Chapter 14 #3
“I wish it didn’t have to end. Maybe we can do it again soon? You could introduce me to smoked oyster and onion pizza—my treat, of course. Maybe this Friday night?” Fingers crossed, he thought. Fingers crossed!
Vic was silent.
“Please say yes.” Man, he had no pride.
Vic’s mouth opened. Then she sighed and shut it again. Then she clasped her hands and rubbed them together. “Or maybe I could come over now?”
What, really? he thought.
She batted her eyelashes coquettishly and teased, “You did say you didn’t want the night to end.”
He definitely had said that, and he’d meant it, and yet—
Shut up, brain. Stop overthinking everything all the time.
“Yeah, why not? That’d be great.” He tried, didn’t know if he succeeded, to keep his excitement from being embarrassingly evident.
“I’ll grab my coat.”
That flirty grin again. Cal felt a little breathless.
On the way out to the van, she slid her hand into his. It was soft and smooth and sent pulses of heat and anticipation through him.
“Are you sure about this?” he asked as he unlocked and opened the van door for her. “I mean I’m thrilled, don’t get me wrong, but I don’t want you to . . . I don’t know, feel any pressure.”
Vic had been about to climb into the van, but now she paused and turned around to face him. “You actually mean that, don’t you?”
“What? Yeah. Definitely, I do.”
Vic’s brow creased, and her face was yellow and pensive in the weak beams of a nearby streetlight. “I have to clear something up first, then you can decide if you still want me to come over for the night or not.”
Of course, I will, Cal thought, feeling certain.
“I’m really attracted to you,” she said, and Cal’s heart—and something else—twitched again. “And I think, maybe,” she smiled, “you are attracted to me too?”
He nodded, a sudden frisson of unease itching through him. She sighed, that strange sadness there again.
“The thing is, Cal . . . You’re a good guy, I can tell. Kind. Honest. You don’t want to be with me. I thought we could have some fun together, but,” she shook her head, “I can’t do this to you. I can’t saddle you with someone like me.”
“What are you talking about?” Cal was flummoxed. “What does that even . . . mean?” What the hell was happening right now?
Her eyes closed for a second. When she opened them, she said, “I know this seems bizarre. It is bizarre. I’m bizarre.
But trust me. As my lovely mother says on repeat, but she’s not wrong .
. .” Her voice took on Audra’s high-pitched, nagging tone.
“If people really knew you, Victoria . . . and what she means is, if people really knew me, they wouldn’t like me.
And she’s not wrong. And the people wouldn’t be wrong. ”
“I . . . I’m totally confused here, Vic—and your mom?
Your mom says that?” Cal was having a hard time keeping up, as his body dealt with confusing, waning arousal and his brain churned with a slurry of indignant rage and bafflement.
What kind of parent said that to their kid—especially when their kid was middle-aged? It was . . .
“It’s pathological,” Vic filled in. “You’re right.
But yeah, so, if I’m coming over as a friend-with-benefits kind of thing, great.
But if you’re hoping for more or thinking of this as a date—and I’m sorry, that’s on me—then I should say no.
I’m a mess and not someone you want to be involved with romantically. ”
This night . . . How it had gone from . . . whatever it was to whatever . . . this was? Cal struggled to catch up. When someone tells you who they are, believe them. When someone tells you who they are, believe them. The words—the lesson—he hoped he had learned kept repeating in his head.
“Okay, well, um . . .”
“Shoot. I’ve made it all horribly awkward now.”
It was true. She really had, but he didn’t think it would be helpful to say as much.
“I’m sorry. I . . . I think I misread things a bit,” Cal said.
“No, I’m sorry. I know I sent you mixed signals.”
The silence between them stretched. Her eyes were big and imploring—so confusing. “Do you still want me to come over on Friday?”
Was she for real right now?
“Um . . . I guess? We’ll see if we can be friends. No . . . benefits.” He almost choked on the word. “That’s not really me.”
Vic held up a hand. “I get it. And I appreciate that. Thank you.”
“So, uh, until Friday then, I guess.” Stupidly, humiliatingly, the back of his eyes felt hot, almost teary. He had really liked her—and that kiss. It hadn’t seemed like some casual scratch-an-itch benefits thing. It had felt like it had feelings.
“Until Friday.” She sounded heart-achingly hopeful, which was even more bewildering.
Now his heart ached for different reasons.
He’d done hot and cold. He’d done a relationship with a deeply traumatized woman.
He’d done my-love-is-strong-enough-to-heal-her.
(Of course, he hadn’t done any of that consciously.
It wasn’t till trying to survive the aftermath of Melanie’s abrupt exit that he learned of the dance he did with partners, the patterns he was unconsciously complicit in.) How the hell had he managed to find someone possibly even more complicated than Melanie?
He was going to take Vic’s advice, and he was going to be very careful. They’d have pizza, he’d keep conversation light, to house repairs and the like, and if he wasn’t feeling—or getting—just friends vibes, he’d distance himself. He really would.
Vibes. Whatever happened with Vic, he needed to hang out with other people more. He was starting to sound exactly like Carrie, even in his own head.