What Brings Me to You (4 page)

              "Are you intimidated by intelligence, Teddy?"

              "Never."

              "Let me rephrase: are you intimidated by intelligent women?" Even though her look was fierce she was almost smiling. The words slipped out before I could stop them.

              "Not until now." No girl had ever done that to me before. Especially not you, Lacey. And this girl, of all girls, so mysterious and yet somehow I knew had more baggage than a British Airways terminal at Heathrow at the height of the holiday season.

CHAPTER THREE

Charley

              Is he complimenting me again?
I wanted to run away but I couldn't back down so I cleared my throat and turned back to my book, though I had to place a hand on my chest to stop the sound of my pounding heart from escaping.

              "May I point out the irony here?" he added, his voice a bit too loud for our proximity, "When you're showing off what's in your head you're a 'woman' and when we're talking about what's on it you're a 'girl'.    If that doesn't scream mommy issues..."

              "Just drop it, Teddy." Then my stomach pitched and growled so loud and long that I thought I was Sigourney Weaver from   
Alien
. When it subsided, Teddy was rolling on his back, laughing and snorting like a child. In between hysterical breaths he sputtered "What. The. Hell. Was. That?"
So much for making my point
, I thought.

              “Oh, I didn’t tell you? I ate my twin in the womb,” that really got him going to the point I was getting irritated, so I picked up his trashy paperback and threw it at him. “Shut up, okay. I'm hungry. I didn't eat before I left."    Crap. Too much information. 

              “Why?” It was an innocent enough question, asked with a little too much interest. I certainly could not tell him the answer to that, so I lied.

              “Because I’m on the beach and I don’t want to look bloated and gross in my bathing suit.”

              “Oh so little miss feminism
is
a girl.”

              “Not all feminists are raging bull-dykes you know. Some of us shower and wear bras and everything.” He grinned at me at the word bra and flicked his eyes to my chest. Í shoved him once in the chest so his back hit the ground. “Stop being a perv.”
He hopped to his feet so quickly I thought he was just going to sprint away but instead he stood over me and reached his hand down for me to help me up.

              “
Let’s go."

              "Where?"

              "Get something to eat. I'm famished and you never bring me snacks."

              "Teddy, first of all it is
not
the little woman’s job to bring you snacks. You’re perfectly capable of bringing your own. Second, I can't go anywhere. My, erm, ride is still here. Somewhere. I don't know when they're leaving. Could be in ten minutes, could be several hours but if I take off it'll piss them off."

              "Charley, honestly? What do you owe those b—.” I cut him off with a look. “Girls,” he amended. He had a point. "You're starving; they're off making themselves cheap. If they're not here when we get back then I'll take you home." Maybe if he weren’t so damn pretty he wouldn’t be so convincing.

*****

              I have woken up with a pained and angry stomach. I've just come to accept that I will never have a normal relationship with food. Hell, the fact that I refer to it as a relationship at all is disturbing, but this is a new low even for me. I should have gone to the grocery days ago, but couldn't gather the strength to get out of bed. Markus called this morning from the      restaurant. I didn’t answer so he left a message:
Hey honey, it’s your favorite chef! Listen, I don’t want you to worry or anything, but Brooke came by again today to ask me about you. Like I said, don’t panic. I told her you were doing some “investigating” for a new venture for us. She seemed satisfied with that, but asked me to have you give her a call when you get a chance. She didn’t say what it was about, but she seemed kind of…serious? I don’t know. Anyway, that’s all. Miss you. Love you. Call me. Muah!
  I miss him too, actually, but I’m still not ready to go back to work. I’m going to owe him so much when I do because he’s been covering for me a lot with Brooke. Brooke isn’t a bad boss or anything, I’ve actually gotten to know her really well over the past couple of years, but I know she wants me back and I don’t want to burn any bridges with her. Not when we’re doing so well. I’m just not ready to go back yet. Markus has told me over and over again not to worry about it, and to take all the time I need. God, I love Markus. I love him so much that just knowing he’s out there in the world is making this moment, today, a little less sucky.

              Despite everything you ever thought, Markus is a really good and honest guy and he 
never
  had a thing for me. Even if he did, once upon a time, he most certainly doesn't now. With all of your swearing he did you never once offered a shred of evidence. If you were here, I know exactly how you'd make your case.

              "He's just a friend, babe and he's my business partner. He's being nice. AND HE’S GAY!"

              "Uh-huh,"
you'd snort in that smug way that'd make me want to smack that smuggy look off your smuggy face.
“He still has a penis and can still appreciate a beautiful woman
.
He says all the time if he were straight he’d marry you.
”

              "God,"
I'd sigh,  “
not this again. I know you love me babe, and I know that I do it for you, but, I don’t exactly turn heads or whatever. So, Markus..."

Then, you'd interrupt with that smuggy, "I'm-trying-not-to-laugh-because-you're-making-my-point-for-me" face and I'd over correct sarcastically.
"
Mr. Potter 
would just not want me working in this state; I'd scare off  customers  or worse investors. He would want me happy so I'd come back to work because I'm the best he's got. He's nice but this is in the interest of the     
business
!"

              Then, you'd start to laugh which would really chap my rear end but you wouldn't spar with me. You'd pick up on the most random thing I'd said: 
"I see the way men, including
  Markus, 
gay as he is, look at you, sweetheart. You turn enough heads. "
The way you'd emphasize his name would make me shudder and you'd continue, knowing you'd made a crack in the argument,
"You should be flattered. Take it as a compliment.”

              “Easy for you to say Mr. Big Shot Beef Cake Personal Let Me Give You A Post Work Out Stretch Trainer. Girls are all over you all the time.”

              You’d just give me a half smile and say:
"You know I'm a jealous man, but let them look. You come home with me; you sleep in my bed at the end of the day."
  You’d kiss me on the cheek, and then spin me around and slap my ass good naturedly to get me to walk away and forget about it all.

              We had that routine memorized. You could replace the name Markus with any man I saw regularly. Mailman, garbage man, bag boy at the grocery. We went through it for them all. All except one.

              Something else that's gone:
No one will ever be jealous over me again
.

*****

              I decided after all to ditch my "friends" and go with Teddy to get food. I did text, using Teddy's phone, I'd be away, but didn't get a response.
Figures.
We weren't dressed for anything but lying around on the beach, so Teddy suggested a drive through.

              We walked in relative silence to his car. Nothing but the crunching sound of our feet across sand-dusted asphalt between us and and panic began to rise in my throat about riding in cars with boys. I was immediately assuaged when that biting, nasty voice started yelling at me: 
He's just being nice, Charley. It doesn't mean he wants to marry you. Stop it. He's just being nice. He's not into you like that. He's just being nice. How could he be? Look at you! You’re disgusting. No one, especially not this man, will ever want you!
  That understanding made the walk less awkward, even though twice the back of his hand brushed against mine. Once, after I'd switched purse-carrying shoulders, and the other when he reached in his pocket for his car keys. He clicked the keyless entry and pointed at, what I assumed to be a joke, but when the headlights flashed and the doors unlocked my jaw dropped. Teddy drove a brand new Mercedes. Jet black. Limo tinted windows. Chrome detail. The interior was soft cream leather with black trim. I didn't have to ask if it was his. His books in the backseat, the graduation tassel hanging from the rear view and a photo of him and a leggy blond in the console told me all I needed to know. 
Leggy blond? Who is she?
I felt jealousy tingle the back of my neck, but stopped myself before I got started. Teddy and I are merely acquaintances, he doesn’t even know my last name. He can see whoever he wants. Besides
He's just being nice to you, Charley. That’s the kind of girl that gets a boy like this, not you! You’re brown, you’re short, you’re ugly. There’s no contest.

              As I chanted internally, I couldn't help look at the photo. It was a candid, but it looked like a picture from a magazine. They were both so perfectly matched. She was tall, pale with the most striking eyes like Teddy’s, only hers were green. There was a ring of yellow around her iris that almost seemed to glow in the sunlight. The way he held her waist, the way her head was thrown back in laughter. The way he was beaming while whispering in her delicate ear, there was no way they weren’t involved. I knew it, but jealousy and pride needed him to say it.     
Stop it Charley. He's just being nice to you. It shouldn't matter that he's got a beautiful girlfriend He’ll never hold you like that. You’re not her!
And truly it shouldn't have mattered so I was content as the car purred to life and we drove off.

              In the moments leading up to ordering I actually felt nervous, but was reminded of the blond in the photo and my mantra kicked in. The words played over and over until they all ran together and I felt liberated. Besides, it was rare I got to eat plain old drive through food, so I was going to do it up right.      

              "What do you want?"

              "A double bacon burger, no mayo and a really large coke. Not diet. Regular."

              "Okay," he chuckled. “Sure you can handle all that, little girl?”

              “You have no idea.”

              "Fries?"

              "Ew, no. I hate fries, but I'll split an onion ring with you if they've got 'em." I was being totally serious but he was looking at me with an amused expression and I really resented being laughed at. Again.

              "What is so funny?"     

              He burst into an all-out guffaw, "You. Jesus, you're persnickety. You may be the only person on Earth who doesn't like fries."

              "That cannot possibly be true. And anyway it's not like I'm some fast food Nazi.” I realized my mistake too late and hoped he wouldn’t call me on it. Thank god he tried to change the subject after rolling his eyes. While he droned on about something totally nonsensical, I reached in my bag for my wallet. When I'd almost gotten it out his hand came down hard and gripped my wrist. When I looked up, we were almost nose to nose. His pale blue eyes were burning into me.

              "Stop," he whispered, still clutching my wrist, "I've got this."

              I wanted to protest. I wanted to point out that insisting on paying was a perpetuation of the 1950s "little woman, big man" construct, of which I wanted no part, but I couldn't. I was frozen, staring into his impossibly blue eyes which, until that moment, had not looked at me with such intensity. A look which, in conjunction with his firm hold on my wrist, turned me to putty. My body’s response to his touch, to his nearness, shocked me. The instantaneous desire to be near him, to feel his hands on other parts of me was powerful. I felt myself involuntarily leaning infinitesimally closer to him. My breath uneven, my eyes widened with anticipation and wonder, my mouth twitching in expectation. I’d never experienced anything like it, but I was sure I could get used to it.

              What was, I'm sure, no more than a few seconds felt like an eternity. Like time stopped and everything was suspended, including all my sense of reasoning. Thankfully, he broke away first to pay, and I positioned my face directly in front of the air vent to stave off a massive, full body blush. I could've insisted I pay him back, could've left money in the car, but I didn't really have it to spare. I was feeling almost grateful to him for saving me from having to pay for my meal in spare change.

              Teddy drove to a place where we could eat in the car with a view of the water. We were out of the way of tourists and screaming kids but could see the fishing boats off in horizon. The view was so breathtaking and serene that it could’ve also been construed as a "make-out" point. It occurred to me that Teddy had probably been there dozens if not hundreds of times with the blond, and the thought turned my stomach.
This has to stop Charley. He doesn't want to marry you. You're friends at best.

              Friends? It was the first time the word entered my mind in connection with Teddy and it made me feel good. Better than good, I felt alive. I felt present in that moment; a warm feeling, like being wrapped in a blanket, spread from my stomach outward to all of my limbs and made me smile. 
Friends.
  I tested it out over and over. 
We're friends...Here's my friend, Teddy.... I'm going to the beach with my friend.
  I was still repeating it over and over when his biting voice whispered: 
If he's a friend, he can hurt you.
  I reared back in my seat in horror. Friend meant he was somehow in my life and could find a way to use me, exploit me, screw with me. No way. I was content to be alone.