Patrick licked his lips and exhaled. Distractions were good. “I see Marina has maintained the shrine.”
The corner of her mouth twitched. “I really should find something to do with those trophies. It’s a bit ridiculous.”
“You don’t want to display them at the studio?”
“And have everyone remark on my success at the Emerald Ball when I was seventeen?” She rolled her eyes. “I hope I didn’t peak then.”
“Hardly.”
She arched an eyebrow at him.
Heat crept up the back of his neck. High school Anita had been magnetic. Grown-up Anita was—mind-blowing.
“I don’t think I’ve been in your bedroom since we were in high school.” Not since—
“The night after Keystone senior year.” Her voice was hoarse, breathy.
His own caught in his chest. She couldn’t remember, could she?
“You wore that red dress with the feathers, and that little circlet of rhinestones in your hair.” He could picture her so vividly. They had danced Standard together that year, and even now, he could remember his seventeen-year-old self, one side of his body pressed against the girl he loved unabashedly, twirling her like Fred and Ginger. He had never wanted it to end.
“You remember what I wore?” She had now completely set the pillow aside, and her spine was straighter.
He licked his lips. Was he reading this wrong? Maybe it was just the desperate knowledge that he was going to be gone in a few weeks. He could not continue to hide everything from her.
“I remember a lot.”
That night, still in their makeup and spray tans, they had sat side by side on the floor, watching an episode of “Grey’s Anatomy.” He was not one to relive glory days, but there were some moments that lived in a halo.
The thrill of victory still coursed through them. They had been eating pretzels and small bowls of cherry water ice. The feel of her soft hair against his cheek, his teenaged hormones raging but knowing, knowing that this was one moment he could not screw up. There had been a look, a moment. One crystalline perfect moment.
Which of course had been interrupted by Marina. Never to be repeated.
He really needed to stop living in the past.
Anita regarded him with an odd expression. Did she remember that near kiss, too? Did she also regret that he had never made his feelings clearer earlier? So much wasted time.
Without fully thinking, he brought a finger toward her face and moved a strand of hair behind her ear. He heard her breath catch, saw her bite her lip the tiniest bit. He could not look away from that spot on her lip, the slight swelling of it, and inched slightly closer to her. One more inch, just one more inch—
“Patrick,” she said huskily. “I think I’m going to be sick again.”
She pushed past him and ran toward the bathroom. Patrick followed her and held her hair away from her face while she threw up. He found her toothbrush, gave her a glass of water to drink. He walked her back to bed, tucked the comforter around her soft but clammy body, refreshed the cool washcloth for her forehead.
Without a word, he waited until she was asleep, then silently left the room and went back to the guest room to be tortured by his dreams all night long.
Chapter Fifteen
Early the next morning, the hiss and clomp of the snowplow woke Patrick from his furied dreams. The world otherwise was always so quiet after a blizzard, even the animals stilled by the frosty precipitation. He pressed his arm over his eyes and groaned.
Sleeping down the hall from Anita was not a good way to get a full night’s sleep.
The tang of coffee wafted up the stairs. Thank God for Marina.He pulled Dr. Goodman’s worn sweatpants over the black boxer shorts he had worn to bed. He stretched, yawning, then performed his morning round of sit-ups and push-ups to get the blood flowing. Nothing like a little exercise to push the possibility of his best friend being poisoned out of his head. Or the way she had looked at him last night.
Possibilities and wasted time.
He pulled the navy-blue polo over his head as he walked downstairs. Marina was already dressed for the day in a dark-green cabled sweater and jeans. “Patrick!” She smiled as he entered. “Thank goodness the power didn’t go out.”
He nodded and yawned. “These March blizzards are the worst. Hopefully the roads won’t be too bad. Is Dr. Goodman okay?”
