She doesn't look like royalty today. It's more than the I-just-worked-out thing she has going. Her fire is dim and I don't like it.
"You okay?" I keep a careful space between us on the bench, but I nudge her hand with mine. "You look like you need a friend."
"No." Kate hasn't looked at me once since I came to sit. I want to take her by the cheeks and make her.
"Want to talk about it?"
"No."
"You know, they say I'm a great listener."
"Bullshit." Her lips quirk upward at the ends. It's a small victory. "You only like the sound of your own voice."
"Guilty." I move in just a touch closer and soften my voice. "Come on, Kate. Something is bothering you and I want to help. Talk to me."
She cocks an eyebrow at me and the disbelief is heavy. It's like the woman I bent over her couch has been replaced by someone scorned. It's only then that I realize she's probably got a lot on her plate and my dick isn't helping much.
Tinges of guilt ping at me, reminders that she's dealing with her livelihood while I was dragging her off to be fucked good and proper. Except it's clear she has feelings and I've witnessed that makes shit more complicated. Normally, that's exactly the response I want.
Not anymore. Not with her.
"Nobody cares about me." Her voice is ice. "I'm just someone to be used. For money, connections, sex. No one gives a shit. You don't give a shit. You're just like everyone else."
The weight behind that statement isn't hidden. I want to argue, to tell her she's wrong, but she's not. I've spent weeks trying to pound her out of my brain but I've still fucked her. I've still used her for sex. For some unknown reason, it unsettles me.
"Let me take you to dinner." I grab her hand and squeeze it. "Tonight."
"What, like a date?" Kate scoffs.
"I mean, I can fuck you first if you want. But then yes, a date. A real date."
She finally looks at me, those sad eyes probing me to see if I mean it. Surprises me just as much, but I do. I kiss her hand and watch the red touch her cheeks.
"Okay." She finally breathes heavily. "I guess that would be okay."
"Does this mean we'll fuck first?"
"Is that how you usually date?"
I grin. "Yes. But for you, I'll make an exception."
CHAPTER TWENTY
KATE
"Okay, just trust me on this."
Eric's voice doesn't do much to assure me as we zip through traffic in his tiny sports car. I am more than grateful I can't see the undoubtedly narrow spaces he fits through. The blindfold over my eyes was funny at first, then nauseating, and I am now settled on life-saving.
"Trust you? That doesn't sound very promising." I clutch my stomach as we veer around another set of cars. "Where are we going? The moon?"
"Better."
"What's better than the moon?"
"Glendale." I can practically see the cheeky grin on his face.
"Glendale? Seriously? What the hell is in Glendale besides hipsters?"
"Great fun awaits us in Glendale, Kate. You just need a little faith." Eric slides his hand down my leg, spreading chills across my body in rapid succession, and grasps my hand. It's surprisingly intimate and I'm glad he can't see my full reaction right now.
Mostly because I don't know how to feel.
He tells me about his grandfather as we go. The fish they'd catch, how he learned to fillet a trout for his seventh birthday, and how they would eat popcorn on the back porch at night while watching the sunset.
"That sounds beautiful."
"It was." Eric squeezes my hand and lets go, leaving me cold. "I spent whole summers just eating popcorn with the dude and plumping up the resident squirrels. End of the summer, they became target practice."
"Oh my God!"
"Kidding." Eric laughs. "Well, sort of. The neighbors really liked shooting BBs at the squirrels."
"What about you?"
"I was too busy playing baseball."
"I pictured you as more of a soccer player with that physique."
"Oh, you've noticed?"
"A time or two, just a glance here and there. It's very elusive."
"Well, I'd hate to look like a braggart." He squeezes my knee and my stomach flips again.
I'm not supposed to be here, but he's treating me like I'm important. Everything is upside down, a modern version of Wonderland. Only I don't want the little cake that will make me grow and finally escape like Alice. I want to stay here forever, in this weird little land, because it's the only place I feel I fit.
The car comes to a stop and he kills the engine. Anticipation is killing me. Glendale is not what I would call the most thrilling place in Los Angeles, and definitely not where I expected him to take us.
"I'll get your door." Eric says. A few seconds later my door pops open and he leads me out of the car and in a few circles before finally removing my blindfold. "Surprise."
Instead of looking at anything, I'm staring straight at him. We're so close I can feel his breath on my neck.
"You brought me out to Glendale to see you?"
"I knew you'd love it." He winks and spins me around once more. "Ta-da!"
"Roller skating?" I laugh. "Wow, this is surprising. I haven't done this since I was … well, very small."
"What better way to get handsy in public without drawing a lot of attention?" Eric winks again and takes my hand.
We walk inside like it's a date. We rent skates like it's a date. We order cokes and cheese fries like it's a date. He tells me jokes, real ones that make me laugh and snort soda up my nose. It's so surreal, all of it, that I half expect the Cheshire Cat to pop up out of nowhere.
"Come on." Eric pats my knee and jumps up. "Let's go for a spin."
"I'm going to have to cling to you for dear life. I am many things, but graceful is not one of them."
"That's exactly what I was hoping for."
Those first few steps on the rink, full of teenagers holding hands and little kids zooming in and out on roller blades, are terrifying. The total loss of control makes my stomach drop to my knees, but Eric remains by my side, an anchor in this fast-flying world.
"I also dabble in hockey." He pulls me back upright as I drop into accidental splits. "Wow, you really are terrible."
"I'm a fast learner." I shoot back, laughing at my embarrassing skating performance. "Give me time. I'll show you."
"Anyone who doubts you is an idiot." Eric says it almost tenderly.
It's hard to focus on skating because I'm so busy staring at him. To see if this is all real. But a few more laps around the rink, more falling, more splits and I forget to watch him. Instead, it's stupidly fun.
No pretenses are required while roller skating in a room full of families and kids. There are no cameras, no sequins, no twenty-dollar cocktails. It's just laughs and smiles and holding hands under a disco ball. It's the best night of my life.
A Whitney Houston song comes on and the DJ announces time for couples skate. My thighs and calves are killing me, but Eric pulls me out for the song. He spins me around in front of him and holds me like we're dancing. I panic, but he holds tight.
"Trust me." He whispers.
So I do.
In his impeccably strong arms, he holds me up so we can dance through the song, even throwing in an occasional spin. We're so close our noses touch but our lips never meet. It's a never-ending tease, all this touch with no payout. I love it.
We shut the place down, enjoying the last bits of amazingly terrible nineties music and mirrored ball lights until they kick us out. The whole drive back, we laugh about the other people there, and, of course, my terrible skating.
"I told you, though, I'd come back in the end. Did you see my spin at the end? That was Oscar-worthy."
"Put that on your résumé. They next time they need someone for a terrible roller derby movie, they've got their girl."
"It'll be my Cinderella story. From socialite to derby girl."
"I could see you rock it. It'd be pretty sexy, too."
Heat spreads across my chest and I look away so he can't see the stupid grin on my face.
"I can't remember the last time I had this much fun, Eric. This was easily one of the best nights of my life." We are standing outside my apartment and I don't want the feeling to go away. I want it to last the whole night and then some. "You want to stay for a while?"
Eric cups my cheek in his hand and grasps my hip with his other. He pulls me in for a kiss that makes my toes curl and my knees go weak. It is cliché and delicious and beautiful. It is exactly the lead in I want for a night of passion with him.
"I can't." He whispers against my lips. "I don't want to use you."
"Please use me," I counter. "Use me hard."
"You deserve more than that." He kisses me again, softer this time, and taps my nose. "I'll see you again soon, Derby Princess."
I watch him walk away, held up by my front door. This evening was more than anything I could have hoped for, but it left my heart more twisted than ever. A darkening area of my brain knows this can't go on and can spell ruin, but a bigger, brighter part wants to get lost in him and never find the way out.
I don't know where to go.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
ERIC
A bright white envelope sits on my desk when I walk in Tuesday morning. Our interdepartmental envelopes are a disgusting yellow, so it's not another note from Hazel in accounting. Her "memos" are nothing more than a thinly veiled plea for a date.