Gravity, p.3
Gravity, page 3
She gives me a half-smile, polite.
Does a double-take.
Her shoulders stiffen and her eyes go wide.
I can’t run now.
There’s nowhere to hide.
I drop my hand from the door handle and shove my hands into my pockets. There’s still grease on my nails from the shop.
The words slip out before I can stop myself.
“Hey, Bee.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Abby, age 15
The early summer weather seeps through the open windows of my high school Spanish classroom, taunting us with its sweetness. Our teacher, Mrs. Vasquez, is really being valiant about this entire thing. She’s going to teach us right up until the end.
There are two days left of school.
I’m a really good student—straight As—but I’m at the end of my academic rope. I know, and Mrs. Vasquez knows, that the papers have all been turned in and these last days of Spanish conversation are futile.
In front of me, Dex twists in his seat. He’s wearing his favorite t-shirt—a soft gray Led Zeppelin shirt with a print from the 1977 tour, whatever that was—and it hugs his body in a snug, familiar away.
I don’t know what I want more: for him to take the shirt off or to be able to slide my hands underneath the shirt, all over his warm skin.
We’ve been flirting all year. For more than a year, actually, but this year things intensified because we had four classes together.
This year I learned why it’s called a crush. Whenever I look at him my chest contracts, squeezing the air from my lungs. Crush.
His blue eyes are on me, dancing with happiness. Dex isn’t much for homework but he loves being at school. His dad is living at home this month so school is his favorite place to be.
“Hola. Cómo estás?” he says.
“Muy bien,” I say, my cheeks hot.
With a sly grin, he leans over my desk. “Do you have plans after school?”
“Yes,” I whisper back.
“What are they?”
“I’m going to the beach.”
“What?” His whisper-screech makes me burst out into giggles.
“The. Beach.”
“I thought you said something else!”
“What else would I possibly say?” Everything about him makes me giddy. I cover my mouth so that the giggling doesn’t get out of control.
“Can I come with you?”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” I heard a rumor last week that he’s dating Carolyn Cross, a girl at least twice as pretty as I am.
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
“I don’t know…”
He throws up his hands in mock indignation. “If you don’t want me there, just say so.”
“No! You should come.” I search for something funny to say. “I hear the swing set is a nonstop thrill ride.”
Dex opens his mouth to answer, his eyes crinkled with laughter, but Mrs. Vasquez swoops in, tapping his desk with a manicured fingernail.
“En Español, por favor,” she says, trying to sound stern, and we both dissolve into laughter.
“Hola,” says Dex while she sweeps away, her mouth quirked with a smile. “Dónde está la playa?”
“Muy bien.”
***
Dex and I walk from school to the beach, talking over each other and laughing without a pause. I feel lighter than air. There is no sign of Carolyn Cross. Dex's blue eyes are only for me.
My heart pounds against my ribcage as we walk along the water, picking up the prettiest stones and slipping them into our pockets.
I make any excuse possible to touch Dex. I steady myself on his arm to bend down for a delicate shell. I put my feet in the water. It’s ice-cold, and when I jump back, shrieking, I clutch at his elbow.
He makes excuses to touch me, too. He chases me down the beach and grabs for my waist, swinging me up into the air.
I am simultaneously breathless and breathing the easiest I have ever breathed in my life.
We have climbed between two sand dunes and nestled ourselves in the pocket between them when Dex wraps one arm around me. I lay my head on his shoulder, my entire body vibrating with the closeness.
When he lifts my chin and kisses me, tasting like wintergreen gum and love, I know pure pleasure for the first time.
CHAPTER SIX
Abby
I don’t notice the guy in the doorway of the shop right away. All the doors on this block lead into sections of one big building, probably built in the ’40s for a department store, that’s been divided up into three units on the ground floor, each with their own recessed entry alcove. It’s quaint in a completely Beechford kind of way.
Across the street is a similar building with four shops on the street level. It’s not quite a county park, but the way the sun shines down onto the street washes away some of my reservations about moving back up north. It’s a couple blocks away from Main Street, where most of the restaurants have clustered, so I don’t feel self-conscious about pressing my face up against the window like a kid at a pet store.
I decided to run by the office as soon as I left my new place. It took two miles to get here, but the route I took was along the new bike trail nestled along the lakeshore. The main roads would shave off some distance.
Walking home some days wouldn’t be a stretch.
The office is a simple setup, but it looks like it’ll be perfect. Along the back wall, I can see a small meeting room and a slightly larger office. My office. Thinking it makes my heart jump a little. In the larger front area, there are four computer stations set up for my new employees. Two of them are coming with me from headquarters, and the final interviews are set up for next week. But for a couple of days it’ll just be me setting up shop.
I know I’m ignoring what I did to Tom back at the cafe. There’s probably going to be some fallout. I should work out what I’m going to say to him.
But he hasn’t texted me or tried to call me, so screw it. I’ll cross that bridge if I ever come to it.
This is my moment.
I blow a pleased breath out through my lips and start to cross over to the alcove.
That’s when I see him.
He’s about to go into the coffee shop between my new office and the art gallery on the other side, but he’s frozen, staring at me. His hand drops from the door handle.
Those eyes.
My breath catches in my throat.
My heart is instantly pounding.
I haven’t seen Dex since that night at the Overlook. A couple of times that summer I thought I caught a glimpse of his shoulders retreating into a crowd, but he never came to speak to me again. And he never, ever called.
This isn’t the same Dex.
He was attractive in high school, and I loved his body then. But now—
He’s something else.
The eight years we spent apart have turned him into a man. Toned muscles have replaced his lean, boyish arms, and one of his biceps is decorated with more than one tattoo. There’s something harder about his face. He has a hollow beneath his cheekbones that wasn’t there before. His hair is messy, but not out of control, just how I like it.
He’s so hot it sends a jolt right to my core.
I want to run to him, to wrap my arms around his neck and pull him down so I can kiss him hard.
And I want to slap his face for walking away from me.
My mind races. What the hell am I going to say? What do I do? I can’t get my thoughts in order. I can’t get my mouth to work.
I’m overwhelmed by how close he is, and how far he is at the same time. I can’t count the number of nights I spent lying awake, wishing I had his phone number. Before today I’d have said it was a good thing I didn’t. I’m not stunning enough for begging to be attractive.
He speaks first.
“Hey, Bee.”
Aside from my family and closest friends, that nickname hasn’t been used for eight years. The instant the word is out of his mouth my heart breaks a little. Then I’m pissed. Who does he think he is?
“Dex.”
He flinches a little at my guarded tone. I only see it because I know him so well.
Knew him so well.
There was a bond between us that I thought was unbreakable, especially after…
He tries again.
“How—how are you doing? It’s been a long time.”
“Yeah. Eight years,” I say, and there’s acid in my voice. He doesn’t seem flustered at all, just a little surprised, and here I am losing control of myself completely. “I’m fine,” I say lamely.
“I’m glad to hear it.” There’s a hitch in his voice. Is his heart about to explode, like mine? Or, after all these years, is he over me? Over us?
“What are you doing here?” I say, because even though I shouldn’t care, I have to know. We never spent much time in Beechford. I never thought I’d run into him here.
He cocks his head toward the coffee shop. “Just…getting a coffee.”
Unbelievable.
Eight years, and we haven’t spoken once. He hasn’t so much as connected with me online. Practically everyone from our class is friends with each other. There were only a hundred of us, and I know he has a profile. Yet he couldn’t even bring himself to do that.
Eight years and I run into him on the sidewalk. While he’s on his way to buy coffee.
My not-even ex-boyfriend, who broke my heart.
Who saved me. Then shattered me.
Back when we were an almost-item, he never drank coffee. Said he didn’t like the taste. But what the hell do I know?
He knew I was never going to love anyone the way I loved him. He knew it, and he walked away anyway.
I could kill him.
I could kiss him.
I could do so much more. Looking into his eyes brings up a furious montage of everything we ever did in the back of my car. I want all of it back. I want all of it again. No other man—and I dated hard in college—could ever do the things he did to me just the way I liked.
I’ve spent these years wondering what happened to him, what he’s done with his life. He never updates his profile picture online. The last one he put up is years old.
Not that I should be keeping track.
I would never admit to clicking over to his profile late at night. Or how, whenever his old buddies—bad boys, all of them—post a “throwback” picture with him in it, his blue eyes staring at me from the screen, my heart twists in my chest.
Now they’re staring at me in real life, and I never want him to look away.
I missed him so much.
And I’m never going to admit it.
I want to say something snappy and biting, something to let him know that I don’t care about running into him. That it won’t have any effect on me whatsoever.
I want to say I’m not going to fall for him again, because I know it’ll end in me seeing his back as he leaves me behind.
“Well,” I say, shifting my weight from one foot to the other. “Have—have a good rest of your day.”
Nailed it.
Shit. Could I be any less cool?
He nods, disappointment flashing across his face.
But why? What did he think was going to happen?
“You too—” I can tell he’s about to say ‘Bee’ again, but he’d better not. Because if he says it one more time I won’t be able to stand it. I’ll go over and grab fistfuls of his gray t-shirt, I’ll wrap my arms around my neck, I’ll kiss him until we’re both out of breath. I’ll never let go. “You too, Abby. It was nice to run into you.”
Then he turns, pulls open the door of the coffee shop, and goes inside.
Before I can follow him, I spin on my heel and take off running.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Dex
I walk up to the counter of the coffee place in a daze, my palms slick with sweat.
What. The. Fuck.
I finally see the girl of my dreams, the love of my damn life, and all I can say is “it was nice to run into you”? What the hell?
I’ve pictured that moment so many times. The moment I finally found the courage inside my shriveled man-heart to find her, to look into her eyes, and to tell her everything. In my imagination, she was Bee, and she got me, and all that shit was forgiven. We could start over afterward. In my wildest fantasies I’d be able to turn back the clock and never say those words to her at all. I’d wrap my arms around her on the Overlook and kiss her until everything was back to normal.
Her plan would have worked. Even if it didn’t, we’d be living with the knowledge that we gave it a try. Who the hell knows? Maybe we’d have ended up in this exact situation anyway.
The girl behind the counter gives me a strange look, and I realize I’ve been standing there, staring up at the menu, for way too long.
The thought of knocking on Nikki’s door suddenly tastes bitter in my mouth. There’s no way I can touch her. Not when I’ve just seen the only person I ever want to touch for the rest of my life.
“Sorry,” I say, backing away from the counter. “I guess I don’t need anything after all.”
“No problem,” the girl chirps at me. She’s a redhead, and she’s new. Not one of the regular baristas here. Thankfully.
My thoughts are going too fast for me to sort them out, and if the pounding in my chest is any indication I might go into full cardiac arrest.
She is still so gorgeous. I thought Bee was perfect back in high school, but the woman she is now is on a different level. She’s the kind of woman I would marry if I could be sure I wouldn’t ruin her life.
That’s not true. She’s the only woman I’d marry.
But I’ve deserved everything that’s happened to me. Even in Chicago.
Blindly, I make my way around to the back of the building, where a staircase leads up to the landing for the apartments.
I have to get a grip. But my entire body is buzzing with the sight of her. I’ve wanted her to be that close again for years.
I’ve wanted her to be much, much closer.
All through that year in the city, every time I closed my eyes to sleep, my mind would fill with images of her, of her sweet, soft body, of her flawless skin pressed against mine in the backseat of my car. That tiny-ass car. I could barely squeeze my six-foot frame into that backseat, but when she was in it with me, it became my entire world.
She always smelled so clean, so lovely.
Her hair would hang down and brush my chest when we fucked like that, and it set all my nerves on fire.
When I left her, I left the best parts of myself behind.
I finally got a chance to do something about the gaping hole in my life where she had been, and I blew it.
“Fuck.” I slam the side of my fist against the siding. It hurts. The pain jolts me out of my crazy mood.
I take a deep breath.
Let it out slowly.
I can’t let the anger get the better of me. Reacting to my anger is what lost me Bee in the first place, and I’m not going to make that mistake again.
Even if she’s already gone, running away from me. Literally.
When I’ve got my trembling body under control I walk up the stairs. I need to shower, and then get ready for class. That’s what I have to do. No exceptions.
But when I step into the hallway outside my door, Nikki’s swings open and she looks out at me.
The thing that drew me to Nikki in the first place was her similarity to Bee, but now that I’ve seen Bee again it’s obvious that Nikki could never measure up. They’re both petite, but Nikki has the delicate look of a former drug user, which she probably is. Her skin is too pale, like she’s been inside for years, and she has a shifty way of speaking, of looking at people. I’ve screwed her at least twenty times and I don’t think we’ve ever made eye contact for more than a split second.
Bee looks strong. Vibrant. She has the light tan she’d always start to get in the spring, no matter how much sunscreen she slathered on. She was religious about that shit, applying it after every shower and then again during the day. I can hear her saying, “Skin cancer is not a joke, Dex.”
Nikki’s once-sandy hair is bleached blonde now. She dyed it one too many times. It’s just not the same anymore. And her placid blue eyes…well, they’re nothing compared to Bee’s electric green ones.
I give her a quick nod like I’m in a hurry and move toward my apartment door. She doesn’t know class is still two and a half hours in the future.
Nikki doesn’t buy it. Instead of going back into her apartment, she steps into the hallway.
“Dex. Wait.”
I turn, look at her, and feel exhausted. She’s not the person I want to be with. The person I want to be with, have always wanted to be with, just appeared on the sidewalk and shook me to the core.
And now she’s gone. Again.
“I don’t have time, Nikki.”
“It’s important.”
The sigh I let out is a dick move and I know it, but everything about Nikki makes me sick right now. “What is it?”
Her pale eyes scan mine for a fleeting instant and dart away. She purses her lips. Nikki’s not bad, exactly, but she’s nothing compared to Bee. And I know she has a temper. I’ve heard her screaming into her phone more than a few times. She’s never tried that kind of shit with me, but strings or no, she’s not going to be happy when I quit coming around.
They never are.
“Never mind,” she says, turning back to her own apartment.
Reaching out, I catch her by the elbow, guilt already burning a hole in my gut. Guilt from the past. Guilt from now. I shouldn’t be so hard on her. It’s not my fault she’ll never measure up to a girl who doesn’t give a shit about me anymore.
“What is it, Nikki? Tell me.”
She spins back around, and there’s a strange gleam in her eyes.
“I’m pregnant.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Abby
On Monday I arrive at the office bright and early, newly cut keys in my purse. Leonard paid the contractors overtime to finish things up on Saturday, so when I get to the building, the sign has been unwrapped and the windows are clean.
