Intoxicated (10 page)

Since I had inadvertently told Eric about
Matthew’s arrests and subsequent jail sentence, he had the upper
hand there. The one question that he had posed to me rang very
true. What would my father say? I liked to think that he would be
open-minded, that he wouldn’t hold everything against Matthew, but
I really wasn’t sure. I wanted to speak with my dad about my
dilemma, but I didn’t feel right exposing Matthew’s not so well
kept secret without his knowledge. I wasn’t in a position to be
asking for permission at this point. I only hoped that I could
convince Eric not to share this news with him before I had brought
up the subject.

I hadn’t mentioned it to Gracie, either. I
didn’t know how to broach the subject and instead decided to
pretend that nothing was wrong. I kept hoping that she would see
through my charade, but she didn’t. If she would ask me what was
wrong I would gladly tell her, but I didn’t want to burden her. She
did, however, laugh heartily when I told her about the roses. It
seemed that everyone knew about my hatred of the blooms except for
Eric. I gushed to her about this weekend, and she reluctantly
wished me a good time.

When Saturday rolled around, I ended up
sleeping in far longer than I was used to. In fact, Blake had
already left the house by the time I came downstairs. I checked the
time on my cell phone, verifying that I had several hours before
Eric was due to show up. Since it was already almost lunchtime, I
chose not to spoil my appetite for dinner by eating anything
substantial. I grabbed an apple to curb my hunger and went outside
to the deck.

The day was shaping up to be picture perfect.
The sun was shining, the air had just a bit of a chill to it, and
the leaves were beginning to change color. I finished the apple and
decided to take a dip in the hot tub before I showered and got
dressed. The water was relaxing, and I closed my eyes as the jets
bubbled around me, sinking lower and lower until only my head
remained above the surface.

I thought of the only other time I had been
out here, when Blake and Matthew had sat with me and we had
discussed life in general without a care in the world. That seemed
so long ago, even though it had only been two weeks’ time. I
remembered how Matthew’s leg had brushed against mine, and how his
touch had sent tingles through my entire body. Maybe Eric would be
open to coming out here when we got back from dinner. I couldn’t
remember if I had mentioned the hot tub, or if he would even think
to bring swimming trunks if I had. We could always stop somewhere
and pick up a pair, I supposed, even though it wasn’t exactly the
right season to purchase such an item. I wanted to try the
experiment with him, to see if the warm water led to a higher
sensitivity to touch. If so, I definitely understood why all those
reality dating shows included hot tub scenes.

A nagging feeling inside my stomach suggested
that I wouldn’t receive the intended result.

When I resembled a prune more than a human
being, I decided it was time to hop out and go back inside. I had
only killed an hour or so, so time was still on my side. Actually,
it was dragging. I realized that I didn’t much like being alone,
especially not in a new place when I was trying to stave off
anticipation.

I had gone shopping for a new dress just for
this occasion, and I was very proud of my selection. Ironically
enough, it was a deep blood red color that matched those roses
perfectly. I reminded myself that I looked good in red with my pale
skin and dark hair. The dress itself had a halter style bodice and
a floating, knee length skirt. A thick black sash crossed the
middle, separating the clingy top from the full bottom. I had also
found a killer pair of red platform heels to go with it.

Reenergized by the idea of actually getting
to wear my purchases, I stepped into the shower and began my
transformation. Getting ready was the fun part. I took my time,
standing in the shower until the faucet only sprayed lukewarm
water, then snuggled into my robe and sat down at the vanity. In a
bathroom like this, with the tools of the trade, I imagined that I
was some celebrity getting ready for an awards show. I lost myself
in the dramatization, spending a good hour and a half on hair and
makeup alone. When I slid on my dress and shoes, I nodded at my
reflection, sufficiently pleased.

I would take Eric’s breath away. Tonight, I
looked like the trophy girlfriend, just the kind of girl you
expected to hop out of the passenger seat of a BMW and glide across
the parking lot of a swanky restaurant. The dress fit perfectly. My
hair and makeup was immaculate. I had kept the jewelry to a
minimum, choosing to wear only a pair of tiny diamond studs.
Satisfied, I walked down the stairs, carrying my shoes. No sense in
putting them on now; he wouldn’t be coming for another half hour,
and my feet hurt just looking at them.

I settled onto the couch, turning on the
television to pass the time. I flipped through the channels,
nothing catching my eye. Who was I kidding? I was way too excited
to be able to entertain myself. I couldn’t wait to open the door
when he arrived, to see his face, to witness his expression when he
saw me again.

My cell phone rang about fifteen minutes
before I expected him to show up. Of course it was him; just in
case, I had checked the caller ID prior to answering. I smiled to
myself, wondering if he had made a wrong turn or if he was just
that eager to hear my voice.

“Hey, hon,” I greeted.

“Lauren,” he began. I noticed immediately
that he sounded far away. However, considering he was using
Bluetooth, that made sense. “I’m really sorry.”

“For what?” My tone was still light,
unsuspecting.

“This deal came up, and I need to fly to
Arizona tonight. I’m at the airport right now.”

My heart sunk to my feet. “And you’re just
telling me this now?”

“I’m sorry. I promise I’ll make this up to
you.”

“Eric,” I struggled to form a coherent
thought, dragging out the last syllable of his name as my mind
raced, “we had reservations.”

Really? That was the only thing I could come
up with?

“I know. I know. And I’m sorry. I promise,
next time.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

I lowered the phone from my ear, hearing
unintelligible words on the other end as I did so. I disconnected
the call and shut the phone completely off. At least I had done a
little bit to save face. My reservations comeback was weak at best.
I tossed the phone onto the couch cushion beside me and buried my
face in my hands.

For the longest time, I sat in silence,
completely numb. Outside, the sun began to set, casting shadows
throughout the interior of the house. I stood to turn on the lamp
in the corner, deciding then to change out of my outfit. I made my
way up the stairs as if in slow motion, one painful step at a time.
The walk of shame.

How long had Eric known about this trip? How
many hours ago had he decided to stand me up? Why did he have to be
a coward and call me from the airport? Why did he have to be so
heartless and cruel?

I shrugged out of my dress as soon as I hit
the doorway to my bedroom, letting the fabric pool around my feet.
Spitefully, I kicked it over to the corner, intentionally not
picking it up. I hated that damn dress, hated it instead of Eric. I
grabbed the first thing I could find out of my closet that appealed
to me: a pair of ratty sweats, a tank top, and a hooded sweatshirt.
I slid them on, feeling as horrible as my clothes looked.

The tears started as soon as I hit the stairs
to go back to the couch. Blindly, I navigated my way, tripping over
a platform heel in the process. I fell onto the couch, my body
convulsing with sobs. I pushed the hood up over my head and curled
up in a ball, wanting to make myself as invisible as I felt. I was
certainly invisible to Eric.

I was so wrapped up in my sorrow that I
didn’t hear the Mustang pull in the driveway. I did, however, hear
the key turn in the lock. I froze, not sure what I wanted to do. I
wondered if I had time to run upstairs and hide in my room. I
seriously doubted it. Instead, I chose to stay put, wrapping up
into an even tighter version of the fetal position. Maybe if I
stayed still and didn’t make a sound he wouldn’t notice me.

The front door swung open and closed softly
behind Matthew as he entered the house. His keys jangled as he
shoved them in his pocket. From my position on the couch, I could
see only his legs as he moved toward the kitchen. I held my breath,
praying that he wouldn’t look over and see me. As much as we needed
to talk, I didn’t want it to be now. His feet hesitated, then spun
around.

“Lauren?” he asked.

“What?” I responded harshly. The voice that
came out of my lips was unrecognizable, rough and husky from
crying. I grabbed at my hood, pulling it farther down my face so it
shielded as much as possible. Embarrassed, I shifted so I faced the
back of the sofa.

“Are you okay?”

“No.”

The cushion beside me sunk down as he sat
next to me. Reluctantly, I turned back around.

“I didn’t think you would be here. I just
came to drop this off.” He gestured to the DVD case he was holding.
I didn’t look to see what the contents were. He slid the container
onto the table, then stared straight ahead. “The shoes should have
been a clue.”

Yes, the red heels that I had tripped over
during my descent of the stairs.

“I’m sorry. I should have cleaned up after
myself,” I said softly.

“No biggie. I didn’t run them over or
anything. I’m just used to things being so orderly. It was just
odd. Out of place, you know?”

This wasn’t going so badly. Perhaps we could
have an entire conversation without him looking at me. I could
pretend everything was okay, then he could go home. The awkwardness
could be attributed to how he had left the other night, and
everything would be fine.

“Blake’s out on a date tonight,” I babbled.
“I’ll let her know that you stopped by.”

“Wasn’t the boyfriend coming over tonight?”
he asked suddenly, as if he’d just remembered.

Blake had been discussing things with her
brother, after all.

I choked back a sob. New tears slid quietly
down my cheeks. Matthew reached over and pulled my arm away from my
face. Our eyes met, one tortured soul staring back at another.

He reached into his pocket and took out his
cell phone. He dialed a number, probably a saved contact and waited
briefly for the person to answer. I hoped it wasn’t Blake. Since he
was so close, I couldn’t help but overhear his side of the
conversation.

“Hey, man, it’s me. Something came up, so I
can’t make it tonight.” A pause. “Yeah, that sounds good. I’ll
catch you later.” Finished, he hung up.

From the greeting, it was obviously a friend
and not his sister. Plus, guys didn’t exactly hold marathon phone
conversations.

“You had plans?” I asked, wiping my eyes with
the back of my hand.

“So did you. And now we don’t.” He
shrugged.

“You don’t have to do that. I’ll be
fine.”

“You don’t look like you’ll be fine.”

Heat rose to my cheeks. I could only imagine
what my tearstained face looked like. I was certain it was streaked
with mascara and eyeliner and horribly unattractive. “I suppose I
could use a tissue.”

A small smile formed on his lips. “I don’t
think a tissue would help at this point. Stay here.”

He rose from the couch and took off down the
hall. He returned with a washcloth and a towel from the half bath.
The washcloth was wet and had been wrung out. I sat up and reached
for them. He shook his head.

“No, let me,” he whispered.

I nodded, not sure what else to do. The
thought of him being so close to me, of him touching me, made me
dizzy.

Slowly, he lowered the hood to my shoulders.
His fingers brushed my hair away from my face, smoothing the longer
pieces behind my ears. His eyes never left mine, his gaze burning
into me. He lifted the washcloth to my face. Instinctively, my
eyelids fluttered shut. Gently, almost reverently, he pressed the
soft cotton to my skin, removing all traces of my formerly
exquisite makeup job.

I held my breath for as long as possible,
taking in shallow, ragged portions of air when I couldn’t stand it
any longer. My heart was pounding, the blood rushing frantically
through my veins. Fresh tears threatened to spill from my still
closed eyes.

Matthew raised the towel now, gently patting
me dry. When I sensed he was done, I forced my eyes open. Those
blue eyes still studied me intently. He wrapped the washcloth in
the towel and dropped them both to the floor, never looking away
from me. His hand reached for my face, his thumb tracing the line
of my jaw.

“You are so beautiful.”

That comment was more than enough to trigger
the waterworks. He brushed away my tears with his fingers, tipping
my chin up so I looked him straight in the eye.

“Don’t cry for him. He doesn’t deserve it. He
doesn’t deserve you.”

My body shook with sobs. Matthew pulled me
against him, embracing me with his strong arms. He leaned back
against the couch, extending his long frame over the cushions. He
positioned me so that my head rested against his chest. He rubbed
my back in a circular motion, making small loops across my spine
with his fingers. His other hand raked leisurely through my
hair.

We laid in silence for the longest time. I
allowed my eyes to close, still feeling his unmistakable presence
all around me. The scent of his soap filled my nose. The warmth of
his skin was apparent even through my clothes. His chest rose and
fell with each breath, gently moving against my cheek. I listened
to the cadence of his heart.

The tears subsided, and before I knew it I
had drifted off to a dreamless sleep.