Chapter 18 #2
“We can’t really…” I trail off. “Nothing can happen between us for real. It wouldn’t work.”
“Yup, okay.” He slides me off his lap and stands up, then holds a hand out to me.
My chest is almost painfully tight now. “You’re mad at me.”
“I’m allowed to be mad at you, Nora.”
“Is it because you got me off but I didn’t get you off?”
He sighs wearily. “I shudder to think what kind of men you’ve been seeing, if you think that’s why I’m upset.”
Dazed, I let him help me up. But as soon as I’m standing, he starts striding down the path, his steps more confident than they have any right to be, given how dark it has become.
“Cormac,” I say, my voice tight. I sound angry, but I’m not. There’s a strange, swirling feeling inside of me—unsettled and wild, as if a tornado is whipping around in my chest. “You can’t…leave.”
“I’m not going to abandon you on the side of the mountain,” he says in an infuriatingly patient voice. “I’ll drive you home. It’s fine. We can put music on. I’ll even let you choose it.”
But it’s not fine.
I hurry after him. He doesn’t slow down, though, and I’m almost a foot shorter. So I’m left scurrying after him, until we’re nearly at the bottom of the trail, and I trip on a root and basically body-slam his back.
He jolts but stays upright. So do I, thanks to his solid back, but I’m shaken. Swearing, he turns around and takes me in his arms. I hug him for all I’m worth. “Are you okay?”
“No,” I admit. My throat is burning with emotion, and my eyes feel hot. I tighten my arms around him, not wanting to let him go. Feeling like an idiot for it. “I have no idea what I’m doing.”
That seems to soften him, and he runs a hand over my hair. “I know. That’s unusual for you, isn’t it?”
I’m not sure why, but I start laughing, softly at first, but then with growing hysteria, and he pulls me closer to his chest, laughing with me.
“I guess I don’t dislike you after all,” I tell him.
He settles his chin on my head. “Good. That’ll make things less awkward over the holidays.”
I shove his chest lightly. “That’s what I was thinking up there. That it was going to be really uncomfortable at the Thanksgiving table if we had sex up on that hill.”
“You were seriously going to have sex with me up there? What did I do to blow my chances?”
I start laughing again. “No, it would have been terrible. Really stupid.”
“I feel a sudden need to prove my virility to you.”
Laughter continues to bubble out of me, and I press my face into his chest.
“You’re not helping,” he comments.
“Maybe you’ll get your chance sometime. You know, when we’re single and sixty.” Something inside of me lurches as I say the words. It seems really unfair that I might have to wait thirty years for him to kiss me again. It felt…
It was nice, is all. But maybe it would be nice with anyone up there on the bench, with that view.
He tips my chin up. I can barely see him in the dark, but I feel him. He’s sturdy and dependable, nothing like any of the men who have burned through my life—heat and then ash. So why is he the one who scares me?
“It worked for our parents.”
I smile at him, but there’s a nervous tugging inside of me.
“We shouldn’t risk this,” I say in a smaller voice. “It’s…you know it’s a bad idea. It would be way too messy.”
He’s quiet for a moment. Finally he says, “I should get you home, secret fake girlfriend.”
“Yes,” I say with a sigh. “You probably should.”
He weaves his hand through mine, and we continue onward like that, hand in hand. As if we really mean something to each other.
Before we exit the park, we pass a group of teens who’ve set up a blanket on the grass and are smoking a joint.
I nudge Cormac. “Doesn’t that make you nostalgic for simpler times?”
He gives a low laugh. “Not even a little. Kenji and I didn’t get invited to your blanket pot parties.”
“No, I bet you were much too busy with robotics to be bothered with a good time. You did go to that one party, though.”
He squeezes my hand. “I left as soon as I could. I didn’t belong there.”
“You left because of me.”
“Not for the reason you thought,” he says, leaving it at that.
I want to ask more questions, but the bond between us is so tenuous now. I don’t want to risk ruining it.
We pass through the park gates together. I know I should release his hand now, but I don’t want to. It feels like if I let go of him, this strange closeness that’s been forming between us would fizzle away.
We keep walking companionably, talking about nothing.
The park was overly dark, but down here, the town is well-lit with charming streetlights designed to look like old-fashioned gas lamps.
It must be past nine, but some of the storefronts are still glowing, and laughing people amble along the sidewalks.
“Looks like there’s some kind of party in the bookstore,” Cormac remarks as we approach the storefront.
Indeed, people are spilling out onto the sidewalk in front of it, and music is drifting from the front door.
“Little Apple Books for the win.”
“Unfortunately, we can’t risk it,” Cormac says. “I don’t want to go in there and get doused.”
“Or he might hit us with his cane.”
We reach the shop window, and both of us peer inside. It’s cozy in there, and the shelves are lined with fairy lighting I can’t imagine that old guy hanging up. Trays of drinks and snacks are set out on a few round tables. People are milling around and—
Cormac swears and tugs me away.
“What is it?” I ask, reaching up to straighten his glasses.
“Don’t touch me,” he hisses.
He must see the hurt on my face, because he takes my hand and squeezes it before whispering, “Nora. Don’t look, but our parents are in there. This is where they’re spending their secret honeymoon.”
Of course, the very next thing I do is look.
“Holy shit,” I say.
There they are, Mr. and Mrs. Applebaum-Peebles, sipping a couple of drinks and talking to the old guy who nearly took us out with his cane.
My mom’s wearing a red dress I helped her pick out a few weeks ago, a major departure from her usual earth tones.
She looks so happy that for a moment all I can do is stare.
Then she glances toward the window, and I pop a squat so quickly, I probably pull a muscle.
Cormac whirls around, giving the window his back, and we both hurry away—me scrambling across the ground like a crab, and him moving sideways with his back to the window, like he’s moonwalking.
It’s nearly ridiculous enough to make me laugh.
Nearly. When I’m no longer visible from the window, I let him help me back up—and groan at the muscle strain.
We scurry back toward the car in full covert operative mode.
No one calls out to us, thank God.
“Holy shit, that was a near disaster,” I finally whisper when we reach his car. “We can’t risk that happening again.”
“Where’ll we go with José and Pansy next time?”
I grin at him. “What about an arcade? My mother hates arcades.”
“I always thought your mother was sensible.”
“But you love gaming.”
“I love it in places that don’t smell like feet.”
We get into the car, and I turn toward him in my seat. “I think it’s time to look up Pansy’s exes. Are you ready to go full internet stalker?”
He considers this, then nods as he turns the key in the ignition. “All right. But we do it together. No going Rambo on me.”
“Yes, sir,” I say in a sultry voice, giving him a crisp, very ironic salute.
He groans. “You’re killing me again.”
I can’t help but smile. “Did that do it for you?”
“None of your business. Now, what music are you going to make me listen to on the way home?”
I grin at him, because I’ve been holding on to this surprise all day. I slide the CD out of my purse and hold it up. He reaches for it, and I yank it back, waggling my eyebrows while I stick the Garbage Fire album into the CD player.
“I hate listening to myself after the fact,” he says, groaning as the music starts to play.
“What a coincidence. Everyone else hates listening to you too.”
He gives me a pointed look.
“I’m obviously just teasing you. You’re very talented, but you set me up for it, and I wouldn’t have been doing my job if I hadn’t said it.”
“Have it your way, Nora.”
But he looks almost pleased as the first song gets going.
It is a very good song for the bass.