Chapter 36 Coroner Reports Death by Confusion
The joy bounces back and forth between us the whole way to the condo. Issac’s already getting an outpouring of love from other artists, designers, and fans. Bernie said he’d received multiple inquiries throughout the night on whether Issac would be interested in doing work for museums, high-end trade shows, other exhibits. As soon as we arrive, Issac tosses his dinner jacket on the couch and throws open the glass doors leading to the pool. He sucks in a breath of warm air, and glances at the stars in the sky.
Standing beside him, I fight the urge to slip my hand into his after the kiss at the gardens. We haven’t flirted since our talk in the hall, and I wonder what he thinks of us now. “You were incredible,” I say, my voice swelling with unwavering pride. “I remember eighth-grade art class; we had an easy watercolor assignment and you covered yours with gum wrappers and Popsicle sticks. Everyone snickered when you showed the class, but I never saw our teacher more fascinated. She hung your work on the wall, and I’d find myself staring at it all the time.”
“You’ve never told me that before,” he says, a twinkle in his eyes, one dimple visible, watching me like I’ve just amazed him. I shrug one shoulder, smiling. “You know, Ni. I didn’t realize that I’d love you surprising me as much as I love surprising you. Thank you for coming tonight. It was such a perfect one.”
I bump my shoulder against his, right before he screams happy things into the night. The energy is contagious, and soon I’m screaming happy things too. We celebrate the shop loud and proud, the exhibition, each other.
But then Issac glances at the pool, lit by bright blue lights, and starts to undress.
“What are you doing?” I ask, a hint of laughter in my tone.
“What does it look like?” he teases, turning toward me with a one-sided smile. He keeps his eyes trained on my face while he unclasps his watch, unbuttons his shirt, slides off his belt. As soon as his hands move to his pants, I swallow and pry my gaze away. When I look again, he’s already walking toward the water, his black Calvin Klein briefs hugging the muscles in his ass as he goes. Dear God, did Issac really have to be built like this?
He dives in then clings to the side of the pool and looks up at me. “Get in,” he says.
“I’m sleepy,” I say, half true. But mostly, getting in the pool with him right now feels dangerous, we still need to talk about both kisses, and I haven’t decided if I even want us to.
“Just for a little?” he asks, splashing me with water.
“You’ll ruin my dress,” I say. “Which would require work to get out of if I happened to want to swim. So, by the time I manage to take it off, you’ll be ready for bed.”
After the words leave my mouth, I remember the joke he made about me needing help to get out of the dress. My face flushes furiously, hoping he doesn’t think I said it on purpose.
We’re silent for several seconds before he pushes himself out of the pool with ease.
“I’d say I’ll throw you in and buy you a new one tomorrow, but you’d say my new money is showing.”
Nerves bubble in my belly, I almost tell him Don’t you dare, but then he touches the fabric at my hip and says, “But I wouldn’t because the boutique you were brought to only makes one dress of its kind, and I hope you want to keep it forever.”
Before I can speak, Issac steals my breath by spinning me around. Goose bumps flick over my skin at the feel of his fingers. He pulls out the pearl clips, and my hair falls around my face. Then he moves to the clasp at the top of the dress, hesitating there, and softly asking, “May I help you out of this?”
A few words that make me swallow a moan. I nod, my body too eager, too willing to see a fantasy through. When Issac lets loose the clasp, I almost come undone too. He moves carefully, his fingers brushing my skin while he works his way through the buttons all the way down to the small of my back.
I prepare to feel his hands at my shoulders, sliding the dress down, but then he clears his throat and backs away. I turn to see him dive back into the water. He starts swimming laps, giving me the privacy to slip out of the dress on my own—until the only things I’m wearing are a strapless bra and panties.
I chew my lip and sink into the water, sliding just underneath the surface and holding my breath while I’m down there. When I rise, Issac splashes me in the face. And that’s all we needed for the tense energy to dissipate. We dunk each other, race from one side of the pool to another, see who can stay underwater the longest. I win every time. Then, we float on our backs.
“Remember when we’d walk to the pool and swim all day long? I feel so tired after a few laps now,” I say, then try not to think about Dr. Rotondo insinuating that I might be causing my own symptoms. I’ve been trying not to think about him or my body at all tonight, actually.
“Mm-hmm. At Uni, straight pruny.”
I laugh. “Your rhymes are still corny.”
“Don’t play me. I might be on Shida’s next album. Maybe I’ll spit on Krews’s next track.”
“Oh, please.”
He sucks his teeth. “You never let me rock.”
“Some things can never change,” I tell him.
“And maybe some things can,” he says, and there’s something in his tone that brings me back to my conversation with Melinda. If she’s right and Issac does have romantic feelings for me, that doesn’t mean he’ll be able to commit. And more important, Issac’s my person, just like my father was my mother’s, and look at how that worked out for them.
But, for just a few seconds, I trace my lips and allow the remembering to bring me back to the feel of his. We float in silence, and he reaches out for my other hand, laces our fingers. The touch feels good in the way forbidden feelings can, and I can’t help humming out loud when he massages my thumb. Issac reacts to the noise with a sharp inhale. But I pull away from him and swim to the edge of the pool to take deep breaths there.
I’m not sure how long it takes for Issac to come up behind me, but he says my name so low it sends shivers through my body. Without responding, I take a step closer to the edge of the pool, press myself against the concrete.
He moves with me, providing just a sliver of space between our bodies. Then bends low, puts his mouth to the shell of my ear. “Why did you kiss me?”
I can’t speak because my body reacts to his proximity by closing the gap separating us. He groans at the feel of my backside against him, but at least he still has some control over himself.
“Do you want me? You said we’d talk about it.”
“I do want you, but…” I trail off, too distracted by the things happening inside of me to find the right words. To tell him that wanting him is dangerous for the both of us.
He grabs the edge of the pool with both hands, locking me in place. “Tell me you can resist this chemistry between us, tell me you want to resist it, and I’ll never bring the kiss up again. We can pretend it never happened,” he says. “We can act like your body isn’t begging for me to take you right in this pool.”
His words set me ablaze. I whimper, the feeling of his bare chest against my back stoking the fire, making me arch into him. I’m holding on to sense by a thread, losing logic every second we’re connected.
“Tell me, Laniah,” he says, lowering himself in the water and pressing his erection against my ass. I throb between my legs, but the direct contact causes other thoughts to come crashing down: our friendship, the deal we made, the fact that, despite fighting it, I’m feeling more than just lust for him, and even if our feelings do align, our lifestyles will never match up. I wouldn’t want to do anything to change what he has going on. He’s doing good, and I’d be a distraction at the other side of the country. I’m doing good, and he’d be a distraction at the other side of the country.
Relationships are often painful and hard, and even the good ones can end, leaving broken hearts behind.
So I use all the strength in my bones to push myself out of the pool, but my ass slides against him as I go. He winces, and the sweet sound makes me shiver.
It takes everything I have not to turn back and tell him I’m tired of pretending.
In the shower, I let the water beat on my skin, pressing my forehead against the cool tile. I’m swollen between the legs, so filled with need it hurts to touch. After I’m done, I wrap a towel around my body and take a breath before leaving the bathroom, coming face-to-face with Issac. He was waiting at the door, but he can hardly look at me.
“I’m sorry if I pushed, Ni,” he says, shakes his head, and passes me to get into the bathroom.
I should’ve used one of the four other showers instead of the one in his room. I could’ve made this less awkward for us. He could’ve done the same. The shower water starts running, and I wonder if he’s in there aching worse than I was. The pearl clips from my hair are on his dresser. My body recalls his soft touch when I pull one of his white T-shirts from the drawer and slide into it before throwing myself on the bed to stare at the ceiling. Katrina’s voice rings in my head. Her advice to enjoy this before it’s gone. And I wonder if Issac and I owe it to ourselves to give in to our feelings just once. Can I really sleep in the same house as him tonight, after what just happened in the pool, and not feel him inside of me?
I clench my thighs and groan, frustrated. If confusion could kill me, it would.