chapter Eighteen
“Tell me what they said.”
After a lingering kiss and a shout of “Get a room!” from Forehead Boy, we’re on the train back to the hotel. I hold the pole with the hand of my good arm, Isaac’s hand a good foot above mine. He hovers behind me like a second skin.
“The Bach was fine. So was the Mozart. They thought Sibelius was an unusual choice, but they liked hearing something off the beaten path.”
“And the Rachmaninoff?” His warm breath tickles my ear. The new, gravelly tone of his voice rumbles all the way to my toes, and I lean back into him. He groans.
“I had them eating out of my palm. The model B really handled it well. It was all I could do not to lick the damn thing.”
He closes his eyes. “I’d like to see that.”
I smirk. I thought yesterday was the best day of my life, but today is neck-and-neck. I wonder what else it has in store.
“Isaac, they gave me a standing ovation. Except Sasha. He had his head on the table.”
Isaac laughs. “Excellent.”
He spends the rest of the ride nuzzling my neck. When the train stops, he takes my hand and leads me back to the hotel.
“You hungry?”
“No. I should be, but I’m still too keyed up.”
And too nervous about where this is going.
We step into the hotel elevator, and as the doors close, he backs me into a corner and leans down to kiss me again. I giggle. At the last minute, a man in a brown suit shoves his arm through the gap and worms his way in. He blushes when he sees us, punches a button and stares at the floor for the rest of the ride. Isaac doesn’t try to kiss me again, but his hand wanders south from my back.
When the doors open, the man in the suit scurries out. We follow at a slower pace.
Until now, I’ve been on an adrenaline high, soaking up Isaac’s attention like a love-starved puppy. But as we approach our hotel rooms, I have no idea what my next move is, or how I should respond to his. I think of R.J.’s not-so-subtle advice about what I should do with my legs and feel a twinge of guilt.
Turns out I worried for nothing.
“Juli, sorry to do this to you, but I promised Conrad and some buddies I’d meet them for dinner. Said you weren’t hungry, but you’re more than welcome to come with us.”
“No, that’s okay. It’s all catching up to me now. I need to relax for a bit.”
Disappointment settles across his face, and for a moment I reconsider. No, I need to think.
“Okay,” he says. “See you when I get back?”
“Definitely.”
He raises a hand to my face and brushes my lower lip. Just to be a tease, I bite his thumb. I hear his teeth grind, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy the tortured look on his face.
“Go,” I whisper.
I can tell it takes all his self-control to back away. It takes all of mine to not drag him back for more.
Inside my room, I sag against the door. On the floor rests a small piece of paper with my name on it. Inside is a note from the front desk—I had a delivery while out. I call downstairs and in less than a minute, an employee hands me a giant vase of orangey-pink roses. The card says, “Saw these and they reminded me of your hair. See you bright and early, kitten. Love, Dave.”
Crap. Dave. I’m supposed to sightsee with him in the morning before we head back to Mobile, but what I really want to do is figure things out with Isaac. I need to think. And I need to know why he’s so different now.
With Isaac gone and my adrenaline maxed out, I’m exhausted and hyper at the same time. The way my head swims, I’m not sure I can hold it together much longer.
I decide a bath is my best bet. “There are few things on this earth that a hot bath can’t fix,” Granny always told me. I strip off my black pants and top and turn on the faucet to full blast. I had the forethought to bring my favorite rose-scented soap. Mama says it smells like an old lady, but I think it’s romantic. The heat and steam loosen the muscles in my shoulder.
When I come out, the whole suite smells like roses, and I’m a good bit calmer than when I went in. I’m drowsy and content. The audition is done.
I slip on the hotel’s fluffy white bathrobe and turn off the lights. I open the curtains wide. It’s night now, but not dark. The lights from the city illuminate the room and cast beautiful arcs of color on the walls, the ceiling, and floor. I watch the tiny cars below and the people who dodge in between. Isaac probably won’t be back for another hour or two.
I’ll just rest my eyes for a minute.
I barely hear the faint knock on my door. It takes all of my strength to peel myself off the bed and, even then, I can’t seem to wake up. I straighten the robe and quickly run my fingers through my mess of damp curls. A look through the peep hole reveals Isaac with a take-out box, bless his heart.
When I open the door, he pauses for a minute, taking in my appearance. His eyelids droop and he inhales deeply.
“I, uh, I figured you had to be hungry by now.” His gaze slides past me. “Who sent you the flowers?”
“Um, my daddy?”
He makes a face. “You’re a terrible liar.”
Fooled you a couple of times.
He hands me the box and wanders over to read the card. Nervous, I try to change the subject.
“Did you have fun with your friends?”
“Yes. No. Thought about you the whole time,” he drawls. He talks and moves like he’s in slow-motion. I feel stuck on fast-forward.
“Oh yeah?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
The way he says it—like a warm balm soothing my frazzled nerves—tells me I have a decision to make. I thought it through during my long bath, and technically, I slept on it during my short nap. The next few minutes will tell me whether or not I made the correct one.
“Aren’t you going to eat?” He looks over at the box on the night stand, the card still in his hand. He flips it over and over, up and down his knuckles.
“I’m meeting him tomorrow morning.” I nod at the roses.
“I know.”
Charged seconds tick by. I try to read him, but he won’t look at me. Frustration begins to boil under my skin.
“He’s been a good friend to me.”
“Know that, too. Better than I’ve been.”
“In many ways, yes.” Look at me, dammit. I want his full attention and I want it now. I won’t settle for anything less. I’ve earned it. I take two hesitant steps toward him and practically choke on the words I’m about to say. “But you know what he’s not?”
He finally puts the card down and looks at me. His gaze lingers where the robe makes a deep V. He doesn’t say it out loud, but there’s a question in his eyes. I hope he’s ready for the answer.
Tell him.
“He’s not a challenge. He doesn’t put me in my place or tell me I can do better. He doesn’t piss me off, doesn’t make me want things I shouldn’t want, and he doesn’t make me feel.” I reach out and place a trembling hand on the side of his neck. “That’s you.”
My voice wavers at the end. Despite my confession and intimate touch, his expression doesn’t change at all. I made the wrong decision. I withdraw my hand and cradle it against my chest. My heart drops into my stomach and I resist the urge to clutch my robe shut at the neck.
My eyes slip closed and I will away the tears forming there.
Stupid, stupid, stupid girl.
I hear a slight rustling sound. My back hits the cold window before I even know he’s moved.
***
I’d like to say he’s gentle and makes it as easy as possible for me. I do think he tries, at first. But his self-restraint doesn’t last long and there’s no slowing down what we’ve finally, finally started.
I’ll be honest, it hurts like hell, but after a while I match him measure for measure. Afterward, he holds me close and apologizes for not taking greater care. We’re both spent, physically and emotionally, so we doze for a while, waking to grumbling stomachs. The food he brought earlier is cold, but I eat it anyway, not wanting to go out or call room service. To open the door would break the seal on what we’ve just done.
Instead, he sets an armchair in front of the window, pulls me into his lap and wraps a blanket around us. We stay like that for most of the night, watching the neon lights fade and the sun come up.
Toward dawn, the questions in my head get the better of me. It’s now the day after. It’s all those things people say after a life-changing experience.
“What changed?”
“Hmm?”
“What changed? With me, I mean. When did you…did it become okay?” I brush my finger across his stubble.
“Still not completely sure it’s ‘okay’.”
I pull back to look at him.
“Relax. I’m thinking how I want to answer this. Want to get it right.” He stares out the window to the city beyond. “I think it’s being here. Far away from Mobile. Didn’t realize how stifling it was until we touched down.”
“So, it’s because you can keep this a secret up here? Things will go back to the way they were when we get back?”
“Kind of. Don’t know.” He grimaces. “Listen, I left behind a disaster when I came to Boston. Then I made a mess of things here, too. Not really my fault, but still.”
He puts a finger under my chin and forces me to look at him.
“I know what they’ll do to you if they find out. I know the things they’ll say. They’ll never understand that you and I are equals, which I truly believe. They’ll see a dirty old pervert preying on his pretty seventeen-year-old student. You know how things work in Mobile. I don’t want to see you get hurt. Lord knows you’ve seen more hurt than anyone ought to.”
I can’t argue with that. He’s absolutely right. Even if he didn’t have a history, the biddies would have a field day if they found out. But when I come to Boston in the fall…
“Come back to Boston with me. The judges pretty much told me I was a shoo-in. You just said you feel stifled in Mobile.”
“That’s an option. Just trust me and promise we’ll keep this between you and me. I couldn’t stand it if they went after you.”
Before I can answer, there’s a knock at the door.
Dave.
“Oh my gosh, he said bright and early, but I didn’t think he meant dawn!” I jump off Isaac’s lap and take the blanket with me.
He sighs. “Put some clothes on. I’ll get the door.”
I grab what I can find and dash into the bathroom. I leave the door open a fraction so I can eavesdrop.
“I brought—oh, hey, Ike. I thought this was Juli’s room. Sorry.”
“It is.”
Silence.
“Dude, are those—are those fingernail scratches? Oh, Ike, what have you done?”
I hear Isaac’s low grumble, but I can’t make out the words. I shove my arms through my shirt sleeves and my shoulder protests a little. I choke down the pills I forgot to take last night and splash water on my face. Good enough.
When I step out of the bathroom, Isaac’s gone. But Dave sits at the desk, flipping through the TV channels.
“I brought donuts, kitten. Hungry?” His tone is light, but he won’t look at me.
“Dave.”
“How’d you like the flowers?”
“I…”
He finally looks at me instead of the TV. “Wow. JBF looks good on you.”
“What?”
“Look it up. Anyway, are we still on for this morning? Thought we could hit Boston Common, Newbury Street, Little Italy. But you’ve probably got other recreation planned, considering—”
“Dave?”
“Yep?”
“Don’t try to make me feel bad. I’m not sorry.”
“No?” He shuts off the TV and stands. “I am. Why couldn’t you wait two more months? God, I even marked it on—”
“I don’t see how it’s any of your business.”
“It’s…” He sighs. “Look, I knew this would happen. Didn’t take a psychic to see it coming. Hah, I guess I’m just sorry Ike found out the answer before I did.”
“The answer?”
“Yeah. You know, does it match?”
I smile despite myself. And against my better judgment, I nod.
“Well, now that I know the answer, I’ll leave you two jailbirds, I mean love birds to your business. Call me when you have time and tell me how your audition went. Enjoy the flowers.”
“You’re leaving?”
“Juli, I can’t be here, okay? This is just…this isn’t the way it was supposed to be. Everything about it is wrong.” He runs his hand over his spiky blond hair.
“Well, I’m sorry we don’t have your blessing, Mr. Morality Police. Just because you have hang-ups doesn’t mean everyone does.”
“Hang-ups? You still think—you know, for someone so brilliant, you’re awfully stupid.”
“Get out.”
“Going.”
“Good.”