Waking Up (12 page)

Her head came up. At the sight of Jason just outside, dressed in much the same way that she was, her composure splintered and she turned away, her mouth shaking. Unseen to her, his head slowly bowed and a muscle twitched in the tight line of his jaw. That was the pose she saw when she gathered enough courage to face him.

Her eyes widened at his averted face, his down-bent eyes, the tired curve to his firm, well-cut mouth. He looked as though he had slept as little as she. She rose and flipped the lock, watching the metal and glass slide open rather than look at his face as he stepped in. With a quick flex of his arm, he threw a mechanics handbook on to the dining table, and she flinched at the sharp slap it made as it landed. Then Jason slowly closed the door behind him.

“I thought I’d bring the book back I borrowed from Herb,” he said quietly, his head turned towards her.

She couldn’t face him, she just couldn’t. She walked to the open archway that led to the hall and put her hand on the wall. The conflicting impulses that were pulling her both towards and away from him were wearying her. “He’s gone to church,” she replied, and when he didn’t respond, she said almost absently, “But you knew that.”

“Yes.” She thought his voice sounded thin, stretched tight, tired. Then he gentled audibly as he asked, “You can’t look at me, can you? What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

Tears blurred her vision unexpectedly and she blinked rapidly. Her sleek head bowed, and she didn’t have the will to keep the words from tumbling out, “I’m lonely.” The last syllable quavered, and she heard him move behind her, a quiet cloth rustle that made her visibly jump. He instantly, totally stilled. She whispered, “I thought…I thought I didn’t know you, but I find I don’t even know myself anymore.”

Jason said, full of emotion, “Oh, Robbie.”

“I don’t know how to handle, uh…” she tried to say, the words trembling with the difficulty. “I don’t know how to…talk about what I’m feeling. I don’t know how to stop us losing what friendship we have…”

He shifted again, and she turned to see him leaning against the dining table, his hands splayed out on the surface, shoulders hunched, head averted. As she watched, he moistened his lips and whispered, “My feelings for you aren’t going to change if that’s what you’re afraid of.” He lifted his head and met her brilliant gaze, and he smiled but it didn’t reach his weary eyes. “I’ll love you no matter what you do, Robbie, and I’ll be whatever kind of friend you want me to be.”

A tear spilled over and ran down her cheek. He closed his eyes tightly against the sight, and as she raised her hand to wipe at the wet streak, she confessed with a wobbly little laugh, “My nose is running.”

He glanced around the room, found a nearby box of Kleenex sitting on the kitchen counter, and brought it to her silently. While she bent her head self-consciously and blew her nose, he set the box aside and then turned back to her. He asked diffidently, strained, “May I hold you?”

She was unprepared for the way his quiet, somehow lonely question would make her face crumble. He had her in his arms in a quick, long stride, and her head sank to his shoulder. Such warmth, he had an enormous capacity for gentleness which amazed and humbled her every time he showed it to her. Just when she thought he was strained to the limit, he reached deep inside himself and gave her more.

With one hand he cupped the back of her head and rocked her very slightly. He brought his head down and laid it on her shoulder while her arms slid sneakily around his trim, tight waist. For the first time, she began to wonder if he was as shaken by his own physical desire as she was by hers. She was astonished to find the comfort she thought she never would, and she slipped one arm around his neck to hold him tight.

After a long, wordless moment, he raised his head again and blindly searched for her lips. She tilted her face up and met his seeking mouth, letting hers fall softly open. He fervently, lusciously, moistly kissed her until she was gripping the back of his head with both her hands, losing all sense of balance. His arms were wrapped around her, two taut hard bands, and he molded her sagging, trembling figure to him, a hand at the small of her back pressing her hips to his.

She was hot and aching, and she dragged her mouth away from his to moan, “No.” He didn’t appear to hear as he buried his mouth against the racing pulse beat in her neck. Her hands, which had held him so insistently just a moment before, twisted into the shirt material at his shoulders. She said raggedly, “Jason, Dad is going to be home any minute now.”

A quick tremble shook through his frame, but in the next instant he was letting her go and stepping back almost calmly. She had to stare at him, astounded, for nothing showed in his expression except calm, normal cheerfulness. But when she looked into his gray eyes, they glittered.

He turned away, a quick whip of his body. “I see you’ve got coffee made,” he said easily. “May I help myself to a cup?”

“Of course.” Her lips felt swollen, unwieldy, and she licked them self-consciously. “I’m going to the bathroom. Would you warm up my cup for me?”

“Sure.”

In the small, downstairs cloakroom she ran cold water into the sink and splashed at her face. There was a dark flush along her cheekbones, and a bruised look to her lips. She held cold fingers to her dry eyes for a long moment and then reached into the cabinet behind the mirror for a few aspirin, which she shook out and swallowed without water. Then she took the comb she stored in the cabinet and straightened her hair before walking back to the kitchen.

Thus it was that when Herb walked into the house, some ten minutes later, he found Robbie and Jason lounging at the kitchen table with all appearance of normality. They both looked tired, though, and Jason’s short cropped brown hair was mussed as though he had dragged his hands through it repeatedly.

Herb said with joviality, “Looks like you two had some time at that party last night.” He went over to the coffeepot to pour himself a cup, totally missing the odd, skittish glance the other two shared behind his back.

“I suppose you could say that,” responded Jason, with some dryness.

She yawned and slumped in her chair while rubbing her eyes. “At least you don’t have anything to do for the rest of the day,” she muttered and sipped at her coffee. “I have to work tonight.”

“Poor baby,” mourned Jason, eyes dancing vividly. She stared at him with pleasure at the return of his usual good spirits and felt her own lifting in response.

Herb returned to the table and sat down, both men obviously waiting for her reply to Jason’s teasing. She buried her nose in her cup and murmured composedly, “You always were an unsympathetic brat.”

Work was surprisingly easy to get through, despite how tired she felt. She waited on pleasant, interesting people, which made serving them easy, and in return received handsome tips for her own good humor and consideration. Casey also worked that evening and Robbie found herself behaving quite naturally towards the other girl, who was understandably wary at first. In light of her recent encounters with Jason, the brunette’s behavior seemed unimportant, and gradually Casey’s manner warmed to her until the other girl apologized.

“Forget it,” was Robbie’s cheerful advice. “There was no harm done.”

Casey’s piquant face flushed darkly, and she could not meet Robbie’s eyes. In a rare burst of honesty, she replied, “But that isn’t any credit to me, is it? I shouldn’t have done it, Rob. You deserve better treatment than that.”

The other girl walked away quickly, while Robbie stared after her bemusedly. They never spoke of the incident again, and Casey continued to behave much as she ever had. But she never said anything catty either to Robbie’s face or behind her back, and Robbie in turn treated the brunette with special kindness.

Business picked up towards the end of the evening, which was a bit odd for a Sunday, and it was quite late before Robbie was able to drive home in a tired daze. As she pulled into the driveway and then the garage, she thought that she would be able to sleep well if her present exhaustion was any indication. She completed her nightly routine in a leisurely fashion, dressed for bed, and wandered around her bedroom, putting away the clothes she had worn that day. Soon she was flipping off her light and turning down her covers when the dark purple images of last night disturbed her thoughts, and she turned to the window to obey an impulse she only half understood.

Standing at her window, which was closed now against the unseasonable coolness of the night, she let her eyes wander dreamily down the oak tree she had climbed a thousand times in the past. He had stood under the tree after kissing her good night, after touching her breast.

Her heart gave a great, painful leap, and she trembled so that she thought her legs might collapse. The shadow, the waiting, watching, wakeful shadow in the night that had so haunted her dreams was back. She would have sworn he wasn’t there when she drove up, so he must have looked for her return. She could almost see what his gray eyes would look like, even from that distance. They would glitter like dim silver. They would be filled with the same bright desire she had seen in them just that very morning. They would be silently compelling her to make the choice he would never outwardly press her to make. She was well aware that he knew she saw him. He would have sensed it from her long, wordless stare down at him the night before, from her obvious exhaustion that morning. He would be able to see her even now, for the moon was still bright and strong, and the curtain trembled violently from the force of her spasmodically clenched fist.

Oh God.

The next few days followed much the same pattern as Sunday. Robbie drove herself into a frantic whirlwind of activity, shopping, afternoon matinees, house cleaning, work. The few times she had seen Jason were brief and filled with a friendliness that overlaid watchful wariness on both sides. His subtle relentlessness sent her into a wild panic. Every night the shadow watched her window from under the oak tree’s swaying branches, and she couldn’t sleep.

And when she did, she dreamed of a dark pursuit. Vague, restless images pervaded her sleep and made her toss and turn. She was always hot, sweating, and she lost her appetite. Each unexpected noise made her jump violently. Each of her senses was heightened to an unbearable pitch.

Wednesday she was simply too listless to do anything before going in to work that evening, and so she dragged out the lounge chair and spread her bikini-clad figure liberally with lotion. Then she stretched out to bask in the sun’s fierce rays while attempting to read the latest paperback she had bought. She found her eyes wandering over the lawn instead of the open pages in front of her, and she jerkily lifted one slim hand to her mouth, gnawing at a fingernail.

Jason came out of his back door and casually strolled her way, his hands tucked into the back pockets of his faded jeans. He had no shirt or shoes on, and she was intensely aware of every fluid, muscular movement as he jumped over the dividing fence and approached.

“Hello,” he said cheerfully, throwing himself onto the grass beside her and tilting his head to squint at her sideways. He wore a slight, wry smile on his lips which widened as she found herself tangled into staring helplessly at the thin sheen of sweat that beaded on his strong, graceful collarbone and chest.

She jerked her gaze away and blindly looked at her book. “Hello, yourself.”

His long arm reached over to her and plucked the book from her hands, asking, “What are you reading?” His hard fingers brushed against hers and she jumped. Then, with his head bent as he scanned the cover and inside flap with seeming interest, he said quietly, “You look tired, Rob. Haven’t you been sleeping well lately?”

Her brown eyes smoldered with frustration. He, too, looked a bit worn, with the tiny lines at the corners of his eyes and mouth deepened slightly, but he was much calmer than she. “I’ve been sleeping perfectly well,” she snapped and chewed at her thumbnail.

He glanced over at her, quick and bright, before placing the book gently on the ground and reaching over to draw her hand away from her mouth. “And you’re nervous, too, I see,” he said softly. Their eyes met. His shone like silver as they ran over her taut, slick features intently. His big body was half-twisted towards her as he knelt up on one knee. Those lovely, naked shoulders were just within reach to stroke if she wished. Her hand, still captured in his, shook. He whispered lightly, “So very, very nervous. What’s on your mind, sweetheart?”

“Go to hell,” she said through stiffened lips, and she tried to drag her hand away. His fingers tightened insistently on hers.

“Not very friendly today, are we?” He brought her hand up and bent his head to place a kiss at the inside of her wrist. At first she couldn’t move, but the sudden sensation of his tongue licking at her salty, sweaty skin had her thrusting the fingers of her free hand into the hair at the back of his head. She tugged none too gently, puffing him back up.

“You’re playing a game with me,” she gritted, angrily leaning forward to stare at him, eye to eye. “For some reason you’ve decided that you want me and so you’re using every opportunity to push me into giving in to you.”

“Why, sweetheart,” said Jason blithely, “what am I doing to pressure you? I’ve barely touched you, and I certainly haven’t talked about any such thing, have I? What is it that I’ve done that bothers you so terribly?”

Her eyes went wide. He hadn’t really done anything that would have affected her had she been indifferent to him in the first place. He was working upon her own emotions and desires, and there was nothing of which she could rightly accuse him without exposing herself. She gave herself away at every turn.