Wherever the Dandelion Falls (59 page)

I gave a gentle nod, feeling her leg on the back of my neck. It was warm and sturdy. Then her hands threaded into my hair and began combing it back over her lap, making my scalp tingle. I closed my eyes and smiled, humming.

"Feel good?" she asked.

I nodded, adjusting my head so she had better access to more of my scalp. Her gentle, short nails felt good in my hair.

"Your friends are great," Faye murmured.

I smiled, lulled into a near stupor by the feel of her hands in my hair. I could have fallen asleep, but gradually her hand stopped, and I wondered what she was doing. I opened my eyes and found her gazing down at me. Self-conscious, I gave her an awkward smile. I was strange to know she was watching me lie there like that.

But then she said, "Hey, pretty girl," and I didn't feel so awkward. I rallied my strength to sit up and kiss her in earnest, to thank her for being so easy to be with.

I knew it was late, but I didn't want to say goodnight to her yet. I wanted to marinate in the pride and comfort I found in her, to bask in such a successful merging of my worlds. So I kept kissing her, telling her with my lips how grateful I was for her.

And as I kissed her, my mind flickered to my bedroom. There was a bed there where we could keep kissing until kissing wasn't enough. The thought formed and I felt a tug towards the room in my body, wanting to pull Faye with me.

But just before I could find the words or the strength in my body to guide her there, Faye pulled away, taking a deep breath as she smiled at me.

"You throw a great dinner party," she said. "I've got a lot to compete with when it's my turn."

My face grew warm, and I knew I wouldn't be able to form the words to invite her into my bedroom now. And even if I had, she seemed to be heading for the door.

"It's getting late, and we both have work in the morning."

Work wasn't something I wanted to think about now, but I knew she was right. We couldn't pretend we wouldn't regret staying up late the next day.

She took a deep, resigned breath and stood up. With one last kiss to my cheek, she said, "Goodnight, Riley. See you tomorrow."

Knowing my bed would be there another day, I murmured
goodnight
back and watched her pick up her purse, smiling as she closed the door behind herself. I went to bed glowing with pride.

The following day at work, the drudgery was worse than usual. After lunch, I was standing at the copier when Dr. Turner came in.

"You don't mind staying late tonight, do you?" Dr Turner said. His expression indicated that it wasn't a question.

Ever the obedient employee, I said the thing I was supposed to: "Of course not." Inside, I started to cringe.

He tapped his papers on the counter and gave a stiff smile. "Excellent."

I was left standing at the copier, the flicking and whirring of the papers inside speeding up the contents of my mind.

Faye and I had a date tonight. If I stayed late, I'd have to cancel or postpone our plans. Being around Faye was one of the only things that made my job bearable on days I knew I'd get to see her. I couldn't lose that one thing today. I just couldn't.

But I was doing the responsible thing, right? This promotion was a big deal. Co-authoring a study that we hoped would get major professional recognition would look so good, I'd be free to find a job at a better company afterwards.

The longer the copier droned through its collating and whirring, the more I thought. It was becoming harder and harder to justify taking the promotion. Was it worth sacrificing time with Faye? Worth spending time with Dr. Turner? Worth the misery of becoming more entrenched in a company I hated in a field I wasn't sure I liked?

I suddenly felt so trapped, I had to leave the copy room before my copies were done. I didn't care if some smug new employee found them and turned them in to Dr. Turner. I just blocked it all out.

I needed to talk to someone who would help me figure out how to stop panicking, someone who would make this promotion not feel so ominous and gloomy.

I would have called my mom or dad, but I didn't want to explain the climate of my work honestly to them; I didn't want to confess that my boss had a sexual harassment lawsuit in his not-so-recent past and that he'd pressured me to date his jerk of a nephew and that I was the only woman on the payroll aside from the rotation of decorative women who worked the front desk. The more I thought about it, the more I knew I couldn't tell my parents. Or, for that matter, my sister, who would encourage me to document every inappropriate look or touch or comment. I wasn't going to go down that road with Turner. I just wanted as much distance from him as possible.

So that ruled out telling Kimi.

The only person to call would be Faye, who couldn't be objective because she despised my job almost as much as I did.

So I was left sitting in my chair staring at the carpet, feeling so alone.

I wanted to be recognized for my intelligence and hard work. I wanted something impressive on my resume. I wanted a bigger paycheck.

But at what cost?

As my blank stare bored into the industrial carpet, I felt myself rising. I began walking. My heart started pounding and my throat felt tight and my limbs were cold. I rounded the corner toward Turner's office and rapped on the jamb louder than I meant to. His head popped up from where he was stooped over a file.

"Yes?" he said expectantly.

I stood stock still for a moment, feeling as though I was on a train I couldn't get off. I swallowed, feeling words in my throat that I knew were going to come out.

Shakily, but with as much conviction as I could, I murmured, "I quit."

Dr. Turner's face was blank for a moment before he gave me a puzzled smile. "Come again?"

"I quit," I said, giving a lackluster shrug. "I'm done working here."

Dr. Turner lifted a hand and his mouth drifted open as he frowned. "But I just gave you a promotion!" he said, chuckling at the absurdity of what I was doing.

"I don't want it," I said. "Not from you. Not from this company."

Dr. Turner let out an offended guffaw. "Opportunities like this aren't easy to come by, Montgomery," he said, giving me another condescending laugh.

Done trying to justify my intelligence, my worthiness, my opinions, and my existence to a man who would never hear me, I shrugged again. "I still quit."

Dr. Turner let out a heavy sigh and flapped his lips. "Good luck finding something else," he said sarcastically, turning toward his computer monitor.

There was a moment of tense silence and for the first time since I'd started walking, I didn't know what came next. "Do I talk to the HR rep?"

Dr. Turner waved his hand at me. "They'll be in touch. Just write a formal resignation and clean out your desk. You can leave."

Stunned by the finality of it, I nodded. "Okay."

I stood there for a moment more before I turned slowly and walked from Turner's office back to my desk for the last time.

I had set up too many candles for the occasion. I just wanted Faye to have a good experience being with me. It felt weird to fall back on such a trope, but my usual game
—
my over-the-top act
—
wasn't going to work on her. I'd purposely chosen to wear a flowery sundress for our night, mostly because a sundress was something Violet would never wear. I had to be real, and I associated sundresses and candles with being real for some reason.

Or maybe it was because that was what I'd been wearing with Damon for our first time ten years ago, when he set up dozens of candles like I had just done.

That was definitely it. As I looked around the room, I started to panic. I didn't want being with Faye to remind me of Damon.

The air in the room started feeling hot, probably because of those dumb candles. I bent over to blow the nearest one out, not thinking that extinguishing so many flames at once would fill the room with smoke and make it smell weird when it was supposed to be romantic. I had just blown one out when the doorbell rang.

Shit.

She was here already. I didn't have time to clean up the overdone, sappy gesture that she'd probably laugh at. Resigned to looking ridiculous, I picked up my keys and trudged down the stairs to let her in.

When I opened the door I barely had a second to greet her before she was pressed gently against me, hugging me and giving me a kiss on the lips, then on the cheek.

"Hey, sweetie," she said. Something about her voice made me feel like she knew how nervous I was. I didn't want her to know that. I was supposed to know what I was doing in bed with a girl.

We walked upstairs quietly and I cringed, dreading her reaction to all the candles. They felt so impersonal. Was there a way to make candles personal? I hadn't figured out how to make most things about sex personal.

I avoided looking at her face as we walked inside, but when I heard her footsteps stop, I had to look. Instead of an amused grin, I just saw a look of gentle happiness.

"It's beautiful, Riley."

I gave her a bashful smile as she unbuttoned her coat and took off her shoes, settling into my house. As I saw her standing there in her relaxed t-shirt and jeans, I started to relax too.

"Can I get you a drink?" I offered. I needed something to do other than standing there wondering what the next step was.

Her eyes sparkled in the soft light. "Maybe some water.”

I nodded and went into the kitchen, filling a glass with ice and water. I brought it out to her and found her sitting on the couch, long sleeves pushed up to her elbows, legs crossed as though we were about to start a movie rather than a night of frightening lovemaking.

I reminded myself that it didn't have to be frightening. Faye wasn't a frightening person.

"How was your day?" she asked.

I shrugged. "Okay. I started looking into selling my car."

"Oh?" she asked, raising her eyebrows over her glass.

"Yeah," I nodded. "I don't want all that debt hanging over me right now."

"You're still making good money, though, right?"

"Yeah," I said hesitantly. I didn't want to think about work right now. "But not Beamer good. I don't want to be impractical."

Faye swallowed and nodded, setting her glass on the table.

There was silence and I wondered what came next. Did I kiss her? Get up and walk into the bedroom? Start taking off my clothes?

She seemed to know I was anxious, because she took my hand and squeezed. "It's okay, babe. Just relax."

Embarrassed that my anxiety was so apparent, I looked down.

"How about a massage?" Faye offered.

I shifted and nodded, but then was faced with more questions. Was this a shirt-on massage? A bra-on massage? A topless massage? Was this just foreplay in disguise?

Faye seemed to know I was still confused, because she turned toward me and gestured for me to face away from her. Her hands went to my shoulders and gently kneaded in, seizing and working out the tension I was holding there. I took deep breaths, trying to focus on her hands and how they felt on me. They were delicate and real and attached to someone I adored.

Maybe if I stayed with that thought, I'd stay present.

Faye's hands worked deeper and harder into me, helping me let go. She squeezed and kneaded, and I got more and more relaxed, never forgetting it was her touching me.

"Feel good?"

"Yeah," I said, clearing my throat of the phlegm that had gathered there as I'd relaxed. "You're good at that."

I could feel Faye smiling as she squeezed again. "Thank you," she murmured.

And then I felt her lips on the side of my neck.

I tensed. This was where I was prone to check out and go into work mode.

I focused on her lips and how they fit against my skin, making me tingle.

Her lips moved forward and her hands slid down from my shoulders to my waist. The way she held me was so delicate and feminine and made me feel small and precious. I hadn't felt small or precious in a long time. I melted back into her, twisting my head around so I could meet her lips. When I did, I felt something let go. I wasn't going to follow a script or a character. I was just going to be naked, as terrifying as that was, and see what happened.