Bright Side (8 page)

(Kate)

I’ve been in Clayton and Pete’s room for the past two hours. We all talked the first hour and then Clayton suggested, “Let’s play
Fatally harm, Screw, Civil Union
.”

I look at Pete to see if he has any clue what Clayton’s talking about but he looks as confused as
I am and then it hits me. “Dude, I am
not
playing
Kill, Fuck, Marry
.”

Clayton looks astonished I’d deny him. “It sounds so obnoxious when you say it like that. Why not?”

I roll my eyes. “I haven’t played that since I was like fifteen.”

Pete’s still confused. “What’s
Kill, Fu
—” He can’t even say the word. He’s definitely never played this game.

Now I’m smiling because Pete’s innocence is too damn adorable. “Clayton,” I shift my gaze to meet his eager eyes, “John our dorm RA, Hector the dude
who works in the cafeteria, and Sugar my roommate.”

His smile fades. “For God’s sake, Katherine, those options are horrific.”

I smile and taunt, “You’re the one who wanted to play. And Hector’s not horrific. He’s super nice.”

“How do you even know he’s nice?”

“I talk to him every night when I drop my dirty dishes off in the cafeteria washroom.”

“What you two do isn’t talking. It’s a sad combination of Spanglish and charades.”

“He’s teaching me Spanish. I’m teaching him English,” I defend.

He smirks
. “What has he taught you?”

I laugh because I know I’m caught. Hector’s English is extremely limited and what we do
is
closer to charades than a verbal conversation, but we give it our best effort. I puff up my chest. “I know ‘Mi nombre es Kate’ and ‘Como estas’ and ‘gato.’ And ‘Ami no me gustan las zanahorias,’ which means carrots taste like shit.”

Pete looks skeptical. “He taught you how to say, ‘Carrots taste like
… crap’?’”

I wave my hand dismissively
. “It probably means ‘I don’t like carrots,’ but I prefer ‘Carrots taste like shit.’ Because they do.” I eyeball Clayton, who’s now squirming. “Back to the game Clay: John, mi amigo Hector, and Sugar. Break it down.”

Pete still hasn’t caught on.

Clayton sighs. “Fatally harm has to be Sugar because I can’t work with her any other way.” He pauses. “The other two are making me nauseous.”

“Play your cards, dude.”

He covers his eyes and I glance and see the recognition registering in Pete’s eyes. His cheeks are the distinct shade of utterly embarrassed. Clayton sputters, “Screw John because he’s just too mean to spend the rest of my life with and Civil Union Hector, even though I don’t speak a word of Spanish and his hair net, baggy acid-wash jeans, and white, clunky, old-man sneakers are atrocious.” He can’t get the words out quickly enough and crosses his arms over his chest in a pouty gesture. “I’m done playing.”

I clap and laugh at the disgusted look on his face. “That was classic, Clayton.” Pete looks uncomfortable as hell like he’s afraid he’s up next so I switch gears. “Okay, new game.”

I proceeded to make up a new game where one person comes up with a question and then we all have to go around the circle and answer it. I learned that Pete was born in Texas, but grew up in Omaha, Nebraska. His favorite food is rare steak with sautéed garlic and mushrooms, his favorite childhood toy was a microscope (is that a toy?), and he’d rather have his little toe cut off with hedge clippers than walk across campus naked. And Clayton’s favorite book is
Lord of the Rings
, and he despises dogs—especially small ones. He competed in figure skating as a kid (I would have paid money to have seen that), and he would have no problem walking naked across campus as opposed to losing a toe, as long as he could wear thigh-high red socks and his black patent knee-high combat boots (I have to admit that’s a statement I’d like to see).

After Pete went to sleep an hour ago
, Clayton and I worked on homework. But now my eyes don’t want to stay open anymore.

I close my European history book and whisper, “Clayton, you really know how to show a girl a good time, but I think I’d better retire. I’m beat.”

“Okay honey. I better get a little beauty sleep, too.”

I throw my ba
g over my shoulder. “Night Clayton.”

“Good night Katherine.” He blows me a kiss from where he’s sitting crisscross applesauce on the floor.

I blow a kiss back and shuffle across the hall. I notice the red ribbon tied on the doorknob but unfortunately it doesn’t signal a warning in my sleepy head until it’s too late. It all happens so quickly. All I see are a tangle of legs and bare butt cheeks. And then the moans are interrupted by aggressive cursing.

“What the fuck?” Sugar yells. She’s trying to scream at me but she’s breathless, clearly in the middle of a fairly aerobic session here. “Get the hell out of here, you bitch!”

The scene,
and the red ribbon
, finally registers. “Oh shit. Sorry dude.” I pull the door behind me quickly. My heart is racing. I’m wide awake now. I head down the hall and use the bathroom, where I splash some water on face and weigh my options. Should I wait her out, or should I sleep somewhere else? I head back down to Clayton’s room and knock softly. The adrenaline rush has worn off and I feel sleepy again. Clayton answers the door, already in his pajamas. They’re burgundy silk.

“Did you forget something Katherine?”

“No. Dude, first things first, when did you turn into Hugh Hefner? Those pajamas are fantastic.”

He smiles and curtsies. “Thank you.”

I motion with my thumb over my shoulder to my door. “Um, yeah, so Sugar’s riding the baloney pony and I totally just walked in on them. Do you mind if I room with you tonight?”

He throws the door open. “Oh course not, Katherine.” He glances across the hall at my door. “Didn’t you see the ribbon tied to the doorknob?”

I shake my head and whisper because I don’t want to wake Pete. “I know, I know. I guess I was tired. I wasn’t thinking. Besides, we never discussed the signal for
don’t interrupt me, I’m having wild monkey sex
.”

Clayton climbs in his twin bed and pulls the covers back. “Come on Katherine. We’re small, there’s plenty of room.”

“Oh no Clayton, I’ll just crash here on the floor.”

He motions for me. “Nonsense, come on.” He winks. “You’re absolutely lovely, but you’re not my type.”

I smile and crawl in. “Thanks Clayton. You’re the best. Good night.”

He kisses me on the cheek. “Good night Katherine.”

I’ve shared a bed with someone almost my entire life. I didn’t realize until now, but I’ve kind of missed it. This is nice.

(Kate)

What is it about coffee? It’s the perfect beverage. It warms me, body and soul. And it makes me insanely happy. Even the thunderous bell doesn’t faze me this morning. I’ve decided to make peace with it since I know it cannot be outsmarted or reasoned with. I tried a medium push on the door just to be sure. Still loud as hell.

It’s early and Romero offers me his usual salute. “Good morning Kate,” he says while I take my place at the end of the short line. 

While I’m waiting, the guy who was working Tuesday walks out from the back room. And yeah, he’s still
astounding
to look at. He doesn’t see me yet, but I watch as he draws an apron over his head and haphazardly ties it in the back.

He looks older than I am, but I’m guessing he’s a student since he works here. He’s average height
, lean, and wiry but looks strong as hell—I can see the contours of the muscles in his triceps and shoulders—and unassumingly confident. It’s a confidence that I’m guessing is rooted deep down, but that fails him on a fairly regular basis. I would also wager that no one notices when it wavers because he’s so good at covering up his vulnerability with his likeable personality. And it’s not over-the-top, in-your-face likeable. It’s subtle. The kind of likeable that lures you in and before you know it you’ve bought the ticket, boarded the bus, and are miles into the pleasant journey before you question where you’re even going in the first place.

And luckily, this journey comes with spectacular scenery. His hair is messy, like he’s just rolled out of bed, and so dark brown it’s almost black—
just like the stubble on his face. And oh my God, his face. He has this baby face that you just know lets him get away with murder. Not that it’s innocent, it’s just a face that I’m positive no one could say no to. All that aside, the most striking thing about him are his eyes. They’re light blue, aquamarine even. The fact that they’re rimmed by these thick, long, black lashes makes them look so intense and deep you feel like you could fall right into them. Overall he’s just ridiculously good-looking.

He greets Romero with a deep, friendly, “Morning Rome,” and turns to help the next person in line, which—as dumb luck would have it—is me.

Silently I throw out a
Thank you God. The man standing before me is a staggering specimen. Excellent work. Later
, before looking up at those blue, blue eyes.

One side of his mouth turns up into a crooked smile. “
Ahh, the expatriate returns.” Up close his eyes are even brighter than I remember, and they twinkle. He could be all kinds of trouble for me. Good thing I’m just looking.

I smile in return because I can’t help it. “Expatriate?”

“Yeah, you’re definitely not from around here.”

Romero glances at us while he steams milk at the espresso machine. “Kate is from California.” It comes out as five words again: CALL EE FOR NEE UH.

“Ahh, California. I was right; not from around here.” Coffee God looks from me to Romero and back again before his eyes land on Romero. “Kate? You two are on a first name basis? Throw me a bone here Rome, how about an introduction, man?”

Romero laughs
and his shoulders bounce. “Keller Banks, this is Kate Sedgwick. Kate Sedgwick, this is Keller Banks.” He looks to Keller. “And she likes the coffee
black
.”

Keller smiles. “I recall that, Rome. She’s in the club.” He turns his attention to me and extends his hand. “It’s nice to officially meet you, Katie.”

I accept his hand. It’s warm and his fingertips are callused where they meet the back of my hand. His grip is strong, but oddly gentle, inviting even. I don’t want to let go, but I do. “Likewise Keller. And it’s just Kate.”

He smiles his crooked smile and nods. “Large, black house blend?”

“Yup. Today’s not the day to go breaking tradition—” My mind drifts to Clayton’s ecstasy-inducing mocha macchiato. “—or testing theories.” I’m hot enough just standing here looking at Keller Banks.

His eyebrows rise in question as he presses the lid on my coffee cup and hands it to me. “Testing theories?”

I shake my head as I hand him my money. “It’s nothing.” I bite my bottom lip trying to subdue the smile that wants badly to erupt.

The crooked smile returns to his face as if he can read my mind. “Let me know if I can assist you with testing any theories.” He places his elbows on the counter and leans down so we’re eye to eye and drops his voice. “I can be
extremely
helpful.” He slides my change across the counter.

My heart rate increases to a mad pounding in my chest. I hope it doesn’t show as I drop the coins in the tip jar. God, it’s like he knows there’s some sort of hidden sexual reference, or maybe he’s just this flirtatious with all girls. I raise my cup to him and smile. “I bet you can, Keller Banks.
I bet you can
. Have an outstanding day.” 

He doesn’t take his eyes off me. He doesn’t even blink. “Outstanding indeed. You too, Katie.”

My insides are still buzzing as I walk outside. Holy hell, is it bad that I innocently walk in for a cup of coffee and walk out wondering what the guy behind the counter looks like naked? And how he is in bed? I take a deep breath. I even let him call me Katie.

Goddamn
.

(Kate)

Gus and I have been getting by for several days on just daily texts or two-minute phone calls while he’s on smoke breaks. His schedule has been brutal. They’ve only been back to the apartment for a few hours every night to grab some sleep and then back at all over again. So I’m shocked when I get a text while I’m at the cafeteria dining with Clayton and Pete. It says,
Wanna Skype?

I text back,
HELL YES! Give me 15.

I excuse myself and run back to the dorms to boot up my
laptop.

That familiar rush of happiness stirs when I see his face on the screen
. He looks exhausted but content. “Hola señorita bonita.”

“Como
es ta, dude?”

“I’m good Bright Side, I’m good. You?”

“Fantastic. What’s happening in the world of rock and roll these days? You gonna tell me which other songs made the album or what? How long do I have to wait? My patience has reached its limit.”

Gus is out on the balcony and he already has a lit cigarette in his hand. No wonder he looks so calm. He smiles. “You ready?”

I’m bouncing in my chair. “Yeah, I’m ready! You’re killing me here. Dude, I’ve been waiting, like, my whole life, forever, to hear this news. So spill it.” And because I haven’t said it yet I point to the cigarette on my laptop screen. “Oh and you should quit.” I’m so excited about everything else that it doesn’t sound convincing at all.

He just smiles. And then he runs through the list.

I’m mentally ticking them off in my mind as he names them. I’m so stoked. “Dude, I have to tell you something.”

He looks worried. “What?”

“This
is
going to be the greatest album of all time. I hope you’re prepared to get crazy rich and famous, move to your own private island when you’re not touring, marry a new supermodel every couple of years, own a pet lion, and live on whiskey and heroin.”

He laughs. “Bright Side, you make it sound so glamorous. You promise that’s how it’s
gonna be?” I love it when he’s sarcastic.

“Definitely, though if you want a monkey instead of a lion, or vodka instead of whiskey, hey, knock yourself out. You’re the master of your rock and roll universe.”

He laughs even harder. “Dude, I knew I wasn’t in this for the music, not when there’s this whole world of debauchery out there.”

“I think debauchery and day to day are synonymous in the Rock God world. You say
poh-tay-toh; I say poh-tah-toh.”

“Oh, you know me, Bright Side, even if by some stroke of luck we have some degree of success with this I’ll still probably live with Ma, surf every minute I can, and live on veggie tacos and cigarettes.”

I smile because he’s right, even if he were a multi-billionaire that’s probably exactly how he’d live. He’s grounded and down to earth. Money means nothing to him. That’s probably why we get along so well. People are our priority. I love that about him. “Seriously, dude, I am
so
fucking proud of you. When do I get to hear it?”

“I’m hoping I can get my hands on something next week to send to you but you have to promise not to bullshit me. I need honest criticism.”

I raise my right hand. “I solemnly swear not to bullshit you.”

He smiles. “That’s my girl.” Followed by a pause. “
Dude, I was listening to ‘Missing You’ today, and I was wondering if, you know, if you’ve given any thought to playing your violin again?”

I
shake my head. “Nope, honestly I don’t really miss it. That’s kind of sad, huh? Maybe someday I will. Who knows? I just can’t right now.” It reminds of Grace too much. It hurts too much.

“Okay.” It’s sad. “It’s just that the world’s a more beautiful place when you play. That’s all I’m saying.” He pauses and when I don’t speak he continues
. “So what’s happening in your world? How’s school, work, the stripper, the gimp?”

I’m relieved by the topic change and I laugh. “School’s great, I still can’t believe I’m actually here. And work’s
rad. You’d love the girl I work with, Shelly. She’s kind of angry on the outside and sweet on the inside.”

“Right on. Sounds like my kind of girl.”

“The stripper is, well ... the stripper is, how shall I put this politely?”

“Politely
? Shit, that’s never stopped you before. Give it to me.”

“The stripper has a fairly active sex life. In our dorm room. I witnessed it firsthand.”

“Firsthand? Minnesota is turning you into some sort of sexual deviant. You watched? Next you’re gonna tell me you’re making pornos with the gimp across the hall.”

“Dude, I walked in on her. I was fucking mortified. She swears like a champion, even mid-thrust.”

He tips his chair back he’s laughing so hard. “No way! That’s too funny.”

“Yeah, well, not so funny when
I’m the jackass marching in on her. And another thing, correct me if I’m wrong, but when you go to some chick’s place for a horizontal workout you don’t stick around to snuggle it out the rest of the night, right?”

He’s still laughing. “Dude, that’s One Night Stand 101. You get your ass out of there as soon as the deed is done.” He stops laughing. “Wait. Back the bus up. Where did you spend the night while she was playing sleepover?”

“Oh, Clayton let me sleep with him.”

His face is suddenly dead serious. “Whoa, is Clayton the gay neighbor or the leather-clad
perv?”

“Clayton is definitely one hundred percent homosexual.”

He’s taken on this fatherly tone, “Bright Side, you can’t just crash in a room with two dudes you just met.”

“Gus, they’re completely harmless. Baby kittens are scarier than these two.”

He runs his fingers through his hair and pulls it back into a ponytail; he’s getting frustrated with me. He always plays with his hair when he’s frustrated. “Bright Side, listen to me, you have no idea how fucking gorgeous you are, or the effect you have on guys. They want to get in your panties the instant they see you. And then they fucking fall in love with you after they spend five minutes with you.” He huffs. I know another cigarette is coming any second now. “All I’m saying is you have to be careful, all right?”

I roll my eyes. “Exaggerate much? Gus, you’re talking to Kate Sedgwick, remember? I don’t date. And I know how to ward off unwanted advances.”

He shakes his head. “You couldn’t ward off a rape, Bright Side. You weigh a hundred pounds soaking wet. Just please promise me that you’ll be safe and watch out for yourself. If some son of a bitch forced himself on you …
fuck
. I’d have to come to Minnesota and commit murder and I’m pretty sure prison isn’t in MFDM’s game plan.”

“Gus—”

He interrupts. “You’re going to get a lot of attention up there. Guys are going to be throwing themselves at you. Be selective … because you deserve so much more than some random dude fucking you in the back of a van or your best friend in his mom’s guest room.”

That about sums up my sexual past. There have only been a few guys and I
was
selective. I’m not a slut, I was opportunistic. Once and done, no strings attached, no apologies. I enjoyed all of them. But Gus was different. He wasn’t planned, but he’s also far from random. And this is somehow now about him. “Gus.” I wish he wouldn’t do this. He’s vilifying himself.

“No Bright Side, listen, you are
so
special. You deserve someone who takes you out on real dates. Someone who buys you flowers and shit. Because if there’s anyone in this world who’s capable of insane amounts of love and who deserves to be loved that way in return, it’s you.”

I shake my head. “I don’t do hearts and flowers, Gus.”

“When you find the right guy you will. You just haven’t found him yet.” His voice sounds sad.

Life has never afforded me time or opportunity to date. Friends and family have always been my priorities and I’ve loved them with my whole heart. Guys, sex, they were just a physical attraction, a physical act. With Gus it was more, it was love, but it wasn’t
love
.
Love
is an elusive, unrealistic, foreign concept. I know some people feel it and it’s not that I’m hardened. I’m an optimist, but first and foremost I’m a realist. My life will not follow a fairy tale, and that’s okay. My life is reality. And in my reality people don’t fall in love and get married and live happily ever after, because life is complicated. And messy. I’m happy knowing that fairy tales exist out there for people like Shelly. (Shelly would probably kick my ass if she knew I put her name and fairy tale in the same sentence.) 

This time
I hold my finger up to interrupt the moment. “Hold on a sec.” I stand and walk across the hall and knock on Clayton and Pete’s door, because right now I need to make Gus feel better.

Pete answers. “Hi Kate.”

“Hey Pete. Can you and Clay come over to my room? It’ll only take a sec.”

Pete looks to Clayton who’s concealed behind the door. Clayton’s voice chimes in. “Sure thing, honey.”

They follow me across the hall. Gus’s head is resting against the back of his chair and his eyes are closed. He’s halfway through a cigarette. He’s concentrating so hard on the calm that’s filtering through him that he doesn’t hear me re-enter the room.

“
Wakey, wakey, sleeping beauty.”

He smiles before he opens his eyes.

“I want to introduce you to two friends of mine.” I step aside so Gus can see Clayton and Peter.

Gus smiles as he takes them in. He’s clearly not as concerned for my safety anymore. They are the two least threatening guys you’ll ever meet and I’m fairly sure that resonates loud and clear, even across a computer screen. “What’s up dudes?”

Clayton waves and his cheeks flush. “Hello.” Oh shit, I may have just witnessed love at first sight. Gus isn’t wearing a shirt and he does look really good. Clayton’s practically hyperventilating. I feel like I should get him a paper bag or administer CPR. Does our dorm have a defibrillator?

Peter raises his left hand but looks confused and terrified at the same time. “Hi.”

I intercede and point to the screen. “This is my best friend, Gus Hawthorne. Gus, these are my Minnesota friends, Clayton and Peter.”

Clayton and Peter look panicked. I guess Gus is kind of intimidating. He’s tall and broad and muscular. He’s got this presence, that’s intimidating ... even on a computer screen. And when guys are as good
-looking as Gus is, people seem either to want to challenge them, flirt with them, or cower in fear. Clay and Pete are definitely cowering, even though Clay still looks smitten. I guess Clayton and Peter don’t know it yet, but Gus is a big teddy bear.

Clayton and Pete suddenly trip over their words and talk over one another, saying
, “It’s nice to meet you,” and, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” They’re both so formal.

Gus smiles and I know he’s about to laugh, but he’s trying so hard to be polite. “Nice to meet you two as well.”

I clap my hands. “Okay, awesome, everyone knows each other. We’re all one big happy family.” I look at Gus. “Are you happy now?”

He’s wearing the biggest shit-eating grin. “You have no idea.”

I look back at Clayton and Pete. “Thanks for coming to meet Gus. I’ll be over as soon as I’m off this call.”

They both nod, speechless.

Gus is loving this. “You guys have a stellar evening and take care of my girl, okay?”

They nod in unison again, mouths slightly
open, and follow each other back to their room, one looking just as confused as the other. Pete’s in awe and Clayton probably has a raging hard-on. Gus has this effect on people.

Gus claps his hands and bursts out laughing when he hears the door click shut. “Oh Christ, Bright Side, not that you don’t need to be on your guard, but you’re safe as houses with those two. I’m telling you, Pete is definitely not into
role playing or S&M, but goddamn if I couldn’t stop myself from picturing the dude in leather chaps like you said. That’s some funny shit.”

I try not to laugh but I can’t help myself. Gus’s laugh is infectious. “I told you.”

“Seriously though, they did seem really decent.”

“That’s because they are. They’re good dudes.”

He smiles and nods. Then we’re quiet for several seconds.

“Thanks for worrying about me, though,” I muster. “It’s
kinda nice to know there’s someone out there who gives a shit. So thanks.”

“Anytime. It’s my mission in life, to give a shit.”

I smile.

He smiles.

“Well, Bright Side, I’m gonna let you go for tonight. It’s been awesome, possum.”

“Always. And likewise.”

“I love you, Bright Side.”

“Love you, too, Gus.”

“Good night.”

“Good night.”

I shut down my laptop and head across the hall. The door’s been left open for me so I walk right in.