13
I woke to the din of loud voices, someone shouting into a bullhorn, and the clanging and banging of objects outside my window. I ran to the big window in my kitchen and could see a crowd of probably fifty people gathered in the vicinity of The Stallion. I threw open the window and climbed out onto the fire escape to get a better view and to hear what people were saying, or in this case, yelling.
“Hey, Chef! Nice pjs! You having a sleepover?” shouted a voice from the ground below. It was Ashlyn Lark and two of her followers, and they were laughing uncontrollably.
I looked down at myself and realized I was in flannel pajama pants and a t-shirt that read “I like pina coladas” and no bra. I crossed my arms across my chest. “I’m alone!” I yelled and then realized how ridiculous I sounded. Anything I had retorted with would have been stupid.
They kept laughing and walked toward the crowd. I shifted my attention to the swelling group of people who were being asked by police and campus security guards to move back as they hastily set up a barrier around the art installation using stakes and yellow police tape. It looked to be a mix of local residents and students. Some of the people standing behind the line held signs that said things such as, “Your Art is Ugly,” “No Porn on St George’s,” and probably the most pointed of the attacks, “Connelly is a Perv.”
I went back inside and closed the window. If Tam didn’t know about it yet, she would soon. “I was waiting to hear from you,” she said as she answered her cell phone.
“So, I take it you’ve heard about my place of employment.”
“I’m on my way up there right now,” she said. “I have a full crew with me. I’m sitting in the back of a van—if you can’t tell. Want to be interviewed?”
“Andrea probably wouldn’t be thrilled. Are you going to talk to her for your piece?”
“She’s still deciding what she wants to do. Off the record, she sounded a bit overwhelmed on the phone when I talked to her about a half hour ago.”
“She’s always overwhelmed. That, too, is off the record. But yeah, I would imagine this sucks for her.” I yawned, making coffee to try to wake myself up. “Anyway, I’m supposed to go on a date this afternoon. I’m thinking of canceling.”
“A date?! Dev, that’s great. Or is it with Kyle? I mean, that would be good, too. I just want you out there in the world again.”
“Not with Kyle,” I said. “I kissed Kyle last night. But it’s not with him.”
“You kissed Kyle,” she repeated, obviously trying to understand my situation. Hell, even I didn’t understand my situation.
“Yes, and it probably wasn’t nice of me to do it. I wanted to try something out. To see if I still had feelings for him.”
“And? Devon, do not leave a girl hanging like this.”
I sighed. “I do. I liked kissing him … until we were interrupted by these little shits from The Underground Stallion . But I’m supposed to go out with Heath this afternoon. And Kyle’s pissed at me. So, I’m pretty confused at the moment.”
“ The Underground Stallion? Who is Heath? I swear, someone should follow you around and make a documentary. I might pitch it to my producer. I’ll call it The Devon Digest.”
“More like The Devon Disasters. Anyway, Heath’s the hot paramedic. He showed up when one of Kyle’s soccer players passed out in the dining hall from dehydration. But that’s another story. The Underground Stallion is an underground newspaper, and I think Andrea’s horrific niece runs it, but I have no proof. There’s a lot of drama here at Rockwood.”
“Hot paramedic, huh?” She asked, skipping over the Ashlyn aspect of my reporting. I could feel Tam drift off into romantic comedy land. “I think there was a Hallmark movie with something like this.”
“Probably,” I replied. “He looks like he belongs in a Hallmark movie. But those tend to be on the wholesome side. I might want to do some very unwholesome things with him. I’m not on speaker-phone with a van full of production crew types listening, right?”
“Nope,” she said with a laugh. “Well, good luck with all of it. I do kinda feel sorry for Kyle, though, Dev. I’m sorry to say that because you know I’m always on your side. But that boy must have been so happy to finally kiss you again. He’s probably hurting a lot now.”
My entire body ached at the thought of Kyle in pain. No matter what he had done fifteen years earlier, I never wanted to inflict suffering on him, and I knew that was exactly what I was doing. I had grown to care about him more than I had realized, which made all of this so confusing. “I am sure,” I said. “And I feel awful about it. Which is why I’m thinking about canceling on Heath.”
“Ehh, I don’t know about that ,” she said. “One date can’t hurt. Maybe keep it PG and see how you feel about him, not just what your hormones tell you. But what do I know? Professor Plum is both hot and smart, and I have no self-control around him. I don’t have any business telling anyone what to do.”
“I need to meet him soon. We need to make this happen.” I smiled at the thought of Tam finally settling into a happy relationship. He must be a good one.
“You bet,” she said. “Double date, perhaps. With the hot paramedic, or with Kyle, or some guy you meet in line for ice cream. Whatever. Whoever.”
“Sounds good,” I said, saying goodbye and wandering toward my closet. How does one dress for a Saturday afternoon date in October when you have no idea what you’re doing? Or whether you should be going at all?
Eventually, I settled on jeans and a more form-fitting flannel shirt with a lightweight fleece vest. I looked like I had walked out of an L.L. Bean ad. I just needed a golden retriever puppy and a thermos of hot chocolate, and I’d be all set. I met Heath in the parking area adjacent to the dorm and quickly hopped into the front seat of his truck, hoping not many people saw me.
“Hi,” he said with a huge, gorgeous smile. I had made the right decision to go on the date. All thoughts of Kyle briefly flew out of my head. “You look very fall-like. Super cute. I like it.”
“Why, thank you,” I said. “And you, well, you also look great.” He did. He was wearing dark-wash jeans and a waffle-knit long-sleeve, charcoal gray shirt that skimmed over his well-muscled physique perfectly. I caught the light scent of some kind of product, and it smelled like he had spent time walking through woodsy paths full of pines. Maybe it was just his deodorant. But it was good. “Sorry about these crowds. We had a controversial unveiling of a new art installation last night. The local community and some of the students aren’t very happy with it.”
“I heard about it early this morning,” he said. “We got an email in case things got out of hand here. I’m glad I have today off. I’d much rather spend it with you doing something fun than potentially deal with angry protestors.”
My stomach did a flip-flop. “Same,” I said with a smile. “And I mean, really, what could I do to help? Bring them cookies? My cookies are good, but I’m not sure how much they would help in this situation.”
“You never know,” he said, backing out of his parking space and heading slowly down the main road out of campus and away from the growing crowd of disgruntled people. “Cookies might solve all the world’s problems. Maybe tomorrow. Let’s go have fun.”
We headed south on 1A through Rye and into Hampton Beach. Fall had settled in, and many businesses had signs up announcing that this was their last weekend of the season. It all reminded me a bit of Old Orchard Beach, which was a couple of towns north of where I had grown up in Maine. Motels, seafood shacks, beach shops, arcades, bars, lots of salt and sand. I had been to Hampton a couple of times during college, but it had been many years. Heath pulled into a parking spot adjacent to a mini golf course.
“How about it?” he asked after shifting the truck into park and turning toward me with that huge smile. I think I would have said yes to most things.
“Mini golf? Okay. I haven’t played since probably college. I’m going to be terrible.”
“Really? You need to get back into it then. It’s, like, one of my favorite things to do in the summer,” he said.
Huh. Mini golf? “Well, then let’s go,” I said, trying to keep my voice upbeat. I didn’t know what I had expected from this date.
“What do you like to do?” he asked as we picked out our clubs from the rack inside the hut where he had paid our admission fee. There was hardly anyone at the course, and the whole thing felt a little odd. Part of me wanted to be back at Rockwood, taking a walk around the campus and feeling the leaves shatter under my feet. I would say hi to people and be able to scoot away easily when I was ready to move on. Part of me felt like I was becoming a loner and kept everyone—except Kyle, who was mad at me—at arm’s length. It probably wasn’t healthy. I took a breath and looked up at Heath, who was so darn cute and seemed eager to know me. I needed to at least try.
“These days, I’m pretty busy on campus. I’m still learning the job, and then new things keep getting thrown at me. I had to put together the reception yesterday for the art opening with only a few days’ notice. I’m supposed to meet with the Head of School on Monday to talk about something called Midsy. It’s a prank night, I guess, that the school has tried to rebrand. But I’m sure I’ll be expected to feed people.”
Heath set down his green golf ball at the first hole and effortlessly putted it into the hole. “Oh, I know all about Midsy. That’s a shitshow,” he said with a laugh.
“A hole in one? You took me here so you could make me look bad?” I asked, half-joking.
“Not at all, Devon,” he said with a smile and put his arm around me for a second. It felt good, so I tried to relax. “I just thought we could do something fun. But if this sucks, let’s go do something else. I’m up for anything.”
“No, no,” I insisted, my stubborn side peeking out. “I’m not one to give up. I still might kick your ass,” I said, lining up my shot. I made it in two, which was still a birdie. Not bad, considering I probably hadn’t played mini golf in at least fifteen years.
“That’s the spirit!” he said as we walked a few steps to the next hole.
“So, please, tell me why Midsy’s such a shitshow. Does the fire department get called to campus?”
“Depends on the year,” he said, continuing his streak of greatness with every putt. “See, it took me two shots that time. But yeah, sometimes we have to go, other times it’s the police, some years all of us. A hot tub was constructed on the porch of your dorm one year. Then it seeped into the basement and was such a mess. Plus, they had put a keg in the middle of it, which crashed through the boards, and everything had to be rebuilt.”
I shook my head as I got ready to putt again. “A keg in a makeshift hot tub? I have no idea how students could get away with that. We have security everywhere.”
“That’s fairly new,” he said. “It used to be there was just one old guy patrolling the campus overnight with a flashlight and a walkie-talkie. Now there are three old guys and a golf cart,” he added with a laugh.
“Yeah, so I don’t have much of a life these days,” I continued, laying it all out there. I might as well. I’m thirty-five and playing mini golf in fifty-five degrees with a paramedic who appears to be a putting prodigy. Heath sunk another hole-in-one, and I didn’t flinch. “My best friend is in Boston. She’s a news reporter and anchor. And I still go down there once a week to deliver food to a client. He’s a professional athlete,” I added, wondering if it would solicit any reaction. I found myself struggling to find things to talk about, and I realized I hadn’t done anything like this in so long. The last guy I had been involved with had been Bentley Preston, which was not a typical situation. Since then, I’d just been hanging out with Kyle. It was like I didn’t know how to be “normal” anymore, whatever that was.
“That’s cool,” he said, perking up beyond his already enthusiastic personality. “Can you tell me who it is? I’m way into Boston sports.”
“I am so glad this is the last hole,” I said, more to myself than to Heath. I putted the ball, and it plopped right into the dragon’s mouth, ending my game. “Finally!” I exclaimed. Heath high-fived me, and we turned in our clubs. “It’s David Anders,” I said. “You know who he is?”
“So fly!” he whooped, and I didn’t know how to react. I couldn’t imagine Kyle describing something as “fly,” and he was my one recent male frame of reference. “He’s really talented,” Heath said. “I think he’s only going to get better.”
“I wish he felt that way,” I said, instantly regretting it. I tried not to repeat anything David said to me to anyone else, especially since he kept to himself so much. “But he’s a really good guy. Loves my enchiladas and cookies. I bring him other stuff, too, but he always wants those.”
“That’s awesome,” Heath said, seeming really excited about everything I was telling him. “I’d love to meet him sometime if that’s ever something that works out. I’m a huge fan.”
“Maybe,” I said, not knowing how to answer. Even Tam had never met David. He didn’t like many people, and I felt very protective of him. “What next, Brooks Kepka? Or whoever your favorite golfer is?”
“He’s a good one,” he said, smiling at me, tousling the back of my hair in sort of a strange way. I could not figure him out. “Want to get some food? Some beer? Maybe back in Portsmouth?” he asked.
“Oh yeah, sure,” I said. I didn’t know what to make of this. Maybe I just had not gone out on many traditional “dates” and had no idea what to expect or how to act.
We settled into a brewpub in downtown Portsmouth about twenty-five minutes later. I marveled as Heath ordered six appetizers and a twenty-four-ounce beer. “Can you make a whiskey sour?” I asked the waitress, hoping for the best. I was mostly hoping for something not made with a neon-yellow sour mix, but I knew I couldn’t be picky.
“Oh sure,” she said. “Jack Daniels okay?”
“That’s fine,” I answered and glanced back at the bar. There was a bowl of lemons visible, so with any luck, they weren’t just for show.
“Whiskey sour, huh? That takes care of the first question I was going to ask you.”
“First question?” He was very good-looking, but beyond that, I couldn’t tell if we had a true spark between us.
“I was going to suggest we play twenty questions to get to know each other, but maybe twenty is a lot,” he said, laughing to himself.
“We could start with five?” Part of me felt like I was on The Bachelor or Love is Blind , and we were in some sort of pre-scripted situation.
“Perfect,” he said, tearing off a piece of the huge sourdough pretzel that had been placed on the table between us. “Okay, question number one. Where did you grow up?”
“Kennebunkport,” I said. “But not wealthy. Because I know that’s what people think right away. You know, the Bushes, the White Barn Inn, lots of fancy boats at Dock Square, you name it. My mom works odd jobs, mostly because she gets fired all the time. My dad is on disability. He was injured in the Persian Gulf War, but it wasn’t a combat injury. It’s a long story. How about you?”
“Right near here. Newington, just next door. Your mom sounds like a trip.”
“Oh, you can say that,” I said, taking a sip from my cocktail. It was definitely a bottled mix, but it tasted like a more natural one. No yellow food dye, luckily. “She’s a real pain in the ass, actually. We sort of tolerate each other.” I took a bite from a steaming hot mozzarella stick, stretching out a big string of cheese. “This is delicious,” I said. “Okay, hit me with another.” I figured he might as well find out what he wanted to know, especially since I wasn’t sure if there would be a second date.
He laughed and smiled big, and I felt myself melt a little. It was all very confusing. “This should be good since you’re a cook. Favorite food?”
“Well, obviously, I enjoy dairy products,” I said, gesturing to the mozzarella sticks. “But it’s ice cream. I absolutely love it.”
“Here’s a follow-up. Favorite flavor?”
“Vanilla toffee,” I answered, giving a small smile. Could he connect the dots?
“Like a Heath bar?” He grinned big, and I couldn’t help but smile back. We must have looked ridiculous sitting there, smiling at each other.
“Yes, and I’m not just saying that because I’m sitting across from you. How about you? Favorite food?”
“This stuff,” he said, chomping on a chicken wing. “I love good bar food. Especially jalapeno poppers. They used to have really awesome ones here, wrapped in bacon. So bummed they don’t have them on the menu anymore.”
“And there’s dairy in those, so I can appreciate that. And bacon is always good.” My mind drifted back to that morning with Kyle, over fifteen years ago, stumbling over to the Norwell dining hall after not sleeping at all, where piles of crispy, fragrant bacon were waiting for us. “Maybe there will be bacon for breakfast,” Kyle had said as we walked across campus. And there was—so much bacon.
“Okay, I’ll ask you two more since the ice cream answer had a second part to it,” he continued. “What was the last relationship you were in?”
I gulped. I wasn’t sure how truthful to be, but all he would need to do was Google my name and find out all kinds of salacious things. Maybe he already had. “I was involved with a married man in Boston. It was not a good thing for me to do at all, and I have all kinds of regrets about it now that I’m removed from the situation.” I did. Hearing myself say it made me realize just how badly I felt about it and how much I had buried these feelings. Perhaps seeing Adrienne almost every day as a constant reminder of what I did and how it affected her was making me grasp the gravity of it all.
Heath nodded, but he didn’t seem to have a flash of knowing what I was talking about, so maybe he had skipped the Googling for now. “I bet that was tough. I went out with a waitress at the pizza shop across the street for a month or so,” he said, pointing toward the window.
“Like, right there?” I turned my head, but of course, all I saw was the busy street behind me.
“Yeah,” he said, laughing. “She turned out to have some weird habits, but I didn’t pick up on them for a while. Not a good fit, it turned out.”
“Come on, you can’t just drop that on me. Indulge me with one of those habits. I need something to make me feel more normal.” I did.
Heath looked around as if he was worried someone he knew was nearby. Given that he had grown up and now worked in the area, it was a distinct possibility. “I found out in the weirdest way that she chews tobacco,” he said softly.
“Really?” I asked, leaning in. “How did you discover this?”
“We went to go see a movie,” he said. “ Top Gun Maverick . Did you see it?”
“I heard it was great. I saw the original when I was younger, but I never saw the sequel.”
“It’s awesome,” he said. “But we’re sitting there in the movie theater over by Fox Run Mall, and she’s in the aisle seat. I start hearing this noise. I look over, and she’s spitting tobacco into the aisle of the theater.”
“That is nasty. That’s how you found out she did it?”
“Yep. It was the beginning of the end between us,” he said. Our faces were much closer now, having shifted in proximity for the story. “Last question,” he began. “Who’s the last person you’ve kissed? The married guy?”
I could’ve lied and said yes, but I had already committed to the truth for the day, and I decided to stick with it. “No, not him. It was Kyle Holling. The soccer coach.”
“The guy from the hospital?” Heath asked. “Oh, damn. Are you dating him? I didn’t mean to—”
“No, not at all. We have a bit of a complicated past. We went to college together—way back in the day. Something happened then, and we didn’t see each other again for over fifteen years. So, there have been some old feelings to work out. But I am unattached right now.” I said it, and I felt good for being honest. I had deceived enough people in Boston. “How about you? Who was the last person you kissed? If it was the waitress, I hope it was before she chewed the tobacco.”
He smiled at me and leaned closer. “May I?” he asked.
I nodded, and he closed his eyes and gently touched his lips to mine. The kiss answered the question I had been asking myself all day. Heath was worth pursuing.
“You,” he said. “You’re the last person I’ve kissed.”