Someone to Love (Someone to Love #1)

Someone to Love (Someone to Love #1) Page 11

On the Sunday before I bare far more than my mortal soul in art class, I decide to brave the snow and grab some coffee with Lauren and Ally.

Lauren called, said there was some kind of relational emergency and that she needed a hot brunette with a great body ASAP. To be honest, I didn't like the sound of it.

Cruise has been helping his mother with repairs all weekend at both the hair salon and bed and breakfast. I'm not sure how he magically morphs into a handyman once he leaves the house, and yet the heater remains mysteriously irreparable. Although I'm not complaining. I've spent the last week lying naked in his arms with his protruding affection jammed firm against my thigh, and, well, okay, it might have slipped in a more intimate location a time or two, but he was quick to reposition himself.

I'm sure he's long given up trying to have his way with me. He probably thinks I'm asexual, that I'm not even remotely interested in him or men in general. But the truth is, I'm ready to cave. I'm one heated breath away from turning around in the middle of the night and diving into his delicious dimples. I don't care if he impales me with that power line between his legs or if it manages to jet right out of my throat in the process. Everything in me cries for his body. I'm not sure what I'm waiting for. But God knows I'm waiting for something.

Per rules of the universe Starbucks is packed wall-to-wall with bodies. You'd think the only working heater in all of Massachusetts was right here in this shop, and if Cruise's home, and the classrooms at Garrison are any indication, it just might be.

The thick scent of coffee seduces me with its slightly burnt aroma, and I inhale deeply as I get in line.

"Kendall!" A loud, rather abrasive woman's voice hails me from the front. I spot Aunt Jackie waving and head on over.

"Guess who I talked to today?" she asks, offering me a big rocking hug. Her perfume and hairspray launch an assault on my senses and for a moment I lose the ability to breathe.

"Pen?" I haven't seen Pennington since our botched double date. I can't believe he had the nerve to bumble his way to second base while in a public establishment. Of course, I had the nerve to molest Cruise's hand while on a date with Pen, so I guess we're sort of even.

"No, silly." She flicks her wrist, and her diamond-encrusted tennis bracelet threatens to fall off. There's something about the way Jackie presents herself that scares me a little. Maybe it's her obvious fake lashes. I've been known to don falsies on occasion myself, but these in particular look like she plucked the wings off some poor unsuspecting butterfly, way too transvestite for this early in the afternoon. Or maybe it's the heavily penciled eyebrows that give her that perpetual look of surprise, or the thick black outline of her lips - a look I thought was canceled along with Baywatch. Nevertheless, the fifties are calling. They want their go-go boots back. "I talked to your mother!" She beams. "You'll never guess what she said."

"She's getting married." If that's the case, I think I'll skip the nuptials and cheer from the sidelines once the dissolution is on the horizon. A heavy feeling overcomes me at the thought of her racking up another tally mark in divorce court. I hate the thought of Mom getting her heart broken once again.

"Bitter much?" She puts in her order, and I wave at Ally. "Make it two!" She turns back to me. "I've got this," she whispers without even asking if I wanted a double espresso. But I'm more than thankful. At the rate I've been mismanaging my anemic funds, I might have to familiarize myself with the local soup kitchen in less than a week.

"So what's the big secret?"

"The girl is lonely." Jackie makes a face. "She got that stewardess friend of hers to get her a ticket. So she'll be out for a visit." She punctuates it by tapping me on the nose.

Lauren breezes in and trots on over. Her dark hair is whisked across her forehead and her mascara looks smudged as if she's been crying.

"I'm so glad you came." She pulls me in by the elbow. "We desperately need to talk."

"Um..." I look back at Aunt Jackie. "It'll just be a minute."

"Take all the time you need. I'm leaving," Jackie insists. "She'll be coming out in a couple weeks, so you might want to make arrangements."

"Isn't she staying with you?" I ask as she heads toward the door.

"I'm having the house painted. She's all yours, hon. We'll do dinner!" And with that, she walks out into the snow-covered world. A younger man with a goatee takes her by the waist and gets her settled in the passenger seat of his dated Monte Carlo.

"Who the hell is that guy?" I whisper mostly to myself. "And who paints their house during blizzard conditions with no end in sight?"

"Who cares?" Lauren pulls me off to the corner. "I think my boyfriend might be seeing someone else." It speeds out of her. Her glassy eyes blink in quick succession as her cheeks explode a bright shade of pink.

Ally comes up from behind. "That two-timing asshole!"

"Shh!" She hops up and down in a heightened state of panic. "He's on his way."

"Perfect," Ally snipes. "I feel an accident coming on with a boiling pot of coffee. We'll fry his balls and see how far that gets him with the ladies."

"No!" Lauren darts a finger in the air. "No frying of the balls. Get back behind that counter. I'm going to have Kendall hit on him and see how he responds."

"What?" Now it's my turn to jump out of my skin. "I'm not hitting on anybody. I don't even know how to do it." True story. I tried to "hit" on Cruise, and now I'm sleeping naked next to him in hopes to trick him into liking me. God only knows where I'll end up with her boyfriend.

"Pretend he's Cruise and flirt," Lauren instructs. "Just be your cute little self, and he'll fall all over you." Her face crumbles at the thought.

"Then what?" I clutch at my chest in horror. I suspect third degree burns will be called for in the event he falls for our poorly hatched plan.

"Then" - Ally twitches - "I scald him and make sure his future endeavors in procreation are physiologically futile. We burn the bastard."

Knew it.

"I don't even know what he looks like." Shit. I'm nowhere near ready to pick up strays at coffee holes. By definition, Cruise is doing a lousy job of directing me in all things "hookup."

"He's bald and looks like every single stranger your mother ever warned you about." Lauren says, pedaling me to the back of the store. "Just picture him asking you to look for his lost kitten while luring you into a windowless van."

A small cry escapes my throat. "God, Lauren, you are so going to owe me for this."

"Done," she says, ducking behind some foliage.

I take a seat at an empty table and wait for a tall, bald predator to walk through those doors and see if I qualify to be his sex kitten.

Cruise

The smell of rust and hairspray, fumes me out from underneath the bathroom sink.

I look up at my sister who's wielding a can of toxic hair glue like it was a lethal weapon.

"You mind?" I bury my face in my armpit and take a deep breath. I'd rather inhale the remnants of my deodorant than asphyxiate myself with the vaporous shit Molly insists on suffocating me with. "I'm going to die of lung cancer one day, and it's going to be all your fault," I say, tossing my wrench back in the tool bag.

"Sorry, but I have to look perfect." She twirls the curling iron in her hair, and a series of vapors emit from the wand. I'm pretty sure it's not supposed to smoke like that. I've held down the fort more than a few times, at the Crappy Hair and Snail Salon where the new logo should be; We'll age you thirty years! Not sure why Kenny never lawyered up. My mother is damn lucky she still has a roof over her head - me too for that matter.

"What do you need to look so perfect for?" I say, getting up and dusting the rust off my jeans.

"I got a date."

"A what?" I look at her in the mirror. Her face is painted like a kabuki doll, complete with bright red lipstick, and her hair is twirled in perfect ringlets like she's going to prom. "You can't go on a date."

"Says who?" Her bright pink nails maneuver the curling iron around another stray lock.

"Says me."

"You're not my dad."

"You don't have one, so I sort of am." I bend over to pick up my tool bag, and she knees me solid in the balls. "Shit." My head dips to my thighs as a blinding pain spreads through my body, slow and searing like molasses on fire. "Moll," I say, following her agitated footsteps down the halls. "I'm sorry." I pound against the door. "Can I come in?"

"No. I hate you!" The soft sound of sobbing emits from the other side.

"I'm sorry." I wiggle the doorknob until it unlocks itself. Nothing ever works around here, so it's no big surprise I can manipulate the bolt with a flick of the wrist.

Molly lies on the bed, crumpled and broken. She depresses her face in the pillow as her back heaves in a wild fit of tears.

"Hey." I go over and sit on the edge, rubbing her shoulders with my deep regret. "I just don't want to see you getting hurt, kiddo. That's all." Shit. Could I damage her any more than I already have? It's not her fault her dad is a screw up. He landed in the pen five years ago on a cocaine bust that ended with a body, and now here I am, rubbing her face in it. "You really like this guy?"

She twists around and looks at me with those tear-filled eyes. Her lipstick's smeared, and her neat curls have exchanged themselves for a ball of frizz. She might very well be transforming into a beautiful young woman but all I see is that six-year-old who used to follow me around like a puppy - wish it was still so.

"Yes, I like him." She straightens her legs, and I'm shocked to see they almost dangle off the bed.

"Does he treat you well?"

"No." She doesn't hesitate to answer.

"Then what the hell are you doing with him?"

"I don't know. I just want him to like me. I want him to tell me he cares about me - that he loves me, but he never does. He just slobbers all over me and pretends like that's enough. At least buy me a freaking flower before you stick your tongue down my throat."

"You know I'm going to have to kill him."

Her eyes slit to nothing. "Touch him and I'll arrange the need for a brand new set of tires and repeat the effort."

My stomach sours at the thought of anyone hurting Molly - cheating on her. All she wants is a few kind sentiments and flowers and gets neither.

She might as well be talking about Kenny and me.

"Look, I gotta run." I lean over and tousle her hair. "Do me a favor and give this guy the cold shoulder, will you? Stay in and catch a movie with Mom. She could use the company. And don't let anyone stick their tongue down your throat, or I'll have to track them down and rearrange body parts."

"Where you going?"

"I've got some shopping to do."

Flowers. I give a little laugh as I stare down at the bouquet of bright red roses I picked up from the florist. I wanted it to look special, not like I swiped it out of a plastic bucket off a street corner, so the florist peppered in a bunch of baby's breath, and it looks like a song came to life right here in my hand.

I tried to text Kenny to see where she's at, but she didn't answer. I figured I'd hit a few of the usual haunts before waiting it out at home. I'm amped and ready to tell her how I feel - that she's the most beautiful woman I've ever laid on eyes on, that her inner beauty outshines the stars, the moon - makes them look like amateur hour when it comes to phosphorescence. Then I'm going to say it. I'm going to say those three little words I haven't uttered in so long - and for the first time ever, I'm finally going to mean them.

The Beamer is parked right outside Starbucks, amassing snow an inch deep over the windshield, so she must have been here a good long while.

I park and brace myself before getting out of the car - hell before imparting such a life changing statement. Everything about the two of us will change in that very moment. She'll either say it right back or laugh in my face.

A flurry of snow greets me as I make my way inside. The flowers feel foreign in my hand, like I've donned a costume and this is just some prop. It doesn't feel real. My heart drums out a vicious beat as I pan the establishment. I spot Ally behind the counter, and her jaw drops. I tick a quick hello before scouring the crowd and spot Kenny off in the back.

My stomach bottoms out.

Kenny has her arms wrapped around the waist of a familiar looking bald-headed bastard - Cal.

She belts out a laugh and her neck arches with pleasure in a way I only thought it did for me.

Looks like Kenny is taking the game to a whole new level - flying solo with Cal of all people. And here I didn't think she had it in her, that she secretly may have wanted only me.

A little girl walks in with her mother. Her long hair, those large brown eyes with the slight look of hurt in them remind me an awful lot of Molly.

"These are for you." I hand her the flowers and dart back to the truck.

She didn't come to my room last night.

I glance out the window bleary-eyed as the sun crests the hillside, casting an eerie tangerine glow over the mounds of snow that piled overnight. I lie back down and throw my arm over my eyes, trying to block out the dismal light, the world - reality in general. Kenny seemed so innocent when I saw her that night at that party. I knew she wasn't coming home with me to heat the sheets, but she held the oxygen in the room, and I damn well needed to breathe. I was floating on the wreckage from my last heartbreak and Kenny was a beautiful island that emerged from nowhere, one that I longed to explore. And now I'm petrified that what I really came upon was a volcano ready to blow my world to pieces. If I thought Blair was bad, her blatant F.U. after years of being together, then I have a feeling Kenny is going obliterate me in the worst way possible.

I didn't think I could feel pain so deep from someone I've hardly known a month. I never knew I could have my heart ripped from my chest and set on fire by my sheer desire to have someone who has no real interest in me.

This afternoon I'll be wearing nothing but a smile in Kendall Jordan's art class. I know for sure she's enrolled in it because I double-checked her schedule last night.

I'll have to put on that invisible suit of armor I've donned since last summer when everything went to shit just hoping to make it through the hour.

I could always not go - forfeit two hundred big ones. Technically, I'm staff, so I shouldn't be so eager to shed the stitches, although Professor Webber made it a point to let me know graduate students were her primary pool of applicants. Besides, I should probably get back in the game - start tearing through that industrial-sized box of condoms I've got stashed in my nightstand. Kenny was just a misstep. I let her get too far in my head, and if I keep trekking in the same direction, I'll turn into one big emotional pussy.

After a quick shower, I don't bother getting dressed. Instead, I wrap a towel around my dripping wet body and venture into the kitchen.

"The heater worked last night!" She marvels, and my heart sinks like a stone.

I fired it up while she was gone, hoping she'd come to my bed willingly.

My chest grows heavy. Kenny managed to deflate my ego with one prick of her tongue. I was nothing more than a heater. And last night, when she didn't need my services, she didn't bother to show.

With all my heart and soul I wish she wanted me. A part of me wants to weep like a schoolgirl at the thought of Kenny getting it on with Cal or any other asshole that happens to rub up next to her.

My lips twitch a mournful smile. I want to look away, pull my gaze from hers, but she's hooked me, reeled me in with those sea glass lenses.

"Look at me, Kenny." I glance down at my body. "I want you to see every part of me." I grab a hold of the towel cinched at my waist, and her lips part, her eyes magnify in size at what I'm about to do. She shakes her head ever so slightly, mortified that I had ditched "good morning" and went for the carnal jugular before she could down her coffee. I open the towel, slow and methodical, exposing her in full to every inch of my being.

Selfishly, I don't want Kenny to see me for the first time in front of strangers while she tries to sketch me with shade and light. Selfishly, I wish she wanted to see me, to have me all for herself.

She turns away, quick as a hurricane, and spills the contents of her mug in the process.

"Shit, Cruise. Good morning to you, too." She lands her cup hard on the sink and leans toward the window.

"Lesson of the day." I come up from behind - adhere myself to the curve of her body and don't bother to pull away once I feel myself grow. "I want you to see me like this," I whisper almost ashamed of what I'm asking her to do. "You don't have to touch. Just look." It comes out sad, forlorn because I know deep down inside she won't - that I don't deserve to have her look at me.

"Cruise..." She turns her head into my shoulder. She doesn't say anything, and for a minute, I think she might cry, that I might turn into a giant pussy and join in on the sob-fest.

I offer a gentle kiss to her cheek, and our lips find one another for the first time in a week. It's as if she were afraid to kiss me lying in my bed, as if my mouth were the portal to unspoken treasures, and once she entered she could never leave.

That visual of her touching Cal on the collar, laughing at whatever flew from his lips, rolls through me like rancid fat, and I pull away.

"I guess I'll see you in class," I say, cinching up my towel.

She takes a breath, never taking her sad eyes off mine. "I guess you will."