Crossing Paths Page 3

  After the situation with Gavin, it was difficult to find a date. It wasn’t because I didn’t want to date. It was that every guy I went out with or even had a simple conversation with wanted to know what happened. I was shocked at the gossipy nature of their questioning. Were we having sex? Did I see any warning signs? Was I really surprised? One guy actually made a joke about how I had the “special key to the closet,” like every guy I touched would turn gay. I honestly wondered what that said about him since he was one of the only guys who called for a second date. Needless to say, dating became a challenge my senior year. It was easier to spend time focusing on graduation and hanging out with Caroline.

  Since I returned to Texas a month ago, my mother has been set on getting the dating train rolling again. Two weeks ago, she invited Barry, a childhood friend, over for our Sunday dinner. She spent the entire evening going on about how he became a doctor and was practicing in the same area as my father. She was so talkative that Barry was only able to speak a sentence or two in the midst of her praise. When he left that evening, I apologized on the front steps of my house. We both agreed to give my mother a show, and I allowed him to kiss me full on the lips, softly and tenderly. He smiled at me with a knowing grin as he turned to walk toward his car. Neither of us felt anything in the kiss. My mother, on the other hand, was sure there would be a wedding by this time next summer.

  One thing my mom doesn’t understand is that I don’t go for men like Barry—men who never want to leave their hometown, who are happy to join the family business, and who live life as usual for as long as usual will allow. It is part of the reason I went to college on the East Coast. I wanted adventure. I wanted something different. Although I have moved back to Texas and it will always be considered home, I do not feel the same sense of obligation to the great state.

  Closing my eyes, I picture the stranger from the airplane. His eyes drew me in so easily. Although he looked a bit older than me, I’m sure he’s probably still in his twenties. What insight could be gained from a close-up view of those eyes? What would it be like to touch his face, gently run my fingers through his hair, and feel his lips against mine? His hands would fit nicely around my hips or on the soft skin of my face. I’m crazy. I don’t even know the guy.

  It’s probably a safe bet to assume he’s unattainable. Maybe he has a girlfriend or likes to sleep around? He could be a self-made billionaire who doesn’t trust women. A guy that good-looking has to be out of reach.

  I turn on the TV to a late show I’ve never watched, and I drift off to sleep, thinking about the impossibility of a stranger.

  Monday

  “June, have you seen my gray pencil skirt?” I yell out while searching through my closet. “June?” Damn it, she isn’t here.

  I forgot she’s on a plane headed for New York City. She should be back late tomorrow afternoon, and I might just kill her if she comes back with the exact piece of clothing I can’t find.

  My best friend, June, and I have lived together for the last three years, and we’re now renting an apartment together while we dive into the real world. During college, I spent most mornings making fun of her drab attire while she laughed at my brightly colored dresses and high heels. I guess the saying “opposites attract” can be true for friends as well. The only major similarities we have are we both speak English, and our dating history is a little spotty.

  We met at a party. Although, I’m not sure June knew what it meant to party. We were college freshmen taking it all in. That particular night, I was making my way to the kitchen to refill my drink. Sliding my back along the stairway railing, I tried to avoid interrupting a couple with their tongues so far down each other’s throats I was worried they would stop breathing. As I came to the bottom of the stairs, I tripped on the last step, launching the remainder of my drink onto the back of a guy’s shirt, and then he spilled his drink on someone else. This domino effect continued for about four or five people until June got a plastic cup full of beer directly in the face. I apologized profusely as she wiped the liquid away from her eyes. When she looked up at me, she was smiling, laughing even.

  “That’s okay. I was looking for a reason to get out of here anyway,” she said through her laughter. “I think I’ll just leave and get something for dinner. It’s still pretty early.”

  “Can I join you?” The party was lame, and I had already embarrassed myself enough for one night.

  With that, our friendship began. We left the party, got a change of clothes at June’s dorm room, and headed to Denny’s. Breakfast for dinner—I don’t think there is a better meal. June and I were both thousands of miles away from home, and we were beginning to miss our families. At one point, I told a stupid joke, and June laughed, spitting her drink all over me. We called it even, and from that night forward, we were inseparable.

  After freshman year, we rented a two-bedroom duplex and lived there until graduation. We saw each other through general education courses, many more parties, and some crappy relationships. During the holidays, we went our separate ways to visit family, but when we returned to school, it was like no time had passed.

  As graduation neared, we started to look at job options. On the same day, we both got calls about job offers in Houston, and we accepted without hesitation. We had already talked about how perfect it would be to get a place together as we started our careers.

  I would have loved to go with her to New York today. I am sure it would have been fun even though the visit would be for less than twenty-four hours. I’ve heard the shopping and spas are amazing. I had already planned out where I might get a full massage and the stores I would need to hit first.

  It’s too bad my job requires that I actually show up. I work for one of the top interior design firms in Houston. I’ve known I wanted to be an interior designer since I was five years old. When I was supposed to be napping on a Sunday afternoon, I was usually rearranging my stuffed animals, holding up paint samples against the wall, or flipping through the many design magazines that were always lying around. A room was never complete in my eyes. There was always room for improvement, especially when your decor options were limited to your mother’s fashion choices.

  I love my job, but when I enter the office today, I’m hoping the day flies by quickly. With my best friend out of town and no other friends yet in this new town, life is pretty stale.

  Dinner at June’s childhood home yesterday was great. Since I officially moved in with June after my family vacation had ended a little over a week ago, dinner away from the apartment was the first interesting thing I did. See? My life is lame. June’s family was simply precious. Her parents showed enough PDA to make Cupid vomit. Addison, her sister, seemed nice even though she was a little quiet. And their brother, Liam…well, he is just hot. I can’t believe I haven’t noticed him in any of June’s pictures. Before we left, her parents gave me huge hugs, and it felt like fresh air being breathed into my lungs.

  On the way back to our apartment, June kept saying how pissed she was because her mom had brought up the fact that she hasn’t had a serious relationship in over a year. Honestly, her mom could have easily been talking to me, too.

  While June had at least a couple of longer relationships in college, I tried to steer clear of the guys who seemed too serious. I just wanted to have fun and enjoy myself. For the most part, I accomplished my goal. I dated constantly—from football players to debate team members and from musicians to library workers. I didn’t really stick to a type.

  June had a hard time keeping up with my dating pace. It was hilarious to watch her struggle as she tried to recall the names of my dates from the previous weekend. One night, when I came home with a different guy than the one who had picked me up earlier that evening, June literally fell off the couch in shock. The guy I brought home happened to be a study partner from one of my classes, but I wasn’t about to tell her that.

  “Good morning, Caroline.” My boss’ voice brings me back to reality.

  “Hi, Au
drey.”

  “We have a lot to do today. Mr. Thorne’s wife will be here this afternoon.”

  “I’ll get right to work then.”

  Audrey smiles, and with her coffee in hand, she heads into her office.

  The morning goes by quickly as I work on the presentation boards. When lunchtime arrives, I set out by myself to grab a quick bite. Last week, June mentioned a small Italian place around the corner that has great lunch specials. Heading that way, I walk down the large sidewalk, trying to avoid the mass of lunch travelers. Mental note: Don’t take lunch at noon ever again.

  As I enter the front doors of the restaurant, I hit a wall of people dressed in varying levels of business attire. I hear the hostess tell a customer standing at least five groups ahead of me that the wait will be forty-five minutes. Since I only have an hour for lunch, I decide I’ll have to try this restaurant out another day or maybe call ahead with a to-go order next time. I should pick up something quick, so I can get back and finish up the presentation boards.

  As I turn to leave, I hear someone call out my name, but it couldn’t possibly be for me, so I keep walking.

  “Caroline!”

  As I hear my name again, I turn around and run right into Liam’s chest. Liam’s hands firmly grab my upper arms. I am thankful he is steadying me because I don’t think I could handle standing on my own with his hands touching my bare skin.

  “Hey, are you here to have lunch? The food is really great,” Liam says with a wide grin as he slowly releases me.

  “I would love to try it out, but I can’t wait forty-five minutes to be seated. Maybe another day.” I look down at my hands, avoiding eye contact. What is wrong with me? I’m not shy.

  “Well, why don’t you come sit with me? I have a table for two, but the guy I was meeting for lunch couldn’t make it.”

  This probably isn’t a good idea, but I agree because I’m hungry…and because Liam is, as I established earlier, hot. Today, he’s dressed in casual business clothes. Dark slacks fit snugly at his waist, and the short sleeves of his green polo shirt show off his muscular arms. I can only imagine the muscles hiding underneath. I shake my head, trying to dislodge any other inappropriate thoughts from my head.

  June was pretty clear that her brother was off-limits, but it’s not like he would actually be interested in me. He pulls out the chair opposite from where his food sits. The waiter stops by the table, looking a little confused, but he takes my order just the same.

  “So, do you like your job?” Liam asks before he puts a bite of chicken into his mouth.

  Wow, I could definitely kiss those lips. They look so tender. I bet he’s a really good kisser. When I catch Liam’s eyes, I notice his whole face is smiling along with that beautiful mouth.

  “Are you still trying to decide if you like your job or not?”

  Oh crap, I didn’t answer him. “No. I mean, yes, I like my job. It’s exactly what I was looking for. Thanks for asking. What type of work do you do?”

  “I work in the airline industry.”

  We go on and talk about his work, my work, his family, my family, the new apartment I share with June, and June’s crappy love life.

  “Did you date much in college?” Liam asks, looking down at his mostly empty plate.

  “Some but nothing too special. Most of the guys June and I met weren’t worth our time. At this point, I figure I’m better off spending my energy focusing on my new job.”

  “Probably a good idea. Speaking of work, I need to get back to the office. Hey, before I leave, can I get your phone number?”

  My heart flutters, and I choke a little on my water.

  “I feel like it would be a good idea to have a backup way to get in touch with June if she isn’t answering her phone.” Liam slides his business card along with a pen across the table.

  “Sure, that definitely makes sense. After all, June is well-known for misplacing her phone or leaving it on vibrate all day.” I smile and write down my number on the back of the card.

  “Here’s my card. Keep my number with you in case you need anything.” Liam hands me another card with his name, office number, and cell number.

  We part ways with a quick awkward wave and head back to work.

  The afternoon goes by just as fast as the morning. After I put the finishing touches on the presentation board, I have a few minutes to spare before the afternoon meeting. Everything goes smoothly. The clients are happy, oohing and aahing during the entire presentation. They assure Audrey that they will let us know their final decision by tomorrow afternoon. It’s such a relief to be done with my first major project. Hopefully, we’ll get good news tomorrow. If so, June and I will have to go out and celebrate.

  I leave work and decide to do a little shopping. This coming weekend, the interior design society in Houston is having a fundraiser to benefit a local children’s charity. Although my closet already looks like a high-end department store exploded inside of it, I feel the need to buy a new dress for the occasion. I might even splurge and buy some new shoes and accessories. On my way to The Galleria, my phone rings.

  “June! How was your flight?”

  “Horrible. You wouldn’t believe the crappy day I’ve had. I’m on my way to the hotel now.”

  “I won’t even ask, but I’m glad you made it there safely. Are you ready for the meeting tomorrow?”

  “Yeah, I think so. Mr. Hargrove gave me all the notes, and I made a few of my own before I left, so I would be prepared.”

  “I wouldn’t expect any less from you.” June was always the one on top of things in college. I’m not sure how I would have made it through without her. “I better get off here. I need to park and do a little shopping.”

  “You…shopping?”

  I can hear the sarcasm in June’s voice as I imagine her smiling. “Alright, alright. Good luck with your meeting tomorrow.”

  “Thanks. Bye.”

  I head into The Galleria and make my first stop at Neiman Marcus. I try on about twenty dresses before sitting down in the dressing room. I’m completely worn out from my indecision. I find myself being hypercritical about the way the fabric lays, how low-cut the neckline is, or whether the length of the dress is appropriate. I just can’t make up my mind. Usually, this is so easy for me. Most things look good on me, so it’s normally a simple matter of finding the color or style to suit the occasion.

  This time though, I keep thinking of Liam, wondering what he would think of each dress. Would he find it attractive? Would he think it was too revealing?

  I need to stop this crazy train. Not only is he not interested in me, but he’s also my best friend’s brother. I’m probably not even his type. There’s also the fact that my best friend just so happened to forbid me from dating him. I enjoyed spending time with Liam today. Talking with him felt so easy and comfortable even if he didn’t act overly interested in anything more than a friendly conversation. Maybe the Liam I met today was on his best behavior…or maybe his true self is different than what June thinks of him.

  I shouldn’t be worried about impressing Liam. He’ll never see this dress. As I finally choose a blue knee-length dress with a bow neck that shows off my collarbone, my phone trills. I search through my purse, thinking it is probably June calling to tell me how her hotel room is amazing.

  Enjoyed lunch today. Thanks for the company. —Liam

  Well, that was nice. Maybe June’s brother isn’t the big jerk she thinks he is. Should I respond? If I don’t, he might think he has the wrong number.

  Me, too. The food was great. —Caroline

  It’s official. I’m an idiot. The food was great? Ugh. I just sent him the awkward pat-on-the-back of text messages. If he was interested before, he definitely isn’t interested now.

  Tuesday

  I wake up feeling rested and ready to face the challenges of the day…as long as those challenges only involve one meeting and two flights back to Texas. I jump into the shower and stand under the constant hot water. T
houghts of airplanes brings back memories of the handsome stranger I managed to maul with a magazine. As I run my soapy hands over every inch of my body, I think about how it would feel to have his hands on me instead. I imagine leaning my head against his naked chest while running my hands down the sides of his body. His kisses would make my insides melt.

  I open my eyes and bring myself back to reality. Rinsing my body, I step out of the shower and onto the cold tile floor. Maybe I should take Mom’s advice and start dating again.

  I need to clear my head before this meeting. This is my first chance to make an impression during my professional career. I have to make a positive you-could-really-be-something impression today. I know from experience how a bad impression can leave a lasting image.

  My sophomore year of college, I sat in the front row of my advertising class, trying to make a good impression. Sitting in the back or even middle rows had never worked for me. It had proven to be too much distraction for my fidgety mind. Just before class began, a woman casually dressed in a college logo T-shirt and worn-looking dark denim jeans took a seat next to me. She asked if she could borrow a pen even though I noticed she didn’t have a notebook. Although it seemed odd that she needed a pen, I handed one over just the same.

  “Have you heard much about this class?” she asked, settling into an easy slouch in the uncomfortable wood chair.

  I watched as she rolled my pen back and forth between her fingers. “Not really. From looking over the course’s web page, it seems like the teacher thinks we have no other classes or much of a life outside of this course.”

  “I wonder if your first boss might have the same opinion when you’re working on the biggest advertising proposal of the year,” she responded matter-of-factly before leaving her front row seat to stand behind the lectern at the head of the classroom. “My name is Professor Moore. Welcome to Advertising 201.”