Depths (18 page)

The restaurant is uncomfortably packed. They’ve crammed us into a booth that should maybe fit two toddlers, not full grown people like me and Cohen. Still, being close enough to smell the sand and ocean on him isn’t exactly a negative.

 I tap the edge of my cardboard coaster onto the mosaic table top.
     “Well, what’s good here?” I ask.
     Cohen presses his back against the booth and stretches his long legs out. One of his knees knocks into mine, but neither one of us flinch away from the touch. “Their enchiladas are killer. Not as good as my mom’s, but still awesome. The flautas are pretty bomb, too. What do you like?”
     
You.
     I shake my head at myself and smirk.
     “What? What’d I say?” Cohen asks, propping his elbows on the table and leaning in close to me.

Bad idea, Cohen. You’re hard to resist from afar, this close makes it almost impossible.

“Nothing.” I shake my head. “I think I’ll just get the quesadillas. That sounds safe, right?”

I love being here with Cohen, I do, but part of me feels like this is a really bad idea. I’ve been trying to convince myself to stay away from him, and then I all but stalked him out and now we’re at lunch, and it suddenly feels like I’ve maybe made this happen and it shouldn’t be happening.

Cohen lets out a laugh that smoothes the creases in my mood.
     “I’m sure they’re great. Do you want a drink?” he asks, as the waiter approaches.
     “Bottle of Sapporo?” I ask.
     A smile stretches across his face. “Ah, that’s my girl. Good choice.”
     I know he doesn’t mean anything deep by it, but it feels good to know that he approves.
     Cohen orders for us, and it doesn’t feel possessive or weird. It feels like it should. Like a gentlemanly gesture. We both nurse our beers a bit before he finally speaks again.
     “I meant what I said on the beach.” His voice drips raw sexiness over the words that he says without a hint of hesitation. “What happened at my house, that wasn’t a mistake. At least not for me.”

I glance up from the label on the bottle I’ve been picking at. I open my mouth to speak, but he isn’t finished.

     “You, Maren. You are so not what I expected to fall into my life right now. You’re beautiful, and smart, and you just
get
things… and Christ you’re so damn sexy.” His voice goes rough on the last few words and parts of me start throbbing that shouldn’t while in public.  “I just… I don’t want you to think that that night in the kitchen was some rebound thing for me, because it wasn’t. You aren’t. But I get that, for whatever reason you’re with Jason, so I am sorry if I stepped out of line.”
     “Jason and I broke up,” I spit out.
     Cohen jerks his head back in surprise and then relaxes a bit and takes a long pull from his beer.  “Why?” It’s a single word tight with control.
     “Isn’t it obvious? He was a complete douche. I don’t know why I was even with him for as long as I was. I mean, I guess I do, but still…”
     “And why was that?” Cohen asks, looking me in the eye. Forcing me to expose things I don’t want to, but I know I will because it’s
Cohen
.
     “Because it was easy. Safe.”
     Cohen shakes his head and scoffs. “Maren, what about Jason screamed safety to you?”
     I mull the question over for a minute while I pick apart a tortilla chip, feeling a little embarrassed. “I guess I mean that my heart was safe. Jason wasn’t always terrible to me like he was at the end, but he was never great. He was just enough. And it was safe because he couldn’t break my heart…because he didn’t have it.”
     Cohen nods knowingly, and I can’t help the relief that washes over me when our food arrives and puts a nail in the talk about Jason. For now at least.
     “Good?” Cohen asks, as I stuff a bite of tortilla and cheese into my mouth.
     I nod. “So good. Yours?”
     “Excellent. Always is. Genevieve used to date the cook here. I’m seriously glad he doesn’t hold a grudge, because I eat here at least once a week.”
     I love knowing little things about Cohen like this. Pointless things maybe, but still, it’s more information about him and what he does outside of the confines of Rodriguez Family Furnishings. Getting to know these little facts make me all tingly and fills me with an ache to be a bigger part of that outside life.
     “Speaking of exes—” he starts.
     I roll my eyes. “Please not this again.”
     He swallows hard and puts his food down, like he’s not remotely comfortable saying what he’s about to say. “I just have to tell you something, and I’m so glad to know that you aren’t together anymore for so many reasons…but this one most of all.”
     “What?” I lean in, unsure if I want anyone else in this establishment to hear whatever horrifying thing Cohen is about to tell me about Jason.
     “So, Deo, my best bro, his girlfriend is Whit, and she works at a tattoo place. Anyway, she put two and two together and realized that she’s actually met Jason before. I mean, I was just mentioning you and…”
     I feel a warm blush creep over my face, knowing that he must have been telling his best friend about our semi-hook-up. “It’s fine, Cohen, go on.”
     “Anyway, turns out Jason had been into Rocko’s tat shop a couple of weeks ago, prepaying for a tattoo. Of his name…for you.”
     I spit my beer out. I can’t help it. “Oh, God, I’m so sorry!” I say, grasping at the stack of cheap napkins and blotting every surface. “So, so sorry.”
     Cohen chuckles. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

I’m mopping up the mess I made, and he’s helping, looking a little confused and relieved, and I have to explain things. Because Cohen needs to know that I may have been in a shitty relationship, but I always had boundaries. Firm ones.

“Cohen, I would never. Ever.
Ever
in my life tattoo any man’s name on me, especially that slimy prick’s. I can’t even believe that he would think that I would want that. I just…” Even as tears stream from my eyes, and other patrons of the restaurant stare, I can’t control my maniacal laughter.  

 
    “That’s good. Good. I’m glad to hear that. He said it was going to be your birthday present.” The relief on Cohen’s face is priceless.
     I know I made the right decision when I walked away from Jason, but it’s moments like these that reaffirm just
how
right a decision it was. “My birthday present? That’s insane. That’s the last thing I’d ever want. He really has no idea who I am at all. I guess he never really wanted to know.”
     “I want to,” Cohen says, his words suddenly making the tone of this conversation more serious than it has been before.
     “W-what?” I stutter out.
     “I want to know you, Maren.” The entire place just recedes, and it’s like all I can focus on are the words coming out of his sinfully perfect mouth.
     I grasp at frantic straws, trying to make sense out of what he’s saying, but not daring to hope he might mean what I think he means. “You do. We talk every day.”
     Cohen sighs.  “Right. We talk about recliners and spreadsheets and both of our exes, but I want to know more about
you
.”
     “I’m not so interesting. What do you want to know?”
     Cohen rubs his hand across the scruff of his cheek and I fight back the urge to lick my lips.
     “For starters? Why someone so freaking intelligent and beautiful allows herself to basically be held hostage by her father. You have so much to offer and you’re just stifling yourself and your dreams to take care of your dad. I don’t get it.”
     “That was harsh,” I say, pulling back. This conversation right here is why I was with Jason. Because I never had to defend or explain myself or my choices to Jason. He didn’t ask complicated questions and he didn’t care. It was easier that way.

“I don’t mean it to be. I’m just curious. What makes you feel the need to take that on? It just seems to me that you’re too young to have that kind of load on your shoulders.” He slides his hand across the table and almost grabs mine, but not quite.

Which is good. It’s hard enough to resist the urge to leap over the table and onto his lap, even when he’s butting his nose in where he has zero right. If he touches me, I know I’ll lose my will and just give up trying to resist him.

 
    I shrug, not all that excited to delve into the extremely tangled mess that defines life with my father. “I guess so. But he just doesn’t have anywhere else to go. I feel like I can’t let him down. I’m all he’s got.”

“Fair enough. But do you know what I think?” He leans in, and I feel like I might be getting slightly hypnotized by him. I hope he doesn’t think I should get up and cluck like a chicken or something, because I don’t know if I’ll be able to deny whatever it is he thinks I should do. “I think you should make this year the year of Maren. The year you figure out what
you
want and only do what makes you happy.”

His request actually makes a public display of the chicken dance sound like a fun time.

 “That sounds like a dream.” It’s cornball to put it that way, but that’s the sad truth.
Just
a dream, I should add. And one I’m not about to torture myself with. Real life is hard enough without lost dreams to make it more unbearably depressing.
     Cohen reaches across the table and brushes his thumb across my bottom lip. It’s a soft touch that’s over way too quickly and leaves me aching for more. “Make it happen.”

The words sound like a demand, but the tone of his voice makes it more like a mantra, like advice or just plain old encouragement. God, what a simple thing encouragement is. Until Cohen said those three words, I didn’t realize just how little of it I had in my day-to-day life.

In fact, it’s almost like the people around me have been dragging me down, drowning any hope before I could reach out and grab onto it.

“I’ll try.” And I mean it. Cohen is right, and I’ve known it for a long time, long before he spoke up.

Something has got to change with Dad. I love him, but our relationship is so unbalanced and one-sided. I can’t spend my entire life taking care of him like he’s an invalid.

Cohen clears his throat and interrupts my thoughts of evicting my dad.
     “So, since you won’t be getting any ink for your birthday, why don’t you let me take you out tomorrow?”
     I suck in a quick, nervous breath. “I don’t know…”
     Cohen drags his eyebrows down and looks disappointed. “What makes you unsure? Like you just said, we know each other, so it’s not like going out with a stranger. You’ve been to my place; I’m not a crazy ax-murderer. It’s just me and you and some good food and wine. I know a place, or, my sister recommends a place, that’s supposed to be amazing.”
     “You talked to your sister about this?” A tingle of warmth travels through my limbs and fills me with bubbly hope.
     He shakes his head. “Not about you, just asked for some dinner recommendations. Just in case.”
     I cut my smile short by catching my bottom lip between my teeth. “If we didn’t run into each other today—”
     He doesn’t try to hide his smile. “It’s like you want to make me say it. Alright. The answer is ‘yes.’ Yes, I was still planning to track you down and ask you out. What do you say?”

And then that awful saying,
be careful what you wish for
, singsongs through my brain. Is this not what I was hoping would happen? Isn’t this even better than what I was hoping for?

But, the weird thing is, with Cohen I don’t mind telling him what scares me. So I do. No matter how terrifying it is.

“I’m scared. I’m scared of how I feel for you now, and can’t imagine how much more I’ll feel if we go out-out.”
     Cohen nods like he understands, then reaches across the table and clutches my forearm. My heart skips and thuds at his fingers on my skin.
     “I’m taking chances here too, Maren. But you’ve got to give me one.”

I could drown in those eyes, big and bold and dark. But, with Cohen, it’s like I’m okay with letting go and diving deep. Maybe because I sense that he’s going to show me how to swim out of the shallows and grab for something more.

His voice coaxes me. “Come on, it’s your birthday. Let me take you out and show you a good time.”
 

“This place is great.” Maren looks around at the brightly painted red walls of the little Thai place Lydia swears has the best pineapple fried rice she’s ever tasted. Plus they fresh make their own Panang sauce and rice noodles daily.

I feel like maybe I got the vibe wrong. Maybe it’s too impressive. Maybe I should have just bummed out a little, the way I usually did with Kensley. But I realize this isn’t about my own damn comfort. It’s about effort.

Awesome as I thought things were with Kensley, I never tried things that were new and different, and I think that might be because I was fine with just settling when it came to her and our relationship.

But Maren makes me brave. She makes me want to try new things. With her. For her. And that’s gotta be a good thing.

“I’m glad you like it.”

I’m glad she’s here with me, her skin glowing, her eyes shiny, like she’s got some kind of happiness running like sunlight under her skin. I’m glad she wore the dress she picked. It’s the same deep blue as her eyes, and the top dips a little low, letting a tiny bit of lace bra show every now and then when she leans toward me. One strap is looser than the other, and it keeps sliding down her shoulder. I don’t know what the hell it is about her outfit exactly, but she somehow looks sexy and innocent at the same time, and it’s a huge turn-on.