The Do-Over (14 page)

“So did I.” Kyle slammed the door to her bedroom before storming out of her apartment. Once he got to his car, he realized he’d left his keys inside and his overnight bag.

He needed to calm down anyway. He started walking briskly down her street. His thoughts came out as nonsensible, jumbled rambles. He had no idea what he was doing or where he was going. He was fuming with anger. Anger at Lanie? Maybe, but only because she deserved better than Brad. She deserved someone who put her on a pedestal. Was he mad at Brad? Yes, sir, he hated Brad right now. The more he walked, the more it became apparent that he was most angry with himself. And then the guilt washed over him like a tidal wave, threatening to drown him. Oh God, he had just walked out on Lanie. She had so many insecurities as it was, and he just added to them. She was probably freaking out right now in that empty apartment. How could he be so cruel? Everyone pushed her around, and now Kyle was a card-carrying member of that club. He hated himself for it.

He turned around and walked back to her apartment, practicing his apology. He would leave her alone after this. They were obviously very bad for each other, and as much as Kyle wanted her, he couldn’t do casual with her. It fucked with his mind too much. God, he had wanted to fuck her so bad, but this wasn’t healthy. Then again, was it healthy to sleep with a different woman every other night? Kyle stopped in his tracks, realizing he hadn’t had sex with anyone since they made their arrangement, which was completely out of character for him. He’d had several opportunities to, including three invitations from his regular booty calls, and he ignored them. He also had a few new numbers from girls he met at the bar. He hadn’t called them. What did that mean?

It means, you idiot, that you need to sleep with her. If you sleep with her, you’ll get her out of your head
. Maybe it was the virgin thing. Some kind of secret, fucked-up fantasy his subconscious was giving him grief over. He doubted she’d want him after this. Hell, he couldn’t blame her. Then the guilt came again, in waves crashing into him. He was such an ass. She didn’t deserve this. He should leave her alone. But then again, if she wanted him still, then wouldn’t that be cruel too?

She looked so beautiful even in that silly robe. He so wanted to look under that robe. Fuck, now he was hard. “Now you decide to show up,” he chided his favorite body part, adjusting himself.

He walked back hastily, wondering how Patrick Swayze managed to dance in such a tight shirt. He stood awkwardly at her front door. He knocked on the door softly.

Cassie answered.
Just great. She came home
. Of course, what other way could this night go?

“Hi there,” she greeted in a husky voice, motioning him inside.

“I’m here to see Lanie.” Kyle marched past her. She managed to run in front on him, blocking his entrance to the small hallway that led to Lanie’s bedroom.

“Lanie’s probably sleeping by now,” Cassie said, licking her lower lip. Kyle wondered how much more his aching head could handle tonight. Was Cassie actually coming onto him?

“I hear her television,” Kyle replied, wondering if it would be wise to shove Cassie out of the way. He’d never hit a woman, but shoving? Shoving was allowed, wasn’t it?

“She falls asleep to it every night.”

“I guess I’ll tuck her in then.” Kyle advanced, pushing past Cassie, but she shifted, blocking him again. “Kyle, you’re really hot. Actually, ridiculously handsome would be a better description. Are you seriously interested in my sister?”

He stared at her incredulously. “Yes, I am. What’s your point?”

“I guess my point is Lanie’s sleeping and Brad’s out of town.”

“Again, what’s your point?”

“It just seems like great timing, that’s all. No one would have to know. I’m good at keeping a secret,” she said, running her finger down his shirt.

Kyle grabbed her wrist, removed her hand from his body, and released it with force. “You completely disgust me. Now get the hell out of my way.”

She moved aside. “Don’t tell Brad.” The desperation dripped from her voice. “I’ll tell him you’re lying if you do.”

He turned to her, shaking his head. “What about Lanie? Shouldn’t someone tell Lanie?”

There was no guilt in her expression. She just shrugged her shoulders. The same way Lanie did. It sickened Kyle. He didn’t have time for this bullshit. He walked into Lanie’s bedroom and closed the door behind him. The lights were off, but the television was on. She was watching an infomercial. He turned on the lights, and there she sat in the bed with a glass of clear liquid in her hand. Her beautiful golden eyes were bloodshot when she looked at Kyle.

Kyle slid hesitantly onto the bed next to her. “Hi,” he said sheepishly.

“Hi,” she replied and took a swig from her glass. She winced at the taste but swallowed it. He took it from her and sipped it.

“Jesus, you’re drinking vodka straight up?”

“Yep,” she replied, keeping her eyes on the television.

“Why are you drinking? You don’t drink.”

“Don’t tell me what I don’t do, you jerk.” Kyle could tell she wanted her voice to be strong, but it was raspy and choked, like she’d been crying very hard. “Besides, we were out of ice cream.”

She reached for the bottle on the nightstand to refill the glass. Kyle grabbed it from her. “You’re cut off.”

“Hey, that’s mine. You can’t cut me off in my own house.”

“This is yours?” He stared in disbelief at the tall, frosted bottle of Grey Goose.

“No, it’s Brad’s. He left it here, but possession is nine-tenths of the law.” She laughed cynically, trying to grab it back from him to refill her glass, but Kyle kept his grip firm. He took a long swig straight from the bottle, hoping the liquid courage would calm his nerves. Lanie was obviously in a very dark place if she was drinking, and he had put her there.

“Was this a new bottle?” She nodded slowly. “You drank half a bottle? I was only gone for forty minutes. Jesus, Lanie, you’re going to pass out.”

“It’s funny how fast you can get used to something.” The pure melancholy in her voice caused Kyle to wince.

“Why are you drinking?”

She laughed a little hysterically. “Well, let’s see. You insulted me and then rejected me.”

Kyle shook his head. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said those things. I was just having a really fucked-up moment in my head. I didn’t reject you. It wasn’t you. It was me.”

“Are you seriously giving me the whole ‘it wasn’t you, it was me’ bullshit? You think I’m so stupid I don’t know what that means?”

“Lanie, it’s true. I want you so badly, you have no idea.”

“Then why did you leave?”

“Because I’m an idiot.”

“Well, that’s true.” They didn’t speak for a while. Lanie kept looking at the bottle Kyle clutched in his hands under his watchful guard. “Why did you forgive Brad for what he did to Rachael?”

Kyle took another swallow from the bottle, wondering if he should drink all of Brad’s vodka.
Fuck Brad
. “I forgave him because Rachael did. He made amends and begged for her forgiveness. It took her months to accept his apology, but she did. It took me years.”

Lanie leaned her head back to stare at the ceiling. “I asked him out first, you know.” She slurred slightly. Kyle wondered how much of this she’d remember in the morning.

“You did?”

“Yep, I asked him out for drinks one night. I thought we had a good time, but I didn’t know if he considered it a date or not. We mostly talked about work, so he probably thought it was just colleagues going out for a drink. I stowed up the courage to ask him over here to cook dinner for him. Cassie wasn’t supposed to be home, but she was. After that…well, you can guess what happened after that. I don’t want to steal him from her, Kyle. I just think we might be good together…good for each other. I don’t think about him, except abstractly that way. The way you might…think about Julia Roberts.”

“Yeah, Julia Roberts doesn’t work with me or hang out at my apartment, Lanie.”

“I know, but imagine if she did. That’s what it’s like. I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I just want to drink and learn about this knife. It can cut through a can and everything.” She gestured to the television where a small British man was performing an absurd demonstration of a blade cutting through items that made no sense.

“Fine, let’s watch it.”

”I think you should go. I don’t want you here.”

“Sorry, can’t do that.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re going to need someone to hold your hair back”—he glanced over at her—“or maybe take you to the hospital to get your stomach pumped.”

“I don’t like you very much right now,” she replied, crossing her arms.

“That’s too bad because I like you very much.”

“Okay, do you want to have sex?”

“Absolutely not. At least not now.”

“Why not?” she asked, pouting.

“Because you’re drunk, and it’s not a good idea. I would be taking advantage of you. I might be taking advantage either way, but I won’t have it like this.”

“I’m not drunk,” she said with slur, ignoring or perhaps not understanding his statement.

“Enough, Lanie. Let’s just watch this fucking knife commercial and go to sleep, okay?” Kyle wanted to sound convincing, maybe even commanding, but his voice was just pleading.

“Why would I need someone to hold my…” She never finished the sentence. Lanie scrambled off the bed and ran to the bathroom. He followed her straight to the toilet and held her hair as he promised. Kyle rubbed small circles against her back and brought her a cold, damp washcloth to wipe her face. When she was done retching, he fetched her water and some aspirin. Kyle stood behind her, clasping her hips, while she brushed her teeth and washed her face, letting her lean back on him for support. He whispered words of comfort, but she was incapable of listening. She turned toward the toilet again, and he walked her toward it, but only dry heaves came out. Kyle pulled her onto his lap, and they sat on the bathroom floor until she fell asleep. Then he carried her back to the bed.

He laid on her on the bed and watched her. She shifted uncomfortably in her robe. Kyle lifted her up, untied the knot in the robe’s belt, and removed the robe. He almost gasped at the sight of her body. She wasn’t naked as he’d suspected. She had worn the pink bustier for him. The silk and lace hugged her body seductively, revealing her creamy skin and ample cleavage. Kyle adjusted her carefully so she was on her side. Her body was perfect, except for the long, jagged scar that ran along her chest and collarbone. He traced it with his fingertip. It was such an odd area to have a scar. Not the kind of place a kid would normally get hurt. The misshapen line told him it couldn’t be from a surgery. It sliced deeply, dividing the perfect smooth skin like a gravel path separating clean sand. Kyle winced, thinking of the physical pain such an injury would cause, let alone the mental ache of seeing it every day in the mirror. It had to be the reason she covered herself so much.

He traced it again, whispering softly, “Who hurt you, Lanie?”

She moaned and rolled over. He lay on the other side, staring at her sleeping form. She looked beautiful even in her drunken stupor. Enjoying the sight of a woman sleeping should have been as appealing to Kyle as watching paint dry. There was something mesmerizing about watching Lanie though. He told himself he was just surveying her to make sure she didn’t choke on her vomit, but she didn’t have anything else in her system. The moonlight streaming through the window cast a soft glow on the milky perfection of her buttery-soft skin, possibly her best feature. It was like admiring a work of art. Her glossy hair fell across her face. Kyle pushed it up behind her ear, careful not to disturb her. Her rosy lips pursed when she breathed. Crap, I’m hard again, Kyle thought, shaking his head and making his way to the bathroom.

* * * *

The next morning, Kyle awoke alone in the bed. He immediately felt cold without Lanie’s presence in his arms. She came out of the bathroom a minute later, freshly showered and dressed for work. She sat on the edge of the bed and tousled his hair, which Kyle thought was a good sign.

“Hi, beautiful,” he said sleepily.

“Hi, there. Coffee’s ready.”

“How do you feel, Lanie?”

She looked down sheepishly. “I’m fine. Thanks for taking care of me. I don’t think I’ll drink like that again.”

He nodded. “Probably a wise idea. It’s all right to have a few drinks. It’s not a great idea to drink like a sailor on shore leave, which is what you were doing. You really are an all-or-nothing kind of girl, huh?”

“I understand the difference, Kyle. I was just emotional and thought maybe it would dull the sting.”

Kyle was immediately contrite. After all, he was the one who’d caused the sting in the first place. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, but I have to know. Did we have sex last night?”

Kyle sat straight up in the bed, shaking his head wildly. “No, we didn’t.”

She relaxed her shoulders and sighed. “Oh, that’s a relief.”

Kyle did his best to hide his disappointment. “Why? Because you changed your mind?”

She gave him a huge smile. “No, silly, because it would be a shame if I couldn’t remember my first time.” This time Kyle sighed, releasing the anxiety that had been building. “And I would be very disappointed in you.”

“Because I would have taken advantage of you when you were drunk?”

“No, because it would mean you weren’t memorable,” she said and giggled.

“Oh, you’re a smart-ass.” He grabbed her by the waist and rolled her onto the bed with him. She protested but giggled louder.

He laid her down and kissed her. The roses, lemons, and oranges were accompanied by a hint of mint this morning, and it was driving him wild.

“Stop, Kyle. I have to get to work.”

He pushed himself up, unable to conceal his huge grin but hoping he was concealing the other part of him that was getting larger. “Lanie, I was thinking. You deserve a special night for this. It only happens once. Will you give me another do-over?”

“What did you have in mind?”

“Well, how about if I take you out to a nice dinner tonight? We can dress up and then go back to my place. It’s Friday. You can spend the night, and we won’t be disturbed.”