Plum Girl (Romance) (4 page)

Several months ago, Lonnie had gone to New York for Peach's graduation from NYU. One night, they'd gone to a comedy club downtown with Peach's latest love interest—a fellow art student named Something-or-Other. Just as the show was starting, Peach went to the rest room, leaving her date and Lonnie at the table, which was right in front of the stage.

Terry, the club's emcee, was in the middle of his opening jokes when he focused his attention on Lonnie. In front of the crowd, he asked her: "So what are you doing with
this guy?"
Then he launched into a series of one-liners at What's-His-Name's expense. Of course Lonnie had waited to make sure Peach's date wasn't taking offense before she gave in and laughed—along with the rest of the audience.

By the time Peach returned to the table, the first comic had started performing, and her date had settled into an uncomfortable silence. After ten minutes of ignoring his sullen posture, Peach, confused, tried to break the ice. "This place is great, isn't it?" she'd said.

What's-His-Name whipped his head around to face her, and snapped, "Yeah, this place is great if your sister's guffaws are any indication."

"My wha—?" Lonnie started.

"Look," he went on waspishly, "I've got a headache. I'll call you tomorrow or something." And with that, he got up, pushed his way through the clusters of chairs, and left the club. Never to be heard from—at least not by the Kelley sisters—again. After the show, Terry approached Lonnie, and they'd been dating ever since.

"And, may I remind you," Peach said, breaking Lonnie's reverie, "that thanks to Terry making fun of him, and you laughing, Derek was so mortified, he never called me again. I got blown off because of you two. Well, especially you."

"Why especially me?"

"Your laugh can be a little much."

"I didn't know his name was Derek."

"Derek Something-with-an-S."

Peach had to be one of the only people on the planet who almost never got blown off. It figured that the one time she did, it had very little to do with her.

"Well, we never specified that we'd be exclusive, per se, but that's not the point," Lonnie said now. "The point is..." Peach narrowed her eyes speculatively, putting her hands on her slim hips, and Lonnie plopped onto the yellow-and-blue-striped sofa. "Look, the point is that Terry and I have this set routine and... it works fine for both of us. So why am I going to start something with Dominick that inevitably is going to get all confusing, and I'll just end up getting hurt in the end?"

Peach sighed. "Right, I forgot the 'every man's out to dump me' obsession," she said, making quotation marks with her fingers.

"Hey, point out one time when it hasn't happened." She started to respond, but Lonnie cut her off. "You know, it doesn't even matter. I can't do two guys at once." Peach's eyebrows shot up. "You know what I mean," Lonnie amended. "I can't see two guys at the same time."

"See? You see Terry, like, once a month."

"What's your point?"

"Lon, it just seems... Look, ever since Jake, it seems—"

"Jake has nothing to do with anything. All I'm saying is that I'm involved with Terry right now. That's just how it is."

"You act like it's a prison sentence. You do have free will."

"I know that, jeez," Lonnie said, frustrated. "I
like
Terry."

"Yeah, but you like Dominick more. I can tell."

"Can we please drop this?"

Peach sighed one more time before relenting. "Okay. I give up for now."

Lonnie leaned back on the soft, striped pillows and closed her eyes. Why did dating have to be so damn difficult?

* * *

Dominick tossed his tie, which had become significantly loosened over the course of the evening, and his coat onto the kitchen table, grabbed a pizza box out of the refrigerator, and headed into the living room.

He thought about Lonnie. She'd become prettier since college. Of course, he'd always thought she was cute, but he'd thought that about half the girls he met in school. Lonnie's look was always different, though. Back then she'd had carelessly wavy hair, mismatched clothes, and a sort of sweetness about her. She was definitely the last person he expected to see eight years later. The girl in the elevator was heavier than he remembered, with tamer hair, but still, he recognized her almost immediately. There was something about her now... something intoxicating.

It had to be intoxicating, or why else did he turn into an asshole wherever she was concerned these days? He remembered the first time they had lunch, when he'd known how much he was rambling on about his job but couldn't seem to stop himself. There he was, sitting across from this smart, sweet girl—with sexy eyes and a luscious mouth and great breasts—and he'd wanted to impress her. And she'd just looked at him with those pretty eyes, and smiled like she was actually interested.

Then tonight he'd gotten unequivocally shot down.

Dominick shook his head as he stared at the TV, not registering the program in front of him. Everything had been going well. They'd been sitting at a private table, and things were just starting to get interesting when he scared her off. Even though the bar was dark, he could see some color drift to her cheeks after he touched her, and then the conversation went to hell. She'd come up with an excuse to leave, which he brilliantly topped off with the admission that lately his nights consisted of testing software.

He didn't know why he was so irritated by what had happened that night. It wasn't as if they knew each other
that
well. They just emailed occasionally (okay, nearly every day), had a few lunches (with no awkward silences), and now they'd gone out for exactly one after-work excursion (throughout which, he'd pictured her lying naked on their tabletop). Fine, so she was just an acquaintance. No big deal.

So why did he still feel so frustrated? True, there was
that
kind of frustrated playing a part—he hadn't been involved with anyone for a while. But mostly what he felt was disappointed. By the way Lonnie reacted tonight, it was pretty clear that the idea of a more-than-platonic relationship with him left her cold.
That's that,
he thought, because now he had his answer.

* * *

Lonnie lay awake staring at the ceiling, listening to Peach's even breathing across the studio apartment. Peach's bed was shielded by an oak-and-canvas partition screen, and there were tiny, iridescent moons hanging from the ceiling above her. Lonnie rolled over to her side and let the thickness of her mattress and the softness of her puffy cream comforter relax her. She sighed, thought about what happened, and suddenly felt relaxed all over again.

Damn it!
Why had she acted like such an ass? She knew her behavior at Rattlesnake hadn't seemed logical. How could she explain to Dominick that her luck with men was never great, and her last serious relationship had left her utterly crushed and disillusioned? Her
only
serious relationship, if one wanted to be technical. And how could she tell him that now she was involved with someone already... someone who invoked far less confusing feelings in her?

Lifting up, she made a futile attempt to fluff her feather pillow before setting her head back down. She closed her eyes and thought about her track record with the antithetical—that is to say,
opposite—
sex.

Her only real date in high school was her senior prom. She'd gone with a boy from her calculus class who had seemed perfectly nice in a dull, harmless sort of a way. That is, until he'd gotten drunk at the pre-party, passed out, and missed the whole dance entirely. Then in college she'd barely dated, finding most of her male classmates crass, obnoxious, and obsessed with baseball hats. When she'd met Eric Yagher during her sophomore year, she couldn't help but like him. Here was a guy who actually said "please" and "thank you" (albeit, it was usually when he was asking to copy her Spanish homework). And here was a guy who actually asked "busy day?" (granted, it was inevitably followed up by: "feel like dog sitting?"). And he was gorgeous, not that it was any excuse. Whatever the reasons, Lonnie had invested all her romantic energy in him because she couldn't see him for the self-centered, pretty boy that he was.

Until the winter formal. She'd planned to ask Eric, acting on a tip that he didn't already have a date. She'd practiced the phone call a million times in front of the bathroom mirror, so there was really no excuse for what happened. On the first phone call, she choked and told him she was just calling to ask what day their Spanish exam was scheduled. On the second call, she paused, then told him she'd accidentally called his number, and hung up. On the third call, she started, "Would you happen to have"—then quickly added—"the weather forecast for tomorrow? I didn't know if I should plan on rain."
Plan on rain?
She wanted to die. Finally, on the fourth call, determined and a little delirious at that point, she blurted: "Eric, do you have a date for the formal?"

"Yes, I do," he'd said bluntly and unapologetically. "I'm taking a girl from Syracuse I've been seeing."

She hadn't even known he'd been seeing anyone. But then again, why would she? They were hardly tight, despite her lust-based delusions. Immediately, she started scrapping to save face. "Oh, great!" she yelped a couple pitches too high to be believable. "That's terrific! Well, I was just curious, but that's great!"

Before she could finish her congratulatory squealing over the fact that he had a date, Eric demanded, "Is this what you've been trying to ask me for the past two days?" It was one of the more embarrassing moments of her life.

It was also one of the more infuriating, and ultimately,
defining
moments. Okay, so Eric didn't want to take her to the formal, but did he have to be so thoroughly
un
charming about it? After that, Lonnie had absolutely no use for Eric Yagher, or his blond hair that felt like feathers. And she'd entered into what some people might call a "dating slump," but what she considered life as usual.

Slump life went on hiatus when she was twenty-two. She'd sat down next to a brilliant Ph.D. student named Jake on the first day of her Religion and Society graduate seminar, and they'd immediately clicked.
Unfortunately,
she thought now as she rolled onto her other side.

Throughout their yearlong relationship Lonnie was completely in love with Jake. It had to be love, she figured, otherwise why wouldn't she have noticed the way he constantly used hackneyed BS to keep her pacified? With all his sweet talk, she had honestly never seen the "reconciliation" with his ex-girlfriend coming. That was the euphemism he'd used for screwing around with her behind Lonnie's back. Up until that point, things had seemed perfect between them. But what did she know? Lonnie had never been one of those girls with a boyfriend since age twelve. Her experience with relationships was limited, to say the least. Not to mention, Jake was the only man she'd ever slept with. In
the biblical sense,
anyway. And that was four long years ago.

Terry was the first person she'd gotten involved with since she and Jake broke up. They'd spent many warm nights kissing and cuddling in his New York apartment, but they'd never made love. He never pushed her. Not yet, anyway. Terry had told her more than once that she was different from the groupie-like women he met at the comedy club. He'd told her she was "pure" and "perfect"—the "marrying kind."

She could never tell if he was serious or not when he made comments like that. With Terry, everything came off as a joke. Nothing was serious; nothing was heavy: nothing was painful. It was such a relief. And she hardly had the presence of mind to get offended by his sexist thinking when it seemed to be getting her off the hook so well. The truth was, she'd had little desire to make love since Jake had broken up with her. As weird as she knew it was, the mere idea left her cold.

Lonnie didn't want to believe any of her issues had to do with old-fashioned ideas about love and sex. She didn't want to be wired that way, but it was hard not to see some connection. And as much as she liked Terry, she had a strong feeling that she'd never be in love with him. There was just something missing. That special something that had made Jake's leaving her for his ex-girlfriend more gut twisting than she ever would've thought possible. That special something that forced her to indulge in so many revenge fantasies, she began to wonder if she was a normal, sane person after all.

For a long time, she'd mentally replayed things Jake had said to her: stale promises he'd made about their non-existent future, and all his cheesy words of love
(gag).
Okay, so obviously rage had skewed her memory of things a bit. But his betrayal hadn't made any logical sense to her, and in the end she'd decided that she didn't believe in love after all. That's why meeting Terry was so fortuitous. What she had with him was perfect: convenient, uncomplicated, fun.

Then Dominick Carter dropped into her life out of nowhere, and for the first time in so long, she started having carnal fantasies that didn't stop short. They didn't stop
period.
She pictured him naked. Naked
and
aroused. She imagined what his erection would feel like against her bare flesh. Between her legs. Pressing inside her, deeper, deeper...

She didn't know him well enough to love him, but she desperately
wanted
him, and it scared her to death. What if she got in over her head (again)? What if she fell for Dominick, let herself feel secure with him, and then it all got thrown back in her face
(again
—not that she was bitter, or anything)?

Still, four hours later, she regretted her behavior at Rattlesnake. She'd alienated Dominick when in her heart what she'd really wanted was to pull him closer to her, in every possible way.

Chapter 4

The next morning Lonnie tried to stifle a yawn and looked at the antique clock that hung on the wall: 9:34 a.m. Twit had given her bookbinding-cleaner duty, and she was trying to make the best of it.