The Weight of Words (The WORDS Series) (12 page)

He held the passenger side door open for me, and before joining me in the car, he looked around as if he thought he was being followed, like he’d robbed a bank and was trying to make a speedy getaway. Finally he climbed in and started the car. The interior was spotless. You could have eaten a meal off any surface with no qualms whatsoever. As the engine purred to life, he pulled swiftly out of the spot and drove toward University Avenue.

“Do you mind if I open the window?” I asked.

“Not at all.” As I rolled it down, he flicked on the heat, turning it to full blast. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

Relax! I’m not gonna puke in your damn car!

“I’m fine,” I said, taking deep breaths of fresh air. Several quiet minutes later, we were traveling west on Charles Street. I saw Matt up ahead, jogging toward Jackman.

“That’s Matt,” I said, pointing out the window.

Daniel pulled up to the curb and quickly skirted the car to open the door for me.

“Matt!” I called out.

He turned and made his way toward us. “Aubs, what happened, sweetheart? Are you okay?” he asked, brushing my hair out of my face.

“I’m fine. I’ve picked up a stomach bug or something. I think I’m okay now. Daniel didn’t think I should be alone, though. Oh, Daniel, this is Matt. Matt, this is my TA, Daniel Grant.”

They shook hands, sizing each other up.
Why do men always have to do that?

“Well, I see you’re in capable hands, Miss Price,” Daniel said. “I’ll be off. I hope you feel better tomorrow.”

“Thanks,” I said, my voice sounding hollow and reedy.

Daniel gave us a tight smile, but his eyes remained distant. He raced off in the Beemer, and Matt put his arm around me, leading me to the lobby.

“Come on. Let’s get you inside.”

We took the elevator instead of the stairs, and Matt helped me to my room before disappearing to the kitchen. I undressed, threw my clothes in a heap on the floor, and pulled on a T-shirt and some pajama bottoms. Matt reappeared, setting a bottle of water on my night stand.

“Thanks, Matt,” I said, crawling into bed with a groan, and then the tears that had been threatening all day finally spilled over.

“Hey,” he said. “What’s going on?”

He lay down on top of the blankets beside me, pulling my head onto his chest and letting me cry all over him. I didn’t want to talk. Instead, I snuggled into his side and he rubbed my back, soothing me until I fell into a restless but puke-free sleep.

Chapter 10

Hungry

Other women cloy
The appetites they feed, but she makes hungry
Where most she satisfies…
(
Antony and Cleopatra
, Act II, Scene 2)

W
HEN
I W
OKE
O
N
S
ATURDAY
M
ORNING
, I was alone. Matt had managed to leave without rousing me. I rolled my eyes around. They were a bit achy, but not unbearable. My neck was stiff, and my throat hurt a little. I leaned over to grab the untouched bottle of water Matt had left for me, chugging the whole thing.

Matt
. What a star he’d been last night. My personal knight in shining armor.

I stood up, testing my equilibrium. Not bad. My face, on the other hand, was a mess. I had a nasty snail trail of dried spit down the side of my chin.
Attractive
. I dabbed at my cheek with a tissue and glanced at the time—ten o’clock. Awesome sleep. I headed out to the living room where I found Matt on the couch, eating Captain Crunch and watching cartoons.

“What are you, nine years old?” I asked, leaning against the wall with my arms crossed.

“Well, I guess I don’t need to ask how you’re feeling this morning,” he said. His tone was sarcastic, but he was smiling widely.

“Yeah, I’m feeling almost back to normal.” I walked over to join him on the sofa.

“Gee, can’t wait till you’re a hundred percent.”

“Oh, come on now, you love my razor sharp wit. Don’t deny it.”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s definitely my favorite thing about you.” He laughed. “Seriously, how are you feeling? We still gonna be able to hit Canoe tonight?”

“Oh, for sure. I guess I had a twenty-four-hour bug or something. I felt like crap all day yesterday, but I didn’t know why. After I puked, I felt so much better.”

“Last night was you feeling
better?
That’s scary. I’ve never seen you cry like that, Aubs.” He was looking at me with concern.

“Man, I don’t know. I guess being sick kind of knocked me on my ass a bit, you know?” I said evasively. “Thanks for coming home and helping me. Sorry I dragged you away from the party.”

“Are you kidding me? I wouldn’t have missed your droolfest for a million bucks. Besides, it was Friday the thirteenth. Something had to wreck my night. No brainer.”

I laughed. “Jesus, way to make me feel like shit. But sorry about the drool. I guess I was doing some mouth breathing.”

“And snoring up a storm,” he added.

I punched his arm. “I was not. I don’t snore.”

“Oh, you have no idea.”

“Pfft. Whatever, cowboy.”

Matt continued to snort with laughter as he took his dirty bowl to the kitchen, and then he was off, heading to the Kap house to help with the post-party clean-up and promising to be back by five. I had a quiet Saturday ahead of me once again.

I woke up from my afternoon nap slowly, straddling dream and reality. I knew I was on the couch in the living room, but I refused to open my eyes, determined to recall the details of my dream which were hovering around the edges of my consciousness.

I’d been lying on a red velvet sofa, and Daniel had been leaning over me, his eyes burning as he gazed at me and his lips deliciously close to brushing mine. His hair had fallen forward and tickled my face. I smiled, rolling from my back onto my side, trying to hang on to every nuance of this sweet dream. The rest of it was hazy at best. Gradually awakening, I opened my eyes, only to see Matt’s face no more than two feet away from mine.

I gasped and jumped, shrinking back against the cushions. He was perched on the edge of the coffee table, clutching a bunch of flowers.

“Is that any way to look at your Valentine?” he asked.

“I’m sorry. You scared me.”

He held the bouquet of pale yellow carnations out to me. “For you.”

“Oh, Matt, that’s so sweet. You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know, but I wanted to. I’ve been moping around here so much the last couple of weeks. I haven’t been a very good friend, but I’d have to be blind not to notice you’ve been pretty down yourself. Last night kind of capped it off, you know? I’m sorry I’ve been so self-absorbed.”

I took the flowers, touching the petals gently.

“They’re really nice, Matt. Thank you. But, yeah, you’ve been a total pain in the ass to be around.”

“Shit, really?” His face fell.

“I was kidding,” I said. “You shouldn’t have to apologize for being in a vile mood after what happened with Sarah. Joanna and I both understand. If you can’t be yourself with your friends in the comfort of your own home, well, that would blow, right?”

“Thanks for understanding,” he said. “But I don’t want to mope tonight, okay? I want to have a kick-ass dinner with you, green-eyes. Deal?”

“Deal. What time is it, anyway?”

“Almost six.”

Whoa! Time to start getting ready.

“I’m gonna grab a shower,” Matt said. “You need in there before I do?”

“No, I had an awesome soak in the tub this afternoon. I’m good. I’ll be in my room. Quarter to seven you said you wanted to leave, right?”

“Yeah, that should be good,” he said, and he headed off for the bathroom.

I arranged the flowers in a vase on my desk, and then I took my time getting ready. As I hummed along to the music playing on my iPod, I leaned against the dresser, thinking about Daniel’s angular jaw and full lips, imagining him smiling at me as he bobbed his head to move the hair out of his gorgeous blue eyes. After last night, I now had the sexy, long-sleeved, black T-shirt with tight chest muscles underneath to add to the repertoire of details for my fantasies.

I glanced at the flowers and then looked at myself critically in the mirror. What was my problem? Here I was, living with a handsome guy, someone sweet and kind. Despite our years of claiming to be grossed out by each other, it was becoming more and more obvious that Matt would be quite willing to give us another chance—and all I could do was moon over someone who was beyond my reach, not to mention completely uninterested in me.

With Matt, I always knew where I stood. He said what he thought, and he didn’t play games. If he screwed up, he apologized, and he never made me feel like something he’d done wrong was my fault.

I was officially an idiot. I needed an attitude adjustment in the worst way. I set my mind on having a great night out with Matt. Mooning over Daniel was wasted energy.

Hair and makeup done, I slipped my dress on. Giving myself a once-over in my full-length mirror, I smiled at my reflection. This was one of those dresses that made me feel beautiful. I was having a good hair day too. Why did that always seem to seal the deal? Humming to myself, I pushed my feet into my black stilettos. Good thing we were taking a taxi. I’d be bleeding and crippled by the time we reached the restaurant if we were to take the subway.

I grabbed my clutch purse, some money, a lip gloss, and my ID. I was good to go. Matt was standing against the kitchen counter chugging a glass of water when I emerged. He lowered the glass slowly and whistled as I walked toward him.

“Hot damn, woman, you look
fine
,” he hooted.

“Thanks.” Suddenly self-conscious, I motioned toward his suit. “Looking pretty good yourself there, my friend,” I admitted, leaning forward to straighten his tie.

“Shall we?” he asked, putting on his coat and then helping me with mine.

“I’m ready when you are.”

After walking as briskly down to Bay Street as my shoes would allow, we managed to hail a cab. Traffic was heinous, and the cab smelled like a mixture of dirty socks and stale barf—not an aroma I needed to revisit, given last night’s fiasco. I glanced at Matt and pinched my nostrils shut. He looked at me with a panicked expression and opened the window a crack. I leaned toward it gratefully. After the longest twelve minutes of my life, we pulled up to the Toronto Dominion Bank Tower. Matt quickly paid the driver, and we leapt out of the car, gasping for fresh air as we crossed the sidewalk to the building’s entrance.

“I never thought I’d be happy to inhale smog and sewer stench,” he groaned, taking several deep breaths. He took me by the hand and led me to the revolving doors. “This okay with you?” he asked, gesturing toward our clasped hands.

“I suppose since it’s Valentine’s Day and all, I’ll let it go.” I gave him a wry smile. “But don’t get any ideas.”

We rode the gleaming elevator to the fifty-fourth floor, and the doors opened to reveal the tastefully appointed lobby of Canoe. The restaurant itself was behind a set of glass doors. Matt held the door open for me, and we stepped inside.

“Can I help you?” the maître d’ asked.

“Yes, I have a reservation for two for seven o’clock. It’s under ‘Miller,’” Matt said, looking at me and raising his eyebrows excitedly. He looked like a kid on Christmas morning.

“Yes, of course, Mr. Miller. May I take your coats?”

Matt took off his coat and helped me with mine, handing them both to the maître d’ who passed them off to a girl manning a small room behind his desk.

“Allow me to show you to your table, Mr. Miller.”

Matt led me by the elbow as we walked to the other side of the restaurant. A row of tables for two ran along the mirrored wall, flanked on one side by chairs and on the other by a padded leather bench. After holding the chair out for me and moving aside for Matt to maneuver into the bench seat, the maître d’ took our starched white napkins and shook each one out, placing them gently on our laps.