Chapter 83 I Felt Something
i felt something
Billie
“So, you told the band about Kit’s offer?” Stuart asks as we walk out of the movie theater.
I agreed to a date with him, and it’s almost like normal between us, apart from him holding my hand, which I’m not generally opposed to, even though I know it means something different to him than it does to me.
We saw a blow-up movie. Not high on my list, but it was entertaining, I guess. I don’t go to the movies very often.
“I did, and I also told them I’m not keen on taking handouts from my family. They both rolled their eyes at me and said they understood, but I think it was just a stall tactic.”
“Stalling for what?”
Just then, I get a joint text. From Nikki and Sven:
Nikki + 1: Outvoting you. We’re doing the soundtrack whether you like it or not.
I roll my eyes and hold my phone up for Stuart to see. He chuckles and says, “Well, you called that one.”
I text them back a thumbs-up emoji. What the hell. Might as well give my brother and my band what they all want.
Stuart nudges me with his shoulder. “This is a good thing. So much good can come from it.”
I shrug. “Maybe. Sometimes working with my family isn’t worth the hassle. But we’ll give it a try.”
“Your family just wants to help. They want you to be successful.”
“You know better than that, Stu. You’ve known me a long time.
You know why I came here to live instead of staying in that world.
My mom had me in makeup, doing go-sees from like age five.
She toted me around making me sing, and dance, and act, like I was an ornamental commodity.
It was not about wanting what was best for me.
And they still don’t know me or what I really want in life.
They just want me to conform to live within their idea of success or whatever.
Unless they can mold me into what they want me to be, then I am nothing but an embarrassment. ”
“I’m sure it’s not as bad as that, Billie. I mean, families are complicated, but it usually comes from love.”
I take a big breath in and then let it out slowly. “I know they love me, but they might love me more if I came into their entertainment world, you know?”
“Well, I would say you got the performance gene. It’s in your blood. Maybe you should just embrace it.”
“I do,” I argue. “I perform with the band. We’ve been out there.”
“But you’re holding yourself back just to prove you can do it without them. That’s not fair to your talent. It’s just you being stubborn to prove a point.”
“If you feel that way, then maybe you don’t really know me at all.
” I say it sharply because he is starting to be obtuse to the point of annoyance.
What’s frustrating is that Cal, who has little in terms of empathy, totally got what I meant.
My family smothered me, and I want my wins to be on my own merit.
Stuart blows out a breath and grins as he puts his arms around me. “Aw. Don’t be like that, I know you better than anybody.”
He leans in to kiss me, trying to soften the mood. I’m rigid, though, and angry, so I don’t reciprocate right away. He laughs and tries again, and I remember that this is my best friend. This is someone who loves me. So, I loosen a bit, letting him kiss me, trying to want to kiss him back.
It just doesn’t do anything for me.
I pull away and extricate myself from his arms. He frowns.
“Stuart—”
“You’re not even trying.”
“I am trying. I’m here. I enjoyed our evening. But this…more than friendship that you want from me…it just isn’t working. I think you’re meant to be in my life just where we are. Best friends. Nothing more. I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry? We were having a good time, but the minute I didn’t agree with you, you decided this won’t work. That’s not fair.”
“I just don’t feel that way about you. It has nothing to do with disagreeing.”
“You know what? You’re a narcissist,” Stuart bites back at me. “You only think about what you want, what terms you want it on.”
“That’s not fair. Don’t lash out at me because I said I don’t want to kiss you.”
“Well don’t friend zone me just because I don’t villainize your parents.”
“That’s a ridiculous thing to say to me, Stuart. You can’t force me to have feelings I don’t have.” I turn to find a cab or walk in the opposite direction—anything to distance myself from him. “I’m out of here. Call me when you’re not being crazy.”
I start to walk away, but Stuart grabs my arm—hard. I turn on him, teeth bared. “Get your hands off of me!”
Before I know it, there’s a blur. Another human, I realize slowly, still shocked by the way Stuart grabbed me. I blink, just as Cal punches Stuart in the nose with a sickening crack.
Stuart falls backward, hitting the ground, hands over his now-bleeding nose. Cal bends down and growls in his face, “Asshole, you don’t ever put hands on her like that.”
My mouth is literally hanging open as I look from Cal to Stuart and back again.
Stuart gets to his feet as Cal steps in front of me, ready to do some more damage, if necessary, but thankfully, Stuart isn’t stupid enough to go another round with someone who could tear him limb from limb.
Like, say, a professional hockey player.
He looks at me, shakes his head, and rushes to his car. Coward. What was he thinking?
Cal turns to me, jawline rigid, showing more expression than I’ve ever seen on him, and says, “You okay? Did he hurt you?”
I rub my arm but shake my head. “I’m fine. I’m okay.”
“Can I get you home?”
I nod, feeling a little shaky all of a sudden. “I’ll call a ride.”
Cal and I don’t talk in the car. It’s not a long ride, but it feels like forever with the whole situation running through my mind again and again.
I’ve known Stuart for so long, and I’ve never seen him act like that, so possessive.
The space on my arm where he grabbed me throbs, and I rub at it absently, stunned.
My phone rings. Stuart’s name scrolls across the screen. I hit decline. A second later, he spams me with a series of apology texts:
Stuart: I’m sorry!! So fuckin sorry…
Stuart: I’m an asshole, Bill
Stuart: I can’t believe I did that shit just now
Stuart: I deserved the bloody nose. PLEASE forgive me!
I turn off my phone and shove it into my bag, forcing back tears. This is exactly why I didn’t want this with Stuart. I just wanted him to stay my friend, and now this ugly thing hangs between us.
“Can I walk you in?” Cal asks gently.
I jump, snapping to attention. “Oh, we’re here.” I look around, making sure I get everything from the car before sliding out to the curb, Cal trailing behind me. He hangs back, even as the car drives away, waiting for an invitation.
“Come on, then,” I say, hurrying my pace, eager to get into my safe space.
Once inside, I tell Cal to give me a minute to change. As soon as I get into the safety of my bedroom, I sag onto the bed, head in hands, just trying to breathe. Oh God. How did that escalate so quickly? Why do I feel like such a fool? Get it together, Billie. Just breathe, and get it together.
When I emerge, I’ve scrubbed my face and pulled on a pair of baggy sweatpants and a UNLV T-shirt.
I find Cal scouring the shelves in my living room, seemingly enraptured by music memorabilia I’ve collected over the years.
I’ve got signed drumsticks, T-shirts, books, records.
It’s all arranged haphazardly, but I know where each piece is, where it came from. I have a memory for every item here.
“Does all of this stuff make you uncomfortable?” I ask after indulging in a moment of watching him study various items with rapt attention.
“Why would your things make me uncomfortable?” He looks up at me with a half-smile, curious.
“Well, your place is…well, everything is in its place. It’s kind of sterile and clean. I thought maybe all this clutter might annoy you.”
Cal stands up straight and runs a hand through his hair.
“It’s not annoying. Your collection of memorabilia isn’t clutter…
it’s interesting. And I keep my place structured because that’s the way my brain works.
It organizes things. I’m not sentimental about physical things.
I don’t get attached so I don’t keep things around unless they have function and value. ”
“Ahh, yes, function and value.” I flop down on my couch and pull my favorite fuzzy blanket over my legs. Cal sits next to me, but he doesn’t relax. He sits pitched forward, hands on his knees like he might jump up at any second, like he might get spooked.
I get it, I guess. Things have been weird between us since I found out about Emily Marshall.
I googled until I found a reference to her in an article about the young goalie phenomenon.
She’s a young wannabe academic, blonde and perfect, from Montreal’s high society set.
I found a few pictures of them at events.
They looked good together, but honestly, I couldn’t see the connection between them.
Both looked like they were going through the motions.
I want to ask about her, but I can’t gather the courage.
I want to kiss him, but I can’t do that either.
“What do you like about music?” I ask out of the blue. “I mean, music is emotional. It’s an exercise in storytelling. It requires attachments and emotions in order to be effective.”
Cal bites his bottom lip while he thinks. “For me, playing the guitar is scientific. It’s math. Musical notes, rhythms…there’s a formula, a pattern to it. It makes sense.”
“You know, there is research out there connecting musical ability to hard science aptitude. True story.” I smile at him and nod to help lighten the mood.
“Oof,” Cal says with a laugh, leaning back finally. “You sound like an academic.”
“I mean, I did graduate college.” I laugh in return.
“What about you, Billie?” There’s something about the sincerity in his voice, or maybe it’s partly his sexy accent, but whatever the combination of ingredients, the way he says “Billie” is very, very lovely and has a rather indecent effect on my lady parts.
“I started playing, like in earnest, to de-stress. My mom was always really intense about wanting me to be in show business. She toted me around from a very early age and I hated every minute of it. The makeup and the poofy dresses and the show tunes.” I roll my eyes.
“You can’t imagine the relief I felt when my grandmother asked me if I was happy when I was about eleven, I think.
And how she simply stepped in, no questions asked, when she realized how much I hated my life.
I just wanted to get away from the whole scene.
It was a big family blow-up at the time. My mom has never forgiven me.”
“So that’s why you didn’t want her to know about the drumming?”
“Yeah. Cat’s out of the bag now, though.”
“I am sorry about that,” he says with regret. “I had no idea.”
“I know. It’s fine. If she wasn’t mad at me for that, she’d find something else because she would not be a Jewish mother if she didn’t have something to make me feel guilty about.”
Cal looks confused.
“Jewish mom joke?” I grin. “No? Nothing? Man, you are a tough crowd, Cal.”
“So, you started drumming to shut it all out?”
“Yep. It was loud, I had to use every muscle in my body, and when I was done, I would sleep like the dead. It was a total emotional outlet.”
“Still is, I imagine,” Cal observes. “You’re very expressive when you play. It’s what drew me to watch you.”
I feel my cheeks go hot at the compliment. “I feel everything I play.”
“I’m not usually good with emotions,” he says, shifting his tone. “If you haven’t noticed.”
“I have,” I say softly.
“When I saw that guy grab your arm, I felt something.” He turns to face me. “I don’t fight just to fight. But I—I wanted to kill him for hurting you tonight.”
“Stuart,” I correct. “His name is Stuart and he’s been my best friend since high school.”
“Has he been hurting you since high school?” His eyes go wide, and his mouth makes a hard line.
“No,” I say quickly. “No. He’s always been great. But he wants to be more than friends now, so he’s feeling hurt that I don’t see him that way. Tonight was…a fluke.”
Cal looks dubious, but he doesn’t argue with me. He just says, “I barely felt a thing when Emily said she was in love with someone else. Barely felt it when she broke up with me.”
I sit back, eyes wide in shock. “She broke up with you?”
He nods. “After the home opener.”
I try not to, but I frown. I can’t decide if I’m jealous that she was here or upset she chose to break up with him on an important night in his hockey career. Cal seems to sense what I’m feeling, though, as he reaches over to take my hand.
“It was fine. I didn’t know she was even in town until after the game. She didn’t want to upset me before I had to play, so she came down to find me after the win. We got pizza and talked, and we agreed it was time to move on, for both of us.”
“Oh,” I say dumbly.
Cal lifts a shoulder. “She’s not wrong when she says I’m stuck in my ways. But she also said she felt more like my caretaker than my girlfriend, which sucked. I didn’t realize I was such a big baby.” He laughs lightly and shakes his head.
“I don’t think you’re a big baby.” I squeeze his hand for reassurance.
He gives me a soft smile. “Well, you haven’t known me very long.”
“Well, you may be rigid, but I suppose I am, as well. I’m sorry I got so mad at you for outing my drumming to my mom. I’m a grown-ass woman. I should have handled that better.”
“We are who we are,” Cal says. “Emily is who she is. But I think she and I were never really a good match. We just liked the comfort of being in the relationship. It offered a different kind of stability for each of us, but our goals didn’t match and now…well, it’s easy to see how flawed it was.”
I suck up my fear and ask, “Why now? Because of the distance?”
“No, Billie.” He shakes his head and pegs me with those blue, blue eyes of his. “It’s because we both care for other people.”