Constructing Us (New Adult Romance) (10 page)

Surprisingly, Andy slept for only an hour.  Tragan used most of that time on his ipad, trying to learn more about “Bronsteg Disorder.”  What he found was
mostly repetitive information.  What he didn’t find were real answers or advice.  He’d also gone around the block to pick up some food for Andy, which worked out well, because she woke up starving.

“Here, sit,” he told her when she walked into the kitchen
, bundled up in her usual pink hoodie and fluffy socks.  Good--this was normal.  Automatically, Tragan pushed his ipad aside and pulled out a chair for her at the table.  “I wasn’t sure if you’d want leftovers, so I grabbed you a turkey sandwich from TJ’s.”

“Great!” she said, sitting cross-legged on the kitchen chair.  “I’ll eat it now.”

He brought over two bags.  “Turkey sandwich,” he said, dropping one bag in front of her.  “And to cover my bets, I stopped in that café next to TJ’s--El Diablo--and got you what my mom has always claimed is the cure for everything.”

Curious, Andy
unwrinkled the second bag, which was more aromatic than the first.  “Rice and beans?”

Putting a hand up, Tragan continued, “Though, I should
tell you upfront that I have never found that to be true.  But what the hell?  Maybe it’s a girl thing.”

“I doubt it,” Andy said, grinning.  “But I’ll eat it
.”

“Good.”

“This is really thoughtful, Tragan.  Thanks.”

When h
e pulled out the chair opposite hers, it scraped against the floor, and he planted himself in it, looking at her straight-on.  “Now we need to talk.”

She eyed him a bit warily as she took the plastic fork
out of bag #2.  “About?”

“I want to know what’s going on with you. 
And that Bronsteg Disorder you told me about.”

“
Ethan
told you about it,” she mumbled, sounding slightly annoyed.

“Whatever,” Tragan said impatiently.  “I need to know what’s going on.
”

“Nothing.  I told you, I feel fine now.”

Dismissively, he shook his head.  “Look, we live together.  If you’re sick or whatever, you have to tell me so I can be prepared.  So I can help.”

“Tragan, that’s sweet of you, but…I really don’t want to get into the whole Bronsteg thing with you.”

“
Why?
” he said, exasperated, searching her face.  Christ, why the hell was she being so guarded about it?

“
Because I don’t want you to think of me that way,” she responded, dropping her eyes to the rice and beans, no longer meeting his gaze. 

“What way?”

“You know, like there’s something
wrong
with me.  It’s not exactly an appealing thing for a guy to think.”

Frustrated, Traga
n scrubbed his hand in his hair, not wanting to seem impatient with her.  “First of all, I’m not ‘a guy’--I’m your roommate.  And secondly, I don’t think that.” 
I think you’re perfect,
a voice said in his mind.  “Believe me, that’s the opposite of what I think.” 

So Andy told Tragan the whole story--about getting sick her junior year, about her father flying in from
Zurich and paying for every specialist he could find until Andy was ultimately diagnosed with Bronsteg, a rare autoimmune disorder that the medical community has yet to understand.  She told him about her sudden recovery after months of feeling like crap, and about feeling great for eight more months--until she relapsed her senior year, and ended up taking the second semester off.  The worst part of the whole story was the part about meeting Brad.

“So wait, you were Brad’s
patient
?” Tragan questioned.  “And, what, he just made a
move
on you?”  He knew he was coming off like a judgmental dick, but when it came to Andy’s boyfriend, he really didn’t care. 

“No, it wasn’
t like that,” she replied quickly, defending the guy.

“But he was your doctor, right?”

“Well, not really.  He randomly got me as a patient in the ER, but only for that first night.  After that, I was referred to somebody else.  But Brad just checked on me--that’s how we got to know each other.  And we spent a lot of time together while I was home from school.” 

“How old is Brad anyway?” Tragan asked, irrationally hating the guy.

“Twenty-eight now.  He’ll be twenty-nine soon.”  The deep breath she took next appeared thoughtful.  “Brad was my first real boyfriend, actually.”

“
Wait, you met him when you were
how
old?”

“
Twenty-one.”

Tragan
narrowed his eyes, doubtfully.  “C’mon, I can’t believe that.  Your first boyfriend at twenty-one?  You must have had guys all over you before that.”

Andy’s
blue eyes widened, making her appear flattered, surprised, or maybe both.  “No.  I didn’t.”

“
What about guys in high school?

“
Definitely not.”

“
College?”

Considering
that, she tilted her head.  “Well, college was more of a hook-up scene.  That’s really not me.” 

Tr
agan didn’t realize he’d begun tapping his thumb on the table, lost in thought, until Andy got up from her chair.  “Where are you going?” he said, concerned.  Damn, maybe he’d pushed too hard or made her upset, dredging up all this stuff about her disorder.

“Just to the fridge,” she replied calmly.  “I wanted a drink.  Is that allowed?”

Tragan’s mouth quirked up.  “Yes, smartass, that’s allowed.”

“Oh, good,” she said, flashing him
a saccharine smile before pulling out a water bottle.  “Want one?”

He shook hi
s head and waited for her to return to the table.  “Listen Andy…what about what happened earlier?  Are you--I mean--look, was it really just not eating?”

“No, I think it’s more than that,” she replied--and Tragan’s
gut tightened, though he tried not to show he was affected.  This was what he was afraid of, that she was getting sick again.  And about to go through one of her “long episodes,” as she’d called it when she was describing her experiences over the past couple years. 

“It’
s this drug study,” she continued.  “Like I told you, we were all warned about possible side effects of the drug we’re testing.  Lightheadedness and loss of appetite are just a couple.  Clearly I’m suffering both on this thing.”  As she bit into her turkey sandwich, the tension in Tragan’s stomach started to dissolve. 

“How do you know it’s that and not…?  I mean, didn’t you say when the Bronsteg comes on, you get lightheaded, too?”

With unmistakable confidence, Andy shook her head, explaining, “No, it’s totally the drug.  Believe me, it feels completely different when I’m getting sick.  I can tell the difference.  This is what you have to understand: with Bronsteg Disorder, for whatever reason, when I’m not going through a period of ‘illness,’ I feel 100% healthy and fine.  When it comes on, it’s not subtle.  It doesn’t come and go.  I’m not woozy one moment and great two hours later.  It’s more like a protracted period of weirdness, with my blood pressure plummeting and migraines and doctors trying to level me, and the whole shit-storm.  Pardon my language.”

At that Tragan
had to laugh.  “I work in construction, remember?  I’ve heard worse.”

With a
small giggle--that should’ve sounded out of place for the moment, but somehow didn’t--Andy said, “Fine.  So believe me, okay?”

“I do.”

“To be honest,” she continued, as she ate her sandwich, “I want to quit this study.  It’s useless to me.”

“It sounds like it,” Tragan agreed.  “
Granted I don’t know anything about this stuff, but if you’re not sick
now
, then how are the doctors even supposed to know if it would work when you
are
sick?  Right?  Am I missing something?”

“It’s true and I’ve asked Brad about that.  But he feels like they can maybe learn something by monitoring my blood pressure, protein and glucose levels,
and whatever else--and try to make some meaning from my chart at the end of all this.  The thing is, it’s not a drug that’s been designed for Bronsteg; it was really designed to help people with Chronic Fatigue Syndrome.  So, it’s a shot in the dark that it could even help me.” 

“So this is Brad’s study?” Tragan clarified.

“No, no.  It’s run by a doctor he knows, Dr. Lassiter.  Brad has nothing to do with it.  Except that he told me about it and convinced me to do it.”  Setting down her sandwich, Andy spilled out what sounded like a resigned sigh.  “Honestly, I’ve been thinking of telling Brad it’s over.”  Immediately, Tragan’s pulse quickened.  Could she really mean…?  “You know, with the drug study,” she clarified.

“Uh, r
ight, the drug study,” he said, nodding, mentally kicking himself for thinking it could be that easy.

“I just want to forget the whole thing and get on with my life. 
Actually, I’m thinking of going back to school to get a master’s degree.”

“
You mean here in Boston?”  Tragan tried to make the question sound casual, tried to cover the dread he felt at the idea that Andy might be moving away.  Before she could respond, the ear-splitting shrill of the fire alarm shattered the moment.

“Aah!” Andy yelpe
d, throwing her hands on her ears.  “What the hell?”

Tragan waved off her concern.  “Oh, t
hat’s just the fire alarm in the building,” he said.  “Don’t worry about it.”

“
Come on,” she said briskly, hopping up from her chair.  “We’d better go.”

“Nah, I never bother going down for that.”

“What do you
mean
?” Andy said, sounding bothered.

“
Well, it goes off occasionally, but it’s always a false alarm.  So I usually just ignore it.”

“What!  Tragan, that’s crazy.  You can’t just ignore a fire alarm.  It could be something!  I’m sorry, but
that’s really immature,” she told him, her expression solemn.

“Damn,” he said, feeling mildly chastised as he stood up.  “I’m immature now?”

“No, I mean…I guess that’s harsh,” she admitted.

“
Are you pissed at me over this?” he said, walking closer to her.

“Of course not.  It’s just--”

“What, you’re worried about me?” he asked with a trace of a grin and stepped even closer, leaving their bodies only inches apart.

Andy appeared momentarily flustered, swallowing and sort of flitting
her eyes from Tragan’s mouth to his chest to his shoulder, like she didn’t know where to look.  “I’m just saying: what if I wasn’t here?  And there
was
a fire and something happened to you?  Obviously that’s what I’m getting at.”

“Okay,” he relented. 
“I’m sorry.  I’ll go.”

“Even if I’m not here?” she pressed.

“Yes.  I’ll go,” he promised. 

Which earned him a small
, grateful smile.  “All right, come on then...” she said with a quick tug on his arm.

“Hey…” he said,
stilling her for a second then impulsively brushed a lock of hair away from her cheek.  “Nothing’s going to happen to me.” 

Andy’s
eyes locked with his.  Their gazes held for what felt like a meaningful moment, as her mouth curved open and she nervously wet her lips.  With his pulse speeding up, Tragan almost reached for her when--

T
he fire alarm erupted again, screaming in their ears, and Andy nearly jumped at the sound--before she quickly got back on task. 

“Let’s go.”

Seconds after the front door slammed, Andy heard, “
Damn, what are you making?  I need some of it--now!”

“Good morning…” she called to Tragan, who soon appeared in the kitche
n.  Clearly he’d see for himself what the aroma was: thirty-two chocolate cupcakes, lining the counter and table, which Andy was in the process of frosting for her nephew’s birthday.  “Don’t touch,” she added, while she concentrated on piping blue icing around the edges.  

“Oh, man…”
she heard Tragan murmur with a kind of boyish wonder in his voice.  “All these cupcakes…” 

Practically wrinkling her brow, Andy held her hand steady for the last swirl around with the piping bag, then blew out a sigh.  “Okay, done with that tray,” she said, turning toward him.  When she looked at Tragan,
her breath halted. 
Oh, God…
she thought, as a nervous kind of excitement fluttered in her chest
, what am I going to do about him?
 

He
looked breathtakingly handsome today.  Clean-shaven, his dark hair not too messy--and even though he was dressed simply, in a navy tee shirt and jeans, the memory of seeing his naked body flooded back to her.  His strong arms, his thick, masculine chest, stomach…his smooth back and perfect, firm butt…  Something had broken in her last night, some stopper she’d been trying to put on her growing attraction to him, and now it was all she could do not to drool over him.  In fact, she had a sudden, spontaneous fantasy of pulling off his tee shirt right here in the kitchen. 

“Hello
…?” Tragan said, breaking her trance.

“Oh, what?” she said, distracted.

“I said: how come I can’t touch?  Then I said: I need some of it now--
please
?”  He leaned against the counter, adding, “If that’s not the magic word, then I’m at a loss.”

Crooking a smile, Andy shook her head.  “Sorry.  These are for Jake’s party today.”

“But I’m your taste tester,” Tragan argued, roving his dark eyes around the room, which appeared scattered with cupcakes the way a meadow might be scattered with flowers.  “How are you gonna know if they’re any good?”

Andy laughed at that.  “
Actually I’ve made these before.  Though I appreciate your concern; I know it comes from a selfless place.”

He responded to her sarcasm with a brief, wry grin.  “But you’ve got like a thousand here,” he protested.

“I have thirty-two and I need all of them.”

“Aw, man…” Tragan
said on a sigh, “kids get everything.”

“
Aww
…” Andy teased him, giving him mock pity--and tilting her head in a way that was borderline flirtatious.  “So…you’re up and dressed relatively early on a Saturday.  What are you up to today?  Do you have to work?”

“No, helping Pellican move.  I told him I’d be there by
11:30.  By the way, how are you feeling this morning?” he asked.

“Oh, I feel fine,
really,” she replied.  And just like that, the details of the night before careened through her mind, like a sequence of digital images.  Tragan lifting her in his arms, holding her close, carrying her to her room, tucking her in, protecting her, caring for her, talking with her, and then there was that moment… 

She was almost sure he was about to kiss her before they went downstairs for the fire alarm.
 

And she knew that if he had, she would have
wanted with every ounce of her body to kiss him back.  Which was why, after they returned to the apartment, Andy had hurried off to bed--claiming she was exhausted.  Honestly, she’d been afraid of what might happen if she stayed up with Tragan any longer. 

Last night s
he could tell that he felt a physical attraction, but she had no idea how deep his feelings ran.  Maybe they were purely opportunistic and carnal.  On the other hand, he was genuinely a friend, so maybe there could be more between them… 

She only knew that she’d tossed restlessly
in bed last night thinking of him, picturing him,
wanting
him--and then feeling horribly guilty about it.  It wasn’t fair to Brad, and last night had been the final turning point.  The moment when indecision became conviction.  No matter what might or might not lay ahead with Tragan, she would have to break up with Brad, once and for all, and she planned to do it tonight.

“I’m glad you’re better,” Tragan
remarked now, eying the cupcakes covetously again.  “Not even one?”

“No.  And just so you know…
I left Brad a message this morning and told him that I’m pulling out of the drug study.”

Tragan’s brows lifted at that. 
“For real?”

Andy
nodded.  “Yes.  He has rounds so I figured I wouldn’t reach him, but I wanted to give him a heads-up so he doesn’t hear it from Dr. Lassiter.  Anyway, I left him a voicemail and told him that I’m definitely quitting it.” 

Tragan looked like he wanted to
tell her it was a good thing, but was hesitant to do so.  Instead he asked, “How do you feel about it?”

“Great.  Honestly
this is a huge relief.”

“Good,” he agreed, smiling at her now.
  Then pushed away from the counter.  “Well, I guess I should get going.  By the way, where’s the party today?”

“My sister’s house in
Newton.  My mom’s giving me a ride there so I can transport all the cupcakes.”

“B
ut doesn’t your mom live right near your sister?  It doesn’t make sense for her to drive all the way out here just to get you, and then have to drive all the way back.”  Shaking his head, Tragan dug into his jeans pocket.  “Here, take my car.”

At first
, when he held his car keys out, Andy just stared at them. 

“Take ‘em,” he said.

“Um, are you sure?” she said, both flattered by the offer and hesitant to take him up on it.  “Won’t you need your car to help your friend move?”

“Nah.  He lives right off the C-line.  I can walk to his place from the T.  And we’ll have
Matt’s truck anyway.”

“Well…okay, if you’re sure,
” Andy said after a stunned moment. “Thanks.”

“Sure, no worries.  You remember
where it’s parked, right?”  He jerked his thumb toward the back of the building. 

Distractedly, s
he nodded, overwhelmed by him for a second.  It was so generous to let her take his car today, and to relegate himself to public transportation.  And yet, he was clearly unfazed by it.  God, his laid-back confidence really turned her on.  Like so many other things about him.  In fact, now that she was no longer mentally downplaying her attraction to Tragan, she had to admit: his forearms really turned her on, too, and so did his laugh…and that tattoo on his right bicep…plus, his gaming skills got her kind of hot…and of course there was his sexy, thoroughly masculine voice…

“
All right, Andy, if you’re really not going to let me have any cupcakes, then I’m gonna get going,” he told her with a grin.  “Later.”

“Okay--oh, wait--real quick
.  Could you hand me that lid over there?” Andy said, pointing to the cake cover resting on the opposite counter. 

“Sure.”
 

When Tragan lifted it up, he froze--then turned his head toward her,
his dark eyes narrowing.  “What’s this?”

“Hmm…
let’s see…”  Playfully, Andy held back a smile as she ambled closer.  “A
jumbo
-sized cupcake--set apart from the others--with a
T
scrawled in blue icing…”

“For me?” Tragan
said, breaking into a full smile. 

“Of course!  I’d
never forget about you,” she said with a little laugh.

“Yes!” he said, messily pulling the cake
right out of the ramekin cup and assailing it with his mouth.  “Awesome!” he mumbled, totally un-self-conscious about the frosting on his lips. 

“You’re such a guy,” Andy said, shaking her head, and then without thinking, reached up to wipe the underside of his lip with her thumb. 

The second she made contact, she realized what she’d done.  Her hand was on his face.  More than that, she was touching his mouth.  Something so intimate--too intimate for friends--and yet, her fingers lingered.  She couldn’t seem to stop touching him, grazing her thumb over his lower lip, as if there was still frosting there.  As if she didn’t have an impulsive desire to slide her thumb inside his mouth and to feel his hot tongue on her flesh.  Her breath became shallow as her eyes traveled up--and she found Tragan watching her.  His gaze was intense, fully aware of her--and then she panicked. 

Self-consciously, she swallo
wed and pulled back. 

Trying to act natural, Andy
snatched a dishtowel off the counter and handed him that instead.  “Here, you can do it,” she said awkwardly, as hot embarrassment flooded her cheeks.  If people saw this now, would they really be surprised that Brad was her only boyfriend ever?  As much as she wanted Tragan, she was inexperienced enough to fear rejection and nowhere near confident enough to be a seductress.

Wordlessly, Tragan too
k the towel and wiped his mouth. 

“Better?”
When she nodded, he tossed the towel and said, “Actually, it’s just as well I get cleaned up.  I’m supposed to meet some girl later.”

At that, Andy’s
mouth fell open.  “W-what girl?” she asked, feeling her brow crease with concern.

“Pellican’s sister’s
friend is supposed to be there today, helping out,” he told her.

“Oh.”  Andy swallowed down a hard lump. 
Suddenly she started to feel queasy, and it had nothing to do with the drug trial.  This was 100% anxious jealousy, churning in her stomach.  Why hadn’t she considered that Tragan could be interested in other girls, too?

“And you
, um, like her?” she asked, attempting to sound pleasant and unaffected--as if she were simply taking a friendly interest in the topic, as his roommate.

He gave a one-
shouldered shrug, while his face remained noncommittal.  “Never met her.  But Pellican thinks we’ll hit it off.”

The
painful knot of jealousy in Andy’s belly swelled, then spread to her chest, making it hard to breathe normally.  Still, she forced a smile that felt brittle, but it was the best she could do.  Then nodded maybe a bit too vigorously.  “That’s great, Tragan. I really hope it works out,” she lied.

“You
do
?” he asked, never taking his eyes off her face, as though studying her reaction.

“
Sure. If it’s what you want.”  She quickly turned away from him and walked back to the counter where she’d been frosting cupcakes and tried to think of what she could busy herself with until he left the kitchen. 

Mere seconds later, she felt Tragan
come up behind her.  Her whole body stilled, as her pulse began to pound.  “Andy…” he said softly, and came even closer. The heat from his body spread across her back, igniting every nerve ending in her body.  “What if that’s not what I want?” he said huskily, murmuring into her hair. 

She
drew a sharp breath, too stunned to speak, as hot arousal washed over her and swelled relentlessly between her legs.  Her racing heart began thundering in her ears.  Was this really happening?  A scatter of conflicting emotions tumbled through her.  She felt unsure, hopeful, hesitant, eager.  Then again, maybe they weren’t conflicting.  Maybe they all led to the same exhilarating thing. 

One of Tragan’s
hands slid around her waist.  As his palm lingered on her stomach, his other hand climbed up her neck, gently pulling her hair back.  And then she felt his mouth.

Hot shivers of excitement rippled through
her as Tragan softly kissed her neck.  His mouth was warm and gentle at first, but still so utterly arousing that Andy let out a breathy little sigh.  “What if I want someone else?” he finished--to which she had no answer other than to let her eyes slide shut and her head fall back against his chest, as he tangled his fingers in her hair and deepened his angle.

Instinctively, she arched her back
enough to nudge him with her bottom.  He groaned in response, tightening his hold on her stomach and pushing into her.  Soon he was gripping her hair and placing hot, suctioning kisses on her neck, as he began grinding against her.  She was nearly panting when she felt his breath hot on her ear.  Then he ran his tongue inside.  “Tragan…” she whispered weakly.

“What?” he said, his voice thick with desire.  “Stop?”

“No,” she breathed, turning in his arms.  Feeling reckless and sexy and aching to have him.  “
Don’t
stop…” she whispered, reaching up to dig her fingers into his hair and pull his face toward hers.  Vaguely she registered the look of raw hunger in his eyes--right before his mouth covered hers.