Integrity, p.24
Integrity, page 24
We spent the day stepping carefully around each other, then coming together at times. A brief touch. A tentative smile. A shy laugh or a joke. And then the seriousness would overwhelm us again. It felt a little like a stage of grief, where everything was okay…and then we’d remember what I’d done and a blanket would be thrown over us and it was all dark again. Until one of us would lift a corner and tentatively peek out.
I still didn’t know why I trusted that she wasn’t going to give me up, but I did. Maybe for the same reason she still trusted me after my lies—because we both so desperately wanted this thing between us to be real. And what did it matter anyway if she decided to turn me in to A Concerned Person? She had every right. I’d sent my report to Halcyon, my work was technically done. I just had to wait for Lennon to confirm he’d read through what I’d uncovered, that it was enough, and that I could go no further from where I was. I’d done my job.
I’d done my job…
And now, I didn’t know what to do. I’d invested my whole life, all my emotional and physical energy in this for a week and now that I’d figured it all—or mostly—out, I felt aimless, lost, uncertain. So I could either sit around and do nothing, which I had never done, or I could keep digging, see if there was anything else I could find out. It was pointless, and probably impossible to do from where I sat, but it was better than watching television and trying to appease the heavy discomfort in the room all day.
I wasn’t afraid of rocking a boat that was already leaking water, but I didn’t want to antagonize Sophia unnecessarily. Not because I was trying to stop her from leaving or turning me in, but because I wanted her to stay with me. Stay for me. So I made an effort to put away my pointless work around five p.m., and suggested we check out some dinner options. She agreed, smiled, said whatever I wanted was fine, and returned to her e-reader. Not hate. But there was definitely not love.
We made easy, light conversation over dinner. Watched a little television on the couch, sitting close-ish together. Talked about the show we were watching. Around nine, Sophia stood from the couch. “I think I’m going to go to bed. Today has been…”
“A tiring mess? Yeah, it has been.”
Instead of sharing bathroom space for nightly teeth and skin routines as we usually did, I let her go ahead of me, not wanting to intrude in such a tiny space. The last thing I wanted was for her to somehow feel physically threatened after I’d obviously made her feel emotionally threatened. That she might somehow be afraid of me had crossed my mind, and I’d shoved the thought down where it wasn’t so painful. I would do many things, but I would never put my hands on her in a way she hadn’t asked me for.
My face in the bathroom mirror looked exactly the same. No matter what happened, no matter what I did, I was still the same person. It was both a comforting and upsetting thought, that my insides held so many facets. I was capable of both lies and love. When I emerged from the bathroom, I stood awkwardly in the middle of the room as Sophia pulled back the bedcovers. “I’ll sleep on the couch,” I said.
She paused. “Why?”
“I just…didn’t know if you…wanted to sleep next to me.”
I watched the understanding move over her face, followed quickly by a decision. “Has anything changed, really? It’s just that I know about it now, right?”
“Right,” I agreed cautiously.
She dropped the pillow she’d been fluffing and stood straighter, her eye contact burning into me. “Are you suddenly going to hurt me in my sleep, Lexie?”
“Of course not,” I spluttered, tripping over my words in my desperation to get them out, to reassure her.
“Okay,” she said quietly. “Then come to bed.”
I settled stiffly on my side, half my body hanging off into nothingness. We lay quietly in the darkness, the steady sound of breathing undercutting the faint traffic noise filtering in from outside. Sophia rolled over, and I felt her hand moving across the bed until it found me. She fumbled until eventually her fingers lightly held the fabric of my tee at my shoulder. After an eternity, she asked, “Are you scared?”
“Yes.”
“Of what?” she murmured, reaching up to stroke my neck softly before gripping my shirt again.
“Everything. Of not being believed. Of it all being for nothing. Of losing my freedom when what I did was for the freedom of others. Of losing what you and I have started to build. Of having screwed it all up when I wasn’t given a choice.”
She took a little while to answer—understandable given what I’d just dumped on her—and I could hear her quiet breathing. After what felt like an eternity, she quietly said, “I’m really trying to put myself in your shoes, imagine how you feel about it all. Because I think you’re mostly cerebral, Lexie, but I’m…instinctual, I guess. Everything in my life has always been about what my metaphorical gut tells me to do. I don’t think too deeply about decisions. If it feels right it’s right and if it feels wrong then it’s wrong. And what you did was wrong. But being with you feels right. And I’m really struggling now to reconcile those opposing feelings.”
“Which feeling is stronger?”
“Neither,” she said immediately. “So I don’t know which way I’m supposed to go. And the thing is, I have this niggling thought that I shouldn’t feel so betrayed, because you never promised me anything. It’s not like we’re in a relationship, had made a home together, and you’ve spent years lying to me about something, like a gambling habit or another woman. And your lies weren’t personal lies, so…I just…I don’t know.”
“No,” I agreed carefully, “there were no promises about us, but there is a standard of decent, normal human behavior which you’d expect from someone you might be dating. And then there’s what I did.” I inhaled deeply. “Sophia, if it wasn’t for this intelligence, you’d have that decent, normal human behavior from me. For as long as you wanted it. Because I am a decent person.”
“I know you are. And I knew from the first fifteen minutes of conversation over coffee that there was something between us.” She exhaled loudly. “So, I’m going to hold on to that for a little while and see where it takes me.”
“Okay,” I whispered. “When you figure it out, I’ll either be here for you or not. It’s your call.”
The silence lengthened, but it was contemplative rather than uncomfortable. And sure, there was still a fissure between us but it felt like we were each reaching out, building a bridge toward each other. As I fell asleep, still with her fingers tangled in my tee, her words from our argument that morning echoed in my mind.
I’ve never felt like this with anyone…
* * *
I dropped my head into my hands, massaging my temples and the back of my skull. The added pressure sent a lance of pain bouncing through my head to the backs of my eyes and I winced, trying to ignore the headache I’d been trying to ignore for the past hour. I’d been awake since before dawn, and after untangling myself from Sophia, I’d snuck outside to place an early-morning call to Lennon.
He’d confirmed that he’d received the files and my report, apologized for not being in contact yet, and explained that obviously my report had set the Halcyon offices—wherever the hell they were—ablaze, and everyone was scrambling to verify what I’d uncovered. He hadn’t mentioned Sophia. And I hadn’t offered anything about her. But he’d left me with another “Be careful, Alexandra” and I knew he meant not just with those who were trying to find me, but with my feelings.
My feelings… Aside from the ever-present attraction, lust, like, and desire, I mostly felt guilt and relief. Of course I felt guilty about lying to her, but the relief of her knowing, and me no longer having to fabricate so much of our day-to-day living felt like finally inhaling a breath. But there was a flipside. Setting aside hurting her with my actions, I had to question if having her more aware of what I was involved in, yet not knowing everything about it, was better or worse than her being pretty much clueless? That was yet another conundrum for which I had no answer.
The object of my thoughts had been mumbling to herself for the last ten minutes and I finally turned my attention away from my pointless, circular work and toward her. Sophia sat on the floor in front of the coffee table, her knees drawn up, her shins brushing the edge of the table. She was so hunched over in this position that my back almost screamed in sympathy. The mumbling grew clearer now that I was focused.
“Sure, let’s add a bunch of shadow so it looks like a two-year-old designed it. That’s a great idea. Never mind the fact last week you said you wanted everything light and inviting.” Sophia threw her stylus down in disgust. “Idiot.”
I swiveled fully on the chair to face her. “Not going so well?”
She pushed herself up so hard she nearly got airborne. “Clients,” she said by way of explanation. Sophia smiled in my direction then continued to the bathroom.
I called after her, “While you’re in there could you grab me some Tylenol or Advil, please? I think there’s some in my toiletries case.”
She paused and turned back to face me. “What’s wrong?”
“Raging brain-ache.”
Her expression softened. “Sure.”
Sophia set the bottle of Advil and a glass of water on the table, and when I uncapped the bottle and tapped three pills into my hand, her mouth formed a thin line. Her voice was pure maternal disapproval when she said, “Three is more than two which is the max recommended dosage every four hours.”
I downed the pills and half of the water. “That is true, for ordinary headaches. But this headache is not an ordinary headache, therefore I know from experience that it requires an extraordinary dosage of ibuprofen.”
“Your liver must hate you.”
“I think it does all right.” I smiled wearily. “Every once in a while I treat it to superfood smoothies.”
“I don’t think superfood smoothies have anything to do with keeping your liver healthy.”
“Okay, well…I drink a lot of tea. Proven liver benefit.” I peered at my laptop screen again. Still blurry. Come on, it’s been twenty seconds since I took something for my headache. Go away now.
“Lexie.” The word was quiet, imploring rather than exasperated.
“Mmm?”
“Maybe it’s time to take a break?”
I took a moment to absorb the statement, the soft plea nestled in it, and closed the laptops. “Only because you said it so nicely.”
Her mouth quirked. “Ah, then I’ve found my new secret weapon. I’m going to use it against you all the time now.”
I almost came back with a joking “You manipulator” before I realized how it would sound. Not good, and it would just draw attention to how I’d manipulated her. When I stood, Sophia gestured to the bed and told me to “Lie down. On your back.” I did as I’d been told and she positioned herself behind me, pulling my head onto her lap. She carefully removed my glasses and set them on the bedside table before gentle thumbs began kneading my temples. “Close your eyes, try to relax.”
“You know telling someone to relax usually has the exact opposite effect?” I tried to sound teasing. Tried to ignore the way her proximity had my nerves firing.
“I have heard that, yes,” she mused. Her hands drifted to my neck, stroked gently up and down and then came up to my jaw.
“So that’s why I’m not going to relax just because you said I—” I exhaled a long breath, unable to continue because her fingers were suddenly doing magic things to my cheekbones and temples and that weird spot that’s at the back of your skull but is also kind of your neck. “Scratch that,” I mumbled. “Relaxing now.”
Sophia laughed quietly. “You were saying?”
“I’mma bottle you and take you everywhere with me.”
“You’ll need a big bottle. This headache thing happen often?”
With my eyes still closed, I smiled. “Only when I’m on the run from bad people who are doing bad things.”
She tensed fractionally, her fingers stilling before she relaxed again and resumed her massage. “Funny.”
Her magic fingers worked to ease my tension, but my mind wouldn’t quiet down. We’d talked about it, come to a truce, seemed to be okay. But this…this was as if nothing had happened. I drew in a deep breath. “Do you hate me?”
Sophia paused a moment before answering, “If I hated you, would I be touching you like this?”
“Okay then. Fair point. Will you forgive me?” I was surprised by the desperation in my question.
The pause was longer this time. “Yes, I will. Once I’ve had some time to sort through my feelings, and to fully accept that your reason outweighs my reaction.”
“You’re entitled to that reaction, to your feelings,” I protested.
“I know I am. But it’s hard to be furious if it’s really what you say it is—”
“It is,” I interrupted.
“Then what right do I have if this thing is bigger than both of us?”
“You have every right.”
“Yeah. But you saving the world is a pretty big deal.” I felt her shrug. “And maybe I helped with that a little.”
“You definitely made it easier,” I mumbled. “All of it.” I tried to twist around to look at her, and was gently encouraged to remain where I was. I looked up at her as best I could from where I was. “I’m sorry, Sophia, I really really am. I know I’ve said it before but I just really want…no, I need you to believe it, and believe that I was pushed into a place where I had no choice.”
She shushed me, her thumbs moving to just in front of my ears, working at that tight jaw joint thing. “You don’t need to keep groveling. It is what it is and we’ll deal with it. Assuming you want to deal with it?” she added quietly.
“I do, yes. Very much.”
“Good, me too. I just…can you give me a little time to get myself and my feelings in order?”
“Of course I will. And if there’s anything I can do to help you figure it out…”
“Then I know where to find you,” she finished.
“Thankfully only you do,” I joked.
Our shared laughter broke some of the tension away. I reached up to hold her forearms as she massaged the tension from my skull. Her thumbs stroked my cheekbones, exerting firm pressure that made me feel like energy was flowing through me, carrying the headache away with it.
“What’s your middle name?” she asked out of nowhere.
“Elizabeth. Alexandra Elizabeth. Talk about a mouthful.”
“It suits you. Tell me something truthful.”
I frowned, trying to think of something. Truth, truth, truth. But not something boring. After a minute I said, “I really love octopus.”
“Wait.” Her fingers paused. “To…eat?”
“No, of course not. I just love them as an animal. They’re awesome creatures.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes. They’re incredibly smart, capable of problem solving and logic, masters of camouflage not just with their skin patterns but their body shapes, like they can disguise themselves as so many different things, and they can manipulate their bodies to get out of any tight spot.” I looked back up at her.
Her eyebrow crease smoothed out, eyes crinkling as her mouth formed into a teasing smile. “Ah, not unlike you then.”
I’d genuinely never thought of the comparison, but the moment she said it, I laughed. “Actually, you’re not wrong. Though I’d put money on an octopus over me.”
“I don’t know, everything you’ve done since we left home? Smart, logical, camouflaged…” There was an edge of heaviness in the light teasing of her words.
I carefully sat up and squirmed to face her. “What’s up?”
Sophia’s face transformed as if she was trying to force herself to appear normal. “Look, I don’t know exactly what’s going on and obviously I can’t.” She took my hands and pulled them into her lap. “But from the moment we met, I felt like I wanted to know you, to spend time with you. You’ve made me feel seen. You’ve made it so easy to say yes. Yes to dates number two and three, yes to kissing you, to going to bed with you, to coming on this road trip.”
I squeezed her hands, turning them over to study her fingers. “I’ve loved every yes you’ve given me, but you know you don’t always have to say yes to me. You can say no to anything, at any time. Even being here. I know I’ve said that, but I want you to know it for sure, even though I really want you here.”
“But I know I want to be here now. This is my choice. I want to stick this out with you because…” Her eyebrows drew together. “Because you said me being with you helps you, but it’s also helping me.”
Helping her… “Are you sure you’re not suffering from Stockholm Syndrome?”
She was already in full laughter by the time she asked, “What? No. What do you mean?”
“Well, I know I’m all around wonderful, smart and charming, and a great bedmate. And don’t get me wrong, having you here is everything I’d thought it would be. I want you to stay until…until I have to go.” I paused, tried to find the words that I suddenly wasn’t sure I wanted to say, in case I scared her off. “But this isn’t…fun. I misled you. I kept the truth from you. How can you want to stay when it’s just nonstop tension and worry?”
The laughter faded into seriousness. “Because it’s not nonstop tension and worry for me. More like…occasional tension and worry.” She moved closer and reached up to tuck some of my hair behind my ear. “Moments like when I’m watching you work, and you stop and look up, searching for me like you’d been thinking about me and just had to see me. The look on your face when you told me the truth. The way you make me coffee every morning, and the fact you bought a French press that first day when we stopped at the store, just so you could do that for me.”
