eye while doing it.
"He does," I insisted when I stood up with an armful of my books and notes.
"Whatever you say, Cros," Eric said with his usual practiced nonchalance.
"That's rich, considering the studied denial in your love life at the moment."
It hadn't escaped me that since last week, Eric had been in his room every night by ten o'clock, and there had been distinct radio silence from my friend in Chicago.
"I don't know what you are talking about," he said with a sly grin.
I just shook my head and brought my notes into my room. When I came out, Eric was flipping channels on the TV.
"I think we deserve some mind-numbing television," he said. "Westworld? Or the Sox game?"
My phone buzzed in my hand as I sat down. A text from Brandon: another semi-dirty picture of him lying in bed in nothing but his boxer briefs, giving me a look that should have melted my phone.
"A bit of advice," Eric said without even looking at me. "Maybe next week, you can hold off on the sexting with my boss until after study session is over. Might make Jared a little less...um...aware of you."
I frowned. "What do you mean?"
Eric turned to me, lolling his blond head against the back of the couch. "Everything shows on your face, Cros. And I do mean everything."
Almost immediately I turned bright red. Eric chuckled and gave me a friendly pat on the knee as he turned back to the TV.
"Don't worry," he said. "It was actually kind of funny watching Jared look like he wanted to vomit every time you got a dirty text."
"You could tell?!" I screeched. "Am I really that bad?"
Eric flipped the channel back to the Sox game, and the blare of Fenway filled the room.
"That last message must have been a doozy," he confirmed with another cheeky grin.
I groaned into my hands. I normally wasn't quite so awful about masking my emotions, but when it came to Brandon, it was looking more and more like a lost cause.
~