Chapter 2 #2
One morning last winter, when they were still roommates, Alissa had told her about her date with Kell the night before. Something in Rachel’s chest had spasmed that day, and it hadn’t quite stopped yet.
Of all the times for that memory to hit her…
They made their way down the stinky corridor quickly, Kell right behind her, his presence reassuring.
“You want to watch The Valhalla Stalker? It dropped this week,” Kell said casually as they walked past a stack of empty, battered egg crates outside a restaurant’s kitchen door. An old tomato juice can filled with cigarette butts sat next to it, like a trusty companion.
On the first day of their fellowship, during getting-to-know-you exercises, Kell and Rachel had discovered a mutual love of Nordic noir.
Not just The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, or Smilla’s Sense of Snow–the major mainstream breakouts in the film and television subgenre–but the lesser-known works, too.
At least, lesser known in the U.S.
She turned around and paused. “Icelandic, right?”
“Yeah.”
“It’ll be a nice change from the Swedish dramas.”
He gave her a concerned frown. “Or maybe you need something lighter to watch right now. Funnier.”
“Like Madagascar?” she replied, leading to a burst of laughter from him.
“Um… anything with lemurs in it is off the table for you right now.”
“I think immersing myself in dark murder mysteries under the midnight sun sounds about right. Escaping from my own reality feels like a valid coping strategy.”
“Then go ahead and show cheat on me.”
“I would never show cheat! I won’t watch it without you.”
“I don’t have time until Friday, so if you want to watch it before then, you have my permission.”
“Permission, huh? That’s a big word.”
“You know what I mean.” They were nearly at her door when Kell casually slung his arm around her shoulders. The heat of him made her want to curl into a ball in his lap and live there forever.
Instead, she squared her shoulders and smiled at him.
Confidence, Rachel. Her mother’s mantra rang in her ears. Always, confidence.
Easy words for a once-beloved 1980s sitcom actress, now perhaps better known for commercials hawking peel-and-stick pain-relief pads.
“Feel it, peel it. Stick it, kick it!” was the product’s motto, with her mother, Portia Starman, giving a spritely little kick at the end.
Rachel kicked a stick out of the way on the sidewalk.
The familiar electric-blue door came into view. Rachel’s place was an apartment shared with two Georgetown law students, Emily and Jerri. Their days did not entail walking around rallies and protests in a lemur suit.
“Hey.” Kell stopped her at the base of the stairs to her building, hands now on her shoulders, gray eyes serious and concerned. “That was a lot, back there.”
Her fingertips traced the edges of his jacket.
Every time she moved, a whiff of his cologne made her want to close her eyes and inhale deeply.
Her skin began to hum lightly as her body came back online, like it had shut down from the shock of what happened in the crosswalk.
Tiny aches were popping up here and there, her knee, her elbow, her throat.
A general weariness washed over her, and it was hard to hold her head up. Her hands felt like balloons.
Having those gorgeous eyes look at her with such empathy after that humiliating incident didn’t help, either.
Confidence, Rachel.
“I’m fine. Now I have an answer to the annoying job interview question: Tell us about a challenge you once faced in the workplace and how you handled it.”
Instantly, his face changed from concern to something deeper, lighter, with more connection than she expected.
“That’s true. But you don’t need it.”
“Huh?”
“You’re going to Stanford. The rest of us are waiting for job offers, but you’ve been set for months.”
Getting into Stanford’s MBA program had been her crowning achievement. Being able to call her father, a top entertainment attorney, and tell him the news was one of the highlights of her life.
Until he’d followed his congratulations with her brother’s news: Tim had just been formally accepted into the U.S. Air Force Academy. His long-term goal was to be an astronaut and go to Mars.
Nothing like being the low achiever in a powerhouse family.
No way was she ever, ever telling Mom and Dad about The Lemur Incident.
“Rachel?” Kell said, breaking her out of her thoughts.
“Yeah?”
“You look beat.”
“I am.”
“Go inside. Take a shower. Get some antibiotic cream on that cut. Watch whatever you want. I’ll check on you later.” He pointed to her chest, and she looked down.
“Oh! Right. Your coat.” She started to unbutton it, then stopped, his hand going over hers. They both laughed.
“Return it to me at work tomorrow. I’m fine.”
“I can run inside and throw on some clothes and–”
“You’re shaking.”
Emotion caught in her throat before she could answer, tears filling her eyes.
And then he was hugging her, Rachel’s cheek against his chest, his hands on her back. This was a platonic hug, she knew. Felt it in her bones, an image of Alissa coming into focus behind her closed eyes.
“I’m sorry that happened to you.”
“It would have been worse if you hadn’t saved me,” she mumbled into his pecs.
“I did what anyone else would do.”
His phone buzzed in his front pants pocket, making her hip vibrate.
“That’s probably Alissa, wondering where you are.”
“I texted her. She let everyone know what happened.”
A groan louder than hecklers at a political rally came out of her.
“Great. I’ll never hear the end of this. At least they weren’t there to see it.”
“Well, not in real time, anyway. There, uh, may be some online evidence.”
“Of me? Half naked?”
“Yeah. Not sure whether to call that the worst part or the best part. Anyway, John’s pissed that he missed it.”
“Kell!”
With that, he broke the hug, giving her a crooked grin.
The phone buzzed a second time.
“Go in,” he said, backing away. “Take care of yourself. Watch The Valhalla Stalker or Dumb and Dumber or whatever works. Take tomorrow off if you can.”
“Can’t. West Virginia has that fracking bill I’m working on.”
“Right. That’s important, Rachel. But you matter, too. Be easy on yourself. Rest.”
“Thanks.” Fingering her keys, she turned away, afraid she’d do or say yet another embarrassing thing.
By the time she was inside her building, he was half a block away, about to turn and retrace his steps down her shortcut.
Mercifully, her roommates weren’t home. She went into the apartment, closed the door, locked it, and gaped.
That happened.
That happened.
Rachel pressed her back against the door in stunned silence.
And took a deep breath, inhaling Kell’s scent on his jacket, wishing it could linger on.