Caught Up in Us (2 page)

So, really, was it so much for me
to want to learn in a distraction-free fashion? Working alongside
the man who’d broken my heart one summer night five years ago
wasn’t conducive to focusing. Especially not when he looked even
better than he did then. He’d had a sweet boyish face when he was
in his early twenties. Now, he was twenty-eight and while the
boyish charm was still present in spades, there was also a
sophistication to his features, to his style, to his clothes. Five
years running a corporation would do that to you. As I sat down
next to Bryan, I did my best to put on my bulletproof even though I
could tell his arms were even stronger and more toned, and that his
forest green eyes could still reel me in with one look.

I gritted my teeth. This was not
going to work. Clearly, I’d need a new mentor. I had to graduate,
and I had to succeed in this class. I tried to picture my strong
and sturdy mom, from the way she’d managed her recovery from a car
accident years ago with a tough kind of optimism, to how she could
stare down an overdue loan notice by brushing one palm against the
other and saying, “Let’s get to work.”

Work. Yes, work. I was
laser-focused on work.

“This was my
favorite class when I went here,” Bryan said, breaking the
silence.

“Oh. It
was?”

“Well, I guess it’s not a class,
right?” he added, correcting himself, then laughed awkwardly. He
must have been nervous. That made me feel the slightest bit
vindicated. “What do we call it? A workshop?” I shook my head. “Not
an internship,” he continued, and I shook again.
“Practicum?”

I wanted to laugh at the word, but
I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. Instead, I shook my head once
more.

But he was agile at playing both
parts and picked up the baton of the conversation himself. “That’s
kind of an awful word, isn’t it?”

“It’s dreadful.”

“Terrible.”

“Wretched.”

And as if no time had passed, we
were back in banter, one of the things we’d always done well — play
with words.

“Whatever you
call it, the class was my favorite. When you couldn’t tear me away
from the statistics and econ books, that is.” He flashed his
lopsided smile that showed off straight white teeth.

He was trying to smooth over the
past, but I wasn’t going to have it. I wasn’t going to let myself
go any further in the chatter, the conversations, the
back-and-forth that had fueled us that one summer. So I didn’t
respond, giving a curt nod instead.

The other students chatted with
their mentors, and the buzz and hum filled the small classroom. I
glanced over at Professor Oliver, who looked as if he were about to
whistle a happy tune as he watched how well the initial “get to
know you” session was going. But it didn’t matter if everyone else
was getting along with their mentors. My success or failure would
be based on what I accomplished outside of the confines of this
classroom as I worked in close quarters with my mentor.

I had to be re-matched with
someone else.

Bryan and I didn’t say anything
for a stretch. He locked his eyes on me, then lowered his voice.
“Look, Kat. I had no idea.”

“No idea what?”

“That you’d be in this
class.”

This was supposed to make me feel
better, but it didn’t. It made me feel worse. He probably wanted
out of this too-close-for-comfort deal as much as I did. But I
couldn’t let on that he’d pierced me again. “It’s nothing. I’ll
just ask to be reassigned,” I said coolly, praying Professor Oliver
would agree. He had office hours tomorrow morning. I’d be lined up
outside his door ready to make my request.

Bryan shook his head, and lifted
his hand towards me, as if he were about to rest his palm on my
leg, or my arm. I inched away. Almost imperceptibly, but enough for
him to notice. He clasped his fingers together instead. He parted
his lips. Paused. Then, in a low voice that sounded smoky at that
volume, he said, “But I’m glad you are. I’m glad it worked out this
way.”

I’d spent the last five years
juggling classes and making jewelry, building my business and
moving past my first big love. The last thing I needed was to be
thrust back into the fire. I would only get burned
again.

******

I was the first one to leave the
classroom. I made a beeline for the ladies room where I busied
myself reapplying lip gloss and trying to fluff out my dark brown
hair to pass the time. I grabbed an always handy clip and twisted
my long hair into a quick updo. I tucked a few loose strands behind
my ears.

I looked at the time. Only a few
minutes had passed. I brushed off a piece of lint from the short
suede boots I’d snagged at a bargain price from a vintage shop in
the Village, then readjusted the neckline of the chocolate-colored
top I wore that brought out the brown in my eyes.

Another minute gone.

I rooted around in my purse for my
mascara, touched up my lashes, then checked the time once more.
Satisfied that Bryan had likely left the building, I ventured out.
I dialed the number of my parent’s shop as the heels of my boots
echoed across the wide hallway. I wanted to talk to my mom, but I
also needed to root myself to the realities of my life. My parents,
my plans for them, my goals for the business. My mom’s voice alone
had the power to ground me and keep me steady.

“Mystic Landing.
How may I help you?”

“Hey, Mom.”

“Hey, sweetie,”
she said, and dived into her usual million questions. “How are you?
How’s school? How’s Jill? How are My Favorite Mistakes?”

“I’m great. School is fine. I’ve
never had a better roommate. And I’m working hard on the business.
But, how are you? What’s going on with you and Dad and the
shop?”

I could picture her waving a hand
in the air to make it seem like my question was no big deal. Then
sharing a smile as a customer walked into the store. Then again,
maybe there weren’t that many customers.

“Everything is just fine. A young
woman even came in this morning and tried on one of your
necklaces.”

“Awesome. Did she buy
it?”

“No, but she said she’d come back
tomorrow.”

“So, are you still getting plenty
of late summer tourists?”

“Oh sure. Of course,” she said
quickly, but I wondered if she was just trying to seem strong for
me.

“What have you been up to
today?”

“I rearranged some of the window
displays.”

My heart sank. That could only
mean business was still slow. If there were customers, she wouldn’t
be spending her time prettying up the windows. She’d be at the cash
register, working the counter, ringing up little sundries and gifts
for all the tourists who streamed in.

The very same counter where I was
standing five years ago when Bryan asked me out on our first
date.

Blinders, Kat. Put your blinders
on.

We talked more about her day, then
I told my mom I loved her and said goodbye.

As I left the building, I nearly
dropped my phone when I saw Bryan waiting for me. The image I had
wanted most to see all those months after he left me.

Chapter Three

He was framed by Washington Square
Park and late afternoon clouds behind him.

“Fancy meeting you here,” he said
as I neared him. His friendly manner made the coil of anger rise
perilously close to the surface. But I wouldn’t give him the
satisfaction of knowing he could set off fifty different emotions
in me with one look. Impervious would be my new
watchword.

“Who would have
thought,” I replied, keeping a distance in my tone. I reached for
the movie charm, touched it once, as if it brought me power and
strength. Nearby, a mime walked an imaginary dog and a grown woman
in a Glinda dress created giant bubbles with a wand, to the delight
of a few toddlers chasing them.

“So I was
thinking,” he said. “What do you say we start over? Just forget the
past, and move on, and we’ve got a clean slate. We just met
today.”

“Easy for you to say,” I muttered
under my breath.

He raised an eyebrow. He hadn’t
heard me and I chose not to repeat myself. Crossing my arms, I
waited for him to make the next move. So he tipped his forehead to
an open bench. “Want to chat for a bit?”

No. I don’t want to chat with you.
I don’t want to be near you. I don’t want to let you close to me
again in any way, shape or form.

Except, I might
have no choice but to be civil with him. I’d do my damndest
tomorrow to switch mentors, but if I couldn’t pull it off, then I’d
have to be cordial. Sure, a clean slate seemed as good a ruse as
anything. I could pretend he’d meant nothing to me. After all, I’d
been over him for a long time. Seeing him again had simply stirred
old memories, like dust in an unused room. You cough a few times,
then leave.

I played along. The past was gone,
and I’d just met him today. I smiled the kind that didn’t reach my
eyes, and I extended a hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m Kat Harper. I’m
an aspiring jewelry designer.”

He shook my hand. “Bryan Leighton.
I run Made Here. We make things like this,” he said, and fingered
the onyx cufflinks on his sleeves. “Nice to meet you
too.”

We walked to the bench. It was
long enough that we didn’t have to be too close. I sat on the far
end, hoping he’d take the hint. But he barely left any room between
us when he joined me. With him so close I couldn’t think straight.
I could only wander over to the part of my brain that remembered
how we couldn’t keep our hands off each other that summer. He was
always touching my back, my legs, my waist. If hands had any sort
of permanent memory, mine surely recalled the lines of his flat
stomach, his firm chest, his sculpted arms.

Stop!

I pictured profit and loss
statements. The array of numbers erased the images of
us.

He leaned an arm against the back
of the bench. “So tell me about your jewelry designs, Kat,” he
said, then looked down at my necklace.

I thought about
how I’d answer anyone else who’d asked the question. I’d
say
: I always loved dressing up as a kid
and rooting through my mom’s jewelry box to find bangles and
necklaces and rings. But they hardly fit so I began making my own
jewelry, playing around with designs and styles. I started with
necklace-making kits for kids, stringing together beads and baubles
and little charms on wire. In junior high I even sold some of my
necklaces at local craft fairs, then moved onto heart pendants in
high school. After I turned eighteen I had the idea of making a
charm necklace. But one that meant something. One that celebrated
the mistakes we made as we moved past them.

Instead, I kept my reply clinical.
“They’re charms that mean something to the wearer.”

“My Favorite Mistakes,” he
said.

“How did you know?” I was
surprised he knew the name of my line.

He gave me a sheepish grin. “I
like to stay on top of things. Know who’s up and coming,” he said.
I wasn’t sure if this was personal, if he’d been researching me
because of our past, or simply because he was a smart businessman.
I reminded myself not to read anything into it. This was business,
purely business. Then he moved his hand towards my neck. “May
I?”

“Do you want me to take it off?” I
asked, tripping on the unintended double entendre. I wanted to kick
myself.

“I like it on.” Running a finger
against a miniature skyscraper charm, he grazed my skin and a spark
shot through me. I looked away, so he couldn’t read my eyes, and
see what I’d felt. I stared at the sky instead. The clouds had
become grayer. There was a heaviness to them that spelled rain
soon.

“What’s this one?”

“A friend of mine in college had a
lead on a super cheap sub-lease on the upper east side that I
almost moved into before I started the MBA program. I didn’t get
the apartment, and I was devastated at the time.”

“So you made a charm?”

“It all worked
out for the best. Because now I have a great roommate and an
amazing place in Chelsea,” I said giving him another sanitized
answer. If I’d wanted to let him in, I’d have told him the full
story. That it was a good thing I didn’t move into that building,
because then I went to see an odd little musical theater showcase
in Hell’s Kitchen. I wound up hanging out with the cast afterwards,
including the lead actress, an amazing girl named Jill who had just
nabbed a rent-controlled apartment in Chelsea that was handed down
to her from her aunt. She needed a roommate; I needed a place. Now
she’s my best friend, and we also have the one cheap and cool
apartment in all of Manhattan. Plus, she practiced her audition
songs in our living room for an off-Broadway modernized version
of
Les Mis
that
she’s in starting this week. She landed the part of Eponine and
she’s awesome.