Code Blues (26 page)

We switched to the orange line at Snowdon.
This train was even more crowded. We ended up squeezed just inside
the door. Alex kept one arm around me and grabbed a pole with the
other hand. Two more people squeezed in and Alex drew me closer,
his hand sliding down so his thumb rested in my belly button.
Illicit but not crossing the line. I slid him a look. He grinned
down at me.

As the train hurtled from stop to stop, he
nudged the edge of my shirt up. I stiffened. He ran the pad of his
thumb along my waist, lightly sketching my skin. I had to
consciously school my breathing and press my thighs together. I
waited for him to wander up or down, but he didn't. He did run his
thumbnail in a quick diagonal stroke under my ribs. I stifled a
gasp. He settled his hand back on my waist.

I waited for his next move. He gave me a
smile with a wolfish flash of teeth. I swallowed hard.

The recorded voice announced,
"
Prôchaine arrêt,
Bonaventure
."

Alex squeezed my hip. "That's us."

I felt almost sick with longing and the
smallest dash of trepidation. It made me walk slower than usual. He
led me up the metro escalator and pushed open the awkward plate
glass door hinged in the middle. We walked up University Avenue,
past the train station and the office buildings and the Eaton
Centre. I barely registered the teenagers in tight T-shirts and the
stop-and-go traffic, but I did notice a few businesswomen were
wearing shorter skirts than me. Alex dipped his head to murmur in
my ear, "You look better."

I smiled. I knew why I found him
irresistible. When he did it right, he made me feel like a
goddess.

I paused at the
de Maisonneuve
intersection for a turquoise Geo, but Alex grabbed my hand
and yanked me across the street. The Geo zoomed around us,
squeezing back into its lane before an oncoming city bus flattened
it. "Now, I know you're from Ontario," he yelled in my ear, once we
hit the sidewalk, "but here we walk fast and ignore the
cars."

I laughed and shook my head. "If you have a
death wish."

He squeezed my hand. "No, the death wish is
waiting on the sidewalk for them to stop. You'll die of old age
before you get to cross."

I laughed some more. As long as we were
talking, I wasn't thinking.

He kissed my knuckles and waved at the
blue-and-white bus over his shoulder. "We could have taken the bus,
but it wouldn't have been as much fun."

I frowned at him, unsure what he meant.

He said, face serious, "The Côte-des-Neiges
bus would have gotten us here a lot faster. But I wanted to give
you a chance to think about it."

When I least expected it, he turned into a
gentleman.

He grinned at me. "And also time for me to
feel you up."

I punched him lightly on the shoulder.

He laughed and ran along the inside of my
wrist. "We're almost there."

North of Sherbrooke, the
streets narrowed and turned residential. Both sides of the roads
were lined with cars. Duplexes, mostly gray or yellow stone, were
arrayed behind Lilliputian lawns. Nearly every street lamp had been
attacked by posters and packing tape. RAVE, DJ MASTER MIX.
À VENDRE
. WEIGHT
LOSS—FAST! On the next post, WANTED: ROOMATE, LARGE 4 1/2. Above
that, LOST: FAT CAT. One apartment's window carried a hot pink
sticker proclaiming, VAGINAS RULE.

I swiveled my head away. Not that I didn't
agree, but Alex would probably say something embarrassing. Still, I
felt at home. I hadn't realized it, but I'd missed living in a
university neighborhood. Even though my apartment was only minutes
away from U of M, my area felt more sober.

Alex slowed in front of a gray duplex with a
cobalt metal roof and a weedy, ratty lawn. An old bicycle was
chained to a knee-high, black, chain link fence. A blue recycling
bin jammed with pizza boxes marked the curb. I stared at it.

Alex smiled. "I missed recycling day. But at
least I tried."

I did not miss, or yearn for, disgusting
university boys' pads. Ryan was neater than I was.

Alex draped his arm around me. "Really. It's
not that bad. I have air conditioning." He pointed at the little
unit hanging in the front window, like a little butt sitting on the
windowsill.

Well. That was a plus. It wasn't sweltering
today, but a little apartment could get stuffy fast.

He smiled at me. "Unless you'd rather I take
you in the subway station?"

It jerked a laugh out of me. He tugged my
semi-willing feet past the gate and on to the little concrete
doorstep. An white plastic "Ad-Sac" was hung around the doorknob.
After a quick glance around, he pressed my back against the door
and planted his hands on either side of my head. When I opened my
mouth to object, he kissed me. Deeply and urgently, until I felt
light-headed and hypnotized by his tongue, trapped between his body
and the warm black door.

While one hand cupped my cheek, his other
reached into his pocket. Keys jingled. I both heard and felt the
vibration of the lock turning. With a final kiss, he twisted the
doorknob and slipped his arm around me for support.

Without the pressure of the door, I took a
half step back and was startled when the floor suddenly dropped out
from under my foot. Alex held me up until I found my footing again.
"Sorry," he said against my lips.

Still in his arms, I twisted my head to
check out the dim, cramped hallway and took a cautious sniff. It
smelled tolerable, like orange peels and pine disinfectant, which
partly covered the deeper reek of cigarettes.

Alex kissed me on the lips, and released me
enough to flick the on the light switch. A bare bulb snapped on
over our heads. The yellow light warmed his skin. I touched his
hand shyly. He smiled and took my hand, turning it over to kiss the
palm.

I slid off my sandals on to a bristly
welcome mat.

"You don't have to," he said.

I shrugged. It was just my upbringing. The
hardwood floor didn't feel too gritty under my soles, which was a
relief. Alex kicked off his Tevas, released both our bags, and
scooped me up in his arms.

"Alex!" I protested as my skirt fanned open.
I grabbed it.

"Stop wiggling and put your arms around
me."

His eyes were smoky with promise. I closed
my own and wrapped my arms around his neck.

He carried me down the hall and nudged a
door on the right open with his toes.

I clung tighter to his neck as I scoped out
his bedroom. The shades were drawn and the window closed, so it
smelled a little sour, but the smoke smell lessened compared to the
hallway. The double bed was neatly made, with an orange, plaid
blanket and white sheets. There was just enough room for a desk at
the foot of the bed, buried in clothes and paper, and a small
bedside table with a lamp, an alarm clock, and some spare change.
Alex walked up to the white braided rug at the side of the bed and
slowly rotated 360 degrees. "Does it meet with your approval?"

I nodded up at him.

"Good." He lowered me onto the bed. The
mattress sagged under my weight, but he stepped back.

I sat up, feeling self-conscious and
slightly abandoned. Alex walked to the window at the head of the
bed and flicked his fingers though the slats of the blind. The air
conditioner rumbled to life.

He adjusted the blinds at an angle so we'd
get a little more light without losing the privacy. "It'll cool
down in a second," he said, sitting next to me.

Still, he'd damaged the mood. I studied the
orange plaid sheets and their pattern of red, yellow, and green
stripes. It was cheerful, and nothing like my own sober colors, but
I had to wonder if he and Mireille had used these sheets.

Ugh. Maybe we should have gone to my
place.

"Hey." He cupped my cheek with his hand.
"Stop thinking about it."

"What?" I asked automatically.

"Whatever it is. Probably Mireille." There.
He said her name. I tried to detect any suppressed emotion, hints
of love gone wrong, but his voice was flat. "That's history. I told
you."

I said nothing.

He used his index finger to reach under my
bangs and trace my forehead, along the hairline. "I should never
have violated the eleventh commandment."

His words rang a faint bell. "What's
that?"

"Do not bullshit Hope Sze." He kissed my
left eyebrow. His lips were soft against my skin.

I was still trying to work
out the reference. "Did you read
Love
Story
?"

"Yeah. When I was ten. My sister had a
copy." He kissed the bridge of my nose.

I'd picked up Erich Segal's book at a used
book sale a few years ago. The final scene never failed to jerk
tears from my eyes, but I'd never told anyone that. Certainly not
Alex. I tried to push the sentiment away. "Good. 'Cause basically,
that's what I want. No more B.S. No more abandonment." My lips
trembled a little. "Can you do that?"

He looked deep into my eyes. "Yeah. I know
you're having trouble trusting me, but I can do that."

I took a deep breath. I so wanted to believe
him.

He kissed my cheek. "Mireille was a
mistake." He kissed my other cheek. "I wanted to forget about it."
He rained kisses down my neck.

I shivered. My neck is extremely sensitive.
But I clung to the matter at hand. "You were the one who said we
should drink to truth, Alex. Why did you cover it up?"

"Because when I'm around you, Hope—" He ran
his lips down the V of my shirt collar, down one side and up the
other, with a hint of tongue that made my stomach plummet—"I'd
rather—" A firm kiss at the base of my neck—"just—" Light,
butterfly kisses a little higher—"fuck your brains out."

I gasped. He covered my breasts with his
hands, over my shirt and bra, but his fingers were everywhere,
pinching, kneading, squeezing.

"Alex." But my protest died down to a
whisper. The air conditioning seemed to have kicked in, all of a
sudden. Goose bumps rose on my arms, and I felt hot and cold at the
same time. I arched, pressing myself against his hands.

He grabbed the opening my shirt. The first
button resisted, so he yanked the fabric with his fists and tore it
open. Buttons pinged and skittered across his floor.

"Alex!" I yelled, leaning across the bed and
half-raising myself on my elbows to look for buttons. "I like this
shirt."

He pushed me down and opened my front-clasp
bra. In less than a minute, he'd rendered me half-naked. I moved to
cover myself, but he took both my wrists in one hand and held them
above my head.

I froze. I'd had fantasies like this, but I
didn't know Alex. What if he hurt me?

Alex laid his other hand on my cheek. "It's
okay, Hope." His touch was tender and his grey eyes were clear.
"I'd never hurt you."

I sighed and relaxed a smidge.

"Unless you want me to." He dropped my
wrists and cupped my breasts in both hands. His thumbs began
circling my nipples.

I closed my eyes and gave myself to his
fingers, his lips, his nimble tongue. His stubble scratched against
my skin, lifting a breathless giggle out of me. And then he flipped
my skirt up. My flirty white pleated skirt. I lifted my hips,
expecting him to undo the button and zipper at the back, but
instead he reached under the skirt and slipped off my panties.

"Alex!" My knees clamped together, trapping
the fabric. This was too much.

He kissed me deeply, almost hurting me with
his lips. He surged forward, his teeth banging against mine,
devouring me with his tongue, until my whole world was us, his
hungry mouth, his cedar smell, his stubble marking the skin around
my mouth.

He broke off the kiss. We were both gasping.
He looked at me and said, very low, "Hope."

I looked back at him. My chest was heaving.
I couldn't speak.

He said, "Don't think."

It's my nature to think, to analyze, to
extract. But I knew he was right. A sigh escaped my lips. My legs
parted. He slipped my panties off the rest of the way and tossed
them on the floor.

Then he flipped my skirt up and looked at
me. A long, slow look that made me raise myself on my elbows again
and clamp my legs closed. He stopped me, with a hand on each knee.
And then he touched me gently. And not so gently. And bent his head
and drank me in.

It felt so good that I swooned. My eyes
strayed up to the ceiling and I felt disembodied with pleasure.

But then my brain started working again.
This was my first time with a guy in a very long time. Also the
first time I'd been with a doctor. Shouldn't we be using dental
dams, those unsexy squares of latex that you, uh, stretch over a
woman's privates? Did he have a box in his bedside table? Or if we
had to, we could use a condom. Cut one open and spread it over
me.

Of course, he wasn't likely to
catch anything from me. And I wouldn't catch too much from his
mouth except—I stiffened. I couldn't enjoy myself unless I knew.
"Alex. Do you have cold sores?"

Alex lifted his head from between my legs, a
variety of emotions flicking across his face, settling somewhere
between anger and amusement. "No, Hope. No HSV 1 or 2. No HIV,
tested last month. No hepatitis, immunized against B, also tested
last month." He paused, and with exaggerated politeness, added,
"And you?"

I swallowed hard. "Negative."

He stayed there, studying my face. I felt
very exposed, in more way than one. This was probably the first
time a girl had stopped him in mid-act to give a medical history.
He probably thought I was a total geek. Plus I was lying here with
my breasts exposed, although my skirt had fallen back down a
little. He was still fully dressed. I shifted my hips subtly,
trying to get my skirt to fall down further.