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Just like how it was with Sara.
That thought makes my jaw tighten as I finish buttoning my shirt. Bex has commandeered my bathroom, so I’m in the bedroom to get ready for dinner. For half a second after she shut the door, it felt domestic, like we’re truly a couple and this is something we do every week, but fortunately that feeling has passed.
Cufflinks next. I pick up the steel “C” set, a gift from my father, and pin them in place. Sara was an abyss. Every crying phone call, every dramatic fight, every desperate fuck dragged me in further, until it was missed assignments, missed classes, missed practices. How could I go to practice when my girlfriend was begging me not to, that if I went, she might do something dangerous? I missed my life for her.
Bex is not Sara. I know that. But if I let myself get too close, I’ll do anything for her. No matter how ridiculous, outlandish, or damaging.
The bathroom door opens. Bex steps out slowly, her hand over her eyes. “Are you decent?”
I laugh. “You just made it.”
She looks me over. “Okay, I’m glad I brought this dress.”
The dress in question is a beautiful lilac with a fitted bodice that shows off her curves and a full skirt that sways as she walks closer. She’s wearing black heels that make her legs seem even longer. Her earrings are the same little gold stars that sparkle as she runs a brush through her hair.
“You look so pretty.”
She smiles. “Thanks. And look, I’m not as short anymore.” She does a twirl, which makes the skirt rise a few inches.
I swallow, focusing on a spot on the wall so I don’t think about something indecent, like putting my hand up that pretty fabric to see what kind of panties she’s wearing.
“Will you do up the back?”
“Hmm?”
“The back zipper.” She turns so I can see that the dress is onlypartially zippered. She’s wearing a purple bra with some sort of lace situation on the straps. Maybe her panties match. This is clearly her fancy date outfit. Did she wear it to the very restaurant we’re going to when she dated Darryl? Somehow, I doubt he sprung for it. But she could’ve worn this sexy outfit anyway at some point, taking it off for him piece by piece after they went home.
Bex glances back at me. “Um, James?”
“Sorry.” I clear my throat as I zip up the dress, trying to touch as little of her skin as possible. She has an adorable birth mark on her back, right between her shoulder blades. I could kiss it, and then kiss lower, and take the whole dress off.
But I don’t. Instead, I let her turn. She smiles at me. “You look nice too. Good to know you can clean up well.”
“It’s a requirement for us Callahans. You don’t want to guess how many charity events I’ve been to.”
She puts her hairbrush into her tote bag and takes out a little clutch. “I know.”
“Oh yeah?” I say as I shut the door behind us.
She glances at me as she heads down the stairs. “I may have, um...”
“Oh,” I say as it clicks. I holler to Cooper that we’re about to leave, then lead the way to my car. “You googled me?”
“More specifically, I googled your father. Your family. But you came up.” She buckles into the passenger seat, biting her lip as she looks at me. “Is that a problem? I’m sorry.”
“It’s not like you were snooping. It’s right there on the internet.” It does feel strange, though. I don’t have any big secrets, the real reason behind the mess of last fall aside, but knowing she did research on me, like I’m some news story, hits me wrong, and I’m not sure why.
“Yeah.” She smooths her skirt down. “The Callahan Family Foundation, right?”
“My parents’ pride and joy. They’re very serious about it.”
At a red light, I glance over at her. Something about her expression unsettles me. I’ve worked hard on making her feel comfortable, texting her, talking to her, getting to know her. Just because we can’t date for real doesn’t mean we can’t be friends. I like her, and I appreciate that she’s taking time out of her busy life to help me with this class. Suddenly, it feels like all the progress we made disappeared, and now we’re not even friends.
At the restaurant, I lean in and speak quietly to the manager, who is more than happy to set us up with a table an hour early. He leads us to the back, where there’s a small circular table tucked into an alcove.
Bex sits down before I can pull her chair out for her. “You weren’t lying, you really do know the owner.”
“He has a catering business too; we’ve used him for a bunch of events.”
