*We spend the rest of the day and much of the night making love.
The following morning, he tells me he’d like to go back to his apartment to grab a few things. When he rushed over on Friday night, he hadn’t anticipated staying all weekend.
“Come with me,” he says. “We’ll grab some food.”
The food is only a pretense, I know. I can see it in his eyes. He’s afraid, like me, that the minute we step back into the real world, everything will come crashing down around us. The minute we part, we’ll start thinking about all of the things that might push us apart again.
I agree to go with him, of course. I’m not ready for the spell to be broken just yet.
I sense that something’s off the minute we reach Calder’s building. Calder does too, judging by the way he glances around the parking lot. He grabs my hand as we step out of the car, but the gesture feels more protective than affectionate.
We’re halfway to the building when I see the man with the camera. He was waiting behind a car, but he rushes forward as we pass.
“Mr. Cunningham!” he says, snapping pictures even as he runs after us.
There are others, too. They come at us from all angles.
“Calder! Just a few questions!”
“Can you comment on the allegations against your father?”
“How much did you know about your family’s activities?”
Calder’s hand tightens on mine. They’re blocking the way to the stairs, closing us in with every step.
Someone shoves a digital recorder beneath my face.
“Who are you? How did you meet Calder?”
Suddenly they’re all clamoring at me.
“Are you two dating?”
“What do you think of his father’s behavior?”
“Did he hide his family’s situation from you?”
Calder tugs me back against him.
“Leave her out of this,” he says. “Leave us the hell alone.”
His words don’t faze them.
Calder still has my hand, and he turns and pulls me back across the parking lot. We break into a run, but by the time we reach his car, many of the photographers and reporters have made it to their own vehicles.
“They’re going to try and follow us,” Calder mutters.
He’s right. Even as he jets out of the space, they’re in pursuit.
“Forgive me,” he says, right before he slams the car into gear.
We squeal out of the lot. Calder drives like a maniac, racing down the streets and taking corners so quickly I fall against him more than once. I turn and watch out of the back window, keeping my eye on the cars that weave through the traffic after us. A few of the vehicles actually manage to keep pace for some distance, but Calder loses them one by one. Still, we’re halfway out of the city before the last one gets caught at a red light and we make our grand escape.
“That’s it,” I tell him. “We’ve lost them all.”
He doesn’t say anything. He’s gripping the steering wheel so hard that the veins are popping out on the backs of his hands.
I look out the window at the buildings rushing past. We’re heading in the opposite direction of my apartment.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“Away.”
There’s a wild look in his eyes again, and though I want to comfort him, I suspect that anything I say will fall on deaf ears.
They’ve found his apartment. They’ve seen his car. There will be no privacy for him around here anymore, not until all of this has blown over. And who knows how long that will take?
We reach the city limits, but Calder keeps going. I don’t say anything. Wherever he wants to go, I’ll stay by his side. Dad needs me at work tomorrow, but I’ll worry about that later. Right now, I don’t want to look back.
It’s strange, the freedom I feel when I allow myself to let everything else go. I glance over at him, at his tense shoulders and his hardened jaw, and I wonder what he would say if I asked him to drive me to the ends of the earth.
We ride in silence for some time. We’re heading north, up the highway. The suburbs around us thin and eventually disappear, making way for fields and brush and the occasional gas station, fast food joint, or kitschy shop promising “homemade” jam and fresh pecans. I’ve driven out this way before.
“We’re going to the estate,” I say.
He doesn’t respond. He doesn’t have to.
I’m not sure it’s a good idea, returning there now. I start to say something, but then I see the hard determination in his eyes. No argument of mine will stop him.
We go several more miles before he finally speaks.
“Let’s keep playing,” he says. “It’s your turn to ask me.”
I frown. “Are you sure?”
His back is still rigid, his knuckles still white. He gives a single stiff nod. “Ask me.”
The only way to fully escape is to continue our game, pretend we were never interrupted.
“All right, then,” I say. “Truth or dare?”
“Dare.”
I lean my head against the window as I consider my challenge to him. Outside, the trees rush past in a blur of brown and red and yellow. It clears my mind a little, watching the colors speed by until they run together.
Occasionally, a billboard breaks up the stream of autumnal hues. One advertises a place called Delilah’s Kountry Kitchen and promises the “Best Cherry Pie in the State!” as well as “Hundreds of Kountry Krafts.” Silly, but we could use a little silly right now.
I sit up and look over at Calder. “I dare you to pull off at the next exit and buy yourself the most outrageous souvenir you can find.”
He wrinkles his brow, confused. He was expecting something sexual. But after a minute he nods, and I see a flash of humor in his eyes. It gives me hope.
I spot Delilah’s Kountry Kitchen even before we pull off the highway. It’s a huge building shaped like a giant barn with “Delilah’s” painted in block letters on the side of the wide, sloped roof. Wooden, hand-drawn signs line the exit ramp, each one advertising one of Delilah’s tasty treats.
Cola Cake!
Peanut Brittle!
Peach Relish!
But Calder drives right past the brightly painted barn.
“Where are you going?” I ask.
“You said ‘outrageous,’ didn’t you?” He gestures ahead, and then I see it: the small, windowless building tucked behind the Kountry Kitchen. This one also has its name painted on the side of its roof: ADULT MEGA-STORE.
There are signs littered around this store, too:
Videos! Toys! Lingerie!
Couples Welcome!
$4.99 Shrimp Buffet!
Oh, God. I was not anticipating this at all. I swear, if he tries to make me eat that shrimp buffet…
“Are you sure about this?” I ask him.
He glances at me. “You were the one who dared me. This was your idea.”
“Not this,” I say, waving at the shady-looking building in front of us. “I saw a billboard for Delilah’s Kountry Kitchen and thought it looked fun.”
He raises his eyebrow.
“I swear. I didn’t even know this place was here,” I say. “And I certainly don’t want to go inside. I bet people have gotten hepatitis just from looking at it.”
He smiles suddenly, and it’s the first genuine smile I’ve seen since we left my apartment.
“Well in that case,” he says, a devilish gleam in his eye, “we’re definitely going in.”
“You’re screwing with me.”
“I’m only fulfilling the terms of the dare that you gave me. I’m not even twisting your words this time.”
“So you admit you cheated before?”
“Stop changing the subject. We’re going in.” He opens his door and climbs out, but when he sees that I’m still in my seat, he leans down and sticks his head in again.
“You don’t have to come,” he says, “but I can’t promise you’ll like what I buy. Though if you stay out here you might meet a couple of nice truckers who could show you a better time.”
Ugh, damn him.
I climb out of the car and follow him across the gravel lot toward the door. There’s a red neon “XXX” sign in the window, and it flickers as we walk by.
This is where we get murdered, isn’t it?
Calder holds the door open for me.
“Oh, no,” I say. “You’re going in first.”
“Where’s your sense of adventure?” he asks. But he proceeds to enter the shop ahead of me.
It’s even smaller than it looked from the outside. So much for “Mega”-Store. We’ve entered into what appears to be the main merchandise room, but at the back of the store there are signs pointing to the “$4.99 Buffet” and “Nude Girls” somewhere beyond a purple velour curtain.
We’re the only people in this section of the building—except for the man behind the cash register, who perks up at the sight of us. His hair is a little greasy, and I don’t like the way he leers at me. Neither does Calder, apparently, because he slips his arm around my waist and ushers me toward the far side of the store.
“What will it be?” he asks me quietly. “A vibrator? Nipple clamps? Edible body paint?”
“It’s your choice,” I remind him. “I’m just here to observe.”
He chuckles. He seems almost back to his old self again. The distraction has worked, at least for now. I don’t want to think about will happen when distraction is no longer an option. For the moment, it’s enough to see his eyes flash in amusement at my obvious embarrassment, to hear his low laugh as we explore the shop’s merchandise together.
He leads me past the display of sexy games and stops me in front of a wall of toys. I have no idea what half of these things are supposed to do. He pulls me closer so that his mouth is just above my ear.
“What do you say? Want to do a little experimenting?”
“I don’t even know what we’re looking at,” I confess. “But a lot of it looks painful.”
“What’s this? You’re intimidated by something sexual? You’ve never shied away from anything I’ve suggested before.”
“I’m not even sure what you’re suggesting this time. But I know better than to agree to anything before knowing all the details.”
“You trust me so little?”
I laugh in response.
“Anyway,” he says. “I believe it’s your turn. Truth or dare?”
“You haven’t finished yours yet.”
“Maybe we can let them overlap this time, considering this is a special occasion. We should get you something to commemorate your first visit to a skeevy roadside adult store.”
“Wait a minute—you’ve been in one of these before?”
“What about this?” He holds up his find. It’s a thong made out of sugar candy.
I jab him in the side. “We’re here for you, not me. Just make your decision. That guy at the counter is giving me the creeps.”
He grins and leads me down the aisle. “You never said I couldn’t purchase something for you to wear. It would still be for me, after all.”
He stops me in the lingerie section. I’ve never seen so much pleather in my life. There are plenty of sequins, too, as well as your typical selection of chains and studs and lace.
But the one Calder grabs from the bunch takes the cake. I don’t even know if it’s fair to call it “lingerie” because it’s basically a just collection of bright red strings with heart-shaped sequined appliques where the nipples and crotch should go. The whole thing is sealed up in plastic packaging that includes images of how to get into the complicated getup.
Calder looks from the lingerie to me and then back again. “This is definitely pretty outrageous.”
“There’s no way in hell I’m wearing that.”
“Are you willing to play for it?”
“Play?”
He turns around and goes back to the display of adult games. When he returns, he’s holding something called “Hang the Cock on the Hunk.” It looks like a version of Pin the Tail on the Donkey, only… well, you know.
“What do you say?” he asks. His gaze is dark, wicked.
“Why would I agree to that?” I say. “If I refuse to play then I don’t have to risk anything.”
“But if you play and win, you can demand something of me.”
It’s exactly the sort of offer on which our relationship has been built since the very beginning. How am I going to pass that up?
“Fine,” I say. I might as well go for it. “If I win, then you have to wear that thing.”
His eyes widen briefly in surprise. But once the initial shock of my suggestion has worn off, he grins devilishly. He thrives on this back-and-forth.
“Very well,” he says. “It’s a deal.”
He strides over to the counter to pay for our finds. The cashier doesn’t bat an eye. Even if he heard us discussing our game, I doubt we’re the strangest people he’s seen come through here.
“Do you have a bathroom?” Calder asks.
The man jerks his thumb in the direction of a wooden door over in the corner. The sign on the door says “NO SEX” in all caps, but the cashier has no problem when Calder grabs my hand and pulls me inside.
And if the condition of the bathroom is any indication, we’re not the first ones to ignore the sign.
“Don’t touch the walls,” I say, shying away from the grungy tile.
“Where else are we going to hang this?”
He rips open the package for our newly purchased game and pulls out a large, glossy poster of a very tan, very ripped, very naked man. The model is missing his important parts, of course, but it’s still a lot to take in.
“Maybe I should have searched for the lady version,” Calder says.
“I think this is the lady version.”
He gives me a nudge with his elbow and then gets to work peeling the tabs off of the adhesive strips on the back. When he’s done, he sticks it up on the nearest wall. Meanwhile, I pull the paper “cocks” out of the bag.
“Impressive,” I say.
Calder looks down at them and shakes his head. “Definitely should have looked for the other version.”
“What are we going to use as a blindfold?”
He considers this for a moment, then looks very pointedly down at my shirt.
I cross my arms. “I’m not stripping down in this disgusting bathroom.”
“It’s just your shirt. And you’re going to have to strip when you lose anyway. I’ll want to see you in that lingerie immediately.”
“Who says I’m going to lose? You’re awfully cocky about your cock-pinning skills.” But there’s no turning back at this point. I shove the paper penises into his hand and then slip my shirt over my head.
“You first,” he says. To his credit, he only gives a single appreciative look at my lacy bra before getting down to business. He takes my shirt and proceeds to tie it snugly around my eyes.
“At my mercy once again,” he murmurs, leaning against me from behind. “Maybe we should forget the game and pick up where we left off earlier.” His hand drifts across my stomach, down over my jeans and between my legs.
“Here? It’s filthy!”
“All the more reason to do filthy, filthy things.”
I know he’s just teasing me, but his husky voice and eager hands are already eliciting a strong response from my body.
“Want me to take you here?” he breathes. “Right here on this dirty, disgusting floor?”
My blood is rushing in my ears. His hands are rough on my waist and hips, and I feel the desperation in his body. He wants to go wild, wants to abandon himself to lust and fantasy. I’ve distracted him, just as I intended, but for the first time I truly understand the frailty of this plan. The shadows inside of him haven’t gone anywhere. They’re building, waiting for him to crack. He’s a ticking time bomb.
“Calder…”
“Yes?” He slips his hand between my legs. “You want this, don’t you?”
In spite of my better sense, I do. I’m just as weak as him. Weaker even, because I know this is all an illusion. But I need this, too. I need to go on pretending that there’s nothing wrong.
Calder is kissing my neck. I quiver when his tongue flicks against the place where my neck meets my shoulder.
“It’s so easy,” he murmurs. “It doesn’t matter where we are or what we’re doing… one word, one touch, and you’re mine for the taking.”
He’s right. Such is his power over me.
“Do you want me to fuck you here?” he says. “Tell me.”
My voice is hardly more than a whisper. “Yes.”
“Say it.”
“I want you to fuck me. Here in this bathroom.”
He bites down on my neck. I whimper, and he gives a throaty chuckle before releasing me.
“But we should finish the game first,” he says brightly. “I wouldn’t want to waste our new purchase.”
And just like that, he’s left me hanging. Again.
Jackass. He did it on purpose, I see that now. He wanted to get me worked up, throw off my game.
I’m about to give him a piece of my mind when he catches me by the waist.
“I’m going to spin you,” he warns me.
He twirls me around three times. When he releases me, I sway against him, nearly losing my balance. I’m still recovering from his little trick, and my legs tremble as I push myself upright again.
“I swear, if you’ve pointed me in the wrong direction, I’m going to kill you,” I say. My heart is beating erratically in my chest. If he intended to leave me shaky and disoriented, well, he’s definitely accomplished that goal.
“You’re going the right way,” he assures me, pressing one of the paper cocks into my hand. The adhesive backing sticks to my skin.
I take a deep breath, trying to gain control over my body again. Curse him for doing this to me. But there’s no point in stalling.
Here goes nothing.
I reach out blindly and take a tentative step forward. Then another. The wall comes up before I’m expecting it, but I manage to stick my piece to the poster without issue.
I pull off the blindfold to inspect the damage. Not bad—my penis is only a few inches away from the blank crotch on the poster.
I spin and grin at Calder. “Top that.”
It’s my turn to blindfold him. He makes it difficult, reaching around and touching me while I try to tie the knot. I think of returning the trick he played on me before my turn, but his willpower far outreaches my own. I’m not sure I could trust myself to stop.
When the shirt is finally secure around his eyes, I push his hands away and spin him once, twice, three times. I’m slightly tempted to leave him pointed in the wrong direction, but I fear whatever punishment he’ll demand if he catches me cheating.
Calder shuffles slowly forward, his paper cock held out in front of him. His hand starts out a little too high, but as he nears the wall his arm drops slightly. His body blocks my view of the poster while he places his piece, but I get a sinking feeling in my stomach even before he steps away from the wall.
His paper cock is basically on top of mine—but about an inch closer to the target.
Dammit.
I swear that he knows he’s won even before he pulls off the blindfold. When he turns toward me, he looks so smug that it’s all I can do not to punch him.
“Well,” he says, reaching down and grabbing the lingerie monstrosity from the bag, “it looks like you have some changing to do.”
*
There’s nothing quite as uncomfortable as a piece of lingerie that’s basically a dozen elastic straps criss-crossing your body. No matter how I stand, something is wedging somewhere, and the patches over my nipples and crotch are insanely itchy.
The worst part is that this was supposed to be Calder’s dare. How was I the one to end up like this?
He had to help me into it, of course. He could hardly contain his pleasure during the process, and now he’s grinning like an idiot as he stares at me.
I cross my arms. “This is seriously getting you off? I look like I was attacked by some sort of crazy Valentine’s Day spider. In Vegas.”
“It’s a good look for you.”
I imagine that I’m about the same shade as the sequins right now. I feel absolutely ridiculous.
“Turn around,” he says.
I roll my eyes. “Want me to dance for you, too?”
“If you’re offering.”
I stick out my tongue at him, but I oblige and turn around. I’ve owned my share of sexy underwear before, but nothing like this. Nothing that requires… modeling. It’s more fun than I want to admit.
I wiggle my ass for Calder, and he makes an appreciative sound in his throat.
“I dare you to wear that for the rest of the day,” he says.
I glance at him over my shoulder. “I never said I wanted a dare.”
“Come on,” he says, stepping forward and wrapping his arms around me. He tugs at one of the straps stretching across my stomach. “Do it for me.” He tilts his head and slides his tongue along the skin just below my ear. How can I resist that?
“Fine,” I say, “but then it’s your turn again.” I feel like I’ve had about three turns in a row.
“Agreed.”
I reach down and grab my shirt. I’m about to pull it over my head when Calder asks, “What are you doing?”
“Getting dressed.”
“I’m afraid you’ve misunderstood me.”
I turn and look up at him. I don’t like where this is going.
Calder hooks his thumbs through the straps across my hips. “You are to wear this, and only this.”
“How do you expect me to get back to the car?”
“On two legs, as you usually would.”
Oh, no. No no no no no. “There’s a man out there, unless you’ve forgotten.”
Calder’s eyes gleam devilishly. “Don’t worry. I’m sure he’s seen far stranger things in this place.”
I should argue, but I don’t. Maybe it’s because I want to maintain this illusion of carefree pleasure we’ve built around ourselves.
Maybe it’s because I’m enjoying this more than I want to admit to myself.
“Okay,” I tell him. “But let’s go now before I lose my nerve.”
“You? Lose your nerve? Never.” But he helps me gather the rest of my clothes.
“Want to take the game?” I ask, indicating the poster on the wall.
Calder shakes his head. “Let’s leave it for the next lucky fellow who wanders in here.”
And with that, he throws open the door to the shop.
Thankfully, the place is still empty of other customers. But that doesn’t keep my cheeks from burning as we make our way back to the door. The bored cashier, thank God, seems to be distracted by some reading material.
Please don’t look up. Please don’t look up…
We’re almost to the door. Just a few more steps and we’re free.
“Have a good day,” Calder says cheerfully to the clerk.
The man nods, glancing up—and then his eyes nearly bug out of his head.
I’m going to kill Calder.
But I tilt my chin and straighten my back, forcing myself to meet the cashier’s gaze. I might as well commit to this. I refuse to act ashamed.
And dammit, I might look ridiculous, but I’d like to believe I still look good.
By the time we reach the door, the man behind the cash register is practically drooling. I shoot him a wink before escaping into the parking lot.
“That was some show,” Calder muses when we’re in the parking lot.
“I thought I might as well have a little fun with it,” I say.
Calder grabs me and presses me up against the side of the car. In this position, my near-nakedness is hidden from anyone traveling along the road behind us.
“You’re enjoying this,” he says, his eyes darkening. “You blush whenever I pay you a compliment, but secretly you love showing off that sweet little body of yours.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing,” he murmurs, moving closer. “Nothing at all.” I feel his arousal pressing against my thigh.
“We’re in a parking lot,” I remind him.
“I don’t see how that’s a problem.” He begins to suck on my neck while his hands creep up to cup my essentially bare breasts. “Think I could get you off right here?”
Oh, I have no doubt he could get me off anywhere.
One of his hands slips between my legs.
“Still eager, I see.” He slides his finger across my wetness. He loops his thumb around the strap that crosses my folds, tugging it aside to gain better access.
Meanwhile, his mouth continues to attack my flesh. He nips at my skin, working his way down across my breast, and when he reaches the heart applique he uses his teeth to pull it away from my nipple. I clutch his shoulders and moan, throwing my head back against the car.
It shouldn’t excite me this much.
“People are going to think I’m a hooker,” I say. “We’re going to get arrested.”
He’s already undoing his belt. The madness has come over him again, that feral passion that I fear will tear us both apart. He pushes down his pants and slides his hard length between my legs, pressing it against my trembling body.
I ache for him. I want him so badly, but I’m scared. Scared of the pent-up emotion in his eyes, scared of the strength of my own reaction to him. If I’m not careful, it will consume everything.
Calder has grabbed my thigh. He’s lifting my leg, shifting my body to give him easier access. But I place my hand on his chest.
“Stop. Calder, please stop.”
He freezes. His body quivers with restraint.
“No one will see,” he says softly. “We’re hidden from the road.”
I shake my head and push him back another step. “I just don’t want to do this here. Please.”
Hurt floods his eyes, but he nods and releases me.
“Wait.” I grab the collar of his shirt and pull his face to mine. I kiss him softly, but in a way I hope conveys the confusion of emotions rushing through me right now. When we break away from each other, I see the battle waging in his eyes, his lust and pride warring with the pain. He steps back and clears his throat.
“Come on,” he says softly, readjusting the straps on my lingerie to cover me again. “Let’s keep going.”
Back on the road, things are quiet again. Calder’s lost the high spirits he had at the adult store, and though I know it’s my fault, I don’t know what to do with all of these feelings surging through my chest.
In the end, it’s the lingerie that breaks the tension.
As promised, I’m wearing nothing but that strappy torture device as I sit in the passenger’s seat. It took me a while to figure out how to sit comfortably, but I’ve finally managed to find a position where the straps aren’t digging into me. I’m leaning my head against the window, watching the traffic move past, when a semi-truck pulls up beside us. I glance up. The truck driver is staring down at me, jaw agape. When he catches my eye, he breaks into a smile and tugs on his horn.
I squeak and jerk away from the window.
Calder looks over and glances up out of the windshield at the truck. I watch the realization dawn on him, and then suddenly he’s laughing.
I cross my arms across my breasts. “You think this is funny?”
He’s laughing so hard he can’t even answer.
I try to stay pissed, but I can’t help it. The humor is infectious. Soon I’m giggling right along with him, and when a few minutes later another trucker sends a complimentary honk my way, I lose it again.
That’s only the beginning. Every semi that passes pulls its horn at us, something Calder seems to find increasingly amusing. The worst, though, is when he pulls into a gas station to fill up and grab us some snacks for lunch. I curl up and keep my arms crossed while I wait, but that does little to prevent the stares.
“I hope you’re happy,” I say when he slides back into the car. “Now half the state has seen me practically naked.”
He grins as he passes over a bag of trail mix. “Don’t tell me you’re not enjoying this even a little.”
If I’m being honest… then yes. It’s insane, but I’m getting some twisted, naughty pleasure out of this. But I won’t tell him that.
“It’s your turn again,” I say as he pulls back onto the highway. “Truth or dare?”
He smiles. “Truth.”
Damn. I was hoping I’d have the chance to get him back for this.
“Afraid of a little revenge after the last round?” I tease.
“Choosing ‘truth’ isn’t a cop-out,” he replies, looking pointedly at me. “Not if you play it right.”
He’s right, of course. I can think of ways to make this side of the game fun, too. I lean back against my seat and just watch him for a minute. It’s early afternoon, and the light coming in through the windows brings out the chestnut tones in his dark hair and casts a warm, golden glow on his skin. My belly warms just looking at him.
I can hardly believe that here, in this moment, he’s mine.
I’ve been trying to think of a question that will make him squirm, but suddenly I don’t care about turning him on. I want to know more about his heart.
“All those girls you dated,” I hear myself saying. “All those models and actresses. Did you ever love any of them?”
He turns his head, looking at me briefly before turning his eyes back to the road. The corner of his mouth turns up. “Jealous, are we?”
“That’s not what I meant.” Great, now he thinks I’m insecure.
But I stand by my question.
“I loved Garrett,” I tell him. “For better or for worse, there was a time when he was… everything to me. I want to know if there was someone for you, someone who was important once. I’ve never heard you mention anyone specific.”
He twists his hands on the wheel. “I can’t decide whether you’re a masochist or if your grand plan for revenge is to make me as uncomfortable as possible.”
“Neither. I just—” What is it that I want to hear? “You had a life before we met each other. You had relationships and encounters with other women, and I’m not naïve enough to believe that none of those experiences ever changed you. I want to know you better. I want to know how you became the man you are.”
“And what kind of man is that?”
“It’s your turn to answer a question, not mine.”
He’s still looking at the road, but I watch the side of his face as he considers his answer. He works his jaw as he thinks.
“There were some,” he says after a moment, “who meant more than others. A couple I stayed with for some time. One who I considered marrying.”
“You almost got married?”
“I thought about proposing. I was young and infatuated and she seemed to expect it.”
“Who was she?”
He shoots me another look out of the corner of his eye, probably trying to gauge my reaction to everything he’s telling me.
“She was a model. French. Her name was Chloé.”
“What happened?”
“It was a slow unraveling. She was busy with her career, and I was busy with my friends and their parties and all that stupid shit. We grew apart.” He taps his fingers on the wheel again. “She contacted me after my father died. She’s married now—happily, I believe—but she took the time to send me her condolences.”
“Do you miss her?”
He looks at me. “I don’t regret breaking it off, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“What, no ‘one who got away’ in your past somewhere?” I say. I don’t want to admit that hearing him talk about her makes my stomach clench. It’s my own fault for asking the damn question. Maybe he’s right—maybe I am a masochist.
“When did this become an interrogation?” he says. “You were only supposed to get one question.”
I shrug. “It’s not my fault you lost count.”
He’s silent for a long moment.
“Here’s the deal,” he says finally. “I’m willing to go one-to-one. You can keep going, but for every question you ask me, I get to ask one of you, too.”
“Sounds fair.”
“I get to go next, of course. Considering you just got half a dozen answers out of me.”
“Fine,” I say, though I’m beginning to wonder if putting myself at the mercy of his curiosity is a good idea.
“You mentioned Garrett,” he says. “Tell me, how did all of that begin?”
Yeah, regretting this already. “What do you mean?”
“I’ll admit that my limited contact with the guy has left me less than impressed. But you say that you loved him once, which I’m assuming means he wasn’t always like that.” He looks over at me. “Please tell me he wasn’t always like that.”
“No, he wasn’t.” I wish I could read Calder’s expression. Does he really want to hear this? Calling himself “less than impressed” is a bit of an understatement. Even now, I notice the way his shoulders have stiffened as if he’s getting ready to face off against some invisible opponent.
But he doesn’t say anything, which means he’s waiting for me to go on.
“He volunteered at the Center,” I hear myself saying. “He was brilliant at getting donations. I guess you can say he found my weakness.”
Calder still doesn’t say anything, so I go on.
“He was smart. Driven. He was really good at his job.” Good enough that he learned about the Cunningham’s financial difficulties before most of the rest of the world. He’s not the sort to run around chasing people with the paparazzi—no, he’s smarter, sneakier than that.
“You loved him because he was good at his job?” Calder asks.
“He was very sweet to me,” I say quickly. I don’t know why I feel like I need to defend those old, stupid feelings, but I do. “And gentlemanly. He completely charmed my dad. He brought me flowers, left little love notes on my desk on the evenings he volunteered. Everything a perfect boyfriend should do.”
I look back over at Calder. He appears to be completely focused on the road, but I know he’s hanging on to my every word.
“When did things change?” he asks me finally.
I know it’s my turn to ask Calder a question at this point, but now that I’ve started talking, I find that I don’t want to stop. I’ve never really discussed my relationship with Garrett before. With anyone.
“I don’t know, exactly,” I say. “It was really subtle at first. He’d make some offhand comment about my clothes or my hair. I don’t even think he realized what he was doing, not at the beginning. But he was the first guy I ever really loved, you know? And his opinion meant everything to me.” I twist my hair between my fingers. “If he said he didn’t like the way I did my makeup, I changed it. If he complained about the music I listened to, I switched over to the radio stations he liked. I don’t know when he realized how much influence he had over me. As our relationship went on, he started to pull back, and that only made me more desperate to please him. And then one day I caught him with someone else.”
I don’t look at Calder this time. I stare out the window, at the trees and the billboards. This shouldn’t be making me emotional, not now. I’ve long since gotten over my feelings for Garrett. But it’s hard to forgive my past self for being so pitiful.
“I don’t blame him,” I say. “At least, I’m not surprised things ended the way they did. I was a doormat, and things were over between the two of us the minute he realized that. He might have enjoyed it for a while, but how can you respect the person you’re dating when you realize that they’ll let you walk all over them? After we broke up, I promised myself I’d never let that happen again.” I let out a bitter laugh. “The funny thing is, the minute Garrett realized I was fine—better—without him, he wanted me back. But you know that part of the story.”
I still don’t turn toward Calder. I don’t want him to see the tears in my eyes.
But God, I wish he’d say something.
Instead, he slowly steers the car off the road, pulling onto the grassy shoulder.
“What are you doing?”
He doesn’t answer. He puts the car into park, kills the gas. I open my mouth to repeat my question, but then he’s unbuckling my seatbelt, pulling me toward him.
Any confusion I have is lost when his lips come down on mine.