Chapter 23
Twenty-Three
Lucas
“I told you I’d meet you downstairs.” Denise leans against her doorframe, granting me the sight of her wearing a red slip dress that compliments her skin a little too well.
I fight the urge to tell her that maybe we should skip the dinner date in the city and just head to her room, but I know she’ll just purposely make my life ten times harder.
Hmm…maybe I should make that suggestion after all.
“I know,” I say. “But I wanted to give you these.”
Her grin turns into an unfiltered smile when she looks away from my face to the bouquet of red roses in my hands. She runs the tip of her index finger along the petals.
“You know the last time a guy tried to give me flowers, I made sure to tell how desperate it made him look.”
I shrug. “Well what a coincidence ’cause that’s exactly what I am for you, Princess. Desperate.”
She steps closer to me, taking the flowers from my hands and pressing her chest against mine. With her heels on, she’s at eye level with me and is able to kiss me without much effort.
I let out a sigh of relief at the contact, as if me not having seen her all day was starting to wear on me.
What can I say? I’m clingy but Denise hasn’t seemed to mind these past three weeks. If anything, she’s just as attached at the hip. Despite what she tries to argue.
I rest my hands on her hips to bring her closer. She smiles into the kiss, pulling away just a little. I rest my forehead against hers, closing my eyes and focusing on the feeling of her gently running her nails up and down my shoulder.
Sometimes I still feel like I’m living in a dream. Like I’ll wake up and Denise being my girlfriend was something I made up to cope with her lack of interest.
The late-night phone calls. Me spending most of my time at her place. Being able to kiss her and hold her hand whenever I want. Even the way she looks at me like this might all feel just as surreal to her—all of it has me deciding that if this is a dream, then I don’t ever intend to wake up.
She gently kisses the corner of my mouth. “You’re kinda cute, Callahan.”
“Wow.” I chuckle.
“What?”
“We’re moving into compliment territory? This really must be a dream.”
She hums against my lips. “I can’t help it. You make me wanna tell you everything I like about you.”
“Well,” I begin. “Our dinner reservation isn’t for another hour. I think we have time.”
She laughs and pulls away again, this time taking my hand with her free one and walking me into her apartment. I close the front door, letting Denise guide me to her couch. The same couch we tend to make out on when we’re supposed to be watching a movie.
Not that I’d ever complain about that.
She sits down and pulls me with her, dropping her legs into my lap and resting her head in the palm of her hands, the roses now sitting in her lap. I brush one of her neatly done curls behind her ear and then begin to run my palms up and down her bare legs.
“I’ll give you five whole minutes of interrupted compliments.” Denise smiles. “But I require dessert after dinner.”
I tap a finger on my chin, pretending there’s any thinking required. “Hmm, sounds like a fair trade to me.”
Her smile widens and she doesn’t waste time showering me with her favorite things about me but I’m not even listening to the compliments. I’m just thinking of all my favorite things about her.
◆◆◆
After dinner—and dessert as promised—Denise and I decide to walk around New York City before taking the train back to Ellingbrooke. We walk alongside the rest of the foot traffic and even though it’s more packed here than in Ellingbrooke, it’s nice to have a night outside the campus.
Eventually, Denise started to complain about her heels hurting her feet. Without much thought, I lift her up onto my back which is where she’s now. My hands are hooked under her knees and her arms are around my neck, now talking about a “deal” she got on this pair of heels.
“Jesus, Denise,” I laugh as I walk down the semi-busy street. “I thought I had no self-control.”
“They were limited edition Jimmy Choos, I had no choice but to buy them.”
I shake my head at the thought of thinking that me spending almost two hundred dollars on a pair of sneakers was outrageous.
But my two hundred—which was paid off in payment plans—compared to her almost three thousand has me wondering if I’ll ever be able to give her absolutely everything she wants and deserves.
“You’re making me a little nervous here, Stryker.”
“Why?” She kisses the side of my neck.
“How am I gonna keep up with your taste?” I chuckle, wanting her to know it’s not her taste that’s the issue. It’s that I’m still yet to have signed on as an official team member of the New Jersey Snakes.
One more year, I remind myself.
She hums, genuinely thinking about it for a moment. “I don’t expect you to spend that much, ever. But holding my bags is non-negotiable.”
I smile, giving her thighs a squeeze. “I think I can handle that.”
But little does she know that I’m willing to spoil her rotten with everything I have. Even if it’s not much. Even if it takes me longer to get there than she’s used to.
The ringing of one of our phones pulls us out of our conversation. I feel the vibration of her phone from her purse that’s resting on my shoulder. She reaches to take it out and holds it up to her ear.
“Hey, Mom,” she answers.
I don’t hear much of what her mom is saying due to the sound of honking and foot traffic.
I’m just glad it’s not her dad.
As much as I love touching Denise, the fear of Coach popping out of nowhere has me keeping my hands to myself while we’re on campus.
Well, for the most part. I’m only human.
Denise nods her head to whatever her mom is saying, her other arm still wrapped around my shoulders to keep herself steady. “Yeah, I’m going this Thursday at noon.” She places a hasty kiss on my shoulder and continues her conversation. “No, Brian already texted me the address.”
I hit the button for the crosswalk as Denise and her mom say their “I love yous” and “goodnights.”
She puts her phone back in her purse and rests her chin on my shoulder. She sighs, her grip on me tightening.
“Everything okay?” I ask, crossing the street in long strides, trying not to bump into anyone.
Denise nods but remains quiet and that doesn’t settle right in my chest. Once we make it safely to the other side of the street, I gently set her down, turning to face her.
“Hey.” I rest my hand on the side of her neck, her eyes meeting mine. “Talk to me.”
She shakes her head and lets out a huff. “My mom was just making sure that I’m going to my first interview with Kimberly this week.”
Denise told me a few weeks ago about Brian getting her a job interview for a teaching position at a dance studio in Ellingbrooke. She told me there were quite a few applicants and that the interview process is kind of rigorous.
Interviews with multiple interviewers, group discussion, and even an audition.
She’s been at the studio on campus most nights and I’ve even caught her huddling over her phone, watching videos on teaching methods.
Anytime we talked about it, she seemed like she knew she’d get it. She was confident enough for the position to be hers simply just because she thought it should. But now as I look at her, eyes slightly glossy, I’m seeing a theme here.
“You nervous?”
She scoffs. “No.”
I arch an eyebrow, arms crossed. Her shoulders drop for a split second and when I don’t back down, she rolls her eyes.
“Maybe—”
I give her another look that silently says, “try again.”
She lets out a deep sigh, reaching to grab her purse from my shoulder and I let her simply because I know she’s just trying to do something with her hands.
“I don’t know, just a little,” she finally confesses.
“I mean, there’s other people interviewing for the position and I haven’t properly danced in months and what if I’m not good anymore?
What if I don’t know anything worth teaching or they see right through me and decide that I won’t be able to keep up? ”
The words hit me like a slap in the face. Making my skin hot and raw. The slight defeat in her voice as if the decision has already been made and dancing has been ripped away from her, yet again.
I pull her toward a closed record store so that we’re no longer standing in the way of passersby. I help her step over a puddle from the rain earlier today before leaning my shoulder against the wall, facing her.
“I know I don’t know much of anything about ballet,” I begin, “but I do know that whenever I watch you dance, I’m mesmerized.”
She can’t help but roll her eyes and yet step closer to me at the same time. I take her hand in mine.
“And not because you’re you but because you’re an amazing dancer. An amazing person.” My voice drops so that she knows these words are only meant for her.
“They want to whip those kids into shape? You’re their girl. You got this job in the bag, sweetheart. And if they decide to be idiots and give it to someone else, then we’ll figure it out together.”
She furrows her eyebrows as if the concept is foreign and I hate it. “Together?”
“Yeah, that’s one of the perks of having such an incredible boyfriend. All you have to do is talk to me. About anything. And we’ll go through it together.”
She gently smiles up at me, that faint shade of pink forming on her cheeks. The same tint that appears when she gets a little shy but won’t admit it because she has a reputation to maintain.
“I guess I could get used to that.” She shrugs.
I laugh, pulling her into a hug. “Good, ’cause I don’t plan on letting you go anytime soon. You’re stuck with me now. Whether you like it or not.”
She mumbles against my shoulder. “It’s a day-by-day case.”
And yet she squeezes me just as tight.
“Ouch.” I pull away, resting my hand over my heart. “Fuck you.”
Denise leans in, a sly grin on her face. “Maybe later.”
I’ve been learning to ask for what I want instead of taking only what’s given and Denise is realizing that she doesn’t have to push me away when things become too real. Because as far as I’m concerned, I’m not going anywhere.
Some days we argue.
Other times we ignore whatever we’re disagreeing about because fighting about it hurts too much. But most days we're willing to meet halfway. It’s a process but I’ll keep telling her if I have to because we’re learning. Together.
She turns to try and continue with our walk but I grab her wrist, pulling her back to face me. Her gaze goes to my hand and then to my face. She softens.
“I’m serious,” I say. “I’ve got you. We’ve got each other. I’m not going anywhere.”
Her breath hitches and she breaks eye contact for a split second, like she’s trying to collect herself. I want to tell her that she doesn’t have to do that with me.
She can let her guard down.
Not have to pretend to be so tough all the time.
But we’ll get there. I know we will. For now, I just want her to know that I’ll happily catch her whenever she falls.
She steps closer once again, her other hand reaching out to wrap around my waist. “Even if I don’t get the job and I ugly cry?”
I chuckle. “Especially then.”
I kiss her forehead and we wrap our arms around one another. We stand like that for a moment, feeling each other breathe and settling into the warmth.
The honking of cars, the shouting of someone getting kicked out of a nearby bar—it’s all background noise to the sound of Denise’s steady breathing and her arms wrapped around me.