“I can only swing it twice a month. I’m here this weekend.”
“Okay, sure,” I say, my mind racing. “Can we meet here tomorrow at eight o’clock? Or is that too early?” I bite my lip, hoping I’m not pushing my luck.
His head drops. “Ah, Katie, you’re killing me.”
Now I feel like a moron. What college student gets up that early on a Saturday unless it’s to work, or they’re suffering from insomnia like me? He obviously isn’t working if he’s offered to help me. “Sorry dude, you know what, never mind. It’s super nice of you, but—”
He interrupts me. “You didn’t let me finish.” He’s still crouched over the counter resting on his elbows, and when he lifts his chin slightly he’s looking at me through these incredibly long, black eyelashes. Seeing those gorgeous blue eyes, my heart almost stops. “For you, I’ll do it. Don’t be late though.” He shakes his finger at me in warning. “I know you.” He glances at the clock on the wall. It’s 3:45. “Speaking of which, I’ve heard you drive like a bat out of hell, but you’d better get going.”
I lost track of time … again. If I don’t get going right now I’ll be late. “Shit.” I make a beeline for the door and call back over my shoulder, “See you tomorrow … and the coffee will be on me.” I raise my cup. “Thanks again, dude. Have a fantastic evening.”
The crooked smile is back and he salutes. “You’re welcome. You have a fantastic evening yourself, Katie.”
Saturday, October 8
(Kate)
The bell announces my arrival at 8:10am. Keller’s shaking his head, disappointed with my tardiness. But he’s also wearing a smile, so he can’t be too annoyed.
I drop my bag next to the loveseat he’s lounging in. It’s the best seat in the house—directly in front of the fireplace. I walk over and warm my hands in front of it while I catch my breath and apologize, “Sorry, dude, I woke up like ten minutes ago in the library and ran all the way here.”
“Why are you sleeping in the library?”
“Sometimes my room is unavailable … but that’s a story for another time. I went there to read last night and must’ve fallen asleep. Last time I looked at the clock it was around five o’clock this morning.” I can finally feel my fingers again. I really need to get some gloves. I look to the counter and Romero while I unzip my sweatshirt. “Morning Romero. How goes it?”
Romero’s smile is warm and friendly. “Good morning Kate. I am well. And you?”
I smile through the sleepy fog in my head. “I can’t complain.” I look down at Keller as I toss my sweatshirt over the arm of the loveseat. “I need coffee.” I point at him. “You? Large? Black?”
He glances at the end table next to him. “Breakfast is served.” There are two large cups of coffee and two Danishes.
“Is one of those cherry?” I’m practically drooling at the sight of them. I missed dinner last night.
“One cherry, one apple, I didn’t know what you like.”
“Keller Banks, I think I love you right now.” God, I might even mean that a little … which is kind of scary. But, I’m so hungry and tired that I don’t care.
He smiles as he hands me the cherry Danish and a coffee. “That’s the best compliment I’ve had all morning. Rome usually holds off until after lunch to declare his love.”
I notice then that Romero is standing behind me clearing two cups from a table and wiping it clean. “Don’t listen to this silly boy, Kate.”
Keller throws his hands up in mock frustration. “Come on, Rome. Would it be too much to ask for a kind word in front of Katie?”
Romero shakes his head. “Aye, niño.” And then looks to me. “Keller is like a son to me. He’s a good man, Kate.”
I smile at his sincerity.
Keller glances back. “Now that’s more like it, Rome. Impressive. I owe you and Dan dinner for that.”
Romero slaps Keller on the shoulder. “You make your chicken fettuccine alfredo, amigo, and you have a deal.”
“You’re on. You name the day.”
I like watching them together. It’s sweet.
I’m just finishing the last bite of my Danish when Keller’s attention turns back on me and he rubs his hands together. “Okay, A Tale of Two Cities. Did you finish it?”
“Nope. Almost though.” I feel the need to apologize because he’s here to help and I feel like I’m under the scrutiny of one of my professors. “Sorry.”
He brushes it aside. “It’s okay. We’ll get through this. Just promise me you’ll finish it.” Again with the look of authority.
“I will.” I don’t like the guilt associated with an unfinished book. “I mean, if you start a book and a couple of chapters in you decide you just aren’t into it that’s one thing, but once you reach the halfway point, there’s no turning back. You’re obligated.” He staring at me so I shake my head. “It’s stupid, I know.”
He shakes his head almost imperceptibly. “No. It’s not. I even finish books I don’t like from the first page.” He means it. He’s in scholar mode, and it’s adorable.
I need to break the spell he’s casting over me, so I drag my bag over and pull my laptop out. “So, my paper needs to focus on one character from the book. The lesson behind the assignment is to teach us to write persuasively. It’s a two-part thing: good cop, bad cop. The first half sells the reader on the character; the second condemns him for exactly the same reasons. A devil’s advocate type of thing. It’s all about spin.”
I like that he doesn’t seem rushed, that he listens to me and doesn’t look past me. He’s present. It’s like this every time I talk to him. It’s rare that people do that. He drags his fingers across the few days of dark growth on his chin. “Mmm, interesting. A lot of possibilities. Which character are you going to write about?”
“Who would you choose?” This seems like a perfect opportunity to see a side of him I don’t know. Bookworm Keller is even sexier than everyday Keller. And everyday Keller is way, way sexy.
He raises his eyebrows. “This is your assignment, you tell me first and then I’ll tell you.” Again with the turn-it-around-back-on-you-and-don’t-give-anything-away answer.
“Sydney Carton.”
“Why?” His voice is low, gentle, and prompting. It makes me feel like I’m on to something good. It’s like he’s pulling the information out of me without even trying.
“Because I thought he was an ass.”
He laughs. “Fair enough.”
“What? He was.”
“I’m not arguing. And?” He’s prompting again.
“And … I kind of liked him for it. He was full of flaws. But, he was the most human of them all, you know? People are fucked up, so he was believable to me. I also dug him, because he was smart as hell. I’ve never thought of lawyers as sexy, but now I think I may have been missing out. I’m kinda crushing on him. ”
He smirks at my last comments. “Ironic.”
“What?”
The devilish smirk still in place, he shakes his head. “Nothing. Do you think you can effectively present both sides of Sydney?”
I shrug. “Sure. I’ve always been pretty good at accepting the whole of someone, the good with the bad. I see it all, but try not to let it cloud my judgment. People are complicated. Life is complicated.”
“You can say that again.” For a moment, he gets a faraway look in his eyes, but it fades as quickly as it appeared. “It’s important that you finish the book before you write your paper. I don’t want to give anything away, but you may look at him differently in the end.”
I’m sitting sideways on the small loveseat now, one leg bent and resting on the seat cushion. My shin is touching the side of his thigh. “I will.” I nudge his knee with my foot. “So, what about you, Professor Banks? Which character would you choose?”
“Sydney as well. He’s fascinating, probably for all the wrong reasons.” He raises his eyebrows. “As bad as that may sound. What he does at the end of the book has always intrigued me.
To think what drove him to do it. It must have been intense.”
My eyebrows rise. “You’ve piqued my interest, dude.”
“You may be sorry,” he says, as if in warning.
“So, I have to ask. Are you an English major? I mean, you obviously love literature.”
A smile emerges that teeters between sad and mischievous. “I do love it … but I’m pre-law.”
I cover my eyes with my hand regretting the lawyers are sexy comment earlier. I wish I’d kept my lust crush on Sydney Carton to myself.
He laughs and saves me an explanation by shifting the subject back to me. “What’s your major?”
I uncover my eyes, thankful for the reprieve. “Special education.”
He nods. “Nice. Though you may have to tone down the language when you get a teaching gig.”
Despite my best efforts I blush. “I know, dude. Bad habit. That’s what I get for hanging around guys my entire life.”
A sudden voice from behind us makes me jump. “Keller B., what’s up?”
Keller shifts his attention to a guy standing behind the loveseat. They both lift their chins the way guys do when saying “hi” is just too much work. “Not much, man.” Without missing a beat Keller swivels back around to face me. “Jeremiah, this is Kate.”
Jeremiah raises a hand in a lazy wave. “’S’up Kate?” I smile as I give him quick once-over. Jeremiah is the first person I’ve seen in Minnesota that makes me homesick for California simply by the look of him. I could pass this guy on a street corner in L.A. and think nothing of it, but here he sticks out like a sore thumb. His black, razor-cut hair is obviously dyed, with long bangs hanging over his dark brown eyes. His lip and nose are pierced and his ears are gauged out. He’s wearing a black wool Civil War era coat, and I can see tattoos creeping up his neck and out the top of his collar. His knuckles are each adorned with a tattooed letter, though I can’t read what they say. His holey black jeans are tucked into his knee-high, black, lace-up combat boots.
“Hey Jeremiah.” I point at him. “The coat’s killer, dude.”
The corner of his mouth twitches toward a smile like the compliment surprises him. “Thanks.” His eyes shift back to Keller. “Hey man, you going to the Reign show in Milwaukee tonight?”
“Nah, Duncan’s got the Green Machine tonight and it’s too far away anyway.” The disappointment on his face is evident.
Jeremiah nods slowly. “Yeah, me neither. No money.” He taps the armrest with his fingertips. “Well, I better get going. Later bro.” He throws me a lazy salute. “Nice to meet you, Kate.”
I nod once. “You too, Jeremiah. Take it easy.”
When Keller faces me again the disappointment is still in place. I feel like I’m looking at a kid who didn’t get anything for Christmas. “What’s the Green Machine?”
“My Suburban. Dunc and I share it.”
“Ah. So, who’s playing in Milwaukee?”
He shrugs. “Reign to Envy. They’re my favorite band.”
I search through my mental musical catalog and come up with at least two songs I know. And they’re good. If the Deftones and The 69 Eyes had a love child it would sound like Reign to Envy. They’re rock, pretty hard and a little dark, but not so much so that they don’t get some radio play. They’re still kind of underground, but rising fast. They’ll be big soon. “Yeah, I know a few songs. They’re good.”
“Yeah.”
“We should go,” I offer. “I’ll drive if you pay for the gas and tickets. I only have five bucks, but I promise I’ll pay you back when I get paid Friday.” Now that the idea’s in my head I don’t know what I’ll do if he says no. I need a concert fix.
He brushes me off. “Katie, Milwaukee’s six hours away.”
“And? It’s only nine o’clock in the morning, Keller. We can leave at two and be there by eight.”
Keller’s waging a serious internal battle. I can see it in his eyes. “I can’t. I have too much going on and I need to study. I have a test Monday morning.”
“Yeah? And I have a paper due on a book I haven’t finished yet. I swear I’ll have you home by breakfast tomorrow.”
This shouldn’t be as difficult as he’s making it. He stops biting his thumbnail and runs his hands through his messy hair holding it back off his forehead. “This is crazy.” He’s about to crack, I can feel it. He looks me dead in the eye and I can almost see the tug of war going on in his head. “Are you always this impulsive?” I get the feeling Keller’s life is pretty structured and scheduled. He doesn’t do anything on the spur of the moment.
“You’ve gotta seize the moment, dude. Have you ever seen them live?”
He’s biting his thumbnail again and it’s the first time I notice his nails are practically bitten down to nothing. They look like mine. “No.”
That decides it. I close my laptop and put it in my bag. “Then this is something you need to do. I won’t take no for an answer.” I stand and put my sweatshirt on. “You’ll just regret it later.” I sling my bag over my shoulder. “No one should do regret.” I grab my coffee before gently bumping my knee against his as I walk by. “Thanks for breakfast, and for the assistance. You’re my hero, Keller Banks. Now go study. I’ll pick you up at your place at two o’clock.”
Of course I don’t make it to Keller’s until 2:15. He’s waiting outside, his messenger bag slung across his torso. Damn, he looks good. It’s Keller’s typical look: black Converse, slim fitting dark jeans, black thermal long sleeved T-shirt, and black hoodie. Simple, but not slacker. He always looks put together, but understated. He’s not trying to draw attention to himself, which ironically seems to draw even more. It must be a curse being that good-looking.
When he gets in the car I notice that he’s wearing black-rimmed glasses that I’ve never seen on him before. He tells me that he wears them at night when he takes his contacts out. They make his blue eyes that much more intense and vivid. And framed like that, you can’t help but stare at them. Brainy Keller is killing me. I haven’t been this attracted to someone in a long, long time.
Keller’s looking over the dashboard of my car. “This is a nice car, Katie. It’s a turbo, too. Nice. I bet it’s fast.” He looks legitimately impressed.
“It can keep up with me, that’s all that matters.” I tease.
An unconvincing frown emerges as he buckles his seatbelt. “Shel told me, and I quote, ‘Kate Sedgwick is the worst fucking driver on Earth.’ So ... should I be scared?”
“You’ll be fine. Have some faith.” I wink. “Besides, I have a lot going on the next few months, I can’t die tonight. Where would the fun be in that?”
We merge on the highway and I drive at my normal speed. My driving doesn’t seem to bother him at all. And he’s not faking it. I’d know if he was. When he’s nervous, he bites his fingernails. I know because it’s my tell, too.
“So, how long have you had this car? Do you like it?” He’s genuinely interested in talking cars.
“I love it. I’ve only had it a few months. I used to have a minivan.”
Keller guffaws. “A minivan?”
I smile and narrow my eyes threateningly. “Hey, dude, don’t dog on the minivan. I loved Old Blue. She was my first car. We went everywhere in her. She was kind of a necessity. Long story.”
He raises his hands in surrender. “Okay.”
“Anyway, as soon as I got accepted to Grant this past summer my friend had doubts about Old Blue’s skills in the snow. She was rear wheel drive, you know. So I sold her and bought his aunt’s old car. It’s all-wheel drive, so it should be good when we get a big snow, right?”
Keller shakes his head. “When did you get so soft, Katie? I thought you were a strong, independent woman. You’re scared of snow?”
I widened my eyes for effect. “Dude, I’m not soft, I’m from Southern California. I was raised in captivity; I’ve never seen snow in the wild.”
He laughs and pats my arm for reassurance. “Winters aren’t so bad. It’s just
snow. Piece ‘a cake. When the first big one comes, I’ll teach you.”
The conversation turns quiet, and Keller reaches into his bag to crack some law text book that’s thicker than the Bible. He pores over it the entire way. The only time he looks up is when I’m staring in the rearview mirror and he asks me what I’m looking at.
“The sunset,” I answer. “It’s showtime.”
He cranes his neck to look out the back window and the light bounces off the lenses of his glasses.
It’s worth it. It’s orange down low near the horizon, and pink on top, like the sky’s blushing as it forces out the sun.
When the horizon darkens, Keller turns back to his book and I give the road my full attention. I don’t tell him, but I’m happy he shared it with me.
Thanks to open highways and excessively pushing the speed limit, we break the Milwaukee city limit at 7:45.
The show was out of control! It turns out I’d heard a lot of their songs before, but didn’t know it was the same band. The front man had incredible energy. He ran from one end of the stage to the other all night and ventured out into the crowd on the floor a few times. It reminded me of Gus. Gus is a phenomenal front man.
Keller and I didn’t drink, but that didn’t stop us from jumping and singing along to every song. The crowd fed off the band’s energy, the atmosphere was buzzing. Keller and I had to hold onto each other’s arms or hands the entire time to avoid being split up by the ever-moving crowd. By the final song, we’d been swept up in the motion of the crowd and found ourselves right up against the stage. The singer strapped a guitar on and played it like he was trying the beat the thing into submission. As the song ended, he bent down, grinned at me, and handed me his pick. Me.
I wait until we’re outside, and as we walk back to my car, I give it to Keller. “Don’t say I never gave you anything.” I say, my voice sounding distant through my ringing ears. After all, they’re his favorite band. And he plays guitar, not me.
Keller’s still looking at the pick in his hand when he drops into the passenger seat of my car. My ears are ringing so fucking bad I wonder if I’ll be able to hear over the constant din for the remainder of the night, or the week, or maybe forever.