Forever With You (Silver State Series) (6 page)

The timer starts beeping, and I pull on an oven mitt and lift the meatloaf out onto the counter.  I use my foot to shut the oven door and turn off the burner under the pasta.  I carry the pot to the sink and dump the noodles in a colander to drain.

“Anyway,” I continue as I return the shells to the pot and squeeze on the cheese sauce, “I hadn’t seen or heard from her anymore after that, until she showed up again the day of Jared Mink’s party.”

I pause to concentrate on dishing out the meatloaf and macaroni, and Tawny waits quietly behind me.  I carry two plates over to the table and sit down across from her.  She’s tucked all of her hair to one side so it falls in a curtain over her right shoulder, exposing the curve of her slender neck.  Her face is flushed light pink, and her lips are wet from the beer bottle.  And what’s even more arousing is the fact she has
no idea
how sexy she looks right now, in this moment.

I rip my eyes away from her and swallow as I poke at my food with my fork.

“This looks so good, Kyle,” she says, sounding pleased.  I glance up and see her smiling down at her plate, and I grin back at her.

“I hope it
tastes
as good as it looks.”

She forks a bite of meatloaf, but stops before putting it in her mouth.  “Anyway, you were saying…” she prods gently.

I take a drink of beer then forge on, eager to get this conversation over with so we can move on to happier topics.  “Yeah, so she showed up that day, obviously on something, and wanted me to go on a trip with her, to which I replied no way in hell.  That’s pretty much it in a nutshell.  She’s just a fuck-up.  Excuse my language.”

“So then she just left again?”

“Well, no… She hung around for a couple weeks, claiming she didn’t have anywhere else to go.  About drove my grandma over the edge.  It’s just stressful having her there, you know?  I don’t like being reminded I’m related to her.”

Tawny gives me a sad smile – I hope it isn’t
sympathy
I see in her eyes.  “I’m sorry,” she says.

I shrug and allow a silence to descend over us as we continue to eat.

Tawny – 7:45 PM

I
’m racking my brain in search of something to say when I suddenly become distracted by a huge, orange cat slinking into the kitchen, grating its arched back up against the doorway as it enters.  Kyle turns around to see what’s captured my attention; he looks back at me with a smile on his face.

“I hope you’re not allergic to cats.”

“I don’t think so,” I reply.  “I’ve never really been around them.”

He gets up and gathers the fat tabby in his arms, stroking its head.  “This is Pumpkin,” he tells me.  “Somebody had already named her when I picked her up from the shelter.  She wanted nothing to do with me at first, but she’s warmed up to me now.”

I use my knuckles to scratch behind the cat’s ears, and she twists her head, rearing into my hand.  I laugh.  “She likes to be petted, huh?”

“Yeah, definitely.  She’s a real ham.”  He sets her back down on the floor before taking his seat, and she weaves between the legs of his chair, pushing against the spindles of wood while softly meowing.  “My favorite thing is when she licks.”  He extends his hand down in front of Pumpkin’s face.  For a moment she stares at it as if she isn’t sure what he’s up to, but then she extends her tiny pink tongue and begins lapping the skin on the back of his hand.  Kyle tips his face back up toward me, a huge smile on his face.  “It feels scratchy,” he explains.  “It tickles.”

I giggle.  “I’ve never known a cat to give kisses like that.”

Kyle chuckles as he pulls his hand up into his lap and takes up his fork again.

“Now do you mind if I ask you a question?” he asks, all joking aside.

I nod for him to continue, sobered by the change in his expression.

“Feel free to tell me if this is none of my business… I know you had cancer.”

He stops and looks at me, as if to make sure it’s okay for him to go on.  I offer him the tiniest hint of a smile.  As much as I hate talking about my disease, I don’t want him to feel uncomfortable.  At the same time, I’ve struggled to not let it define me, and I can only hope Kyle is able to look at me without associating me with that awful part of my past.  Maybe talking about it will enable him to put it behind us.

“Are you…okay now?” he asks tentatively, his eyes never wavering from mine.

I wipe my mouth with my napkin and push back slightly from the table.  “Yes, I’m fine.  My last biopsy was June second four years ago.  That’s when my oncologist told me I was back in remission, so I’ve considered myself cancer free ever since then.”

He smiles as his shoulders relax in evident relief.  “And it won’t come back?”

“Well, I suppose it
could
…but my doctor seems optimistic that it won’t.  Especially since I’ve gone this long without it relapsing again.  I mean, I just have a feeling it won’t, if that makes sense.  I feel great – stronger than I did before the first time it came back.”

His eyes are riveted on me with an expression akin to reverence – it’s making me a tad uncomfortable.  I flash him one more reassuring smile, then stack his plate on top of my own and head to the sink with it.

“Leave it, I can do the dishes,” Kyle says as he comes up behind me.  “We don’t have a dishwasher.”

I turn on the faucet anyway, letting the hot water flow over the plates while I scrub at them with a sponge.  “I don’t mind,” I tell him.  “You cooked, I’ll clean.”

He turns around and leans back against the counter next to me, trying to catch my gaze.  I remain focused on the dishes, rinsing away the soap bubbles before placing them in the dish rack on the opposite side of the sink.  I’ve just shut off the water and begun shaking my wet hands over the basin when Kyle softly catches my upper arm.  When I glance at him I’m surprised by the pleading in his eyes.

“I’m sorry I asked you about it,” he says.  “You probably don’t like talking about it.  I promise I won’t talk about it again unless you bring it up.”

I sigh and lean my hip into the counter next to him as he releases his hold on my arm.  My heart hammers in my ribcage in response to the proximity of our bodies and my perceived intimacy of the moment.  “It’s totally fine, Kyle.  I didn’t mean to act the way I did.  It’s sort of like a defense mechanism for me.  A big part of the reason I wanted to come here was to get away from the people I grew up around, because I was tired of them looking at me like they felt
sorry
for me.  I wanted to meet people who could see me without immediately drawing a connection to my illness.”

He nods in understanding.  “That doesn’t mean I don’t want to be
your
friend,” I ramble on, not at all sure where I’m going with this.  “It’s actually really helpful to be around familiar faces – you just have to promise me you won’t think of me as ‘the girl who had cancer.’”

His eyes crinkle as he smiles down at me.  “You have my word, Tawny Read.”

My heart soars at his utterance; I open my mouth to thank him, but I stop short when I hear a key turning in the front lock and the sound of female voices.  Kyle turns and our moment slips away.  A girl pops her head in the doorway and says, “Were you planning to use the TV tonight?  They came over to watch some movies.”  She tilts her head back, indicating the two or three other girls currently chattering in the living room.

“That’s fine,” Kyle replies.  She nods and disappears.  Kyle looks back down at me and says, “That was my roommate.  She’s not big on introductions – sorry about that.”

“That’s okay.”  I look at him, waiting, wondering what will happen next.  Will he escort me back out to his car and drive me back to my dorm?  Or did he have something else planned?

“Oh!  I almost forgot dessert,” he says suddenly.  He whirls around and reaches up on his tiptoes to retrieve something from the top shelf of one of the cupboards.  “Close your eyes,” he commands.

I giggle as I submit.  I hear the crinkling of plastic as he moves whatever it is closer to me.  “Okay, open them.”

My eyelids flutter open to see a package of Oreos, and I look up at the huge grin on his face.  I squint in faux mistrust and ask, “Did you call my mother and ask her what all my favorite foods are?”

He laughs.  “You like Oreos?”

“No.  I love them,” I reply matter-of-factly.

“Sweet.  Let’s go get Oreo-drunk.”

Chapter 6 – Oreos

Saturday & Sunday, August 19 & 20

Tawny – Saturday, 8:30 PM

O
f course, you can’t have Oreos without milk.  I pointed this out, and after Kyle realized I was being perfectly serious, he indulged me by driving me to the gas station on the corner to buy a half gallon of two percent.  Once we’ve pulled back into his driveway he suggests we watch a movie in his room, being as the TV in the living room is tied up.

Shelley and three girlfriends are lounging on the couches when we walk in, staring raptly at the television.  I can’t help feeling a little awkward as we parade before their line of sight and head down the dark hall in the direction of Kyle’s bedroom.  I wonder what they’re thinking, or if they’re even giving it any thought at all.  Escorting girls to his room may be a nightly occurrence for Kyle for all I know.

He pulls a chain to turn on a floor lamp when we walk in, throwing shadows across the hardwood floor.  A computer desk and tall wooden bookcase stand against one wall.  A heavy looking dresser occupies the space beneath the window straight ahead, and a queen sized bed with rumpled sheets is pushed against the corner opposite the desk.  A woven tapestry is tacked to the ceiling, conjuring images of an old-world smoking lounge.

Kyle follows my gaze upward and asks, “Do you like my tapestry?  I saw it in a magazine and thought it looked good.”

“Yeah, that’s really cool,” I say softly.  I’m not sure why I feel compelled to whisper all of a sudden.

“I’ll get us some glasses,” he says as he sets the carton of milk on the desk.  He leaves the room to return to the kitchen, and I slowly lower myself onto the mattress.  I hardly ever drink alcohol, and I’m pretty much the epitome of a lightweight…that beer at dinner still has me feeling a bit unsteady.  My eyes sweep the shelves opposite, taking in the spines of the many battered books lined up there.  My head swivels around, taking in the rest of my surroundings, and suddenly it occurs to me there isn’t a television in here.

Kyle comes back with the package of Oreos and two glass tumblers filled with milk.  He hands one to me, then opens a cabinet on his desk containing his DVD collection.  “What do you feel like watching?” he asks.

“Mmm…I feel like watching something I’ve never seen before,” I tell him.  “But, Kyle…you don’t have a television.”

“Nah, I don’t,” he agrees, his eyes still scanning the cabinet in front of him.  “We’ll have to watch it on my computer if that’s okay.”

“Oh.  Yeah, fine,” I reply absently.  My mind is flooding with realization in tiny increments – I’m now aware of the fact there isn’t any place to sit in here except on the bed.

Kyle pulls out a disc and holds it up.  “Have you seen
Argo
?” he asks.

“Never.  What’s it about?”

“It’s based on a true story.  It’s about a CIA operative who goes into Iran to extract some fugitive American diplomats by pretending to shoot a science fiction movie.”

“Sounds interesting.”

“Are you sure?” he asks.  “We can watch something else.”

“Let’s watch it,” I say.

He pops open the DVD drive on his laptop and inserts the disc, then crawls onto the bed and scoots all the way back to the wall, so his legs are spread out in front of him crossways on the mattress.  He pats the space beside him, and I warily climb toward him, twisting to plant myself next to him as the opening credits begin on the movie.

Kyle scoots incrementally closer and centers the laptop between us, setting it across both our laps.  He takes a handful of cookies from the package, then hands it to me.  “You can set it over there by you,” he says as he dunks one in his cup of milk.  He takes a bite and, licking his fingers, says, “Shit, you’re right, these needed milk.  No question.”

I smile as I settle in beside him.  “Told you so.”

Kyle – Saturday, 9:45 PM

M
y neck is beginning to hurt from the physical restraint required to keep myself from sinking down closer to Tawny.  I can feel the warmth radiating off her skin, and the clean, shampoo scent of her hair is intoxicating.  For the most part she seems to be enthralled by the movie, but occasionally she cuts her eyes up at me in this way that’s completely adorable, and I can’t help smiling back down at her.

For the past several minutes my heart has been pounding in my chest as I gather the courage to make my next move.  I know I want to touch her, and that’s not something that would ordinarily present a problem for me.  I just
do it
– and it’s never been an issue.  I’m at a complete loss as to why it should be any different with Tawny.  Finally I take a deep breath and say, “Do you mind if I stretch my arm out behind you?  It’s cramping a little bit.” 
Well, it’s the truth
.

“Okay,” she replies.  She leans forward a little, allowing me to slip my arm behind her before settling back against the wall.  With my arm wrapped around her waist I feel slightly more emboldened, and I grab her hip and scoot her closer to me so our legs are touching.  She looks at me in surprise, but there’s excitement there, too.  As much as the rational part of my brain may be screaming at me to cool it, the rest of my body is urging me onward – especially after feeling her pressed against me, my fingers playing against her hip bone.  I glance surreptitiously at her face and notice her eyes darting across the screen as if she’s trying desperately to concentrate.  My gaze falls to her hair, and I have to fight back the impulse to bury my face in it.

Her top is bunched up a little at the hem, baring a slice of skin above the waistband of her shorts.  I push my fingers up just a couple of inches to stroke small circles over the skin at her waist, my body on high alert for any signs she might be uncomfortable.  My confidence level increases when she folds into me a bit more and I notice her breathing becoming fractionally shallower.