Page 72 of Full Tilt
I managed to wait a whole ten seconds before replying.Always. What’s up?
I called my dad.
“Holy shit,” I whispered, knowing what it meant for her. I waited to see if she’d say more. No blinking little dots indicating she was typing. I hesitated, a thousand replies at the ready. Replies that could comfort from a safe distance.How did it go? Are you all right?Tell me about it?
I texted back,I can come over
No punctuation. Neither a question nor a statement. Vague enough she could tell me no.
The rolling dots, and then her reply:
Okay.
I could’ve walked to Kacey’s apartment, but I shaved three minutes off by driving. Outside her door, I hesitated.
What are you doing?
“Being a friend.” The stifling night air chewed up the word ‘friend’ and spit it back out at me. “A friend who makes house calls.”
I knocked on the door and heard a muffled, “Come in.”
Kacey’s plant-filled apartment smelled of her perfume and the scented candles she loved. I inhaled deeply, both to catch my breath from the flight of stairs, and to fill myself with her.
She sat curled up on her couch, her legs tucked under her. The coffee table in front of her littered with crumpled tissues. Onlythe lamp beside the couch was on, glowing yellow over her hunched shoulders. Her gaze flicked to me as I sat in the chair opposite. Even with red-rimmed eyes and a face swollen from crying, she looked incredibly beautiful.
“You want anything?” she asked. “Something to drink or…?”
I shook my head. “I’m fine.”
I cleared my throat, my nerves perched on the edge of their seats, staring. Both the smooth skin of her legs and the way they were folded small into a corner of the couch, woke some primal, male urge in me. I wanted to protect her. To hold her and shield her from whatever hurt her. To put my body between her and the world, and while I was at it, wrap those legs around me and slide inside her…
“I’m sorry, it’s so late,” she said.
“I was awake anyway.” I leaned forward. “Tell me what happened.”
“Would you… Never mind.”
“What? What can I do?”Anything. I’d do anything for you.
Her eyes met mine and her voice was tiny as it asked, “Would you mind sitting next to me? I promise I won’t try to jump your bones or anything.”
“Sure,” I said. I moved from the chair to the couch, leaving a few inches between us, but she closed the distance at once, scooting next to me. Automatically, my arm went around her shoulders.
Because that’s what friends do when a friend is upset.
Except my friend smelled amazing. And I was hyper-aware of my friend’s skin touching mine, and the way I could feel the soft roundness of her breasts against my chest. I expected her to cry. I welcomed a weepfest—it would help bolster my insistence that I was only being a kind, supportive friend. But she snuggled up close and wrapped her arm around my waist, and when she spoke, her voice was watery but calm.
“I didn’t plan on calling my dad,” she said. “I wasn’t even thinking about him today. They accidentally double-booked myshift with another girl, so I got off work early. Around eight. I came home and turned on the TV, surfed around for a while, and landed onSay Yes to the Dress.” She tilted her head up to look at me. “Have you ever seen it?”
“Never heard of it,” I said.
“It’s this stupid, silly, fabulous reality show where they follow different brides-to-be as they go shopping for their wedding dress. They bring along a best friend to help them choose. Or a bunch of bitchy friends. Or their overbearing mother. But the episode tonight…” Kacey sniffed. “One bride brought along some friends. And her father.”
She inhaled, and I felt the fluttery shudder of her breath huff against my chest. I held her tighter.
“So, she’s trying on dresses, and they’re all pretty, but none of them are quiteit. Until finally she tries on The One. And her whole group knows it’s The One because they all start crying. The bride cried, and then her dad cried, and thenIcried because I wanted what she had so badly.”
“The dress?”
