Better Than Me (6 page)

“Goodnight, Bizzy baby.”

“Goodnight, Jake.”  It’s not the ending to the evening I thought it would be.  As he closes the door to the elevator, I say, “Hey, what about…” I was going to say ‘Davis,” but the door is practically shut. 

I hear someone outside the elevator say, “Jake, hey Jake, need
help to your room?”

The elevator proceeds up to my floor.  Davis is still leaning
against the carpeted wall, with his eyes closed.  I think he is asleep.  I’m pretty sure he missed dropping off Jake.  Great, now what am I going to do with him?

As the elevator comes to a stop, Davis comes to life. 

“Hey, Biz.  Are you taking me home?”

“No, Davis.  I think you have to sleep in my room.”

“Alright,” He doesn’t say it in agreement.  He says it as in an “alright, sounds good, sleeping with a girl” way.  A hot, sexy way.

“No, Mavis, t
here is no ‘Alright.’ I’m tired.  I am not one of your little playthings.  You’re drunk AND engaged, so you get to sleep on my floor.”

“Party pooper.
” He is giggling like a teenage girl

“Absolutely.  What’s up with you
tonight?” 

He mumbles
something like, “Not as much or many as you think,” frowns, then goes silent.

Once in my dorm room, Davis
immediately slides down to lie on the floor next to my bed.  I lean against my bed and lift my leg behind me to take off my shoe.  As I put that leg down and begin to lift the other, I feel Davis’ hand running up and down the inside of my lower leg.  It causes me to stop moving and tip my head back.  It feels amazing.  I inhale.

“Did you shave?”  I don’t make a move to push his hand away.  He repeatedly slides it up to the inside of my knee and then slow back down to cup in around my ankle.  He rubs the bone of my ankle with his thumb.  It feels incredible and the electrical hum and zap I feel every
time I am around him magnifies.  I just stand there and take it in.  When I look down he is staring up at me.  The stare is not sweet.  Is it angry? No, it’s hot.  Scorching. 

“Uh huh.”  I say
breathlessly, taking a moment to clear my head before I respond to the question.

His hand stops moving, but stays on the inner part of my upper knee.
  I swear there are flames shooting up to the space between my legs. If he goes any higher he’ll feel my excitement.

“Did you do it for Jake?” 

I don’t know what comes over me, but I’m suddenly pissed off.  So what if I did it for Jake?  What’s it to Davis?  And why did he have to ruin the amazing feeling by insinuating that I was planning to sleep with Jake?

Moving away toward the bathroom and away from his touch
, which I instantly miss, I throw back at him, “I shave every few days.  I don’t do it for anyone but me.”  I think I hear him whisper, “Too bad.” 

After changing
into my lounge pants and tank top, I grab an extra pillow and blanket from my bed and throw them at the now half-dressed man on my floor.  His shirt and belt are in a pile next to the door.  His chest and arms are surprisingly toned.  I realize I’ve only ever seen his forearms unclothed before. 
Wow, I could look at that chest all night.
There is a small tattoo on his upper chest on the side I can’t see.  I wonder what it says?  His eyes follow my every move, causing me to quickly avert mine.
 
I climb into my bed and then hang my face and one arm over.  Davis is arranging himself with the pillow and blanket.  It is not unpleasant to watch at all.  I push a pillow between my knees. 

“Just go to sleep, Mavis. Oh, and if you are going to puke, don’t do it on my floor.  Crawl over to the bathroom.  I left the toilet seat up.”

“First time a girl’s ever been cool with that.”  His comment makes me grin.  Smiling his scorching, smirky smile, he reaches his hand up to me.  I reach my hand down and can just barely touch his fingertips.  Wouldn’t you know it, even in that brief touch there is a charge of connection.  The electricity shoots right up my arm to my chest.

“Night, Davis.”

His arm falls back over his head.  “What’s your deal, Lizard Breath?  How come you go from hot to cold, shy to smart ass all the time?  Figuring you out is making me crazy.”  It’s a legitimate question.  I have to give him that.

I flip to my back, sighing and staring at the ceiling, “Don’t try, sweetie, I think I’m screwed up.”

“Sweetie” he repeats my term of endearment. “Me, too.”

Me, too?
  Like he agrees I’m screwed up or is he saying he is screwed up?  I lean back over the side of the bed and look down at Davis.  He’s rolled over onto his stomach, so I can’t see his hard, beautiful chest anymore. Although his back is pretty gorgeous to gaze at, too.  His face is turned toward me. He’s sound asleep with a small sad smile on his lips.  I’d like to watch him all night. 

***

I wake to sun streaming in through the sides of my blinds.  Not a clue what time it is, I roll over to see how my overnight guest is doing from a hangover perspective.

He’s not there.   I didn’t dream last night, too, did I?  As I begin to sit up in bed, I hear a key in the lock of my door.  Oh my god, who’s there?  Did I leave my key in the lock last n
ight?  I’ve done that before.  I was a bit preoccupied.  I sit upright and pull the covers up, even though I am wearing a tank top and lounge pants.  A disgustingly chipper, fully dressed Davis comes through the door and throws my keys on the desk.

“Mornin’ Lizard Breath.”  He has two large cups of coffee.

“Did you steal my keys?”

“I wouldn’t call it stealing, since I came back.  You were asleep.  Snoring like a baby hamster.”  He does his imitation of a baby hamster snoring.  Cute. “I couldn’t bear to wake you.”

Seeing that he’s brought coffee, I tell him, “I guess I forgive you.”

“I don’t know what came over me last night. I hardly ever get drunk.”

I tilt my head and shrug. “It wasn’t quite the evening I had anticipated, but it was fun.”

“You thought you’d be spending it primarily with Jake, huh?  Not babysitting a couple of drunks.”  He sounds down.  “How is Jake?”

“I’m sure he’s fine. I haven’t checked on him yet.”  I think I catch Davis grin. 

“He doesn’t know about this?”  Davis is gesturing
with his finger to the two of us and then around the room to the floor and bed.

“No, I don’t think he needs to know.  Since, really it was nothing and you passed out.”

His upbeat expression fades when I say the word “ nothing.” 

“Yeah, sorry about that.”  Davis FINALLY hands me a cup of coffee.  “Please accept this with my apologies.”  He teases and bows to me as if I’m royalty.  I inhale and take a sip.  It’s perfect.  He fixed it just the way I like it.
How did he know?  I make a little noise of appreciation.  Davis looks pleased.

I let him off the hook wit
h “THIS is definitely a start, “ as I lift my coffee cup in salute.

We both pause and look at each other.  I can feel tension building between us and then Davis seems to shake a thought off and completely changes courses.

“Hey, Lizard. I gotta go.  But before I do…”  He takes my iPod out of his pocket and moves toward me.  I am still sitting in my elevated bed.  Cupping my face, he runs both hand up my jawline and puts the ear buds in my ears.  He gently kisses my forehead. 

“I am really sorry,
Sweetie.”  He winks.  He’s repeating my term of endearment from last night. “Turn that on after I leave.”  Before he walks out the door, he turns, winks again, and says, “Have Fun.”

I prop myself back on the pillows and take a sip of my perfect coffee.  Turning on the iPod, I hear and see the song he’s cued u
p—Sorry by Buckcherry.  Oh, man. I think I’m in trouble.

***

I loll around in bed for another hour or so, chewing over last night and listening to more songs.  I get up and stretch and take a quick shower.  Not washing my hair, just plopping on my favorite black cadet cap, I leave my room and walk down the stairs to the second floor to check on Jake.

I knock softly on his door.  There is a thump from inside like someone falling out of bed.  The door opens slightly.  A portion of Jake’s face appears.  He looks rough.  His hair is totally jacked up.  I must have woken him.  He only opens the door a crack.

“Hi” I whisper gently in case his head hurts.

“Uh” is his only response.

“You hungover?”  I ask. 

“Yes.  I think I might still be a little drunk.”  He looks really bad and uncomfortable.

“Okay, I’ll talk to you later.  Text or call me if you need anything.”

“I think I just need to go back to bed.  Bye.”

It’s weird, Davis seemed so much more drunk than Jake last night, but Jake’s the one unable to get out of bed the next day.

Chapter 7: NOW-October into November

The semester is really amping up now.  Days are filled with classes, work at The Space getting ready for Othello, and once a week dinners with Charlie and Jake at China Garden.  It is kind of a new tradition started a few weeks ago.  They came by my room and asked me to go out to eat with them and it just caught on.  Another new activity I’ve started attending is Game Night in the Turrets.  Lawrence Dorm has these two turrets on the end. From outside they make the building look like a castle.  Inside, the turret feature results in two round rooms at the end of each hall.  They weren’t practical for dorm rooms I guess, so they became lounge areas.  The second floor, where Jake and Suzette live, started Game Nights.  These nights are now advertised around the dorms on flyers.  They consist of residents bringing their board games and snacks to the turrets and setting up tables to play.  Anyone can join.  It’s a fun, inexpensive night, perfect for college students.  It’s amazing how competitive some of the residents get about Mah-Jong.  Mah-Jong.  My grandma plays that game.  Sometimes there are even Game Afternoons on Sundays.

I am at The Space a lot.  Jake is rehearsing a lot.  The only time we seem to see each other is at lunch or if I stop by after work.  I
’ll text him on my walk back to the dorm.  If he’s home he generally tells me to stop by.  I don’t stay too long since it’s usually late.  My visits consist of listening to music, which Jake is very knowledgeable about, having a drink and making out.  I am learning more and more about Jazz and Classic Rock.  And the making out is pretty hot.  It’s lots of kissing and mashing, but never gets too intense.  If it ever does or Jake’s hands start straying into places I’m uncomfortable with, I stop it and say I have to get up early.  Jake never complains.  It’s so nice to not feel overwhelmed with the need to please or cave.  He is always sweet to me when I leave.  He could be just the guy I need.

Time spent at The Space is non-stop activity.  One day, near the end of Oc
tober, I’m heading into work when I spot Davis heading to his big, black SUV.  Its new, fancy.  The passenger compartment windows are blacked out.  A Cadillac, I think.  Much nicer than most college students have.  When he sees me he turns and I see under his black leather jacket he is wearing a white t-shirt that says in black letters, “It’s All Fun and Games Until Someone Posts the Video.”  I shake my head and laugh tightly.  It IS a funny shirt, but something about it makes me uneasy.

“Nice shirt.”
I manage to chirp out in an attempt to remain cool.

“It’s true.”

“Stop,” I say trying to push down the uneasy feeling, but remain joking. I put my hand up and wave it back and forth frantically. “I don’t want to know any more.”  That makes him laugh.

“What’s with the Escalade?” I ask, changing the subject to his car.

Davis looks down and stares at his feet.  He kicks something on the ground before answering.  “Uh…I need something I can haul things in.  I would have preferred a truck, but my mother has become a bit of a safety freak.  I think she would have been happiest if I drove a tank,” Davis laughs. “So the Escalade is a concession.  My dad scored it from a connection.  From a looks perspective, it makes my mom happy in a superficial way, too.”  The way he talked about his dad having a connection and the blacked out SUV, I joke to Davis that it sounds like his dad is in the Mafia. 

Davis’ only response is, “Nothing like that, Lizard,” before he drops the subject.

Davis tells me he’s going to the lighting supply store and invites me to go with him.  I am the only one manning the costume shop tonight, so I pause for a beat.  When he says we’ll be back in thirty minutes, I throw my bag in the front seat and hop in.  We haven’t gone very far when Davis’ cell rings.

“Hi, Babe.
How are you doing?”  A girl?  One of his many? Or his fiancée?  “On my way to pick up some lighting instruments with Biz.”  He’s told her about me?  “Yes, I am.  I told you I would be there. I’ve got it all planned out.  I miss you, too.  Okay, Babe.  I’ll call you later when we can talk more.  Mmmhmm, you too” He’s very sweet with her.  I wonder how he can be like that and also be the player I’ve heard he is.  I feel moderately uncomfortable listening to their conversation.  And a bit jealous.

The lighting supply store has Davis’ order ready when we arrive.  I don’t even get out of the car.  Davis runs in and comes out with two lights.  We are ba
ck to The Space in well under thirty minutes.  As I head to the costume shop I tell Davis, “Even though you ARE a total player, you seem like a very good fiancée. That was her, right?”

“Yes.” He sounds slightly annoyed because his “Yes” comes off like an “Of course.”

“She’s very lucky.  What’s her name?” I ask.

“Kathleen.”

“I hope she knows how lucky she is to have you.”

“
Even though, I’m a playah? “ He teases sarcastically.  “She’s a good girl.  She’s been with me through some bad times.  I think she is having a difficult time with me being so far away.  I won’t see her until Thanksgiving when I go to visit my Mom and Dad.”

Davis heads into The Space to give the lights to the crew
.  I go to check with the actors to see if there are any rehearsal costume pieces they need or have misplaced.

I finally get
to the costume shop to find a gorgeous, bare-chested Davis changing, pulling his black jeans over a pair of Stewie Griffin boxers.  His sense of humor constantly surprises me.  And his semi-undressed state has pushed thoughts of his fiancée right out of my head.  I’m pretty sure my jaw drops at his hotness.

“You have Stewie boxers?” 

“Yes, Yes, I do” He says in a Stewie voice.  “I think they are smashing.”

He continues to use the cartoon voice and tease me by calling me by all my different names, like Stewie does to Lois on Family Guy.  “Biz, Elizabeth, Bizzy, Lizard Breath…” until just like Lois, I say, “WHAT?”  He is obviously pleased
I know the joke.  He nudges me and says, “Hi,” like Stewie would.  Then gives me a big hug.  His arms sweep around my waist and while he pulls me in, I take in a big inhalation of the clean, manly Davis smell.  He strokes his thumbs up and down my lower back.  He begins to back away slightly from the embrace and look down at me.  I shift my gaze rapidly between his eyes and lips.

“What’s up in here?”  Jules has appeared in the doorway
.  I back away from Davis and out of his arms.  She is taking in the view that is Davis’ chest.

“Oh, we were
just messing around,” I evade. I’m trying to appear cool and not like I’m having the time of my life joking around and being swept up by this sexy, funny guy.

Davis slips on his black thermal
.  Right before he does, I finally get a look at the tattoo on his upper left chest.  In beautiful script that connects in one stroke, I read the name, COLE.  

He
says hi and bye to Jules, “See ya, Jules…..”  and then, stepping closer, lifting my chin with his index finger and gazing deeply into my eyes with his hypnotizing green ones, adds “Lizard… Have Fun,” in the Stewie voice.  Chuckling, he leaves us without looking back.  We both watch him walk out.  I’m sure Jules is checking out his ass.  I know I am.

Jules waits until she knows Davis has left the room
to turn on me, “Biz, he is into you.  So into you.”

“No he’s not, he’s just goofing off with me like a brother or a friend.”

“Uh, that is not brotherly or friendly.  Did you not pay attention when your Mom told you that boys tease you because they like you?”

“Boys, Jules, Boys.”

“Admit it, you like him.” Jules cajoles.

“He’s a
known player, Jules!”

She counters with, “It’s strange.  I don’t see as many girls hanging around Davis as there were this summer.  It looks like he stopping fooling around.”

“Whatever.  I just heard him talking to his fiancée.  He seemed really sincere. Maybe he’s changed.  Maybe he’s settling down.  If you must know, yes, I like him, but even if he’s not a player, he is ENGAGED.  The most we could ever be is friends. ”

“That is seriously too bad.  Y
ou guys are funny together.  He doesn’t look like he’s thinking about his fiancée when he’s talking to you.  You’d make a very hot couple.”

“
We’re friends.  I’m with Jake.”

“How’s that going?”

I describe to her how Jake is so even, after the roller coaster ride known as Neil.  Jake is definitely good looking.  He has a unique and sexy “old school jazz” way of dressing-fedoras, suit jackets.  More than that, he’s intellectually accessible.  Neil always made me feel inferior in that regard, talking about Kierkegaard and Buber all the time.  He could fucking rationalize any and all of his selfish behavior by quoting some philosopher or theory or belief, as long as it served his purpose.  At the time, I thought he was brilliant.  Now, I’m beginning to suspect he was a sociopath.  Utterly blameless in his own eyes for every hurtful thing he did to anyone. Including that woman who was carrying his child.  In the end, he destroyed my self-confidence and left me with little to laugh or find joy about in my life.

Jake i
s patient.  Our moments of mild sexual contact are slowly heating up at a pace I can control.  We are close to moving toward the next level.  Jake was……

Not Davis.

I like Jake. I am totally at ease around him, until the physical aspect gets too intense.  He doesn’t make me laugh and annoyingly, I don’t come alive like I do around Davis, but he’s sweet.  The electricity, the buzz I feel whenever Davis looks at me or was in any sort of proximity to me is not there with Jake.  It unnerves me and excites me simultaneously.  Emotional lines are getting blurry.  I know I like Jake, but I’m attracted in every way to Davis.  Davis is not mine to be attracted to.

***

As rehearsal is wraps up for the evening, Kris, who is stage managing the show, calls me into The Space on the PA system.  She tells me PJ needs my assistance and to bring my sewing kit.  When I get there Kris directs me to the actor playing Iago.  He is on the stage, standing off to one side talking to PJ.  PJ flounces up to me, puts his arm around my waist and directs me to the actor.  With a loud, “Girlfriend, help me!” he tells me that Iago has broken a fastener on his breeches.  The other actors are milling around, having just been given their notes.  Kris tells them to go change out of the costume pieces they were trialing in the partial dress rehearsal.  I kneel in front of the actor and examine the fastener that is no longer holding his breeches up.  It’s in front and a little off to the side.  The lights on the stage are changing to sultry and moody dark pinks and reds.  It’s not uncommon for the light crew to experiment with the lighting after a rehearsal, so I ignore it and go about my task.  I can hear the crew and Davis in the booth.  I realize I’ve forgotten my scissors, so after I reinforce the fastener, I can’t cut the thread.  Not thinking, I lean forward and bite the string with my teeth.  It doesn’t come loose.  At some point during this, the lighting has become even more “Strip Club” and the kind of  “Bow chicka wow wow” music that can be heard in a porn film starts blaring in The Space.  As I go in to bite the thread again, I hear riotous laughter.  PJ is bent over with both his hands on his knees, practically crying.  One of the laughs is Davis’.  Oh My GOD.  I realize what I am doing looks like I am giving the actor playing Iago a blow job.  I freeze.  Then in several quick moves, I look up at PJ and then the booth, grab my sewing supplies and run from The Space. 

Still cackling, PJ yells after me, “Bizzy, Girlfriend…don’t be mad.  It was a joke, sweetie.”

I hear Davis say loudly, “Oh, Shit.” And then reprimand everyone, “God Dammit, Guys!”