Darker Water (5 page)

“Today I got up, took a shower, and went to
work. I had lunch and kept working. Then I stopped working and came
here. Just like I do every night, because I need to get out and I
think interaction with people is important.” I shook my head
dismissively. “Even though I don’t really interact anymore. And
that
is my current life. Wanna give yours another shot?”

“I run the fundraising for the Bennett
Foundation.”

My mouth dropped open. The Bennett Foundation
raised money for families of hospitalized kids. “You’re such a
liar! You said you weren’t nice.”

“I’m not.”

“Anyone who works for a charity
has
to
be nice.”

“I thought you were referring to me in my
private life, not my professional one.”

“So you’re a saint during the day and a
sinner by night?”

“Besides saint going a
big
step too
far, I sometimes work at night.” He shrugged. “And I’d be happy to
sin during the day if you ask really nicely, but only when I’m not
working because the two should never, ever mix.” He paused. “You
now know my horrible secret. So how’d I do?”

“It was great. You should be really proud of
yourself—you didn’t stutter or explode or anything.”

He leaned forward and spoke conspiratorially.
“I’m new to this being-friends-with-someone-I-want–to-sleep-with
thing, so you’ll have to help me out. What happens now?”

“I’m not sure. I’m new to the
being-friends-with-someone-who-wants–to-sleep-with-me thing.”

“You’ve never had a heterosexual male
friend?”

“Of course I have.”

“Then you’re not new to it. He just didn’t
tell you.”

I touched my cheek as I felt it redden. “Do
you think eventually I’ll stop blushing every time you say
something?”

“I hope not. Would a friend tell you that
your blush shows him what you’ll look like after sex? Minus the
I-just-got-fucked hair.”

“No. A friend wouldn’t say that.”

“Then I think you’re going to have to do most
of the talking.”

Refocusing, I asked, “So you work for the
Bennett Foun—?” I squinted at him. “Bennett.” Carson… I’d seen his
ID yesterday, knew his last name. What were the chances?

He slumped back in his chair unhappily as he
watched me figure it out.

“Give me your wallet again,” I said.

“No.”

“Give it to me.”

“Only if you’re looking for a condom—yes,
it’s still there—and plan on going home with me right now—yes, I’ll
let you take advantage of our friendship…
this
time.”

“I couldn’t do that to you…this time.” I
waited with my palm out. “Fine, then remind me what your last name
is, friend.”

“It’s a common name. In fact, it’s used as a
first name
and
a last name because it’s so damn common.”

“True, although I can’t imagine everyone
named Bennett would look as uncomfortable as you do right now. So
you fundraise for your family’s foundation? You should be proud,
not embarrassed. Your dad started it, right?”

His brow tightened briefly. “No, it was setup
after he died. But it was his money.”

“Isn’t it depressing to think about sick kids
all day?”

“A lot of them get better.”

“I didn’t mean… I just mean it must be so
stressful.”

“The families have to live it 24/7. I only
have to think about it for around 10/7. Doesn’t seem as stressful
when you look at it like that. Plus, I enjoy various methods of
stress relief as often as I can. Not tonight, though, because I
have a rule about not sleeping with my friends. Granted, until now
they’ve all been men, so I’ve never even been tempted to break the
rule before.”

I could tell he changed the subject because
he didn’t want to talk about his family’s foundation or the kids.
Probably needing the division between his work and the rest of his
life—saint and sinner. It explained both, actually.

“Does my job make the fantasies you had about
me last night less exciting?”

“I didn’t fantasize about you, Carson.”
Complete lie.

“Really? That’s too bad. I fantasized about
you twice last night and once in the shower this morning.”

“Friends don’t say that kind of stuff.”

“Shit, you mean we’re not past that yet?”

We talked for a while, and the number of
innuendos he used dropped slightly. Eventually, I could look at him
without thinking about how attractive he was and focus on the fact
that he was completely at ease with himself and who he was, what he
wanted and didn’t want.

He said things so matter-of-factly that
nothing came off as cheesy or slimy. As if other people would have
the balls to say even
half
the things he did. As if he had
no desire to be charming or seductive, even when he was directly
propositioning me. I knew that when I said no, he didn’t take it
personally and if I said yes, he’d be one-hundred percent involved
in the sex and be able to walk away right afterward. Then, if we
saw each other again, he’d be exactly the same, no awkwardness or
embarrassment. Because he wouldn’t have anything invested—not
emotionally, anyway. He gave none of his power or control away. He
gave none of
himself
away.

That’s how I needed to be. Someone else
shouldn’t be able to change who I was or what I thought about
myself. Love wasn’t real, but sex sure was. Logically, I understood
sex didn’t equal love and that, just because I was done with
romantic relationships, I wouldn’t have to spend the rest of my
life with a plastic lover instead of a flesh-and-blood one. But I
didn’t know how to translate the intellectual to the psychological.
And Carson did.

It wasn’t something you could learn from a
book. If there was a way to learn from him without regressing, I
may have found a hysterical new friend
and
a hot new
teacher. And if I did it slowly enough, I’d see the cliff before I
stepped off it.

Of course, that was giving myself a lot of
credit for doing something I’d never shown any skill at. If I was
smart and just a tiny bit less curious, I would’ve walked out. But
it was easy to convince myself to stay. I’d never had a friend I
was so attracted to, and the men I’d been with never started out as
friends. So it wasn’t as if I’d gotten myself into another
unhealthy relationship. This might be a good test to see how much
I’d changed. First step would be hanging out with someone I was
incredibly attracted to without letting myself start reading into
everything he said or didn’t say and did or didn’t do.

I wasn’t even close to being ready for sex
yet—the rush of emotional adrenaline in the stairwell was proof of
that. There was a big chance Carson wouldn’t stick around until I
was, but I had nothing to lose. If I was honest with him.

“I’m not ready to sleep with anyone right
now,” I blurted. Smooth.

He sat back in his seat. “You already
mentioned that. Is this your way of telling me to fuck off?”

“Not at all. I just don’t want you to think
I’m leading you on. I’m not sure when I’ll be ready. It might not
be for a while. A really long while. Like, reeeeaaally long.”

“Good thing I didn’t show up naked then.” He
clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “If you want me
to go, I’m gone. But if you want me to stay or don’t give a shit
whether I stay or not, then I’m okay where I am.

“I don’t do things I don’t want to do or stay
somewhere I don’t want to be or behave the way someone else wants
me to. On their deathbed, I doubt anybody says, ‘I wish I’d let
more people control my life and force me to be someone I’m not.’ Do
you?”

“Probably not.”

“We already agreed to be friends, right?”

“Yeah.”

“And, currently, neither of us sleep with our
friends, right? No matter how badly we want to.”

“Right.”

“Then as long as you’re honest with me, I’ll
be honest with you. Actually, I’ll be honest with you even if
you’re not. Like if you lied about say…fantasizing about me, I
would still tell you I did.” He knew I had. Damn him. “I might even
tell you that fantasy-you is fucking wild and if we ever do have
sex, you have a lot to live up to.”

“If we ever have sex, I’ll show you how much
you underestimated real-me when you compared me to that fantasy
bitch.”

“Damn, I hope you’re not lying about
that.”

Me, too. We’d both have to wait and see.

The beginning of hour two marked the longest
continuous conversation I’d ever had with a woman I wanted to fuck.
It passed without any balloons or lightning bolts. I decided to
stick around just until I got bored. I didn’t get bored. I didn’t
even notice how long we’d been talking until an hour later, when
the café staff kicked us out.

I’d never had to wait for sex—fortunately,
women seemed to like the way I looked and there were more than
enough of them whose goals aligned with mine. I knew that because I
made sure things were clear from the get-go. I was offering one
night. If they wanted to take me up on it, fantastic. If not, both
of us walked away with no hard feelings.

And Lane was the exception because
why
exactly? Because I’d been so close, had a small taste of who she’d
be in bed, and I wanted more. Shit, I wanted all of it. Maybe it
was her damage that made her so interesting, I didn’t know. That I
enjoyed talking to her was an unexpected perk. But my rules were my
rules, and I wouldn’t—
couldn’t
—break them for anyone.

Outside the café, she paused before deciding
which way to go. I already knew she would choose the opposite
direction of my place. She figured it out a few seconds later.

The whole time we’d been talking, I could
tell she was battling herself, trying to decide if she could have
what she wanted. An easy answer for me, but Lane was different.
Supposedly, a woman worries a guy will think she’s a slut if she
fucks him before a certain day or something. That makes no sense.
The guy isn’t thinking anything other than, ‘Hallelujah, I’m
getting laid.’

People are people and everybody is fucked up.
Including Lane. But she was also unusual. What she’d said to Anna
showed she had claws, and she wasn’t into casual sex or being in a
relationship. Which meant some asshole had done a thorough job of
fucking with her head. Too bad. For all kinds of reasons.

“Why no relationships?” I asked.

She looked at me and laughed. “Kettle meet
pot.”

“I’m not judging, just curious. I know why
I
don’t do them, but I don’t know why you don’t.”

“You first this time. Did you have your heart
broken?”

“I don’t have a heart. Okay, technically I
have one but I… It wasn’t fair of me to ask. Sorry.”

“That’s twice you’ve apologized. I’m starting
to think you were lying about that.”

“What can I say?” I shrugged. “You bring the
pitiful out in me.”

“You’re not going to tell me, are you?”

I shoved my hands into my pockets. “Nope, and
that’s why it was unfair of me to ask.”

“Unfair, but honest.” She kept walking. “I’m
not good in relationships. I meant it when I told you I was cursed.
It’s like the Frog Prince but in reverse. I can take a really great
guy and transform him into a nightmare. A cheater, a liar, an
asshole, a deadbeat. Once I even turned a guy into a drug
addict.”

“Come on. You can’t seriously claim credit
for that.”

“You know that saying, about how if the same
thing keeps happening and you’re the only constant, chances are
you’re
the problem? That’s me. I’m the constant. I’m the
problem.”

I liked that she didn’t get emotional. Her
tone was serious without being whiny or melodramatic, as if she’d
thought about it a lot and was satisfied with the conclusion she
came to.

“Every relationship I’ve ever had ended when
I thought things were great and
he
thought things were done.
It sucks and it hurts and it involves a lot of self-pity, tears,
and fried food. Way too much fried food. No offense, but men aren’t
worth it.”

“I’d have to disagree with you to be
offended. You’re pretty young to be completely done with men,
though, don’t you think?”

She took a moment before she answered. “I’m
old enough to be done being lied to and manipulated and used. I
haven’t spent a lot of time thinking about what comes next. It
never occurred to me until my last breakup, but I’ve been part of a
couple since I was fifteen. Eight years with only minor breaks in
between. That’s kind of sad, don’t you think?”

I didn’t answer because I’d be sad being part
of a couple for eight
minutes
.

“Now I like being single,” she said. “At
least I know I’m not going to fuck
myself
over.” She smiled.
“And I guess… I guess if I decide to start something, I want to go
into it knowing exactly what it is and isn’t. Instead of being
blindsided. But, like I said, I haven’t actually thought about it a
lot, which is why I think I jumped the gun with you.” She made a
face. “I need to work up to sex with strangers. Baby steps,
right?”

Would I take her in baby steps? That would
require patience—something I didn’t have much of—and incredible
care, something I’d never tried. Because if I wasn’t careful with
her, I’d add to her damage, and I already liked her too much to do
that.

Fuck. What a waste of something that would’ve
been really, really fun.

“You’ve never had sex with someone you didn’t
love?” I asked, just to make absolutely sure it couldn’t work.

She shook her head. “No one I didn’t
think
I loved. But just because I know that love is bullshit
and all relationships are doomed doesn’t mean I want to be celibate
for the rest of my life. So eventually I’m going to have to do
something about it. I’m just afraid I’ll revert, turn someone else
into a frog, and get sex confused with love.”