Wherever the Dandelion Falls (53 page)

Unless I asked.

Deciding to use a more stealth approach, I remembered that the night we'd met had been a bachelorette party for her friend.

"Hey, did your friend have her wedding yet?" I asked. "Claire, right?"

Faye rolled her eyes. "Not yet. Next month."

Caught in a moment of frivolous hope, I sucked in a breath and said, "Do you think maybe by the time my sister's wedding happens, you'd want to go with me?"

Faye drew her hand into her body and looked away from me, out the window.

"You know I'm not out," she mumbled.

"I know," I said, scooting closer toward her. "And I would never out you. I was just thinking... the wedding's a year away, and it's in New York. Maybe it would be a good place to practice."

"Practice what?" Faye said, sounding guarded.

Realizing I was making assumptions about the inevitability of Faye coming out, I shrugged. "For someday."

Faye huffed. "It's a bit early to make plans a year out. I've known you, what, a few months?"

Realizing Faye had a point, I lowered my head. "I know," I mumbled. "I'm just excited for Kimi..."

Realizing I had been foolish, I regretted asking Faye to be my date.

Indignant, Faye rose from the bed and started putting on clothes. "It would be great if you could stop pushing me," she said, her words clipped and hard. "I know you want me to come out, but it's not going to happen."

Feeling the creeping panic her push-back always caused, I rose and walked toward her. I had stopped letting her kick me away recently, and it worked much better to control my anxiety than slinking away to lick my wounds.

"I'm not pushing you," I said. I slid my hands around her waist and smoothed them over the plane of her back, trying to soothe and arouse her. "Pushing you would be like saying I'm going to withhold sex until you tell people, which I would never do."

Faye smirked. "That's for certain."

Relieved to see Faye feeling playful, I cocked my head. "What's that supposed to mean?" I asked with a grin.

"Just that you could never follow through on that threat." She looked smug as she pressed her hips against mine.

"That's not true," I objected, removing my hands from her body.

"Isn't it?" Faye said, bringing her face to the crook of my neck. She nuzzled the skin below my ear and breathed against me before slowly tracing her tongue right over the spot that made my knees weak and my heart race.

I exhaled and closed my eyes.

Faye must have known she had won, because she let out a soft, satisfied chuckle. "I thought so."

Frustrated that she was right and aroused for the dozenth time that day, I pulled her back into me. "You better follow through," I said. "No one likes a tease."

Faye fixed her lips to my neck and sucked lightly for a second before drawing back and saying, "Actually, everyone likes a tease."

And with that, she set about pulling on her pants and picking up her purse, winking at me as she said, "I'll be back after class.” She gestured toward the sheets we'd spent the morning tangling and closed the door behind her.

As I stood there quivering with frustration, I wondered how I would ever be able to stand my ground when she could reduce me to shivers in mere seconds.

I got back in her bed, confused. How had I lost my ground so quickly? I wanted her to be my date to my sister's wedding, yet she had convinced me that sex was a solution to our disagreement. It felt manipulative. But I knew she wasn't doing it to be mean. She did it to survive. She was so afraid of losing control, so afraid of losing the things she'd worked for. She wanted the lifestyle she'd grown accustomed to, but she also wanted me. She had figured out a way to string the two things up in perilous equilibrium so she could have both.

And just as I was wondering if I was a fool for loving someone who couldn't say she loved me back, I saw something under her pillow that made my heart flutter.

It was the sleeve of my sweatshirt. I knew it was mine because there was a tiny bleach stain on the cuff from a chemistry lab in college. I loved that sweatshirt, and, come to think of it, hadn't seen it in a few months.

Faye had kept the sweatshirt I'd given her months ago to sleep with when I wasn't around.

And I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that she loved me, too.

For the next week, I kept that knowledge a happy secret. I thought about it at work, daydreamed about it while Faye was in class, and savored it while I ate my morning cereal. We had our Friday not-a-date night, and I went over to her place to hang out when neither of us had plans.

And on the nights when we didn't sleep together, I slipped into a sweatshirt I'd borrowed from her, and let her scent rock me to sleep.

One afternoon when I got to her door, she was pacing around, wearing a path into her floor with her feet.

"What's wrong?" I asked, knowing she only bit her lip when something was bothering her. "You're doing your worried dance."

Faye sighed, wringing her hands between stacking and re-stacking things on her desk in no logical sequence. She found a mug under a piece of newspaper. She peered into it, wrinkling her nose before walking it over to the sink and dumping it out.

She took a panicked breath. "I'm not gonna be able to see you for a week."

"Why?" I said.

She gave me a cringing, guilty expression and mumbled, "My parents are visiting."

Realization washed over me as to why she was so agitated.

"Whenever they visit, I have to show them all around the city and figure out meals and transportation because they always get lost, and I feel like they're never satisfied with what I do. I just want them to have a good time..." She rambled for a few minutes, and I saw her wind herself tighter, anxiety already perforating her nerves where they would crack later.

"Faye," I said, stepping forward. I wanted to kiss her to calm her down, but I knew that kissing her while talking about her family was the worst thing I could do. "I can help with the meals and activities and transportation stuff. I'm good at that."

Faye shook me off, unable to stand still for more than a second. "Thanks, but unless you can magically produce a boyfriend named Dave, my parents are going to be disappointed."

The apartment was thunderously quiet as I sank into the bitter reality that her parents visiting was going to be bad news for us. She'd start taking dozens of quick steps backwards, and all the progress she'd made over the last few months would be lost. Maybe
—
I didn't want to think about it, but the idea came
—
she'd even start sleeping with other girls again in an effort to not feel committed to me.

And then I got an idea that was horrible and wonderful at the same time.

I thought about Dave from Jules' and how he'd been so sweet and patient with me. I thought about his harmlessness and his likability. And even though I didn't like the idea of helping Faye lie, I heard myself saying, "I can find you a boyfriend named Dave."

Faye stopped pacing and looked at me, perplexed.

"A fake boyfriend, of course," I amended. When Faye looked concerned, I added, "Don't worry, he's as gay as the day is long. But your parents will like him."

Faye looked scared and relieved at the same time. "Really?" she breathed.

I nodded. "I mean, I have to talk to him. And I'd have to tell him about you and me. But he owes me a favor, and I'm sure he wouldn't mind a nice meal with you and your parents."

Faye bit her lip. "And he's not too..." She waved her hands, trying to be vague.

My heart sank a little as I said, "Flamboyant?"

Faye nodded.

I shook my head. "Nothing effeminate about him."

Faye's chest slumped in relief. "You'd do that?" she asked, disbelieving.

I gave a sad shrug. I didn't like the image of Faye introducing Dave to her parents instead of me. But I had known for a while now that wasn't going to happen. But because I cared about her so much and wanted to help however I could, I tried to put my own feelings aside.

"Riley, that would be
amazing
," Faye said. "They keep asking to meet him."

I was starting to feel sick at my willingness to be an accomplice to Faye's lies. "How long do they think you've been dating 'Dave'?" I said with quotation marks.

"About... two years," Faye mumbled.

And my dread turned to sadness. Sadness for Faye, who felt so trapped by her family that she had constructed a life for them that didn't exist.

"I'll talk to Dave," I said, looking around Faye's apartment, surveying the familiar mess.

And for the first time ever, I wanted to leave. I knew she didn't have a choice about her family's beliefs, I couldn't help but resent the way she chose to deal with it.

Instead of finding an excuse to leave, I got up and walked over to Faye's sink. I picked up the sponge and turned on the water, squirting a copious amount of soap onto the stack of unsteady plates. As I began scrubbing crusted tomato sauce off the top plate, Faye said, "You don't have to do that."

"I know," I grumbled. "But it needs to be done.”

The following weekend, things were still beautifully easy and right with Faye. We talked every night on the phone until we were both drowsy and warm. Somehow being in two different beds didn't bother us. At least it didn't bother me. I still felt her there, warm and calm as we drifted toward sleep. She was the best part of my day, and it was only fitting that I take the best part of my day into sleep with me.

And because I was so at ease with talking to her while I was in bed, I realized that it would probably be even better to have her in my bed for real. Now that we had reached a new level of understanding and closeness, I had no reason to hold back sexually. I knew our first time was on the horizon.

When we went out to dinner that Saturday night, she had never looked more confident or attractive to me. It took effort to focus on our conversation rather than letting my eyes rake over her body.

"How are things at work?" she asked.

"Okay,” I shrugged.

Faye nodded, and I thought I detected a hint of restraint from her. But she said, "I'm excited for your promotion."

I gave a faint nod. "Me too." It was all too easy to change the subject. "What are you doing next weekend?"

Faye's shoulders drooped at the question. "I have to go to a conference in Davis." She said it like she'd just informed me she had scheduled a root canal.

"Oh..." I said, reflecting her disappointment. But along with the disappointment came the realization that we needed to have sex that night unless I wanted to wait another two weeks.

I didn't want to wait another two weeks.

Faye seemed more relaxed than I'd seen her in a long time, albeit disappointed she wouldn't get to see me the next weekend.

"I wish I could bring you with me," she mumbled.

"Could you?" I asked, the idea flickering through my mind. It wouldn't be so bad, spending a weekend in a hotel room with her. Provided everything went fine that night, it could actually be fun.

Although, as I thought about it, my mind went back to the last time I'd been in a hotel room. Alone, sticky, and miserable.

Maybe going with Faye wouldn't be a good idea.

"You could," Faye said, dancing around the real issue. "But I'd be gone most of the time. And we'd have to share a room..."

Knowing that she was being cautious and respectful, I debated teasing her with the promise of sex in the near future. But given that I didn't know how it would go, I didn't.

Faye took my lack of response as a cue to change the subject, and she started talking about a book she'd been reading. Diffusing the tension was effortless for her, and that was just one more thing I liked about her.

After we'd finished eating, I felt the anticipation that comes with any transition between activities. Would she invite me back to her house? I hadn't been there in almost a month, since before she'd told me about Callie. I remembered all the times we'd made out on her couch, growing breathless with each other until I pulled away.