Wide Open (17 page)

KURTIS

October 12th

Marengo Apartments

Los Angeles, CA

“Your feet are cold,” Harper tells me tiredly.

Her head is tilted back against the arm of the couch opposite me, her legs stretched out along mine. My legs are longer, my feet hitting her just above the hip. I wiggle my toes against her side, making her giggle and squirm.

She swats at me. “Knock it off, Ice Man.”

“My feet aren’t cold,” I inform her, flipping idly through the channels on the TV. “Your body is hot.”

“Ever the flatterer,” she sings softly.

I grin as I search for something to watch. The light from the television flickers across the dark room. It casts a blue glow over everything, including Harper and her elegant features. She looks regal lying there at the end of the couch. In reality, she looks regal even when peeling a banana, but there’s something austere about her when she’s tired like this. Something so somber. Something that sits well with me, soothes me. Matches me in a way I never thought possible.

“What do you want to watch?” I ask.

She wrinkles her nose indecisively. “Something stupid.”

“That should be easy to find.”

“What do you watch at your place?”

“Stupid shit.”

Harper laughs. “I doubt that.”

“Home improvement,” I amend honestly. 

“The Tim Allen show from the nineties?”

“No,” I chuckle, rubbing my hand up and down her leg next to mine. “Home improvement shows like do-it-yourself instructionals and remodels.”

“Do you do that kind of thing?”

“Nah, not yet. But someday I will. I’ll buy a house and fix it up. I’ll make it how I want it.”

“With your own two hands?”

“I’m told I’m pretty good with them.”

She hums, sinking lower into the couch. “Yes, you are.”

I smile, pinching her calf. She yelps, kicking at me lightly.

“Will you invite me over to this newly renovated house?” she asks when she’s settled again.

I shrug. “Sure.”

“I won’t hold my breath. I’m still waiting on an invitation to your current house.”

“It’s not worth seeing. It’s a studio. It’s probably smaller than this place.”

Harper laughs incredulously. “Yeah, right. Your paycheck is, what? A thousand times the size of mine. I’m sure your place is much bigger and much nicer than this.”

“It’s not,” I promise her, lowering the remote. I glance around the living room, mentally measuring the space. “I’d say my entire apartment could fit inside your living room and kitchen. Maybe throw in the bathroom.”

She sits up, pulling her legs under her body. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. You can come see it if you want to. I’ll take you over there anytime, but it’s nothing special. The AC sucks and the toilet runs at all hours. It’s a downer.”

“Why do you live there?” She sits forward, her eyes bold and curious. “Is it the same reason you drive the old Blazer?”

I stiffen under her gaze, put on alert by her perceptiveness. “Why do you think I drive the Blazer?”

“’I betrayed a friend. There was a lot of money involved’,” she answers, quoting me. “At first I thought that meant that you took money from someone, but it was the other way around, wasn’t it? Someone stole from you. Someone close to you.”

She’s digging, and not at random. She’s honed in on the X marking the spot like I gave her a map right to it, and maybe I did. Maybe I meant to. But now I’m torn on how to react to her. She’s right and she’s wrong. She’s so close to the truth but just on the other side of it, and how she got there is a surprise but it’s not a mystery.

“So clever,” I mumble to myself.

“I’m right, aren’t I?”

“No, but you’re not far off. You’re close enough.”

“What’s the truth, Kurtis?”

“It’s what I said,” I reply on a sigh, striving for patience. Looking for the nearest exit from this conversation. “I had a friend and now I don’t.”

“You had money and now you don’t.”

“I had a lot of things that I don’t have anymore. Half of them I never needed.”

Her shoulders tighten, rising around her neck. “Quit with the cryptic and just tell me.”

“It’s not worth telling.”

“It is to me.”

I hold her eyes, not answering her. She watches me for too long, longer than she normally would, like she’s trying a new tactic. Like she thinks she can outlast me.

Good fucking luck.

Finally her shoulders slump. “Are you ever going to tell me the truth?”

“Not the whole thing, no. Probably not.”

“You know that’s unfair, right?”

“I don’t really care if it’s fair or not. It’s how it is.”

“God, you are such an ass,” she groans. “From the start I’ve done everything I can to be honest with you to get you to trust me, and you never will, will you? You’ll never tell me the whole story.”

“Is that what you’re sticking around for? To get the story no other journalist has been able to crack?”

She scowls at me and my assessment. “I’m not asking for the documentary. I’m asking for me because I want to know you and this is obviously a huge part of you.”

“It’s not. Not anymore. Let it go.”

“Why can’t we talk about it?”

“Why do we have to?” I demand, feeling cornered. “What does it matter?”

“It matters because you still don’t trust me. Do you know how much that hurts? I opened up and told you about Derrick. That was really difficult for me. I didn’t enjoy that, but I trusted you enough to tell you because I felt like you deserved to know.”

“And you think you deserve to know about this? About the money?”

“Yes,” she answers boldly. “I think I do.”

I stand from the couch, gently pushing her legs out of the way. “I don’t owe you anything.”

“Bullshit you don’t,” she snaps, standing to face me. “I am giving and giving and giving, and you’re offering next to nothing up in return.”

“Because you keep hunting for it. You’re sniffing around, looking for clues. You’re not with me for me. You’re with me to get the story.”

“That’s not true. I want to know for me, for
us.
You have to open up to me at some point or this is never going anywhere.”

“You want me to open up but you won’t even admit to your closest friends that we’re together.”

“You won’t tell anyone anything about you! Why do you care if people know I’m with you or not?”

“Because I’ve done this before,” I blurt out. I feel my chest heave, my body revolting against my mind, but I push through it. “I’ve been here before; sneaking around and lying. I hate it. I hated it then and I hate it even more now. I’m not saying I want to take pictures and make a sex tape. I’m not inviting the world into the bedroom with us, but I don’t want to hide it either. I won’t keep hiding it. Not again.”

She breathes slowly, watching me. “Who was she?”

“What does it matter? The point is I’m not doing it. It can only end ugly, so either we go public with this thing or it’s over.”

“Are you kidding me? You can’t just lay down an ultimatum like that.”

“Why not? You are.”

“No, I’m—” She stops to think about it. Her face falls when she realizes I’m right. “Oh God.”

“Yeah, see? You’re a fucking hypocrite.”

She glares at me. “You’re a closed off asshole.”

“Then what are you doing with me, huh? You just wanted to get a good fuck in. You were bored and I was there. End of story.”

“Don’t say it like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like it’s nothing!”

“Then what is it?” I demand heatedly. “If it’s not just sex, what are we doing?”

“I don’t know! But it’s more than sex and it’s more than dating! It’s… I’m so in…”

She can’t find the words and I understand why. We both know what they are, we know what we
feel
, but the words aren’t with us right now. They’re out there somewhere in the sunlight, away from these shadows and secrets, far from where we stand in this moment. We’re not in a place to see or say what this is between us. It’d shrivel and die if we reached for it right now. I’d rather leave it untouched, unspoken. Unrealized in the light than slain here tonight in the dark.

I take a deep breath, calming my blood. “If I tell you what happened, I could lose everything. It could ruin my career.”

Her face pinches with worry. “Did you do something illegal?”

“No, but if people knew—” I groan, running my hand over my eyes. “I could get kicked out of the NFL. If people even suspected, it could be the end for me. That’s why I won’t tell you. I won’t tell anyone. You’re asking me to risk too much.”

“So are you. You don’t think I have anything to lose here? If I go public about you, it could kill my career. People will never believe I’m being impartial on this job. They’ll look at this project with a microscope and they’ll find faults. I’ll never be trusted again.”

My gut twists painfully as the moment draws out. As we draw our lines in the sand and stare at each other across them. They’re so close, so similar, but suddenly she feels miles away.

“So where does that leave us?”

Harper asks quietly, “Will you tell me the whole story?”

“Will you tell people you’re with me?” I fire back.

Harper doesn’t hesitate. She shakes her head once. “No.”

I nod stiffly in understanding, because my answer is the same. “No.”

Harper’s eyes shine with tears that she’ll never shed. Not in front of me. She’s too strong for that. Too proud. And I care for her too much to make her swallow them.

“I’ll leave,” I mutter deeply, stepping around her to grab my shoes. I pull them on quickly, feeling for my keys in my pocket.

“Kurtis.”

I look up at her reluctantly. This will be easier if it’s fast, like ripping off a band aid. Or an appendage.

She’s standing tall but her face has fallen. It’s blue and gray and sad, shifting in the scrolling light of the television but always remaining the same.

“It isn’t just sex,” she tells me gently. “And it’s not just dating either. It’s… we’re something else. Something better. Or at least we could be.”

“We could be if everything was different.”

“I don’t think everything. Only two things.”

“That amount to everything.”

A jagged sigh escapes her lips, parting them. “Yes.”

I want to hug her, hold her. I want to lie with her and forget we said any of this, but I know I can’t. It’s out there now. Our limitations are in the open, barricades built between us, and there’s no ignoring them now. We can’t get through them and we can’t ignore them, so what’s left? What direction is there to go but retreat?

The thought is gut wrenching.

I step close to her, running my hands slowly down the soft skin of her arms. My forehead falls to hers, the weight of my own body too much to bear.

“I don’t want to do this,” she whispers to me.

“Neither do I.”

“How do we stop it?”

“We can’t.”

She closes her eyes, gripping the front of my shirt in her hands. “Don’t go.”

“I can’t stay. Not like this.”

“You’re not a story to me, Kurtis. You’re so much more. You mean more to me than anyone ever has before.” She shudders on a silent sob. “You always will.”

I lift my head, taking her face in my hands. I pinch my lips together, holding in the agonizing roar growing in my chest. I look at her one last time. At her luminescence. Her light. The stars that dazzle in her eyes. That lit a fire in my heart.

I take in her mouth, an open heart breaking, and I can’t resist. I lean down, my lips brushing against hers in a ghost of a kiss too fast to remember. Too quick to regret.

“And you’ll always be my midnight,” I promise her roughly.

Then I’m gone. As fast as my body can move me, I’m out the door, pulling it firmly closed behind me.

The night is impossibly dark when I step outside. Piercingly cold. It’s probably only seventy but from where I sat next to Harper five minutes ago and now, it feels like the temperature has dropped thirty degrees. The world has shifted off its axis, the plates are moving, and there are earthquakes on the horizon. I need to be prepared. In Los Angeles you always have to be ready for disaster to strike. Earthquake, drought, tsunami. Love.

I thrust my hands into my pockets, feeling my keys. They stab into my fingertips, making them ache, but when I come up on my Blazer I keep on walking. I don’t know where I’m going but it’s not home. Not tonight.

I’m in the university district and it doesn’t take me long to find a bar. It’s loud when I step inside. Dark and sweaty, music rebounding off of every surface, people laughing loudly. I slide through the crowd without touching a soul. At the bar I buy a bourbon.