CHAPTER SIX
Once we were in Jenn’s car, things got a little easier. Mainly because I was sitting in the back seat of her extremely clean Mini Cooper and was able to stare out at the grainy scenes of downtown Seattle that whipped past my window. A foreign city was as good of a distraction as any.
I also understood what Dex meant by whether I liked good music or bad music. I didn’t know who the hell we were listening to, but I knew that Jenn knew all the words to this auto-tuned female pop star who “sang” about washing her teeth with whisky or something. If it was grating to my ears, I could only imagine how bad it was to Dex, the man who actually composed music and could sing.
After Jenn nearly side-swiped a few parked cars (I noted that Dex kept his eyes closed for most of the drive), we arrived at a cute-looking café in the cobblestoned district of Pioneer Square.
Jenn parked the car beside a nearby meter while tourists outfitted in GORE-TEX jackets shared the sodden brick sidewalks with local riffraff and homeless folks. I waited for Dex to get out of the car before I could climb out between the back two front seats. He grabbed hold of my hand and steadied me until I was on the sidewalk, and gave it a warm, unnecessary squeeze. I quickly yanked my hand out of his. His eyes widened momentarily at my reaction, like a brown-eyed owl.
Not cool, Dex, I thought, but put on my best face as we turned and entered the warm café.
The normal tinges of apprehension swarmed through me as I scanned the unfamiliar restaurant looking for people who probably knew a lot more about me than I knew about them. I hate that feeling but it comes with the territory of being on the internet.
“There are the f*ckers,” Dex said, pointing at a table in the corner beneath vintage travel posters. I followed, hiding myself behind Jenn (even though that was like trying to hide an apple behind a carrot) until we stopped in front of his friends.
“Well, look who it is,” a lanky African-American dude in a purple polo shirt and wire-rimmed glasses announced and got out of his chair. He gave Dex a quick hug. “Where you keeping yourself, Ghost Boy?”
The guy looked at Jenn and gave her nothing more than a polite nod. Then he moved his head over to look at me and raised his eyebrows. I returned the action.
“I’ve been moving,” Dex said. He patted the guy on the back and pointed at me. “Dean, this is Perry.”
Dex looked past Dean at the other two people at the table, a ponytailed man-boy who reminded me of too many people I went to high school with, who was wearing a tee shirt that said “Ironic Statement”, and a woman who I recognized as the other Wine Babe, Rebecca Sims.
“And this is Seb and Rebecca,” he continued. “People, this is the infamous Perry Palomino.”
“The face breaker!” Seb cried out with a dorky guffaw and then started slow clapping.
“Easy now, Seb,” Dex told him and then shot me a cheeky look.
I sucked in the urge to retort something snarky and just smiled at the three of them. “I’m the face breaker. Nice to meet you all.”
I sat down across from Rebecca and Seb and next to Dex. Seb asked the couple how the move had been going. As Dex and Jenn explained, I took stock of Rebecca.
She was quite breathtaking, with an old-fashioned kind of beauty that fifties film stars were famous for. She was dressed in a lacey grey V-neck shirt that was well filled out and added to her classic look. Her hair was as jet-black as mine but cut into a chin-length bob with angled ends. Her eyes were dark and sexily hooded, her nose was long and broad, her lips were angular and made for the maroon lipstick she was wearing. Aside from her skin tone, which was so pale she was almost translucent, she could have passed as Dex’s sister.
She hadn’t greeted Jenn when we arrived, only Dex and me, which I thought was odd since the two worked together. I mean, they were the Wine Babes. If only my cousins knew I was having lunch with them, they’d totally die.
She took her eyes away from whatever Dex was saying (I was doing a pretty good job thus far of drowning out anything that sounded too coupley), and placed them on me. Unlike Dex, though, her eyes weren’t mysterious or intrusive. They were just frank and regarded me with a strange sort of respect that I wasn’t used to.
“So, Perry,” she said in a rich British accent. It took me by surprise but then I realized I had never heard her speak on Wine Babes before. To tell you the truth, I hadn’t seen more than one minute of the show. To watch it had been like pure torture, though, in retrospect, it would be a piece of cake after this week.
“It’s so nice to finally meet you,” she continued. “We’ve all heard so much about you; we’ve been watching you almost every week, yet for a while there, I think we all thought that perhaps you were a ghost yourself.”
“Nope,” I said, smiling at her and noticing that the other conversation had stopped and now everyone was looking at me. “I can be scary but I’m definitely no ghost.”
“So what was it that Dex said that made you punch him?” Seb asked, leaning low on the table in excitement.
“Sea Bass, shut the f*ck up,” Dex said, reaching across the table to smack him.
I glanced at Rebecca, catching a sort of come on, spill look in her eyes and then looked at Dex, whose attention was now on Jenn on the other side of him.
“It’s hard to remember,” I said, leaning back in my chair and crossing my arms. “I think it had something to do with the fact that he confiscated my phone because he didn’t want me checking my emails while I was ‘on the job’ or maybe it was that he planned on keeping us on the island on my actual birthday because, to quote/unquote, he didn’t think anyone in my family would actually notice if I wasn’t around.”
Now, though this was all completely true, I said it in a purely jovial tone with just the slightest bit of edge to it. And the way everyone at the table laughed and gasped, I could tell they thought it was shockingly hilarious. But Dex was looking at me in total surprise. I could almost hear his gruff, shocked voice in my head asking, What are you doing? >
I gave him a quick, unimpressed look and tried to hide my smile.
“Well, Perry, you’ve done what we’ve all wanted to,” Dean said, flashing his broad smile at us. He was extremely likeable. He leaned across the table and held out his hand for a high five. I attempted to return it but Dex stuck out his own hand and held my arm down.
“OK, OK, so I deserved it. You guys done with the witch hunt now?”
“Are you done being a shithead?” Rebecca asked with a cool smile.
Seb and Dean let out a simultaneous “Oooh” like the audience in a bad sitcom.
“And I thought you guys were my friends,” Dex said, and though it was in a flippant voice, I could pick up the strained twitches at the corner of his mouth.
“Friends are allowed to punch friends when they are being a shithead,” Rebecca said, leaning across the table and faking an uppercut to his scruffy chin.
He smiled, genuinely at that, and cupped his hand behind my head, his thumb stroking against my hair affectionately.
“Only Perry is allowed to do that.”
I closed my eyes briefly at the gentleness of his touch. It was automatic and involuntary. He took his hand away. Rebecca was staring at me in a half-amused, half-knowing way that made her hooded lids take precedence, but only said to Dex, “Well, Perry and Jenn, of course.”
“Of course,” I heard Jenn pipe up from the other side. “I get first dibs.”
Everyone laughed at that, though mine was forced, and the waiter appeared with more menus in hand. Despite the fact that I hadn’t eaten since my Weight Watchers English muffin that morning, I wasn’t hungry at all. I ordered a cup of coffee and a small bowl of Tuscan tomato soup to ensure I’d survive until dinner time without fainting.
To no one’s surprise, Dex ordered a Jack and Coke.
“Isn’t it a bit early for that, you lush?” I asked, eyeing it as the waiter plunked it down on the table, sending bubbles to spray out in the air.
“We’re on vacation, kiddo.”
“Technically, Dex,” Seb pointed out. “You and Perry are working this week. The rest of us are on vacation.”
Dex ignored him and tilted his head to me. “We’re at least on vacation for today. Tomorrow we work.”
He took a lengthy sip of his drink and I looked over at Seb and Dean. “So what do you guys do at Shownet?”
Seb looked appalled. “You mean you’ve never seen Gamer Room?!”
I shrugged, no, obviously not.
“Oh, come on Seb, no one’s seen your show,” Rebecca teased, pulling on his ponytail.
“Well, excuse me if we don’t have two foxy ladies such as yourselves showing the latest video game cheats.”
Jenn snickered. “Could you imagine? If I hosted Gamer Room, the entire male population would be locked in their basement playing video games. It would be a country of nerds.”
“Is that what I am to you miss Jennifer, a nerd?” Dean asked, folding his hands in front of her, his dark eyes glinting beneath his frames.
“Yes,” coughed Dex, with a grin. Before Dean or Seb could protest, he quickly said, “I’m no better than you guys. I’d be online with you playing Call of Duty if I could.”
“Instead you’re out there hunting fairy tales,” Jenn sniped. “I don’t know what’s better.”
Her tone surprised me. I leaned forward to get a better look at her. She was rubbing hand sanitizer on her hands again.
“Fairy tales?” I repeated, trying not to sound defensive but failing miserably.
On cue, Seb and Dean went “Ooooh” again.
I avoided looking at Dex and kept my eyes on her. Surprisingly, Rebecca aligned with me and said, “Yeah, Jenny. What do you mean by fairy tales?”
She shrugged and put her sanitizer away.
“I just mean that ghosts don’t exist. And neither do unicorns. Or happily-ever-afters. Fairy tales.”
I sat back and finally had to look at Dex. He was smiling, sure, but it was an uneasy smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He was looking straight forward at a space on the wall between Rebecca and Seb, obviously feeling stuck in the middle.
“I see,” I said slowly. I wanted to argue with her but I had been doing so well so far. We had been getting along and as much as I wanted to, I didn’t need to rock the boat.
Finally I said, “Well that’s fair enough. There’s definitely more unbelievers that there are believers.”
“And more smart people than dumb people,” she added before stuffing a dainty forkful of salad in her mouth.
Dex tensed beside me; I think he knew I was about to go volcanic on her.
I didn’t though. I took in a quick, deep breath, calmed my newly caffeinated nerves, and pasted on a huge smile.
There were so many things I could say. More smart people than dumb people? Did she just dare insinuate that I was dumb and that she, she, who didn’t know the difference between “What’s New p-ssycat” and “Stairway to Heaven”, was smart? My brain was on overload.
But I just said, “Very true. Thank god for dumb people though; you need someone to believe that you should drink a 2008 Riesling with a f*cking KFC Double Down.”
Instead of an “oooh” like I had expected, there was a brief, stagnant pause while everyone collected their thoughts and then Seb and Dean erupted into hoots of laughter. Even Rebecca was snickering, despite the fact that it was her show too that I was insulting.
I looked over at Jenn for her reaction. Her cheeks were a bit pink and her eyes were glazed with a hard, almost icy exterior. But she put on a smile that rivaled my fake one earlier.
“Well played,” she admitted breezily, and went back to picking at her “meal.”
“For the record, Perry,” Rebecca said, reaching across the table and putting her soft white hand on top of mine. Her rounded maroon fingernails were mesmerizingly polished. “We know we cater to idiotic buggers. But I think what you and Dex are doing is really cool.”
Dex was still staring at that spot on the wall, like he was stuck in some weird freeze frame, so I looked as gracious as possible. “Thanks.”
“In fact,” she went on, “we were just talking about what a name you two have created for yourselves.”
Finally Dex brought himself to reality. “What do you mean?”
“You haven’t seen it?” she asked, exchanging a quick look with Dean.
“Seen what?” I asked. Dex looked as puzzled as I felt.
“There’s another ghost hunting show, called Spook Factory,” Dean explained. “Just like you guys. A guy, a girl, only they both claim to be ghost whisperers or whatever, and it’s exclusively online as part of that Fantasy Network. I’m surprised you missed that, Dex.”
“I’ve been moving,” he said quietly, almost to himself.
“Well, what…what have they done, have you watched it? Is it good?” I asked, feeling more than a bit icky about the whole Spook Factory thing. Copycats? Already?
“Yeah, I’ve watched it and it’s, like, OK. It’s total bullshit though. Both of them are just uneducated d-bags, but they look good, so people watch it. Their background is obviously in modeling and nothing else. No offense, Jenn.”
She looked at him sharply but didn’t offer any feedback. It wasn’t surprising at all to hear that Jenn got her start in modeling.
“Especially the guy in this case,” Rebecca said. “He looks like he should be in an Ed Hardy catalogue, and get this, his name is G.J. Jermaine”
I chuckled. “G.J.? That’s the stupidest name I’ve ever heard.”
“It stands for Geoff Jermaine,” Dean added.
“His name is Geoff Jermaine Jermaine? I stand corrected.”
Dex pulled out his iPhone and pulled up Google.
“What about the girl?” I asked. As if I wasn’t feeling competitive enough to begin with.
Rebecca shrugged and put her glossy hair back behind her ears. “Annie something. She looks like a blonde, frazzle-haired witch, so it’s fitting. But, you know, the show just started and they’ve been showing two episodes a week.”
“Annie Potterson,” Dex mumbled as he scrolled through the internet. He took his phone and placed it in front of me. “Here’s our competition.”
I looked down at the screen and felt bad for a second. Dex had lost his previous iPhone to the depths of the Haro Straight, along with his camera equipment. He obviously had to buy another one, straight out of his own pocket, and here he was showing me our rival ghost-hunting team, copycats, and apparent douchebags, who were already beating us at our own game. Two episodes a week?
Anyway, I only needed a quick glance to know what we were up against. Sure, Annie was slim with obvious fake boobs, but she had horrid unfeeling, dead eyes and crazy lady hair. A witch indeed. And G.J. looked like a G.J., a cross between Vin Diesel and a sandy-haired frat boy.
“What, does he go around kicking ghosts in the balls or something?” I was trying to make light of it but I could see Dex was deeply troubled by this.
“Ha. It’s kind of flattering though, right?” Rebecca said. “This only just started and it’s all because of you guys.”
“And they’re in town right now,” Dean put in.
“What?” Dex eked out slowly, his lip curling downward.
“Yeah. Their blog said they were in town to investigate the Harvard Exit Cinema in Capitol Hill.”
“What’s that?” I asked. Dex shook his head.
“Old news. One of the most haunted places in Seattle, but f*ck, there’s been a f*cking ton of ghost hunters and paranormal experts there. For decades. It’s nothing new and nobody finds anything.”
“Gee, I wonder why.” Jenn snickered to herself. Dex’s eyes flared dangerously but he was able to rein them in quickly and ignore her.
“If it makes you feel better, Jenn and I have competition of our own,” Rebecca said as she rapidly twirled her linguini around her fork.
“Oh yeah,” Dex said, leaning back in his chair. He took a quick sip of his drink and wiped his lips with the back of his hand. He looked at me. “A TV network has started Vintage Vixens. It hasn’t come out yet, we’ve just seen the ads for it. But it’s basically the same f*cking idea.”
Ouch. Rebecca didn’t seem too bothered by it though.
“It was bound to happen. I don’t know what these new girls are like, but the fans that we have know us and like us, so I’m not too worried.”
Jenn neglected to put in her two cents. I was watching her expectantly but her face never changed. She just pushed the leaves around on her plate, off in her own little world. What a strange thing for all of us to be going through at the same time. All this competition, all these threats. And I wasn’t just thinking about the shows either. For the first time ever, it occurred to me that Jenn might actually be a bit threatened by little ol’ Perry.
The rest of the meal went along well. There were a few instances where Dex and I acted like we normally did, he teasing me, me retorting back, but it wasn’t until it was on display in front of the hosts of Gamer Room and Wine Babes, that I realized how inappropriate it was. It was harmless; I knew it was and was trying my hardest to make sure it came across that way, but it still made me worry a bit. Every time I even had the slightest inkling that he was flirting with me, I had to look at Jenn and see what she thought. On her end, though, she didn’t seem to think anything. She was very quiet, her mind elsewhere, gazing at people in the restaurant, and when she wasn’t, she was in a texting frenzy with someone. It was enough that Seb noticed.
“Your fingers are going to fall off, Jenn,” he said.
She looked up from her phone and smiled, perfect and easy as always.
“I’ve got magic fingers. Just ask Dex.”
The way she said it, in her throaty, low Scarlett Johansson purr, made me sick. I felt like slinking down into my chair and slithering down to the floor in a sad little puddle.
“She’s not kidding.” That was his sly response.
I was this close to flipping the table over. Ugh. I hated him. I hated her. And I hated Uncle Al for thinking that my heart needed to be broken. Well f*ck t-
I felt a slight kick against my shin and looked up. Rebecca was looking at me, her eye in a half wink, seeming like she had something to say. She smiled at me, just a quick shudder on her lined lips, and then turned to Jenn.
“Is that Bradley again?” she asked.
Jenn looked officially annoyed for the first time today. It only lasted a second, but it was enough. That hard glaze reformed and I felt a spiteful energy shooting out from her pupils. But before anyone could pick up on it, her eyes were the pretty, soft hazel again and she was looking like a million, genetically blessed, bucks.
“Yes, you know Bradley. Always harassing me over the shooting schedule,” she told Rebecca, and then looked us all in the eye, including me.
“Bradley’s your cameraman?” I asked.
“He’s the guy who replaced me. The chump, I should say,” Dex said.
“It’s a dirty job but someone’s got to do it,” Rebecca said. “Now Bradley is the poor soul who has to fly to exotic locales with us broads.”
“And now Dex has to run around with me, with kelpmonsters, skinwalkers and leper zombies,” I said. “I think you traded in the wrong job.”
“Did I?” he questioned, peering into my eyes, already knowing the answer. His voice was warm and serious. I think he believed he had made the right choice; at least I hoped he did.
“Perry, you’re single right?” Rebecca asked, her clipped accent sounding innocent, but the question still made me squirm momentarily. >
“Sure am,” I said, tearing my eyes away from Dex. I hated that question. It was usually followed by some pitiful look or false empathy, as if being single was a big, huge problem that shouldn’t have to befall someone like me. Or, it was followed with an offer of a set-up.
“Because I think you and Bradley would make a great pair.”
Bingo.
Dex choked on his drink and started sputtering for air. At the same time, Jenn cried out, “Are you kidding me? No way!”
I was surprised at both their reactions and I think they were too, because once Dex regained control of his throat, a tense, unspoken look went out between the couple.
“What?” Rebecca asked, now playing up an innocent look to match the tone. She turned to me, and said, “He’s very good-looking, Perry.”
“He’s way too old for her,” Jenn protested.
“How old is he?” I had to ask.
“Same age as me,” Dex said quickly. “And he’s a douche.” He picked up his straw and angrily chewed on the end. It was a change from his compulsive Nicorette chewing.
“And you know if Dex is calling someone a douche, he must be a real douche,” Dean said, grinning at us all.
“He is not a douche,” Jenn said with a disgusted grunt.
Rebecca laughed. “Well not to you, dear Jenny, of course not.”
I couldn’t tell if there was a thread of vindictiveness or something in her voice, since her accent made picking up on subtleties more difficult. But there was an odd, brief hush to the table, as if everyone noticed anyway. There was something weird going on, and because I was the outsider in the group, I didn’t know what it was.
“Why do you think we’d make a good pair? Or were you being sarcastic?” I asked, trying to keep the conversation going.
“When isn’t she sarcastic?” Seb said.
She yanked on his ponytail one more time. “Be that as it may, I do think Perry should meet Bradley.”
“She’ll meet him on Friday, at the party,” Dex said. “That will be enough.” And the way Dex ended that sentence signaled that no one would be talking about Bradley anymore.
~~
After lunch wrapped up, Jenn drove us back to the apartment and dropped us off. She apparently had someplace to be and that was music to my ears. I had needed some time to just be alone with Dex, time to breathe.
“Wanna come for a walk?” he asked me as he opened the bathroom door and Fat Rabbit came bounding out, peppering us with excited woofs. I did, despite the weather.
Outside, the rain had slowed down considerably, making a sporadic patting sound on the roof of my umbrella. Dex pulled up his grey hoodie over his head, having refused an umbrella of his own, and we took off down the street with Fat Rabbit leading the way, straining against the leash.
I observed the apartment buildings and chain hotels around me, the Pink Elephant carwash nearby, the gloomy urban sprawl. Dex was silent and popped a piece of Nicorette in his mouth. With his slouchy walk, eyebrow ring, dark eyes and dark jacket, he looked like an essential piece of the Seattle scenery. I couldn’t think of a city that suited him as much as this one did.
“Does the dog need to be taken for a lot of walks?” I asked, avoiding a few puddles hidden beneath a mask of dead leaves.
He chewed a few times, his lips twitching sheepishly.
“Probably not. I’m just used to going out to smoke. Now I just take Fat Rabbit here to clear my head, distract myself. Old habits, you know.”
“I’m proud of you,” I blurted out.
His eyes shot out to the side, looking down at me quickly, puzzled.
“For quitting smoking,” I continued. “I didn’t think you’d do it.”
“I still don’t think it’s going to stick.”
“But you’re trying.”
“Yeah. I’m trying,” he said, and then sighed, sounding vaguely melancholy. “I’ve even cut down on this gum a bit. I’ve found that if I chew more than one piece at a time, I can get quite excitable.”
“No kidding,” I teased him. We rounded a building and suddenly the Space Needle was right in front of us. We stopped at a set of lights and I craned my neck at the towering icon.
“You been up there?” I asked, even though it was probably a stupid question since he was a Seattle-ite.
“No, actually. That’s too f*cking high for me.”
“You’re afraid of heights?” I asked, surprised. Dex didn’t strike me as being afraid of anything. After the last couple of times with him, he earned his place as the bravest person I know.
He shrugged. He’s also one of the quietest people I know. The light changed and we crossed the road. We walked past a crazy-shaped building that was the Experience Music Project and a Science Fiction museum and I made a mental note to try to check out at least one of them before the week was over. Of course, that all depended on what Dex had planned for us.
“So do we have a work schedule for the week?” I questioned as we walked past an arts theatre and stopped and stood at a grassy patch where Fat Rabbit could run around a bit and tire himself out.
He brought out his gold lighter from his pocket. He flickered it on and off a few times, watching the flame as the rain continuously put it out. Old habits.
“Tomorrow we’ve got a meeting with the head doctor/administrator dude at the hospital. He said we could interview him on camera and he’d take us on a short tour of the place. I’m not sure if he’s going to let us film anything on our own but we’ll figure that out. We’ll find a way.”
“I’m surprised you don’t have a pile of homework for me to do. Unless that’s your plan for tonight, get me to hit the books.”
He flicked off the lighter and put in his pocket and pulled sharply on the leash as Fat Rabbit made a dash for a nearby pooch. He choked for a second against the collar, then trotted back to us, tongue hanging out of his mouth.
I adjusted my grip on the umbrella and raised it slightly so I could get a better look at Dex. He hadn’t said anything. I didn’t even know if he heard me. His eyes looked troubled and were searching the scrawny, depleted trees that lined nearby pathways. He almost looked…afraid.
“Are you OK?” I stepped forward and gently placed my hand on his arm.
He closed his eyes and let out a deep breath. His brows furrowed close to each other, deepening the permanent crease in between them. My grip on his arm tightened. “Dex?”
“Yup,” he said, keeping his eyes shut. “I’m…thinking.”
Finally he opened his eyes and smiled. It was a sad one. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”
I took my hand off him and gave him a quizzical look, hoping to find out what just went on inside his head. His expression was blasé, his lids sleepy and uncaring. Once again, he was just too inconsistent, too hard to read.
Fat Rabbit stopped in between us, sat back on his white haunches and alternated looking at both at us. What’s the holdup? he seemed to be saying. Why aren’t we walking?
“Is it your medication?”
He shook his head. “I’m sorry this is so weird.”
“What’s weird? This?”
He sucked his lower lip back and forth and stared down at the dog without seeing him. I waited patiently for his answer. I knew not to prod too much or he’d clam up for a long time.
I sighed and put my hand out, palm up, feeling for the rain. Cold, heavy drops fell onto it, ricocheting off. Fat Rabbit stared up at me like I was holding a treat.
Dex suddenly reached out and grabbed my hand, holding it there. He pushed back the sleeve of my leather jacket and peered at the purple Silly Bandz bracelet that he had given me as a makeshift birthday present.
“You’re still wearing this,” he said, his voice sounding softly amazed.
I let him hold my wrist, my hand quickly growing wet. His grip was gentle and hot against my cold skin.
“It’s my anchor,” I lowered my voice, feeling just a bit embarrassed. He raised his eyes to mine and I blushed on command, my cheeks filling with hot blood. He let his hand slide down until it was holding mine, our fingers intertwined. The hairs on my neck stood up like cactus needles. This was not good. It felt good. It felt really, sticky good. But that didn’t make it right.
I took my hand away and quickly averted my eyes to the wet grass. A totally awkward pause filled the gap between us.
“This is what I mean by weird,” he said. “I actually wanted you to stay in a motel; I was going to pay for it and everything. But Jenn insisted that you stay with us and I knew she would get suspicious if I didn’t agree.”
I didn’t want to say it, but I had to. “Why didn’t you want me to stay with you?” I tried not to sound hurt.
He burst into a wry grin. “Oh come on, kiddo. I know how awkward this is for you. It’s just as awkward for me. And I know it’s awkward for Jenn too. Not that she suspects anything. And not that there is anything to suspect, but you know.”
“Why is this awkward?”
He paused, almost doing a comic double take, then saw how serious my expression was. I wanted to hear it from him. I wanted to see if he had the balls to talk about it instead of sweeping what happened underneath a rug.
He stepped closer to me. I lifted the umbrella up so that both of our heads were underneath the wide canopy. His face reflected blue in the shade, his hood creating deep shadows on his face. I felt my breath slipping away, pausing in my throat, waiting for what was going to happen next.
“I want you to stay with me,” he said. “And that’s the problem. Every time you leave me, I need you a little bit more.”
I didn’t know what to say to that or what to think. My heart might have melted just a bit, solidifying around that pin. I just wanted to kiss him. To touch him. To feel him. But it couldn’t happen. I wouldn’t let that happen. I had to be strong.
“See, it’s weird,” he said with a sigh and looked away. “I shouldn’t be saying these things to you.”
“No,” I mumbled, trying to focus on Fat Rabbit, who had gotten bored of us and was now sniffing at the wet grass. “You shouldn’t.”
“I’m going to try and put what happened on the island past us.”
“What happened?” I repeated absently.
“Yeah. What happened. With us. That whole trip just seemed like…a dream, didn’t it?”
I nodded. It had. Like a terrible yet enthralling dream, or a flashback to a drug trip.
“It was a dream,” I said, still avoiding his eyes. “And a mistake.”
I didn’t really believe that. At least, I never thought it was a mistake. Not until this moment when I realized how weird it had made things between us. The elephant in the room.
“You think it was a mistake?” he asked. The subtle vulnerability in his voice drew my eyes to him. He was still so close to me, the steam from our collective breaths meeting in the small space between us. He was staring at me in all seriousness. No easy leer, no sarcastic smirk, no horndog grin. It was just him, stripped of any defenses for a few rare seconds.
“Don’t you think it was wrong?” I challenged quietly, not wanting to raise my voice in our sheltered enclave.
His head twitched in a small side-to-side movement. No. He continued to watch me, sincere yet unreadable.
Do you regularly cheat on your girlfriend?, I wanted to ask. Do you normally harbor desires to go down on your partner? How is it not a mistake to you? Look at us!
But I didn’t say any of that. Instead, I said in my breeziest voice, “I agree, anyway. We need to put it past us. What’s done is done. That island was a whole lot of cray cray. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry I punched you.”
Finally the smirk returned to his wide mouth. “And I’m sorry for being a…what was it? Shithead? F*ckface? There’s been so many words to describe me lately that I can’t keep track.”
“They are all applicable,” I said with a smile.
He playfully punched me in the shoulder. It was awkward. Then he stepped away from me and out into the rain and looked down at the dog. “Well, Fat Rabbit.”
The dog looked up at him. Poor Jenn. He was never going to be a Harvey.
We turned around and headed back the way we came, both silent, both lost in our own heads for most of the walk back.
His phone beeped and he fished it out of his pocket. Probably Jenn, checking up on him, I thought.
“What are you doing on Wednesday?” he asked me, peering at the screen.
“Me? I don’t know. You tell me.”
“Rebecca just texted. She wants to take you out for lunch.”
I raised my brows at him. “What? Why?”
He shook his head at me, wincing a little, his eyes becoming squinty. “Because she wants to get to know you better. She wants to be your friend, kiddo.”
Huh. I actually thought Rebecca didn’t like me.
“I wish you could see what I see,” he added with some weight to his tone.
“What do you mean?”
He stopped abruptly and crossed his arms. Fat Rabbit honked uncomfortably, pulled back at the collar. “I wish you could see what I see in you. What others see in you.”
I opened my mouth to protest but he just raised his hand to pause me and said, “And I know you’re trying. You’re a lot different from the girl I bumped into in the lighthouse. It’s just frustrating to me.”
“Well, I am trying,” I admitted. “You know, that whole ‘Anonymous’ thing-”
“Don’t even start with that,” he said angrily. “I told you to forget that stupid shit.” >
I frowned at his reaction. “I know, but it’s hard. But anyway, I have been feeling better, I’ve been going to the bootcamp and I feel stronger and-”
“You look amazing and you know it.”
I did a double-take at him.
“But you don’t need me to tell you that,” he continued. “And you shouldn’t. You shouldn’t need to have to lose some weight in order to feel better about yourself.”
“Well, OK, Oprah. When did you become a self-help guru for women’s self-esteem?” I said testily.
He laughed and started walking. I followed alongside him. “OK, fair enough. I am probably the last person you should listen to. But look, Rebecca likes you and wants to take you out. And I think you should go.”
“Well, of course I’ll go. I just didn’t think she liked me.”
“She can be bit…rough…at times. She speaks her mind, she’s blunt. And she’s a bit of a shit disturber to tell you the truth. But you could use a woman like her in your life. And everyone likes you, Perry.”
“Seb and Dean?”
“Yeah. They liked you even before they met you. And I know other people will be won over by you too. My friend Todd is dying to meet you. He and his wife are really…just…the best.”
“And does Jenn like me?” I asked cautiously.
Dex rubbed his chin quickly and looked down at his phone in the other one. “What should I tell Rebecca? You’re on?”
“Yes. We’re on. But don’t ignore the question.”
He lifted a finger to shush me and quickly typed something out on the screen. Then he put the phone away, came out with a piece of Nicorette and popped it in his mouth.
“Jenn likes you,” he said between chews. “You’re just a lot different. She’s probably trying to figure you out. But she likes you, she really does.”
I didn’t say anything to that. As we walked back to the apartment, all I could think about was that Dex had just lied to my face. Old habits do die hard.