Match This! (The UnSocial Dater#1) (6 page)

“Babe,” he sighs. “I need to see you.”

I clear my throat, clearing the sleep as best I can. “Not a good idea.”

“Do your roommates know?”

“Of course not.” I whisper.

“I checked, they aren’t in any of my seminars.”

“Okay.”

“You’re going to tell them aren’t you?”

“Why? It’s not like it matters.”

“Don’t say that,” he sighs. “Don’t say we don’t matter.”

We
, he says we like it were a fact and not just an idea. “Owen, I’m not sure what you expect from me but-”

“Who hurt you? Who hurt you enough that you can’t let someone in?”

“No one.” I answer. “I’m going back to sleep, your secret’s safe with me.”

I hang up and for a minute I wonder why he would ask that. I wasn’t hurt. I am realistic about life, relationships,
love
, whatever the hell that is.

You see, none make sense logically and as much as I love to read, and escape into nonsensical dilemmas, living in a fairytale is not my… cup of tea.

****

Saturday he called me, four times. I sent all of them to voicemail, and my voicemail never gets checked. It’s like a deserted island. I mean why listen to a call? If you want to talk to the person, you call them back. If you don’t want to, you simply don’t.

The girls ask me to go out for a couple of drinks. They want to unwind, not get drunk.

I don’t want to go. I especially don’t want to go to The Lizard and chance running into him, no way.

“I heard there is a poetry slam, just off campus, we could go there,” Josie suggests.

She looks at me for longer than I am comfortable with and then gives me a sad smile.

“Why not The Lizard?” Cecilia whines.

“I want to go to the slam,” Josie says exerting herself for the very first time in the week and three days I have known her.

“Okay, fine.” Cecilia pouts.

****

We walk into the little café, and see a line going down the hall to the back.

“Is that it?” Cecilia asks, looking a little less pensive than she had the entire time it took to get here.

“I think so.” Josie smiles at her then me. “Exciting, huh?”

It is actually a good time. Once down the hall we came to a room with a small stage that was elevated a bit.

All three sides were surrounded by tables and chairs. The room was much bigger than I would have suspected.

Waitresses periodically make rounds and the three of us, drink wine, while we watch men, and woman stand on stage throwing words of love up in the air, kicking words, angry words around the room, and some heavy with sadness.

I can’t help but laugh when they snap instead of clap. It is pretty pretentious for the crowd we are surrounded by who wear socks with sandals and are supposed to not give a rats’ ass what people think about them.

I spend the majority of the time people watching, trying to figure these snappers out. Normally I wouldn’t care, but now, after three glasses of wine, these snappers got me thinking. Just who were they?

Modern day hippies? Bohemian alternative thinkers? Socialists? Hipsters?

Do they even know who they are or what they want to be?

Who gives a shit? Not me. I drink the rest of my glass of wine and hold the empty up to the waitress.

The clown on the stage ends his spew and everyone snaps. My filter...or lack thereof, has been poked by far too many glasses of wine to expect me not to react the way I want. So I clap. I clap, and I whistle, even though nothing he said made sense and boy do I get looks. So I hold my middle fingers high in the air.

“Let’s get going,” Cecilia says standing up.

“Why?” I laugh. “What are they gonna do?”

Josie laughs nervously and whispers, “They’re probably on pot.”

“On pot? I can see the headline now, ‘
Death by snappers and stoners’
,” I shake my head as I stand.

Josie looks mortified. Cecilia links her arm in mine, leans in and whispers, “The place reeks of incense and body odor.” She straightens and asks, “The Lizard,” with booming excitement.

“I really don’t feel up to it.” I answer almost feeling bad because hell, these two have both put up with me and still seem to want me around. Which is annoying when you want to be left alone. But like Darby, I didn’t think I had a chance in hell of them actually leaving me alone, so I make the decision here and now, not to be a bitch. Hell they walk out with me, they could have left me in there.

“Please,” Cecilia begs.

“I think you and Josie should go, have fun. I really don’t feel well.” I give them number 126 on my list of excuses.

“Are you sure?” Cecilia asks.

I look at Josie to see if she is truly okay with just her and Cecilia going. I owe her that for basically covering for me. I am pretty sure she suspects something is wrong with me, and I suspect she knows it’s Professor Michaels.

She seems okay.

“Positive.”

Cecilia flags down a cab, “Come on, we’ll get you back to the dorms first.”

“I can walk,” I say. They look at me like they now feel bad and that’s not what I’m going for. “Seriously, go, have fun. I’ll see you when you get back.”

****

I round the corner and start to cut through the yard when I see him, under the same tree I have sat all week when I am escaping in my drawing. He has on a knit cap, pulled down low. An army green parka and loose fitting jeans. He looks like a student, not an assistant professor. Wentworth Miller, hot.
Walk away
, I will myself. I look down and notice he also has on birks...with socks. I focus on how unsexy that is as I turn and walk away.

I walk faster when I see him out of my peripheral hurrying towards me.

“Damn it Katherine,” his voice booms in the darkness.

I stop and look around, no one else is in the yard.

“Are you insane?” I say as he gets closer.

“No. You and I need to chat.”

“No. You and I don’t need to —”

His hands grab my face and he pulls me harshly against him, then his soft lips cover mine.

A lump builds in my throat. How is it that I can stow all emotions and feelings so deep inside of me until his lips effortlessly cause them to rise up?

I pull away, “Don’t.”

“You are going to ruin everything Katherine. Every fucking thing I have worked for. You are going to destroy it.” He says in a voice that is full of anger, pain, and...heat.

I push his hands off my face. “You are going to do that all by yourself,” I pause, “Professor.”

“I haven’t slept in days, days Katherine Brun.”

“Maybe you should try some Nyquil,” I say as I turn to walk away.

“I need you.” His hand clasps mine and stops me. “Hell, I need to know what it is you plan to do. How will you ruin me?”

“I have no intention of ruining you,” I feel a tear spill down my cheek. “Just leave me alone.”

His eyes close shut and his face tenses. “You are. You are ruining me because I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“That’s on you. Now please, just leave me —”

“I can’t!” He yells and it frightens me. “Jesus, I’m not trying to scare you. Hell I don’t know what I’m doing but please, I am begging you, please give me an hour, a conversation.
Fuck!
You owe me that.”

“I don’t owe you —”

He pulls me into his arms, “I’m begging you Katherine. I need closure or I won’t be able to get through this semester. I can’t look at you sitting there knowing that you want me as much as I want you. We need each other. From the moment we met, we’ve needed each other.”

Never in my life have I had anyone talk to me like that. To say they wanted me, that they needed me, and have it seem so genuine that I can’t ignore it.

“Owen, I need and want you to leave. I need and want you to stop calling me, stop texting me, stop —.”

“Impossible.”

The smart thing to do when he started walking to the parking lot would have been to pull away and go to my dorm, but I didn’t.

He opens the door to his brown Chevy pickup and I don’t move.

He scrunches his eyes shut, “Please.”

I get in and he shuts the door.

Stupid girl.

He climbs in the driver’s side and says nothing. His chest is rising and falling, his knuckles are white as he grips the steering wheel while he drives off campus.

The drive is mere minutes but it seems like forever.

He pulls in the parking lot of his apartment building and I stay in the truck afraid to get out.

He opens the door, “Come on.”

Once inside his apartment he immediately shuts and locks the door. I fight myself not to take off my clothes.

He throws his coat off, then his hat. His brown hair is flat to his head. He runs his hands through it and pulls his shirt off.

He looks up as he is unbuttoning his pants and I force myself to look away.

“Katherine, clothes.”

I shake my head no and he drops his pants, steps out of them and walks towards me. He grabs my hands. “We won’t have sex okay; I just need to be close to you.”

I stand there like a complete idiot and allow him to pull my long-sleeved tee over my head and then he pulls my leggings down.

“Step out,” he whispers against my belly as he looks up at me.

I do.

He throws them to the side and slowly starts kissing me from my knee, up my leg, then my hip, my belly, my chest, my shoulder, my neck, my cheek.

His arousal is evident, I am sure mine is as well. I close my eyes when he looks into them.

“You didn’t tell them because you don’t want this to stop,” he whispers. “You didn’t tell them because you know what I said is true. You want me, you need me, Katherine. You didn’t go to my boss because you couldn’t stomach being the cause of me losing everything I have worked for. You didn’t do it because just like me, you are falling quickly in love with me.”

I shake my head, “No. I didn’t tell them or anyone because it doesn’t matter.”

“You being here right now, says I am right Katherine,” the way he says my name in a whisper makes me heat up.

“I have one year until I can leave here and guarantee myself a job as a professor anywhere in the country. Do you know what that means to me?”

“I suppose a lot.”

“It’s almost more important to me than anything else in this world. Do you know why I say almost anything, Katherine?”

“Air, water, food —.”

“And you. God help me I would walk away to be with you. I will if you tell me that’s the only way.”

“You know how stupid that is?” I ask as I step back. “How insane that is?” I almost yell.

“Illogical,” he nods. “I don’t like it. Not one bit, but fuck logic. I want you.”

I am stunned, shocked, confused and yes turned on.

I’ve heard lines before, boys will say anything they can to get down your pants. I learned this in the previous two years.

“I’m not a stupid freshman girl, who that kind of line works on, Owen.”

“You are not a stupid anything, Katherine. You are an old soul. A thinker. I bet you think fairytales are for princesses in storybooks. I did too, until you.”

“You think you have everything to lose here, so do I. I busted my ass to get here, I don’t need some boy to screw up my head.” I snap and go for my shirt.

He picks me up so we are eyeball to eyeball, “I’m not some stupid boy who needs to spew lines from romance novels to get a girl and you are not some stupid girl whose head could be messed with.”

He swings me around and cups my ass, my legs automatically grip around his waist.

“You and I can make this work. I trust you not to run your mouth and you can trust me to make sure, after this year, you and I can be together.”

“What makes you think-”

“For once in my life, I’m not worrying about what bomb will go off if I allow my heart to lead me. Please Katherine,” he nuzzles into my neck. “Do the same for me, for you, for us.”

It was clear from the night he showed up at Harvard yard, almost four months ago that he was willing to throw away his life’s work for...me?

The first three weeks we met Tuesdays and Thursdays. He said he needed to get his fill of me before he had to see me in class, and then after to show me how it made him feel to be that close to me without being able to touch me. To talk to me, to just be us. “No one between, no one else’s business, just us.”

It made me feel, special. It made me want to keep this secret with him. It was his and mine together.

The following month he needed me on Saturdays too. He helped me study and rewarded me for correct answers. I was rewarded, a lot.

Josie and Cecilia didn’t question Tuesdays and Thursdays. When we started seeing each other on Saturdays, I had to tell them I have a boyfriend. His name was Michael. I also had to promise Friday was girl’s night.

When I told him that he looked shocked, “Boyfriend?”

“That’s not what I meant, it was just so they —”

“No, Katherine, no, it’s okay. I mean that’s what I am. I just can’t wait until I can shout it in Harvard yard. I can’t wait to tell them all.”

He said he was falling in love with me. I said I was falling down the rabbit hole and he laughed.

He wanted to know about me. I told him what I could, he gave me no more than I gave him.

****

That next time I went to him, I started to undress at the door. He made me stop and took me back to the duck boats. It was cold that day. We were alone, except for the driver. He seemed anxious and I told him we should go back. We didn’t want to chance getting caught.

He stood up and smiled. Then he cupped his hands in front of his mouth and yelled, “I, Owen Michaels, am in love with Katherine Brun, and someday, a day too damn far away, I will show her off to the world.”

He sat down, giddy and smiling, “I love you Katherine.” I shook my head no and he laughed, “Yes and you love me too.”

I was confused, he was still giddy, when we went back to his apartment, he told me I tried to push people away. I had done it with him, and I did it in class with my peers. He told me I did it to hide the pain of losing my father. He said he knew this because he had done the same. His father had died in the Gulf war and he admitted to me he dove into books and women. Lots and lots of women. He was engaged three times because he wanted love so badly. Yet he never loved anyone, not until me. When he met me, he had promised not to force the fall ever again. With me he didn’t have to.