Insipid (15 page)

“Rushing and racing, and running in circles

Moving so fast, I’m forgetting my purpose

Blur of the traffic is sending me spinning, getting nowhere

My head and my heart are colliding, chaotic

Pace of the world, I just wish I could stop it

Try to appear like I’ve got it together, I’m falling apart

Save me, somebody take my hand and lead me

Slow me down, don’t let love pass me by

Just show me how ‘cause I’m ready to fall

Slow me down, don’t let me live a lie

Before my life flies by

I need you to slow me down.”

“Slow Me Down” by Emmy Rossum

DID I JUST
hear a rooster crow? I turned my head from side to side, afraid that I had ended up somewhere else between last night and this morning. A smile crept up my face when I saw him sleeping next to me. I was where I always wanted to be. Where I always knew I belonged. Just as I turned around to try to go back to sleep, he pressed himself against me, hugging his arms tighter around my chest.

“Morning,” he mumbled as he kissed the back of my head.

“Did you by any chance hear a rooster crow?” I asked, reaching my hand back to outline his face.

“Yes! Ugh. I forgot to tell you. My neighbors now have chickens living in their apartment.”

“Oh no! That’s it. You know you have to move, right? I won’t be able to come over anymore,” I teased him, ruffling the top of his head.

“I know, right? Seriously. Chickens. In an apartment.”

“Hmm. Interesting,” I said, turning around to face him. “Only in California?”

“No, only in my neighborhood,” he reminded me. “Your dad would freak if he knew where you were spending your nights.”

“He would freak if he knew what was in me every night. Not necessarily where I
am
every night.”

His smile always lit up my mornings. In a way, he was right. Chris lived in a warehouse turned makeshift apartment in what they call the Tenderloin District in downtown San Francisco. We had both just graduated from U.C. Berkeley and he was living on what little was left of his college scholarship while deciding what he wanted to do with his life. I was set and ready to attend Business School at Stanford in the fall. I was an only child living in a loving and stable home, brought up by the most devoted parents. I never really felt the need to fit in. While girls my age were desperately looking for attention from the opposite sex, I was busy traveling the world with my parents or hanging out at the stables caring for my horses. Sure, there were always boys who paid attention to me, but I was never interested in anyone until Chris came along.

We met three years ago at a frat party where he followed me home after I left early to study for my midterm exams. I’d been in love with him ever since.

Chris and I were a contradiction in every sense of the word. While I was extremely organized and maddeningly serious, Chris was laid back, spontaneous and funny. He tempered my incessant need to have a plan, to foresee the future. Chris just winged it no matter what the situation was whenever any decision needed to be made.

“Have I told you before how the highlight of my day is waking up to those dazzling emerald eyes of yours?” he teased as he slid close enough to fold his legs over mine.

“Yes, you have. Numerous times. I’m beginning to think you don’t mean it anymore.”

“Oh, Jae, what did I do to deserve someone like you? Look at you, and then look at me.” He gazed at me searchingly, as if asking for assurance. Obviously, he didn’t see what I saw. Lying next to me was a fine looking man with shorn blond hair, sheer blue eyes, and a perfectly chiseled nose. The blueness of his eyes was transparent, soul-bearing and clear like blown glass. They reminded me of the deep dark sea, sparkling and playful. They were perfect. They were him.

Our conversation was interrupted by the shrill ring of his phone. He jumped out of bed to grab it from the rickety old table he used as a desk. The sight of his naked body made me feel warm all over, impressive in a forsaken apartment with nothing but a small space heater. His back was ridged and his arms and legs were well defined. A real athlete’s body. A soon to be pro-basketball player’s body.

“Hey, man.”
Joshua
, Chris mouthed to me.
“No, that’s fine. I’ll still be there. I just have to leave on time to meet Jade at her parents’ for the fundraiser that they’re hosting at their place. Oh? Great! I’ll see you there then.”

Chris flung the phone on the floor and jumped back onto the bed, lifting me on top of him as I tugged at the blanket and threw it over us both. He slid his hands under my shirt as I leaned towards his head and kissed him on the lips.

“What did he want?” I asked with my eyes closed as he sensually rubbed himself against my open legs, pulling my panties to the side so we’re skin to skin.

“We have practice tomorrow from one to six and he says he’s attending your parents’ party too.” This wasn’t the first time that Chris’ tone helped me predict what he was going to say next.

“Don’t say it, baby. It’s not true.”

“I hate that his parents are friends with yours and that you grew up together,” he spat out despite my plea. “In Pacific Heights, no less.”

“I don’t live there anymore, and who cares?” I felt like we’d been here so many times, but I didn’t show it. I ground against him, hoping to divert his attention from the same old conversation.

“More often than not, I think he has a crush on you. I’m just a bit irritated that he’s at every fucking social event with your parents.”

This was the first time that he had actually voiced his thoughts out loud. I did my best to bring him back and get him focused on wanting me, because I was interested in everything but talking.

“Babe, he’s your best friend. Of course he’s always around. You guys grew up together. And his parents are like your adoptive parents. They love you.”

It started to work. The flustered look on his face began to fade away.

“I guess,” he agreed pensively. “All my life, I’ve lived under his shadow. The poor orphan friend. And with you, I still feel like I’ve undeservingly won the lottery.” His touch turned urgent as his hands lightly tickled the small of my back. I placed my weight on him and moved slowly back and forth.

“Well, lottery winner, why don’t you stop talking and start claiming your prize?” I reached back and took his hands, bringing them to my face and slowly kissing his fingers. “Besides,” I hushed, “he’s not really my type.”

“Yeah?” He smiled as he lifted his head up to kiss me. “What exactly is your type, Ms. Albin?”

“Let’s see…” I gently traced my finger down the bridge of his nose. “Blond.” I kissed his forehead. “Sexy blue eyes.” I kissed his eyelids. “Full, sensuous lips.” I kissed him passionately.

“Hmmm,” he murmured, reciprocating the meeting of our tongues with a soft bite of my top lip. “You’re the best kisser, ever.”

“I had a good teacher.” He was my first in every sense of the word. “Besides, more often than not, you’ve been proven wrong. About many things,” I whispered, removing my top at the same time and bending down so that my chest was pressed against his. I kissed him gently, but he returned it by playfully flipping me onto my back.

“Am I wrong about how much you want me?” he hissed in my ear, trailing his lips across my cheeks and resting on my mouth.

I arched my back up in response, guiding him inside at the same time. “No. Never.”

“I love you, Jae. I love you more than anything in the world,” he said, and the look on his face filled my heart.

“I love you too, Chris. I will never love anyone else but you.”

“HI! YOU’RE HERE!”
I ran down the steps of the grand stairway to greet him. “Mom and Dad are in the great room with some of their friends.” I let him know this mainly because I wanted him to take me in his arms and kiss me without worrying about my parents. He did. I remained standing on the second to the last step, buried in his embrace, absorbed in the warmth of his love. This was us. Always touching, always kissing. Always in our own little world.

“You look out of this world gorgeous, Jae.” He rubbed his nose against mine.

We held each other for a few minutes until he took my hand and led me down the rest of the steps. He held my hand tightly as we trudged down the long hallway towards a small group of people convened by the indoor water fountain in the middle of the foyer. Our house looked more like a museum than a home. Everything perfect, everything always in its respective place. Antiques and portraits and collectors’ paintings lined the walls leading to the main reception area. Despite its grand, exhibition-type appearance, it was always a warm and happy home.

“Hey. It’ll be okay,” I whispered, stopping in the middle of the crowd to stand on my toes and brush my lips against his neck. “We’ve done this so many times before.”

His tension increased visibly and his entire body stiffened up as we approached my parents. Joshua was standing by my mother’s side, deep in conversation with her.

“Mama, Dad, Chris is here,” I announced, ignoring Joshua completely and proudly watching Chris as he shook my father’s hand.

“Christopher. Welcome, son. How is the recruiting process going? Any new bites?”

My mother rolled her eyes as my father asked his usual questions. I stepped closer to her and tried to catch her attention with my eyes, silently appealing for her to soften up.

“Not yet, sir, although I’m still hopeful it will happen,” he responded calmly, respectfully. He then turned to Joshua with a drastic change in his tone. “Hey, man. No wonder you left so quickly after practice.” Terse, pointed, accusatory.

“Just wanted to make sure I wouldn’t be late,” Joshua quipped indifferently. “Did you need a ride? Sorry, man, I didn’t think that the bus schedule would be bad at this time of day.”

I wanted to slap him right there and then. Never had Joshua been as openly insulting to Chris as he had been lately.

“Mrs. Albin, let me help you greet the other guests,” he continued, turning to grasp my mother by the elbow and lead her away from us. I looked at my father, infuriated.

“Dad—” I started, incensed by the attention they had paid to his friend.

He leaned over to kiss my cheek while his right arm tapped Chris’ shoulder at the same time. “Don’t sweat it, darling. This boy is the one that has your heart.”

As soon as he walked away, I pulled Chris out of the fray and into the safety of my bedroom. Ordinarily, my mother would have had a fit, but she was too busy entertaining her guests to worry about where I was off to.

“Let’s hang out here for a while until dinner,” I suggested, leaping into his arms as soon as we closed the doors. Though it was redesigned every so often as I was growing up, my bedroom still had remnants of my life as a little girl. There were pictures all over, including a portrait of my family, and two original Andy Warhol silk screen paintings. My mom was a Studio 54 girl whose group of friends consisted of the high profile New York personalities of her time. He was one of them. My shelves still held the Madame Alexander dolls that my mother owned when she was a young girl. Enmeshed between them were various stuffed animals that Chris had given me over the years. His jerseys from previous seasons also littered my walls, held up with push pins that used to drive my mother crazy.