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He nodded, his face tight, his eyes lingering on me. “Thanks. Grab a couple of things, outfits, I mean. In case we go out tomorrow.”
I turned, headed to my room, then stopped, the f**ked-up-ness of the situation suddenly hitting my drunk mind. Brad calls, tells me to hide, then knocks on the door and wants to take me to his house. I couldn’t figure out if this was his ridiculous method of getting his way, or if something serious had occurred, and he was intentionally keeping me in the dark. I turned back to him, my brain working through the events, trying to formulate an intelligent question, a demand for information. Then the room swayed, and black spots momentarily appeared in my vision. Whoa. I stumbled, then focused, my eyes meeting Brad’s concerned ones. Fuck it. My interrogation would have to wait till later, when I was relatively sober.
I turned away from those watchful eyes and entered my room, grabbing a duffel bag and stuffing a few outfits into it. I went ahead and changed into pajamas, twisting my hair into a bun and working my feet into flip-flops. I was ready in less than five minutes, and flashed him a smile as I entered the living room. He didn’t respond, the same tense look on his face, and my smile fell as I followed him out, locking the door behind me. I headed for the limo, but he grabbed my elbow, steering me toward my car. “Give me the keys. I’ll drive.”
“My car?” The idea was so preposterous I almost giggled.
“Yeah. You’ve been drinking.”
Oh, right. I tossed him my keys and looked at the limo. “But what about—”
“Get in.” He held open the passenger side, and I ducked in, shooting him an irritated glance and sliding a pile of random crap onto the floor.
My car moved noisily through the city, Brad cramped behind the wheel. He said nothing, so I leaned back in the seat and stared out the window, watching dark homes and empty streets zoom by.
Thirty-Three
With arms of lead, Brad drove, glancing at Julia occasionally. He tried to remember the last time things had gotten this f**ked up. It had been a while. Before law school, before Hillary, before life as he knew it. Back when he was a rebellious teenager, and didn’t know who and what to stay away from.
She was in trouble, more trouble than she could imagine, trouble he might not be able to get her out of. His blood ran cold at the thought of something happening to her. He had experienced a lot of death in his life, had been perversely conditioned at a young age to accept it, to hold his emotions at bay. But God help him, if something happened to her...he looked over at her still body, slumped against the gray cloth of the seat. She held so much power in her small frame, so much control over his emotions. As much as she scared him by pure existence, the thought of losing her was incomprehensible. It was something he might not recover from. It was a realization that hit him hard, and it, combined with Julia’s situation, would keep him up most of the night.
* * *
I MUST HAVE fallen asleep, because I woke up in Brad’s arms, being carried like a small child, up the inner stairs of his home. At the top I untangled myself, standing up and stumbling to the bed, which I started to crawl into. His grip stopped me, his hands reaching for my glasses, pulling them gently off. He helped me into bed, pulling the covers up around my body.
I awoke when he got into the bed, sometime later, smelling of fresh soap and toothpaste. He wrapped his arms around me and I fell back asleep, our bodies spooned together, the hum of the fan the only sound in the dark room. Behind me, his face buried in my neck, I could feel Brad’s thoughts churning.
* * *
I WOKE UP to a quiet room, so silent that I lay there for a moment, my eyes adjusting to the room, nothing but blurry colors in front of me. I reached out, patting the bedside table until I felt my glasses, and slid them on, bringing the world into focus.
I rolled over, stretching, my body bumping warm, hard skin, and I turned to see Brad, lying on his side, his eyes on mine. My gaze traveled over his skin, a muscular stomach leading to a glorious upper body, and came to rest on his dark, sinful eyes.
Something was different. His brown eyes were pensive, staring at me with something akin to vulnerable confusion, his soft lips parted, face tight. I felt as if he was on the verge of...something, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what. Our eyes stayed locked together, and my smile slowly faded as my mind tried to catch up with the change in the air. On impulse I leaned over, grabbing his head and kissing his lips, trying to change whatever was happening with the distraction of sex.
He finished the kiss but pushed me down again, flat on the bed, and I giggled involuntarily at his determination. He trapped me between his arms and stared at me again, as if trying to figure out a riddle.
“What?” I whispered, staring back at him, at his intent eyes.
“You are someone I could fall in love with.” His words were surprised, unsure, words that had probably been shelved in a forgotten closet for quite some time.
I flinched and immediately saw vulnerability shudder through his eyes, then disappear. I moved my lips, willing for some intelligent, coherent thought to come out, but apparently my lips were stuck in the same black hole that my brain was taking a break in. I gave up and stared, unmoving, into his face. His jaw tightened, a tic beginning to pulse in his right check.
I reached up, touched the tic and breathed, willing my brain into action. Slowly and rustily, the gears began to turn and I was able to speak. “I love you already, Brad.” His eyes closed briefly, resolutely, then opened again, and the tic increased, his jaw flexing. I laughed, my stress gone and my cobwebs clear in my stubborn head. Touching his face, I collected myself and tilted his face to mine, forced his eyes to stare at me.
“I’m not telling you in order to hear it back,” I said. “I’m letting you know how I feel, so that you don’t have to wonder. I don’t need to know how you feel, or care if you love me right now. I just thought you and your delicate ego might want to know.” I rolled, his once stiff arms yielding easily, and I was on my feet on the carpet in seconds.
I heard movement in the bedsprings and turned to see Brad sitting upright, staring at me in barely disguised frustration. He spoke slowly, irritated. “What do you mean you don’t care if I love you?”
I walked back to the bed, rubbing my arms, already cold in the bedroom chill. “I believe I said I don’t care if you don’t love me right now. You will fall in love with me.” I turned, heading for the bathroom, and stopped just before the door, turning to him. “But, Brad?” He looked at me, eyes dark. “Just because I love you doesn’t mean I won’t leave you.” I opened the door and was starting to turn on the light when I heard his voice and turned. He stood, gorgeous in tight black boxer briefs and nothing else, his tanned and ripped body looking incredible. I wondered why we were talking and not f**king.
