Finding Home (14 page)

His hand skimmed over her shoulder, slipping the strap of her tank top off then stroking down her chest.

When his palm cupped her breast, Megan abruptly realized how rapidly things were escalating. She pulled away from his urgent kiss.

“No. We can’t.” She pushed against his chest.

His eyes were dark and hungry as he stared at her. “It’s okay.”
“No, it’s really not.”

He sat back, letting go of her body, but capturing one of her hands in his to maintain contact. “We don’t have to have sex if you don’t want to. We could just make out for a while.”

Megan considered the possibility of several hours of sexual frustration without a resolution and knew if they started something here, it would end up with them in bed together. Besides, even the kissing was wrong, wrong, wrong. He was a juvenile in her care and no matter how much he acted like an adult and felt like a grown man in her arms, he wasn’t.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “This isn’t going to happen.” She took her hand from his and stood.

“You think I’m too young.” He gazed at her with cool appraising eyes, the unfocused look vanished. “But I know what I’m doing and what I want and I haven’t been a kid for a long time. It’s all right for us to fuck— or just kiss. Whichever. We can do as much or as little as you want, it’s up to you.”

That clinched it. When he baldly admitted that all choices were hers, she understood that while he might desire her, he was also subjugating himself to her needs. Once again, on some level, he was offering payment for all she’d done for him.

“I’m sorry. I don’t want to. It’s obvious we’re attracted to each other, but I don’t see any good coming of this. It’ll be better if we keep our friendship platonic.”

Megan couldn’t believe she was able to find the right words without stumbling and stuttering. Her calm, rational tone sounded just like her mother.

Sean sat another moment, searching her face. She couldn’t tell if he was pissed off, sexually frustrated or maybe even somewhat relieved. He stood and faced her, eyes leveled on hers. “Okay. Whatever. Your house, your rules.” he added with a shrug, then turned and walked toward the bathroom.

Megan realized she’d been shaking with tension only as it began to drain out of her, leaving her feeling weak and exhausted, like she’d successfully navigated a minefield. She sank back onto the couch, unwilling to trust her legs.

When Sean returned from the bathroom, his face was set in a neutral expression. He sat in one of the chairs, deliberately avoiding the couch, in a gesture which was pure adolescent resentment, but for which she was thankful, because it meant she was physically removed from him enough to be able to think clearly.

“Sean, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let this happen. I’m the adult here and…”

He turned his face toward her, still looking blank. “It’s okay. I understand. You don’t need to make up excuses.”

Megan frowned. “What do you mean? I’m telling you the truth. You’re too young, you’re supposed to be in my care, and it’s just—wrong.”

“And I’m a cheap street punk. A hustler. You don’t want to fuck a whore. I get it.” He turned away, and she wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake him. He would twist her words deliberately sometimes.

“No, you’re completely wrong. This has nothing to do with that. It’s about responsibility and you being a kid and me…”

“I told you, I’m not a fucking kid!” he spat out, staring at the television screen in front of him. “I’ve lived through shit you can barely imagine. If you were out on the street, I’d be the one looking after you. Give me a break, Megan.” His eyes pierced her like icy blue lasers. “You find me sexy, but you can’t face fucking me because of what I am.”

Megan balled her fists in frustration. She was already close to the snapping point, her nerves shot and her whole body tense with the denied anticipation of sex. She couldn’t quite tell whether Sean did it on purpose to annoy her, or whether he actually believed it. Maybe a bit of both.

“Stop it! You know it’s not that. I know what you did. I don’t care about that. But I don’t want to abuse my position. Maybe if we were on the streets, you’d look after me, but here, I’m the one in charge, and I don’t want you to think you can pay me back by having sex with me.”

Sean got up from his seat in one fluid movement and stepped toward her. He leaned over her, his hand on the arm of the couch, and stared straight into her eyes.

Megan’s pulse sped as she took in his proximity, the faint smell of soap and sweat, the warmth of his breath on her face and his hot, angry eyes.

“This isn’t about payback,” he said softly.

For a second, she thought he might kiss her again, and knew she wouldn’t have the strength to turn him away this time.

Megan stood and brushed past him to go to her room. “I’m sorry,” she repeated. It wasn’t until she reached her bedroom and shut the door behind her that she realized she’d been practically running.

Morning brought little relief. Megan woke earlier than usual, around six. The moment she opened her eyes, she remembered the kiss, the argument, and the tension that had taken over immediately afterwards. She lay in her bed, staring at the crack of light under her door. She could hear Sean moving around, treading softly down the corridor, the bathroom door shutting, and the distant noise of running water. Visions of him half-naked, getting dressed, crowded her mind, and she felt ashamed of the immediate rush of blood to her groin. Ever since Sean had moved in, Megan had had sex on the brain, like she was a mess of hormones, boy-crazy as a teenager.

But it had become ten times worse. In the back of her mind, she was still wrapped in the memory of that kiss and the feel of his hands on her throat, her back, at her waist. She closed her eyes again, and remembered his lips, his tongue, the hair on the back of his neck, so soft between her fingers, his heart beating steadily under her palm. She was appalled at how precisely she could recall every detail.

She got out of bed and pulled on some pajama bottoms as well as her robe before heading for the kitchen. Sean had already started the coffeemaker, and Megan popped a couple of slices of bread into the toaster. She wasn’t hungry, but it was easy to go through the motions, get a rhythm going before Sean came out and she had to face him.

He walked into the kitchen a few minutes later, pulling a T-shirt over his head. Megan got a glimpse of his flat, ridged stomach and looked away immediately, focusing on the coffee in her hand, the clock ticking above the fridge, the steady drip of the leaking faucet in the sink, anything that could distract her mind from the trail of hair on his abdomen, and where it led.

Sean stopped in his tracks when he saw her. Megan looked back at him, and for a second, she caught something in his eyes—surprise, or vulnerability, maybe—before his usual unreadable expression slammed into place. “You’re up early.”

“Good morning,” she said with forced good humor. “Yeah, I have something to finish, so I need the extra time. I poured you some black coffee. Two sugars, right?” She felt like a fake, going through all the motions of the good hostess, pretending they hadn’t crossed a line the previous evening.

He nodded and entered the kitchen, making sure there was plenty of space between them, and grabbed his cup.

Breakfast was awkward. Megan excused herself after half a slice of toast, eaten standing at the counter, and snuck into the bathroom for a long, hot shower. When she emerged toweling her hair, he’d gone, leaving a scribbled note on the kitchen table. Megan picked it up and squinted at his untidy scrawl.

“See you later. I’ll get dinner.”

She smiled as she crumpled the piece of paper in her fist. But she was relieved he’d gone.

ZY

They kept up a rigid politeness with one another over the next few days. On Friday evening as Megan watched CNN and Sean prepared dinner, the phone rang. Expecting it to be her mom, or maybe Sasha, Megan made no effort to get it before the machine kicked in.

It was James. “Hey Megan? Pick up, pick up, girl, I have a proposition for you, an offer you can’t refuse… C’mon Meg, you know you want it, baby…”

She scrambled over the couch toward the phone, acutely aware of Sean’s listening presence in the kitchen. She knew James was just playing around with his suggestive tone, but that was exactly how their relationship had slipped into its current state with the occasional fling when they were both at loose ends. They’d figured out early on they were a horrible couple, but great buddies, with some good chemistry. It seemed a shame to let it go entirely to waste.

“Hey, James,” she said, trying to sound normal.
“Hah! I knew it. You were just holding out on me, making me beg.” “Cut it out, you ass. What’s this about a date?”
“Well, I happen to be on the guest list for a kickass new club opening in West Hollywood, and I appear to be dateless. So I thought you and I could make a night of it. I’ll buy you dinner, too.”

Megan laughed. “You must be really desperate, then.”
“”Nothing’s too good for you, Megan. And it’s been too long since we’ve spent any quality time together.“ James’ voice dropped slightly on the last words, and Megan could hear what he left unsaid. It had been a while since their last hook-up, and right now, James was angling for a fuck. If she was honest with herself, the prospect of getting laid was quite alluring. After the unbearable sexual frustration of the past few days, maybe that was exactly what she needed.

“Quality time, huh?”
“Or if you prefer, it’s been a while since I’ve seen you naked.” She could practically hear his smirk.

“You sleazy bastard.”
“C’mon. You can tell me more about how you conned Rossi into letting you write. I’ll tell you all about the new demo we’ve put together with the band. And then, if you’re really lucky, I’ll take you home and force you to listen to it.”

Megan couldn’t help laughing. It was so simple to fall into line with James. “Promises, promises. I might just hold you to them. So what are you offering on the dinner front?”

“What about Beppe’s for old time’s sake? You can have the linguine you always get. Tell you what, you can even have the saltimbocca. I’ll spare no expense for you.”

“Wow. Have you won the lottery or something?”
“Hey, the last couple of gigs we did, we got paid almost decently, I’ll have you know. So? You in?”

Megan closed her eyes and thought it through for a second. Sean had been cooking for the past half-hour, but she was pretty sure he wouldn’t mind too much. Besides, she needed to get out of the house and escape the physical proximity, which was driving her crazy. All the brushing past each other in the too-small kitchen, the accidental touching of hands across the table, the polite ballet around the bathroom was getting unbearable. A night with James might not get rid of the tension altogether, but it wouldn’t hurt to get laid and try to exorcise the ghost.

“Sure,” she breathed out. “Meet you there?”
“Can you make it in…forty-five minutes? I’m starving.”
“See you then,” she agreed, and she hung up.

As Megan walked into the kitchen to tell Sean, she felt a stab of guilt. The oven was on and something bubbled behind the glass door. He was elbow-deep in suds at the sink, cleaning the utensils he’d cooked with, and the whole kitchen was filled with the aroma of whatever it was. Some dish which had taken him a while to prepare, enchiladas by the look of it. She felt like a bitch for not having checked before she agreed to go out.

“Um, Sean…”

He didn’t turn around. Something about the set of his shoulders made her think perhaps he’d heard enough of the conversation to figure out what was happening.

“Listen, I’m sorry but James called and…I’m going out for dinner. I’m really sorry. I mean, you did all this and…”

“It’s fine. No problem.” His voice sounded tight. Was he jealous?
“I’m the one missing out, by the look of it. Are those enchiladas?” She wanted to leave on a positive note, make sure they were okay.

“Yeah. And I can probably finish them on my own. No waste.” Sean took his hands out of the sink and pulled the plug. He dried them methodically on a dishtowel before finally turning around to face her.

As their eyes met, Megan realized with a jolt he was in no doubt as to the nature of her planned evening. There was a hint of mockery, and maybe anger, in his stare, as if he could see right through her. She blushed, again. Something about Sean triggered immediate physical responses in her, and that feeling of not being in control of her body in his presence was perhaps the most disturbing thing about having him around. It was definitely time to leave the house.

She dressed for clubbing in low-slung, wide-legged black jeans and a cropped, designer T-shirt which showed off her bellybutton piercing, and swapped her nose stud for the ornate Thai ring she’d worn on her trips to Santa Monica Boulevard. With the lipstick and smoky eyeliner she rarely wore, Megan felt she looked the part.

As she gathered her keys and checked her make-up in the mirror by the door, Sean walked out of the kitchen, his mouth still full of enchilada. His eyes widened slightly at the sight of her, and Megan noted with satisfaction that his gaze lingered on the slice of skin that showed between her top and jeans. But when he looked back up at her face, his eyes were flat and blank again.

“Have a good time,” he muttered through the mouthful of food. “Don’t wait up for me.” She hesitated for a second. “I, um, might not be back tonight.”

His complete lack of reaction showed he’d already considered that. Megan felt like a slut, but shook off the guilt. She had every right to an evening out, spent however she chose to spend it. But she still felt really uncomfortable as she closed the front door and headed for the stairs.

ZY

As soon as she walked into the dimly-lit restaurant, she spotted James, sitting at the back of the room, drumming his fingers on the tablecloth. He was chronically incapable of sitting still, and composed songs in his spare moments. Megan swore he could spend entire evenings listening to the music in his head rather than the conversation around him.

She crossed over to his table and stood looking down at him for a couple of seconds before James noticed her presence.