Never Say Never (14 page)

I munched hungrily on the pretzels, remembering that I hadn’t bothered with dinner. “She actually came in here alone?” I couldn’t believe it.

“Yep. She sat right there.” She pointed to the stool next to mine. ‘We had a good talk, actually. I like her.” I dropped my voice, unreasonably distrustful. “What do you mean, you like her.”

She flashed me a dirty look. “Don’t be paranoid.” She planted a pretzel in my mouth. “She cares about you.”

“Sure she does.” I was sarcastic. “Did she tell you what I said to her?”

Michelle leaned forward on her elbows. “Why don’t you tell me what happened.”

Gratefully, I poured out the whole story in detail. From the day I’d first met Sara up until earlier that night. Michelle was careful not to interrupt, letting me rant and rave until I fully exhausted myself and finished the story. Her smile was sweet and reassuring when I finished. She didn’t look at all surprised by anything I’d said.

“I think you should be honest with her, Leslie. Give her a chance.”

I looked at her closely, really seeing her for the first time that night. “Thanks for listening. It wasn’t very fair of me to dump all of this on you.”

She leaned over a little closer, her smile sincere. “It’s okay. You know that.” She held my hand. “I hate to see you so unhappy.” She tilted her head back, and her eyes focused on a spot above my head. She grinned mischievously, and I couldn’t figure out why until I felt a pair of hands drop lightly down on my shoulders.

I jumped, knowing that it was Sara who held me firmly in place. “Why do I feel like I’ve been ambushed?” I directed the question to Michelle. “Traitor.”

Michelle squeezed my hand before laughing innocently and holding up both hands. “Hey. I just work here.” She inclined her head toward Sara. “Have a seat. I have customers to serve.” She disappeared to the other end of the bar, and I was left staring straight ahead, trying to look fascinated by the bottles of liquor that lined the wall.
Trapped.

I could feel Sara’s hesitation as she lifted her hands and settled into the stool beside me. She dropped several bills on the counter before swiveling to face me, her knees pressing against my thigh.

I tried not to pull away, and she didn’t bother to move them.

I sipped my wine while I steadied myself. “I thought you were going back to Boston,” I said as quietly as I could above the music.

“This is where I want to be.” She tapped the counter, then let her hands fall to her lap. My fingers wrapped around my glass, and I turned my head so I could face her squarely.

“I’m glad you’re here. That you decided to stay.” I swallowed my pride, thankful for the opportunity to try to make things right.

“I didn’t mean what I said back at the hotel. I wish I could take it all back.” I shook my head, unable to explain myself, unable to be completely honest. I focused on my drink, sipping it slowly before turning back to her cautiously. “Why did you stay?” She chose her words carefully. “On my way to the airport, I thought about what you’d said. The part about being involved with Michelle because it was safe.” She paused before continuing.

“It struck me that I’ve been doing just that for most of my life. Playing it safe, that is.” She smiled wryly. “Then I thought about the way you jumped down my throat when I told you that I was jealous of that kiss. Is it possible that maybe you were just trying to push me away?” She watched my reaction carefully. “Am I close?”

“Closer than I’d probably like to admit,” I mumbled.

She grinned at my words. “I’ve gone about this all wrong. I’ve been teasing you and trying to get your attention in all the wrong ways.” I looked away, and she touched my knee, prompting me to look at her, to listen to what she was saying. “Especially after you told me about Julie. I should have known that you would be defensive.”

I took another sip and averted my eyes. This time she touched my hand, her fingertips lingering over my wrist. She dipped her head down a bit, her eyes completely focused on mine. Dark.

Serious. Riveting. She drew her hand away, slowly, content that she had my full attention. Even in the darkness of the room, I could see her nervousness.

“I should never have played with you like that. But I didn’t know how to tell you.” Her mouth had difficulty forming the words; her lips twitched ever so slightly as she forced herself to go on. “I have feelings for you, Leslie. Feelings that I don’t know what to do with.”

My eyes squinted as I felt her fear. I opened my mouth to say something, but she rushed on. “I’ve been hoping that you might feel the same way. That’s why I came here tonight. To find out. If you don’t feel anything, you can tell me. Just please don’t be nasty about it, okay?”

Relief swept through me, fear gave way to hope, and hope became a slow warmth uncurling inside of me. I watched her skeptically, not trusting my ears. I recognized the stress around her eyes, the tension that was pulling at the corners of her mouth as she braced herself for my reply.

“It’s not just you.” I swallowed hard, feeling the need to speak cautiously. “I’ve been fighting feelings for you for a long time.” I watched as the heavy burden was lifted from her shoulders. Her features began to relax.

“You have?”

I nodded, feeling inadequate, not knowing what to say. I closed my eyes. “I’m not very good at this. It isn’t easy for me.” She leaned in closer, so that her breath was on my cheek.

“What makes you think this is so easy for me?” The words got through to me.

“You don’t do this every day?” It was my turn to smile wryly.

“Not if I can help it.” She sipped her wine, and we were silent, neither of us knowing where to begin. “The question is, what do we do about it?”

“Actually, I decided a long time ago not to do anything about it.”

Her eyes grew dark. “Is that what you still want to do?” A sudden chill claimed my spine as I entertained the notion of lying. It wasn’t too late. I could still get out. “No.” The word burst from my throat before I could catch it. “That’s not what I want.”

A smile sneaked into those eyes. “Good. I don’t either.” She looked relieved and hesitant all at once.

I was silent as we sipped our wine, taking the opportunity to digest her words, internalizing that everything had changed. And yet nothing had. It was a start, an open door. I decided to push aside the doubts that I knew would come. They could wait.

“So what do we do now?” My nerves were frazzled.

She reached out and wrapped a hand around my wrist. “We dance.”

“Are you kidding?” I pulled away involuntarily.

She laughed and tugged on my arm. “I’m serious. Come on. This is the only song I’ve known all night.” I listened for a moment, recognizing Donna Summer’s voice, and I was instantly aghast. “I can’t dance with you to ‘Love to Love You, Baby.’ “Again I pulled back, which only made her laugh harder.

“Yes, you can.” She stood up, encouraging me to follow.

My eyes flew to Michelle, begging her to come to my rescue.

But she was chatting with one of the waiters, oblivious to my predicament.

With a groan, I let Sara lead me through the maze of tables and out on the dance floor. She didn’t release my wrist until we were surrounded by other couples. I avoided her gaze as my eyes fell from couple to couple, noting how bodies were pressing against other bodies. Panic rose in my throat, and my feet were rooted to the floor.

“I can’t dance to this song,” I called above the music. She stepped to one side and I followed as the song began blessedly fading out.

“You’re in luck,” she laughed. I prayed silently for a faster song that I might know, one that I could get lost in and lose my self-consciousness. I strained to catch the first bars of the next song, my heart sinking when I recognized the beginning of a soft, sultry love song.

My eyes flew to hers. “Should we sit down?” She laughed and tugged on the sleeve of my sweater. “No. I want to dance.”

“To this?” Other couples began to wrap their arms about each other, their bodies coming together.

“Relax. I don’t bite.” She was smiling as she held out both hands. Hesitating, I looked from the outstretched hands to her face, searching her eyes, not believing what was happening.

Surely she’ll pull the rug out from under me any moment.
Her smile began to falter, her brow furrowing with uncertainty.

The music swelled and a sigh escaped me as I leaned forward.

“You realize, of course, that this requires my touching you.”

“I would hope so,” she chuckled and held her hands out a little higher, waiting for me to meet them. I lifted leaden arms, finding her hands with mine, pausing to relish the small pleasure. The fingers of my right hand entwined her left. I stepped closer as our clasped hands came to rest behind her back, settling just below her waist. My other hand fell to her hip, her palm smoothing up my arm to rest on my shoulder. We began to move, slowly, awkwardly. I concentrated on the dancing, trying to find her rhythm.

“Is this okay?” Her voice was foreign, small, weak, unsure. I tilted my head back to search her eyes. No longer playful, they were talking to me, silently anxious, betraying her nervousness.

I forgot my own fears and squeezed the hand that rested in mine.

“It’s okay,” I said simply, softly, knowing that my expression probably told her far more than words. She relaxed with a heavy sigh. Her hand left my shoulder and dropped to wrap around my waist as she stepped closer, pressing her full length against mine.

My entire body shuddered involuntarily, and I closed my eyes.

Giving up, giving in. I put my arm around her back; my hand reached up to touch the curls at the nape of her neck. I turned my face in to her throat and breathed deeply, reveling in her scent, in the perfect fit of our bodies, pressed tightly and moving slowly.

It felt nice, holding her that way, twisting my fingers in her hair, moving dreamily, letting the music swell inside me. Wondering if she could possibly be feeling even a hint of the same.

Too soon the song ended, and the
thump, thump, thump
of a heavy bass obliterated the sweetness of what it had replaced.

We stopped moving and embraced. We lingered, hugged, reluctantly released. We separated and stepped back, awkwardly appraising each other. I didn’t mind that she wasn’t smiling. Her long smoldering stare said enough. She swallowed hard, and I grinned tentatively, reaching for her hand. Without a word, I led her back through the throngs of people now on the dance floor and headed back to our bar stools.

Michelle was immediately in attendance, laughing and joking and quickly refilling drinks as a group of her friends gathered around us. I wondered if she was aware of what was going on between Sara and me. If she was, she didn’t show it, except that perhaps she touched me less often and less intimately. I was at a loss for words with Sara, so I was grateful for the forced distraction of Michelle’s friends. Sara didn’t ask me to dance again, and in fact didn’t talk to me much as we chatted with the others. But I was aware of the occasional hand that would drop on my arm, and the knee that resumed its pressure against my thigh.

It was nearly midnight when Sara leaned over, her breath on my neck as she whispered in my ear. “You know, I think I’m going to need a ride back to the hotel.”

I regarded her closely for a moment. “That’s right. You took a cab here, didn’t you?”

She nodded. “I don’t suppose I could catch a ride back with you?” Her dark head tipped to one side. “Unless that would spoil your plans for the evening?”

My heart jumped, my eyes flying to Michelle and then back to Sara. The whole situation felt so awkward. “I’m sure Michelle will understand,” I said evenly.” Are you ready to go soon?”

“Ready when you are.”

I nodded, definitely ready, and caught Michelle’s hand as she wandered by. A moment of guilt touched me as I stammered.

“I’m going to give Sara a ride back to the hotel,” I told her.

She looked from me to Sara, then back again. I thought for a moment that she might ask to see me later, but she didn’t. She just smiled and reached down to grab something, then ducked under the bar to join us on our side. She held Sara’s overnight bag and jacket in one hand. I stood up to accept her bear hug, feeling awkward, knowing that it was a different kind of hug altogether from what I was used to getting from her. She squeezed me tight, holding on.

“I hope this works out for you,” she whispered.

Sadness and confusion filled me. Things were moving too fast, too far out of control. “Whoa. Wait a minute —” She silenced me with a quick kiss on the cheek. “We had an understanding, remember? It’s okay. Call me.” She gave me a meaningful stare and turned to Sara, placing the bag in one hand and grabbing up the other in both of hers.

“Thank you.” Those were the only words I heard Sara say before Michelle gave her a hug as well. I watched Sara’s face as Michelle hugged her and whispered something in her ear. My mind was reeling, not quite believing what was happening. I watched Sara nod as Michelle stepped back, and told myself that I would call Michelle tomorrow.

“I won’t,” was all Sara said.

Michelle turned and smiled, squeezing my arm as she dipped back down and under the bar. She waved briefly before turning back to her friends, and Sara and I began making our way to the exit. Silence settled over us once we were outside. The gravel of the parking lot crunched beneath my sneakers as we walked side by side, our shoulders occasionally brushing.

My thoughts were still on Michelle. “What did Michelle say to you back there?” I asked as we reached the car.

She looked at me as I unlocked the passenger door. “I don’t think I want to tell you that right how. Maybe later.” I said I understood, thinking that I probably didn’t want to tell her what Michelle had said to me, either.

The radio blared to life when I started the engine, causing me to jump and quickly turn the noise off. “Sorry.” I looked at her, chagrined. “I was in a foul mood driving here.” Sara turned in her seat, shyly reaching out and lifting my hand from the steering wheel. I watched her bring it to her lap and hold it, her head bent as she traced my palm with one finger.