When I Was Yours, When You Were Mine Page 5

  I roll my eyes at him in jest. “Well, I’m not saying it was, but if it was, wouldn’t you be happy? He was a good guy. He was respectful.”

  “It was him wasn’t it?” Kingston deadpans.

  “You’re breaking the stupid rules.” I jokingly scold. “But, yes, it was. And I’m grateful it was him. I know a lot of girls with crappy first time stories and I’m glad mine is a good one.”

  Kingston looks unimpressed, and I adjust myself in the booth. When I look back up, his expression has softened. “I’m glad too, Mae. Honestly, I am.”

  “Good. Because, aside from becoming a nun, the only time you wouldn’t hate the person who took my virginity, would have been if it were you ...” I don’t even catch myself before I finish the sentence, I let it run out. “And I’m sure Logan has decided I’ll be a virgin forever and ever.” I make a weird joke to try and quickly take away any tension that my inability to stop talking has created.

  Kingston finishes his whisky with pace, taking his eyes off me. At first I think he’s going to say we should leave, but the waiter walks by and he motions for more drinks. I take this as a way to finish up this part of the conversation that he’s choosing to ignore.

  “Okay. That was your question. My go at another cute question,” I tease. “Do you want to have children?”

  “Absolutely!” he answers quickly. “I never thought much of it, but the last few years there’s been a change.”

  “Do you want to get married?” he asks me. The waiter places our drinks in front of us. Kingston must remember the whole Dale engagement debacle, because his mouth forms an ‘O’. “Oh shit, I didn’t mean to - ”

  “ - It’s fine.” I laugh at the strangeness that it once kicked me in the gut to think about Dale. I don’t necessarily feel kicked anymore, it’s more like a soft fluttery ache - but - it doesn’t feel like my world is falling apart. I don’t want to say it’s because Kingston strolled on in, I don’t want to be basing my current contentment on him, but I can’t place the feeling anywhere else.

  “I’m feeling better about it.” I offer. “I would definitely like to get married in the future. The Universe had my back making sure it wasn’t to someone like Dale. I can’t say I’ve ever obsessed over the idea of a wedding, but I know what I want my dress to look like and how I want my hair, and I certainly hope my future husband wants chocolate cake, because it’s kind of a deal breaker for me.”

  “Ahh yes - chocolate cake or the wedding is off.” Kingston’s eyes dance with humor. “Is that your only deal breaker?”

  “Oh! Deal breakers!” I exclaim. “Hmmm . Don’t lie to me.” I look at the scar on my arm and recall the night I begged Dale to tell me what was going on. Everything collapsed that night, but I can see now that it was going to, no matter what. There is only so long you can keep a lie hidden. I couldn’t understand why he wanted to postpone the hurt. “What about you?” I ask.

  Kingston is looking at me, blinking. I frown, wondering if he’s heard my question. “What about you?” I repeat.

  His focus finds me again. “No bullshit fakeness. Like, when someone is polite because they feel they can gain something from you, but they’re rude to anyone they find dispensable.”

  I nod, agreeing. “Dale always made the people who worked for him cry. I hated it. I used to wonder if I was as bad - I was witnessing it and felt like I couldn’t do anything about it … and I wasn’t leaving him.”

  “When you’re in a relationship it’s hard to see yourself outside of it sometimes.” He leans in, eyes on me.

  “You’ve been really good to me, Kingston. I can’t thank you enough.”

  “There’s no point thanking me. I’m happy to be here with you.”

  “Me too.” I confess. And it feels vulnerable to say it out loud, like I’m admitting it to myself at the same time.

  Before I know it, he’s tracing circles on my hand, my breath hitches and my whole body feels completely alive and yet foolishly numb all at the same time. I huff out the tiniest laugh and turn my palm facing up. He places his hand in mine and I wrap my considerably tiny hand around his.

  “I don’t know what this is,” he says in a low, husky whisper. I wait for him to continue. I need an idea of what this he’s referring to - us, this hand hold, our friendship, the way our eyes continuously meet across a room, when it feels like he always wants to say more than what he’s saying?

  I attempt to open my mouth, unsure if anything will come out, because I also have no idea what this is, when I feel bustling beside us. We’ve been in our own world, as if this little booth was hidden away, but when we look up we’re met with a group of people hovering oddly close.

  “Kingston James!” One of them takes the eye contact as a chance to connect. “Man! I knew it was you!” he hollers to his friends. “I told you!”

  Someone else steps forward. “I’m sorry about your arm!”

  I suddenly realize that Kingston’s hand is no longer in mine. I pull my hands from the table and rest them in my lap, squeezing them into fists, trying to process the moment that we just shared.

  Kingston has a wide smile on his face, to them it would look completely genuine, but I can tell it’s forced.

  “Thanks.” He turns his body toward them. “It was a tough reality to face, but it is what it is,” he admits.

  He chats further with a girl who asks him about his recovery. The seat dips beside me and I turn to see another girl scooting herself toward me.

  “Hey!” she beams. “I’m Holly. Are you Kingston’s girlfriend?”

  I shake my head. “No, no. Old friends. We grew up together.”

  “Does he have a girlfriend?” she asks with the energy of a puppy.

  “Ummm. I don’t think so.” I’m forcing a smile, trying to keep everything light hearted. But my heart feels big, as if it’s sitting outside my chest. All I want to do is hide it and hide myself; not be seen by everyone and everything, and him - Kingston - this big, powerful man who holds my heart, and who just held my hand in such a tender way.

  “My boyfriend, Riley, is over there,” Holly says, pointing to a guy with fiery red hair standing in the group talking to Kingston. Kingston is standing with them now, fully present, albeit probably tipsy because I know I’m feeling drunk.

  “Do you live in Kansas?” I ask.

  “Yeah. Born and bred.”

  “It’s beautiful here,” I say.

  Holly is still smiling at me when I hear my name over my shoulder.

  “Mae. My best friend’s twin sister - we grew up together,” I hear Kingston say.

  I try not to show the hurt felt from being referred to, once again, as his best friend’s twin sister. I offer a small wave and he beckons me over. Holly and I make our way around the table.

  “Hey …” I manage to say as I stand next to Kingston.

  “And they’re not dating!” Holly confirms to no-one who asked. “Kingston’s single,” she says, again, to no-one in particular. She turns to me. “Wait. Are you single?”

  “Yea - yeah I am.” I nod too many times, looking like one of those bobble head toys people put on their dashboards.

  “Gavin’s single!” Holly points to a guy drinking his beer, much less interested than the rest of the group.

  I take a long breath and wave at Gavin, raising my eyebrows - what are we meant to do? - kind of way.

  Gavin chuckles to himself. “Thanks Holly.” He closes his eyes in feigned embarrassment.

  Holly’s boyfriend continues asking Kingston questions, who shakes himself from a stupor and diligently answers.

  Holly has me by the arm and I can’t hear anything she’s saying, but I somehow find myself standing next to Gavin.

  “I’m sorry about her.” Gavin takes another long drink. “She’s constantly trying to set me up. Ignore her.”

  I give him a knowing look. “Thanks. Will do, Single Gavin.”

  He laughs, caught off guard. “Single Mae.”

  “So, why are you
single? With Holly as your wingman and all …”

  “Bold question, Single Mae,” he responds. “Happy being so. No reason to force it,” he finishes, easing any pending embarrassment from my bold question. “Why are you single?”

  “I was engaged to my ex for three days, but he’d been cheating for three months.” I shrug. Gavin’s eyes go wide, like he possibly regrets asking me. “I figure that I dodged the wrong person.”

  He nods. “That’s a good way to look at it.”

  “Didn’t always think that.” I wink at him. I definitely need to stop winking at people. “Some very smart, very kind friends have helped me process it.”

  I feel a hand on my lower back and swivel to see Kingston looking down at me.

  “Hey.” My awareness is solely focused on the feeling of his hand so close to my ass. “This is Gavin.”

  “Hey man,” Gavin says casually.

  “Can we all get a photo?” Holly pipes up.

  They arrange themselves as I set up Holly’s old school camera.

  Gavin excuses himself to the bar.

  “It’s been nice meeting y’all,” Kingston says the moment I’ve taken the photo. “We’ve got a lot of driving to do tomorrow.”

  They all wave goodbye, whooping as we leave.

  “That was interesting,” I say when the cab pulls away after dropping us off.

  I rode in mostly silence. The driver recognized Kingston straight away and they spent the ride talking game play. At one stage I voiced my opinion on the Seahawks, and Kingston’s jaw was practically on the floor. I know about football, I’d told him.

  “Yeah, sorry about that.”

  “Well - I guess it wasn’t all that interesting to you. Must happen a lot?”

  “Yeah, especially since my shoulder.”

  “How does it feel when people remind you about it all the time?” I ask as Kingston opens the front door.

  “Mmm it’s fine. At first I couldn’t stand it, but I can’t change what’s happened.” We wander through the entry to the living room, turning on the lamps. I grab a glass of water and watch Kingston play with the television. He’s flicking through the music channels and stops on Country Music Top 100 of All Time.

  “I used to love this song,” I say as the screen lights up. “Before my Mum died we’d all slow dance to this before bed.”

  Kingston keeps his eyes on me. “Let’s dance to it,” he suggests.

  I narrow my eyes as he reaches his hand out, coaxing me over to him.

  I bite my lip.

  When I meet him in the middle of the room the song moves to it’s chorus.

  Kingston moves to wrap his arm around my waist.

  So, this is what it feels like.

  He looks at me pointedly and I can tell he’s asking if it’s okay. I nod and move my body closer to him. We begin jokingly, in a ballroom dancing position, he spins me around, and I bend backwards with my leg kicked out.

  “Keep this up and I’ll vomit,” I warn him.

  “Gross,” he teases, pulling me in. He drops my hand and slinks both arms around my waist. I’ve got heels on that bring my head to his shoulder. I lean in, wrapping my arms around his neck. We rock side-to-side with the music. I close my eyes and breathe in his aftershave, letting the idea that this is normal behavior for us to fleet through my mind. Obviously it’s not. Obviously this closeness has never been something we’ve shared. But something feels different between us. I would let myself conjure up every beautiful idea of what could be for us, but I know it’s a dream. I know it isn’t a possibility. Logan wouldn’t let it. And, well, Kingston has never been that way inclined with me.

  Maybe that’s what’s happening here. Maybe I’m feeling things with more intensity than he is.

  As the song ends, I feel uncomfortable being in his arms with my thoughts roaming the way they are.

  “I’m going to shower.” I point behind me to my room.

  “Yeah, yeah, same,” Kingston responds.

  I give him a small, awkward wave as he begins up the stairs, and I dart to my room as soon as he turns his back.

  In the shower, I think about what he said at the bar - I don’t know what this is - and, well, neither do I, because he could have been referring to anything in the grand scheme of things.

  After I’m dressed in my pajamas, I check to see if Kingston’s back in the living room. All the lights are off.

  I tip-toe to the edge of the stairs to listen for the shower, but it’s off, and there’s no light under the door of his room - he must have gone to sleep.

  I guess I was reading too much into what he said. I plod back to my room and crawl into bed.

  I also don’t know what this is, but I am more aware than ever of being his best friend’s twin sister.

  CHAPTER seven

  We’re up early the next morning, considering the amount we had to drink. We have a five hour drive to Springfield, an overnight stay, and then a three and a half hour drive to Chicago.

  As I make my way to the kitchen, I can hear the coffee machine.

  “Morning. You all good?” I ask.

  “Good morning.” Kingston spins around. “Ahh, yeah, I thought I’d try this morning.”

  I nod, keeping my eyes trained on the garden. Kingston stands beside me and hands me a coffee. I look up at him for the first time this morning, and it feels like there are so many things to say, but neither of us want to begin.

  “Thanks.” I take the coffee from him and take a sip. “This is delicious.”

  “Yeah?” He raises an eyebrow. “So. Five hour drive today.”

  “I was thinking about that before. I’ve never driven so much in my life.” I admit.

  “Again, thank you for doing this,” he says.

  “Oh. It’s all right. I mean, I’m having fun.” I return my gaze back to the garden. Last night is running through my mind - I don’t know what this is - My best friend’s twin sister.

  Then again, maybe that easily explains it.

  “You okay?” Kingston asks.

  “Thinking about Logan …” I lie.

  “Have you two spoken?”

  “No. He hasn’t tried to call,” I confess. “But, I’m with you, so that means he thinks I’m safe, right?” I drink my coffee.

  Kingston doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t have to.

  We’re in a spiral with nowhere to go but around and around. Logan and Kingston are like brothers. Kingston wouldn’t dare come near me in any way but to look after me.

  And me, well, I don’t have any more butterfly stitches to fix my heartache.

  ◆◆◆

  The drive to Springfield is easy. We pull up outside our hotel by late afternoon. Kingston yawns as we walk the hall to our rooms.

  “Should we get room service and stay in?” I ask.

  He dramatically closes his eyes, sighs. “Great idea.”

  I drop my things in my room and walk next door to Kingston’s.

  “Hey neighbor,” he chimes, opening the door and heading back to his bag.

  I pick up the menu which he’s put on the king size bed and look through it.

  “What are you thinking?” he asks.

  I want to tell him I’m thinking about this giant king size bed, and him, and the bed, and me, and so on and so forth until the end of time.

  “Not much,” I say.

  “Food, I mean,” he chuckles.

  “Oh. Probably fries and a salad … and the cake and the macaroni and cheese.”

  “All in that order?”

  “Cake first.” I nod.

  As Kingston orders our food, I go back to my room to shower.

  I’m brushing my hair when Sammy calls.

  “Mae Edie Walker! I have to hear from your brother that you’re on your way back to Maine!”

  “I didn’t want to ruin your time with the Englishman!”

  “Firstly. It’s already ruined. Secondly. You couldn’t and wouldn’t ruin anything.”

  “I’ve rui
ned many things,” I say.

  “Remember that time Harrison planned a weekend away for him and I, and then he proceeded to get drunk and kiss other women in front of me? And you drove all day and night to bring me home?”

  “That was a long time ago,” I say, honestly.

  “Please tell me about Kingston James.” She changes the subject and I can sense the glimmer of a smile.

  “We’re just driving together,” I state. “He was in Spokane at the same time.”

  “Uh-huh,” Sammy replies.

  “Logan didn’t mention anything about that did he? About it being a set up?”

  “No. He said Kingston was having trouble with his bike?”

  “Yeah. Hence us driving together.”

  “How has it been?” she sing-songs.

  “Fine. It’s been fine.”

  “Only fine? Fine is a funny word to use. If nothing weird had happened you would have said it had been good. If something bad had happened you would have said shit. Fine means it’s been good and weird and there are juicy details that you’re not telling me.”

  “No juice,” I reply.

  “There’s juice.” Sammy’s not giving up.

  “None.”

  “Mae …”

  I groan. “I don’t know, Sammy. I’m more confused than ever.”

  “I knew it!” I’m ninety-nine percent sure she’s fist pumping the air.

  “He held my hand the other night and, like, stroked it and said I don’t know what this is. And then we slow danced in the living room.” I finish, and Sammy is silent. “Sammy?” I ask.

  “What did he mean by this?” she asks soberly.

  I crack up laughing. “Well, if you of all people don’t know, then I’m no longer concerned that I don’t know,” I say.

  “Has anything specific happened? Aside from slow dancing in the living room,” she chuckles.

  “Absolutely nothing,” I say, matter-of-fact. “I mean. We look at each other a lot - possibly for longer than most people look at most people. And he watches me while he sings, but apart from that … nothing.”

  “He watches you while he sings?” she sounds dubious.