Derrick grabbed her arm, concern evident on his face. “Hey, you okay? You don’t look so good.”
“I’m fine.” It’s all a big weird coincidence. That’s all. “I ... it ... that margarita was more than I’m used to.” Swallowing hard, she pasted a grin on her face. “What happened to her? The bookworm, I mean?”
“Don’t know. I’ve always wondered. You sure you’re okay? You look a little green.”
“Yeah. Give me a minute.” Cat clutched her arms around her stomach. Maybe it was roiling on account of the margarita, not the oddness of the situation. Except this guy was exactly like the one in her story, though that was impossible. She wanted to throw up. What was going on?
A voice broke in from behind him.
“Hey, sexy. How are you?” A woman pressed her enormous breasts against Derrick’s arm. She had her blonde hair up in a ponytail and wore shorts and a close-fitting shirt that accentuated the leanness of her body.
“Hey, Candy, great. You?” Derrick answered. He took a small step back, which Cat noted with satisfaction.
Candy? Her name was Candy? Cat’s skin rankled at the woman’s manner—those boobs had to be fake—although she was grateful for the interruption. She needed time to pull herself together.
Candy was somewhere in her thirties, probably similar to Cat’s age. One could see the beginnings of lines across her forehead and around her eyes, but she was still stunningly beautiful.
Candy inspected Cat for a moment, challenge radiating from her eyes, and then turned all smiles for Derrick. “Better now.”
“It’s been a while. How’s Joe?”
“No clue about that asshole. We got divorced six months ago.”
“Sorry to hear that,” Derrick said, frowning. He settled his arm around Cat’s shoulders. “Hey, this is my date, Cat.”
“Hi, Candy,” Cat said with a politeness she didn’t feel. Derrick’s arm felt heavy across her neck, but she appreciated him setting a clear boundary with Candy.
“Yeah, hi,” Candy bit out. She made one last attempt with Derrick. “Can I get you a beer or anything?”
“Nah, I better not. Gotta drive Cat home later.”
Candy walked away without a further word to either of them.
“There’s some history there, I presume?” Cat said.
“Not really. We dated for a month in high school, but that was it. She dumped me for Joe, actually, sophomore year.”
“Guess she’s reconsidering that now.”
Derrick laughed. “You jealous?”
Cat clenched her teeth. She wasn’t. She’d just never liked women like Candy; women who made her feel as if she couldn’t compete.
“You’ve got nothing to worry about. You’re the only one here I want to be with.” He lowered his eyelids, piercing her with an unmistakably sultry gaze. “You’re who I’m supposed to be with.”
Cat giggled awkwardly. How was she supposed to respond to that? She had no experience in dealing with cheesy come-ons, which was exactly what that was.
Another slow song came on, and he moved in closer, lacing his arms around her waist. He set his forehead against hers, leaving his mouth inches from her own. Cat cast a surreptitious glance around. Candy and a number of other women glared at her from near the bar. How strange it felt to be with the most desired man in the room and to have him focused solely on her. It was exciting, but also uncomfortable. It felt wrong.
“I’m sorry, Derrick, but I need to get home. I, um, have an early morning tomorrow.”
He frowned. “Did I do something?”
“No, no, it’s me. Not you. My stomach’s still a little upset.” That was the truth, at least.
“Okay, then. Let me say goodbye to the guys.”
He crossed the room, exchanging a few words with a number of people as he went. Her insides still roiled. It was a coincidence, all of those similarities. It had to be. She chewed the inside of her cheek as he walked back toward her. What else could explain it?
The radio eased the tension on the way home. Derrick hummed along to the songs, apparently fine with Cat’s silence. Occasionally he’d glance over and flash her a grin.
When he pulled into the driveway next to the bookstore, he turned toward her with a soft smile. “I had fun with you tonight.”
“Thanks. I had a good time, too.” Well, kind of. Except for the part when you ignored me at dinner. And, well, the part where I freaked out about the old girlfriend-coincidence thing.
Derrick reached over and stroked her hair. “I don’t know what it is about you, Cat. To be honest, you’re not the kind of girl I normally go for. But I feel so pulled toward you.”
Before she could answer, he leaned in and kissed her. She didn’t break it off. It felt nice to be wanted. It’d been a long, long time.
After a minute or so, he stopped, breathing heavily. “Can I come in?”
Cat trapped her lip with her teeth. He was a nice guy. Certainly attractive. And her hormones were sparking in a way they hadn’t in years. Casual sex had never been her thing, though.
“I’m sorry, Derrick. I have a three-date minimum before I invite anybody in.” Most women probably jumped in bed with him the first chance they got. “And I’m really not feeling well.”
Disappointment cooled his eyes, but he nodded. “Guess I’ll have to hope for more dates, then, huh?”
“I guess so. Good night.” She reached for the car door handle.
“Let me get that.” Hopping out of the car, he ran around to open the door for her. “I know you think I was being chivalrous, but that was really just an excuse to do this.” He pulled her against him as he kissed her aggressively. He kept his arms loose, though, letting her know she could break out of them at any time.
Cat pushed away after a few seconds, desperate to keep from changing her mind. “Good night, Derrick.”
He gave her that cheeky grin again. “Call me Ricky. All my friends do. When they’re not calling me Gibson, at least.”
Cat’s eyes widened as the blood drained from her face.
He frowned. “You okay?”
“Yes ... margarita ... sorry.” Turning on her heel, she fled up the stairs.
“I’ll call you,” Derrick yelled, as she fumbled to unlock the door. She gave him a meager wave—it was the best she could manage—grateful when the door opened.
She ran to the toilet, her stomach heaving. She sat there for a few moments, the coldness of the bathroom tile seeping through her thin skirt. Breathing deeply and slowly, she worked to corral her spinning thoughts.
Light snoring coming from the next room meant Eliza was already sleeping. Should she wake her up?
And tell her what? That the guy in the story had come to life? A harsh snort of laughter erupted from her nose. She rose, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror as she did. She stood there, staring at her bloodshot eyes, her paler- than-usual skin. It figured. She’d finally worked up the nerve to go on a date after six years, and this happened. Whatever this was. She groaned, covering her eyes with her hand.
A meow at her feet startled her.
“Oh, Elvis.” She scooped up the cat, carrying him with her into her room. “Everything will make more sense in the morning, right?”
The cat purred and settled down in his usual spot on the covers.
She shed her clothes and climbed into bed with him, one thought resonating over and over as she drifted off.
That’s all they were, right? Coincidences?
The next morning, Cat sat on the sofa, waiting for Eliza to wake up. She hadn’t slept well and her eyes were heavy with exhaustion. Images of Derrick and story pages and her high school self had woven themselves through her dreams. The medieval manuscript had been in there, too, for some reason.
When would Jill be able to scan it? She’d taken it over to UVA’s Rare Books department yesterday morning, but Jill had warned her it would take a bit to get to it since there was a backlog because of some ancient medical treatise they were working on.
Cat was anxious to get back to translating it. Anything to get her mind off the bizarre coincidences of the previous evening.
When Eliza finally plodded out of her room, Cat heaved a heavy sigh.
“Was it that bad?” Eliza’s eyebrows went up. “Yes. And no. You need to sit down.”
Eliza stopped. “Can I get breakfast first?”
“Sure. But bring it in here.”
A few minutes later, Eliza settled herself next to her friend, munching on cereal. “What’s up?”
“You’re not going to believe it.” Cat skipped over the first part of the date, jumping right to the story Derrick had told her about his high school girlfriend. “Her name was Abby, Eliza. Abby. He works on cars. His friends call him Ricky.”
Eliza said nothing for a bit, holding her bowl of cereal on her lap. “Yeah, that is weird,” she finally conceded. “But you said the guy was a local, right?”
“Yeah, so?”
“Maybe you knew him in high school.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“Why not? I’m sure there were stories in the paper about his athletic achievements, him being a star quarterback and all. And maybe you heard other details from friends or something.”
“Oh, come on. You have to admit the details are uncanny.” Was it possible? Could she have heard about Derrick/Ricky back then, and spun a story about a guy like him? Wouldn’t she have remembered? On the other hand, she hadn’t even remembered she’d written stories until they’d shown up in that box.
“Yeah. But I can’t think of a better explanation. Can you?”
“Nope.” Cat clutched her forehead with her hands.
Eliza stood up. “I’m ready for coffee. How about you?” She carried her bowl into the kitchen.
“God, yes,” Cat said, standing up herself. She yawned. “It’s the only thing that’s going to get me through the day.”
“Once we’re over there, I want to hear more about this date. And not the kooky stuff. The intimate stuff. Details, baby.”
“Who says there’s intimate stuff?”
“I was merely hoping, but the color on your cheeks tells me I’m right,” Eliza teased. She sprinted into her bedroom, closing the door seconds before the sofa pillow hit it.