Kiss in the Dark (6 page)

“Your roommate seems nice,” he said as they walked toward Boston’s apartment. Boston glanced at him quickly. Was he kidding? Sure, he’d only met Steph for a few minutes when he’d picked Boston up the week before for their zoo date—only spoken with her for another few minutes that morning when he’d picked her up for golf. But surely he hadn’t bought her act; surely he’d seen through her sweet little façade of perfection. Even Danielle’s brother had read Steph for what she really was, and he’d hardly even seen her. Still, most people bought Steph’s act—at least initially. Therefore, knowing she was tired and probably a little too sensitive, Boston just cut Logan some slack.

“Me too,” Boston said. He was going to kiss her good night! She could tell by the way his gaze lingered on her mouth. All at once, such a mess of conflicting emotions erupted in her stomach and chest that she wasn’t sure she could remain calm. She wanted him to kiss her—she really did! Yet she was way nervous too. Boston had kissed a few boys when she was a teenager and had a couple of steady boyfriends as an adult. But the first kiss always freaked her out—always! Before every first kiss, she would panic, start to wonder if she was a good enough kisser, if a guy would be disgusted with her once he’d kissed her for the first time. It was a weird, obsessive-compulsive behavior of sorts—a strange anxiety she couldn’t seem to beat.

As Logan moved closer to her—began to pull her to him, saying, “Good night, Boston”—her heart pounded like a kangaroo pent up in a barrel. She studied his face as he moved toward her. Surely the drop-dead gorgeous guy standing in front of her didn’t really mean to kiss
her
—not Boston Rhodes, the boring, auburn-haired girl who worked at Channel 7.

“Oh! You’re home!” Steph exclaimed, opening the apartment door at that very, very, very inopportune moment. Logan sighed with veiled exasperation, dropping his hands from Boston and stepping back.

Boston was furious, entirely vexed—she couldn’t even look at Steph! She wondered how long Steph had been standing at the window, waiting for Logan to bring Boston home so she could muff the whole thing up.

“My friend, Danielle,” Boston explained. Oh, she was so angry! She knew exactly what Steph was trying to do—trying to make it look like Boston had another man on the line.

“You better get in here and call her back,” Steph said. “It must really be important.” Steph then leaned against the doorframe and waited. She had no intention of retreating back into the apartment so that Logan and Boston could finish saying good night.

She watched him walk away, astounded that Steph had managed to ruin the moment—again. Boston had lost track of the fun, tender, or private moments Steph had ruined for her. Yep—she’d put up with Stephanie Crittendon for far too long.

“You’re a real piece of work,” Boston grumbled as she pushed past Steph to enter the apartment.

“It’s not my fault that he’s too shy to kiss you in front of me,” Steph said.

Boston went to the coffee table to retrieve her phone. She’d intentionally left it home. She’d been afraid Steph would spend the entire day texting or calling her, just to attempt to interrupt her time with Logan.

“Danielle called once, Steph,” Boston said. She held up her cell, displaying the missed call on its screen. “Once! And it was only twenty minutes ago!”

Steph shrugged. “Once, twice, or forty times…it was still irritating.”

Boston gritted her teeth. She wouldn’t be provoked further—wouldn’t let Steph engage her in the contentious argument she knew Steph Crittendon wanted to have.

“Well, Logan’s gone home, and I’ve got my cell if you need me for anything,” Boston said, heading back toward the door. She grimaced, irritated with herself for giving Steph the upper hand by telling her she had her cell if she needed anything.

“Where are you going?” Steph asked. “To Danielle’s, I suppose. I swear, I don’t know why you didn’t just move in with her in the first place. You’ve always liked her better than me. That’s been clear from the very beginning!”

How true that was! Still, Boston wouldn’t drop to Steph’s level—she just wouldn’t.

“But I’m guessing it’s not just Danielle you’re running off to see anymore, is it?” Steph continued as Boston grabbed her purse. “Remember, Boston…I saw Vance first! You can dream about him if you want to…but I’ll get him. You just watch me.”

Boston drew in a deep breath, attempting to calm her infuriated temper. She had to make it—endure a couple more weeks of Steph’s junk while she worked out a place to stay until Vance moved out and she could move in with Danielle.

“I’ll see you later, Steph,” Boston said through tightly clinched teeth.

With Steph angrily babbling on about how Boston was such a terrible friend and roommate, Boston hurried toward her car. It was late, and she was tired, but she just couldn’t endure Steph’s berating.

She started her car, grabbed a chocolate Tootsie Pop from the glove compartment, unwrapped it, and popped it in her mouth. The moment the flavor of the sucker flooded her mouth with the soothing taste of sweet confection, Boston sighed. As both her hands rested on the steering wheel, she leaned forward and rested her forehead against it too.

What a weekend! Boston tried to calm her frazzled nerves as she thought about what a chaotic whirlwind she’d endured at work the day before—how an evening at Danielle’s that was supposed to be her respite after a long week ended up with her and Stephanie at odds—with Danielle’s brother, a complete stranger, reading her like an open book. Sleep deprived and anxious, she’d somehow managed to have a great time in Logan’s company. But now—now Steph had vamped her again. Boston felt tears begin to well in her eyes. Why had she waited so long to move out? There was being nice, and there was being used—and Boston had certainly been used. She felt stupid and embarrassed and experienced a self-loathing and disgust she’d never known before.

As she inhaled a deep breath and backed out of her parking space, a tear escaped her eye and traveled over one cheek. Boston was “too nice”—Stephanie herself had always told her that. But how could someone be too nice? And what was wrong with being nice? Nothing! But why did it seem—of late, anyway—that nice people always finished last?

Yet as Boston drove toward Danielle’s—hoping Danielle wouldn’t mind her hanging out until late again—she shook her head. No! Stephanie was just mean, that was all. Danielle’s brother was right: Stephanie Crittendon was a poisonous friend, a poisonous person in many ways. She liked the term—poisonous friend. It was so perfectly descriptive. Poison was often something that killed people slowly. Sure, it could be quick and painless, but most of the time, being poisoned was a slow, tedious process—a process the victim was often unaware of until it was too late. That’s exactly what Stephanie had been to Boston—she could see it clearly. As, in an instant, her entire experience and friendship with Stephanie flashed through her mind, Boston could see that the relationship had been poisonous.

“She ought to have one of those yuck-face poison stickers glued to her forehead,” Boston grumbled. Of course, being too nice as Boston was, she immediately scolded herself for even thinking such a thing. Stephanie had baggage and issues just like everyone else on the face of the earth. It’s just that Boston had begun to realize Steph’s baggage and issues weren’t the kind she could healthily deal with any longer.

“But I’ve got a plan now,” she said, pulling the sucker out of her mouth for a moment. “Or, at least, I’ve got part of a plan.”

She could move in with Danielle in a month. It was like being lost in the desert and seeing a waiting oasis just ahead in the distance. Yet Steph had demanded Boston be out of the apartment in two weeks. Compound that with the fact Boston wasn’t sure she could even last two weeks in the apartment with Steph—she’d had to escape two nights in a row already—and her plan hit a brick wall.

She was sure Halle would let her bunk in with her until Danielle’s brother was in his own place, but Halle had three other roommates. Though Halle would welcome Boston with open arms, Boston wasn’t sure Halle’s roommates would. Kara would probably beg her to move in with her family too—she still lived at home. Kara’s parents would be hospitable enough, but Kara’s six other siblings were still living there. It would be a profound imposition on Kara’s family. Boston briefly wondered if Max had proposed to Kara while she’d been out golfing with Logan. Still, there had been no text or missed call from Kara on her cell, so she guessed not.

Other than Dempsey—and that was totally inappropriate and thus out of the question—Boston couldn’t think of one person she could impose on for two weeks to a month. As she often did, but for different reasons than she did now, Boston wished her parents hadn’t moved to Kansas. She wished they still lived in Oklahoma City, and not just because she needed a place to live for a while. She hadn’t told her mom about how awful Stephanie was. Boston’s mom got so wound up and worrisome when she knew one of her children was unhappy, but Boston still wished her mom was closer. She could really use her mom’s nurturing comfort and advice.

Pulling into Danielle’s apartment complex, Boston put the Tootsie Pop back in her mouth and parked her car. It was only ten p.m., and Boston was glad Danielle’s lights were still on. It would be a couple of hours before Steph settled down and went to bed. In that moment, Boston was more grateful than ever for Danielle’s unconditional friendship.

Oh sure, Danielle would say she still had never given enough to Boston to make up for what Boston had helped her through that first summer they’d met while working at the North Pole. But to this day, Boston didn’t even know what she’d helped Danielle through that summer. She just remembered Danielle crying every night—sobbing as she struggled to overcome the deep, emotional pain she was dealing with. She’d explained to Boston that it was something she couldn’t talk about—not specifically anyway—just that she was dealing with a terrible pain, the worst of her life. Boston had sat up with Danielle many, many nights that summer, simply to cry with her or encourage her that life was good and would brighten again someday.

Of course, Boston’s wild imagination had been on overdrive where the mystery of Danielle’s pain was concerned. At first she’d wondered if Danielle had broken up with a boyfriend. But it soon became apparent that whatever was causing her such misery was much more serious. Thus, Boston began to wonder if Danielle was terminally ill—or if she’d had a baby without being married and had to give it up for adoption—or if there were some sort of problem between her parents. All these things proved not to be the reason for Danielle’s pain, and Boston had quickly decided just to be Danielle’s friend, no matter what. The summer together, the shared emotions, had solidified their friendship, and Boston knew they would always be close—always.

Still, as she knocked on Danielle’s apartment door, she hoped she wasn’t asking too much of her friend.

Danielle opened the door and smiled. Giggling, she said, “Did you have another fight with Medusa?”

Boston sighed with relief, feeling as if she’d just returned home from some long misadventure. “There’s no way I’m going to last two more weeks with her,” Boston sighed.

“Well, quit dating hot guys, have somebody beat you with the ugly stick, and she might make it endurable for you,” Danielle teased as Boston entered the apartment.

“He’s out for a run,” Danielle said. “I swear that’s all he does—work and run, work and run. He won’t be back for a while…so feel free to tell me anything and everything!”

“And Steph opens the door and says, ‘Oh! You’re home,’ all innocent…and then proceeds to tell me that ‘Danny’ has been ringing my cell phone all day long!”