Intoxicated (18 page)

“Does it bother you that they are still
friends? Him and Chris?”

She shook her head. “They were friends before
we dated. And he needs someone else who understands everything.
Chris is a decent guy. Things just didn’t work out between us. And
I don’t have to like all of his friends.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Blake
wringing her hands as she spoke. Clearly, there was a lot she was
editing out. I wondered if, in time, she would share the whole
story with me like she was sure her brother would share his. I
placed my hand on her shoulder reassuringly and we sat quietly for
a moment. Discreetly, she wiped a tear away. I pretended not to
see.

I made it through an entire Monday after a
fight with Eric without getting flowers at work. Maybe he
considered the acceptance of the invite to Thanksgiving to be
repentance enough. Or maybe some of the words I had spoken at our
ill-fated dinner had finally sunken in. Either way, I was fine with
it. I was sick of him trying to buy my forgiveness with things, but
I still wore the ruby necklace proudly. It was, after all,
beautiful.

He hadn’t texted me since I left abruptly,
either. Since time was drawing near to the holiday, if he didn’t
break the ice soon, I would be the one who ended the silent
treatment. I did have to tell him when and where to show up after
all. I didn’t, however, have to make it flowery and filled with
sentiment. A simple address and time would suffice. If he hadn’t
made the first move by the time I was ready to officially announce
everything, that was my plan.

True to Matthew’s word, the house was empty
when I arrived home. Blake had been extra careful to remind me that
she was meeting with a client tonight and that she would just grab
something to eat on the way home. In fact, she had looked almost
giddy that she would be leaving me alone with her brother. I was
sure she was convinced that there was an attraction there. If she
only knew about the dream.

I changed into jeans and a sweatshirt. I
checked my hair in the mirror and touched up my makeup. Without
dinner to prepare, I had nothing to keep me occupied while I waited
for him. Nervous energy bubbled up inside me. Unable to sit still,
I paced the living room floor.

This was nothing, I reminded myself. It
wasn’t like we were going out on a date. He was taking me back to
his place after getting dinner somewhere, sure, but it was all
innocent. I needed to stop making this out to be anything more than
it was. Did I want it to be something more than it really was?

It wasn’t out of the ordinary to notice his
car pulling into the drive. It was strange, however, that I stared
at him as he got out and made his way up the sidewalk. From my
angle, I could see him but he couldn’t see me. As I stood on the
other side of the door, I wondered if he would ring the doorbell or
use his key. Once I heard the key slide into the lock, I grabbed
the doorknob and turned.

“Hey,” I greeted as I swung the door open, “I
figured I’d save you the trouble.”

“Hey, gorgeous. Ready to go?”

With a quick gesture, he removed his key from
the door. If I had surprised him, he covered well. I nodded my
agreement and went to get my purse. He leaned against the wall,
waiting. His stance was casual, unaffected. I felt anything but.
When I returned to his side, he held the door open for me, allowing
me to pass. He locked up the house behind us. It seemed natural to
let him do that; he was there almost as much as I was and I lived
there.

“So what sounds good for dinner?” he asked as
we walked to the car.

I shrugged. “I could go for a drive through
cheeseburger to be honest.”

“My kind of girl.”

He didn’t see me blush; he was too busy
opening the passenger door for me. I got in and did my best to
regain my composure as he walked around the car and climbed in the
driver’s seat. The car was impressive, though I didn’t expect
anything less. It fit him, his personality, his utter
attractiveness.

He turned the key in the ignition and the
engine roared to life, along with the stereo. Loud music blared
from the speakers. He quickly moved to turn down the volume, but
not before I recognized the song. Instinctively, my hand shot out
and grabbed his wrist, stopping him from shutting the radio off
completely.

We both froze in place, staring at our arms
as if they weren’t attached to the rest of our bodies. Slowly, we
turned to look at each other. We were still touching. I wasn’t sure
I had the strength to let go. His blue eyes searched mine intently,
looking for an explanation.

“I didn’t realize you liked Parabelle,” I
said softly. “I don’t think I’ve met anyone else who’s ever heard
of them.”

He smiled. “Have you seen them live? They’ve
played Indy a few times.”

“No. Eric’s not really into the whole music
thing. He would never go with me, and I really wouldn’t want to go
by myself.”

“So the next time they come, I’ll take
you.”

“Only if we drive this.” I was shocked at my
boldness. I was pretty sure I was flirting.

“I know it’s not a Honda, but it gets me
where I need to go. I’m surprised you would lower your high
standards on my account.”

Somehow when Matthew made fun of my aging
car, I found it amusing and not insulting. I doubted that Eric
would ever be able to pull that off, even if he had recited the
words verbatim. I laughed, a pure and easy sound that made his
smile spread across the whole of his face.

“Now, if you’ll let go of me, I kind of need
my arm to drive.”

“Oh,” I said, totally embarrassed.

I released my grip around his wrist and
placed my offending hand in my lap. It was his turn to laugh. While
my cheeks burned, he seemed completely at ease. I was so aware of
his closeness I couldn’t concentrate on anything else. His right
hand rested on the gear shift, his fingers dangling dangerously
close to my left leg. It shouldn’t have surprised me that he drove
a stick, this was, after all, an authentic sports car.

He drove fast, but not obnoxiously so. Maybe
everything just felt intensified given the situation. The ride was
different than in Blake’s Miata, the only other convertible I had
to compare it with. This engine was bigger, louder and definitely
accelerated faster. This was a car that turned heads. I noticed
people giving us second glances as we passed. It was an enjoyable
feeling to imagine others being jealous or at least envious. The
short ride to the drive through built the case for me of why anyone
would buy such an impractical vehicle. I totally understood now.
The only thing that would have been better was if we could have
driven with the top down.

Matthew insisted on not letting me pay for
any part of my dinner. He passed the bag over to me to hold. I
breathed in the smell of cheeseburgers and french fries. It was
heavenly. I didn’t allow myself to splurge on fast food often, but
when I did, I enjoyed it. I had always grown up believing in the
value of a good home-cooked meal, plus once I got older, I actually
liked cooking. But I had to admit it was nice to take a night off
every once in a while.

I made sure to pay close attention to where
we were going once we left the restaurant. After all, I was going
to have to tell my guests how to get to Thanksgiving. We drove past
where I would normally have turned off to go home and continued
down the highway until the houses got further and further apart.
Even though we were only about five minutes from the interstate,
our surroundings appeared more rural. This was further out than I
had dared to venture before, but so far, so good. I could still
figure out where I was.

He turned right onto a two-lane road that
curved and weaved over the landscape. The Mustang handled
responsively. On both sides of the car I could see impressive
houses. I wondered if one of them was his, but we kept going. The
road kept curving, and the area became more wooded. Now I couldn’t
see the properties, only mailboxes and driveways. My inner real
estate enthusiast was slightly disappointed. I loved looking at
houses, even from afar.

“I have to warn you,” he said suddenly,
causing me to jump, “according to Blake, there are very few
redeeming qualities to my place once the pool is closed for the
season.”

“I doubt that,” I muttered.

I remembered back to Blake’s description of
the kitchen with double ovens. How the dining room would be large
enough to accommodate all of my guests. I hardly expected those
features to be associated with something tiny or rundown. Plus, I
knew enough about their relationship to understand that they
enjoyed giving each other a hard time.

The car slowed, and we turned into one of the
non-descript driveways. I wondered how in the world I would be able
to describe to the Indianapolis portion of our guest list which
mailbox to turn at. I hadn’t counted. There were no real landmarks,
only house numbers. Of course, they would already have the address,
but I was sure Eric would complain if he had to back up and turn
around due to faulty directions.

The driveway was completely blacktopped, and
for a few yards, all I could see were trees. I held my breath,
waiting to see what we would pull up to. The miniature forest
parted to reveal a sprawling brick ranch with a three car garage.
This home was every bit as well maintained as Blake’s and the
landscaping appeared to have been professionally done.

He reached for the garage door opener clipped
to his visor, and the door over the two-car portion raised slowly.
A black Toyota Camry, brand new from the looks of it, took up
residency on the right hand side. Confused, I looked over at him as
he parked beside it. He seemed to pay it no attention, like the
other car belonged there. Blake hadn’t mentioned a roommate.

“So this is it,” he said with a flourish,
“home sweet home.”

He exited the car and came around the
passenger side to open my door. He extended his hand to help me
out, and I took it gratefully. I hadn’t realized how low to the
ground the car sat until I attempted to climb out of it. He took
the bag of food and I collected the drinks.

My curiosity got the better of me and I had
to ask. “Do you have a roommate, too?”

“Not since Blake ditched me, no. Why?”

He followed my gaze over to the Camry and
laughed.

“You really thought I would drive the Mustang
during bad weather? That’s my winter car.”

“Wow,” was all I could think of saying. “I
couldn’t imagine having two car payments.”

“Me either. So I don’t.”

I had never really thought about the kind of
money that Matthew made in his managerial role. He never acted like
he lived from paycheck to paycheck, so I figured he did well
enough. But he had never flaunted the contents of his bank account,
either. Being here, in his home, looking at his two brand new cars
put things into a little better perspective.

He led me into the house proper, flipping on
lights as we went. As I expected, everything was tastefully
decorated, no doubt by his sister. We passed through a mud room
connected to a half bath and straight into the kitchen. Like
advertised, it was well appointed.

“Wow.” I said again, embarrassed that
something more intelligent couldn’t come out of my mouth.

He shrugged. “It’s okay. Like I’m sure Blake
told you, we don’t use it much. My favorite appliance is the
microwave. And the fridge would come in second. I’m glad I finally
met someone who can use it.”

I set the drinks down on the concrete
countertop and gazed in amazement at everything. It had all been
designed using a black and white theme, even down to the ceramic
tile floor. Black lacquer cabinetry lined the walls. A massive
refrigerator/freezer combination stood guard across from the much
referred to double ovens. High end features abounded, including a
pot-filler above the gas cooktop. It was as if someone had designed
my dream kitchen and installed it right here in someone else’s
home.

“So, do you want the tour now or after we
eat?”

“Now’s good.”

He set down our dinner on the counter and
grabbed me by the hand again. He pulled me playfully along as we
walked through the rest of his home. I tried not to concentrate on
the feeling of his skin against mine and on what he was telling me
instead. He acted as if it was the most natural thing in the world
to be holding my hand. I chalked it up to his flirtatious nature.
That had to be it, right? Friends could hold hands without it
meaning anything, right?

During the moments where I was paying
attention to his words, I learned that Blake had redecorated the
entire house during her senior year of college as her project. The
love and respect that he had for her was apparent. He was obviously
proud of her achievements and she deserved the accolades. She had
done an excellent job. The black and white theme continued through
the rest of the home, accentuated here and there with touches of
color, primarily red. The furnishings were very contemporary, very
linear and impeccably cared for. It was like walking through a
lived in version of a magazine spread.

The tour over, we settled on his bright red
couch with our dinner. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was until I
took my first bite. I finished almost as quickly as he did. He said
nothing, only smirking slightly as he cleared our trash and
disappeared into the kitchen to dispose of it.

When he returned, he sunk down onto the sofa
beside me. He ran a hand through his already tousled hair and
sighed. He looked like he wanted to say something, but couldn’t
work up the nerve to do so.

“What?” I asked, hoping to draw it out of
him.

“Did you and the boyfriend have another
fight? I know it’s none of my business, and you don’t have to tell
me. It’s just that you came home early yesterday until of spending
every last moment you could have together. And you didn’t seem as
happy as you should have.”