Chapter 33 – Kat
THIRTY-THREE
KAT
If I keep pacing at this rate, I very well might end up wearing away a line straight down the middle of my bedroom into the hardwood floor. It’s been two hours since dinner and Tanner and I have yet to discuss last night.
I don’t necessarily expect him to bring it up as polite dinner conversation, but I did expect him to want to talk. I heard him come up to his room about half an hour ago and he has yet to text, knock on my door, anything—so I do what any person who is pathologically opposed to conflict does: I pace back and forth instead of walking the measly few feet from my bedroom to his.
What if he regrets saying anything about it? What if last night confirmed to him that the idea of being intimate with me sounds far more appealing in theory than in reality? Or—worst-case scenario—what if he was kidding and I attempted to jump his bones all over a joke between friends?
Did I manage to ruin our friendship beyond repair because I simply couldn’t keep it in my fucking pants? !
The thought leaves me reeling as I find my feet moving of their own volition toward Tanner’s room, not a single thought in my brain outside of wanting clarity on what is going on. The longer I’m left to my own devices, the further I feel myself slowly slipping into insanity.
Without even knocking, I barrel through the door to his bedroom.
As I step inside, my eyes take in the bare light gray walls and stacks of boxes in the corner. It’s clear that he hasn’t fully settled into his room quite yet. The sheets on his bed are a faded heather gray, with textbooks strewn about haphazardly. A faint scent of laundry detergent hangs in the air.
Tanner sits in the middle of his bed with his textbooks arranged in front of him. He scribbles notes onto a spiral-bound notebook with a mechanical pencil. Gone are the dark-wash jeans and old faded polo he wore down to dinner, replaced with low-slung jet-black sweatpants and…nothing else. My eyes linger on the sight, momentarily forgetting why I came in the first place.
When his eyes meet mine, his face morphs from the stressed expression of someone studying for a high-level class their senior year of college to the smile of a man genuinely delighted to see the person who just walked in. At least, that’s what I want to believe I’m looking at.
I walk up to the edge of his bed, on a war path.
“Hey, you,” he chirps, and I instantly thaw.
“Hey.”
“What’s up?”
I can’t help but wonder what he’s thinking right now. I had all these things I wanted to say, and yet I’m standing in front of him with what I can only assume is the dumbest expression known to man on my face.
“Nothing. I—uh…what are you doing?” I ask.
He glances up at me with tired yet hopeful eyes. “Just trying to get ahead on my homework,” he says, gesturing to the pile of books. “But I have some time before my next class on Tuesday.” He tilts his head to the side as he asks, “Do you want to hang out? We can binge-watch Always Sunny .”
It’s as if nothing happened yesterday—as if I didn’t all but throw myself at him less than twenty-four hours ago.
I feel self-conscious under his scrutiny, but manage to respond, “Sounds good.”
He packs up his textbooks, closing them without even grabbing a bookmark or dog-earing the pages. Once he’s cleared the bed of any obstacles, I climb up, noticing he hasn’t rolled out a comforter yet, no doubt because up until today the weather has been balmy at best and smoldering at worst.
Crossing my legs underneath me, I settle against the headboard as he turns on It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia. It starts to play one of the show’s eccentric but entertaining cold opens, this one involving Frank and Charlie getting into yet another crazy scenario.
“I love this one,” Tanner says, his attention entirely on the show.
We stay like that, focused on the forty-five-inch flat-screen TV sitting atop his dresser, following along as Dee’s antics cause her to be left out by the core group of guys yet again.
“Serves her right,” I chuckle.
“Wait, why? All she’s asking is to be a part of their scheme. Don’t forget, one of them is her brother—she just wants to feel included. ”
I feel a sting in my chest at his words, not because they are harsh or rude, or even left up to interpretation, but because my mind instantly goes to Patrick. The brother I could have if I wanted; the brother I have never met. Is it worth pursuing a relationship with him at almost twenty-two years old, or has the ship sailed since our most formative years have come and gone?
“I think I’m going to write Patrick back,” I blurt out.
Tanner nods, still staring across the room at the television, but it’s quite obvious his attention isn’t wholly on the screen anymore. He reaches for the remote and hits pause, then lays on his side, facing me. “What made you decide that?” he asks.
“Honestly, I didn’t fully decide until right now,” I say. “I don’t know, I just feel like I’ll spend the rest of my life questioning what it would be like to know him if I don’t.”
“I think it’s a good idea. For you to write him, I mean. It’s not even to say that it means you have to have a relationship with him, but I think it’ll be good for you, at the very least to get some answers so you can have closure about your dad.”
I lean against the headboard, fidgeting with a loose thread sticking out of the flat sheet. My inner cheek stings from biting it so hard, trying to hold back. But despite our conversation about my family issues, one thought keeps nagging at me: how can he sit here and talk to me like this without addressing what happened last night? The memory of my brazen actions and his response plays on a loop in my mind. How can he just ignore it?
Maybe because he wishes it never happened.
“Kat…” Tanner’s voice grows stern, gravelly, and I perk up at the sound.
“Hm? ”
“I can hear you spiraling from here. What’s up?”
What’s up? What’s up?! I don’t know, Tanner, what’s up with you?! I internally scream, but I know that saying what I’m really thinking right now will just result in me looking like an obsessive crazy person, so I just say, “Nothing.”
“Talk to me.” As I look up and meet his eyes, his expression is every bit one of concern. “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”
“Why haven’t you brought up last night?” I ask in a rush.
Whatever he is expecting to come out of my mouth, it isn’t that. Oh God, he’s trying to figure out how to let me down easy. He totally regrets suggesting it. He hasn’t said anything because he’s been hoping to walk it back and didn’t know how to do it without ruining our friendship, and now I’m the one doing it. How could I be so stupid?
Tanner’s hand lands on my bare thigh and gently squeezes. His words come out firm but compassionate as he says, “Kat, look at me.”
I do, despite every instinct in my body telling me not to. As I lock eyes with him, a fluttering sensation erupts in my stomach, sending butterflies soaring in every direction. His earnest gaze holds me captive and my heart races erratically in response.
He continues, “I haven’t brought it up because I wanted to give you an out if you wanted it. You were drinking last night, and you didn’t seem too keen on the idea prior to that. I never want you to think I’m pushing you toward something you don’t want simply because I want it.”
A lump lodges in my throat. The words I want to say are all stuck, caged in without anywhere to go. “You…want it—you wa nt…me?” I try not to sound completely shocked by the revelation, but he chuckles anyway.
“Yes, Kat. And here I thought I was being abundantly obvious, so here it goes.” He clears his throat, shifting to face me head-on. “I want you, Kat, more than I think I’ve ever wanted anyone.” He squeezes my thigh again, determination in his eyes. My heart races as his words sink in, sending shivers down my spine. “So, yeah, if you want that too, sober , then that’s what I want. I ask you this once, and I promise that if you have changed your mind it will never get brought up again: Have you changed your mind?”
“I haven’t,” I mumble before clearing my throat to speak more clearly. “I haven’t changed my mind. I stand by what I said last night.”
His tortured, borderline pained expression morphs into a grin—an entirely mind-boggling grin that has me ready to do whatever he asks. How did I never notice it before? He squeezes my leg, but this time his hand creeps toward my inner thigh, my skin pebbling at the sensation. “Good. So…when would you like to explore that?”
I can barely think as his pointer finger draws circles against my flesh, the slight chill in the air doing nothing to cool the heat that blooms all over my body at the simple touch. “Now, preferably.”
A chuckle breaks past his lips at my enthusiasm, but he doesn’t pull away. “Okay.”
Tanner climbs off the bed, briefly leaving me with a cold sense of foreboding until he pushes my legs apart and climbs between them.
I anticipate his kiss, mentally begging for it as if it’s the last shred of salvation at my disposal; as if it’s the only source of oxygen in the room.
However, rather than kissing me, he forces me to meet his gaze. “Before any of this happens, I need to make one thing clear. The most important thing about this arrangement is that you know that you never have to question what I’m thinking. I promise I will always tell you how I’m feeling. If the way I feel about this arrangement changes, I will tell you. I realize that you’ve been in situations that left you feeling like information is always being withheld, but that isn’t the case here. So, Kat?”
“Hm?”
“Breathe.” He exhales as if he needs to show me what that looks like and I follow suit, letting out a deep breath that I didn’t realize I was holding.
We continue for a few short moments, taking deep breaths in unison, his eyes never leaving mine. It’s not until my heart rate normalizes and I don’t feel like I very well might faint that he stops his exaggerated breathing.
Then, without restraint or reservation, his lips are on mine.