Victoria Dahl - Taking the Heat

The nearest window was sealed up tight, but he could see light through the peephole in the door. He waited a few moments, listening for the sound of footsteps, then rang the doorbell.

Still nothing. The street was quiet out front. He leaned closer, trying to tell if the faint sound of movement he’d heard was coming from her place. Nothing. He was turning to leave when he saw the light in the peephole flicker to dark for a split second. He squared his shoulders, trying to think what he’d say when she opened the door.

She didn’t open the door.

He frowned. Leaned closer. Lifted his hand to knock again, but he let his knuckles hover just above the wood.

“Veronica?” he called. She didn’t respond. “It’s Gabe. Gabe MacKenzie. From last night.”

There was a soft sound, like a breath or the brush of fabric. He waited for the lock to click open. It didn’t.

“Are you okay?” he asked. “Veronica?”

“I’m fine,” she finally said through the wood.

His tight shoulders relaxed. “Good. I thought you might be a little hungover.”

“Yes,” she said, her voice more muffled now. “A little.”

“Are you up for talking?”

The wood stared silently at him.

He winced and lowered his voice. “Listen, Veronica, it’s no big deal.”

The lock finally clicked. The door swung in. He was startled to see her without her heels again, inches shorter than he expected her to be. She looked different in other ways, too. Younger, really, her blue eyes naked of makeup and her face a little paler. She crossed her arms snugly over the plain gray T-shirt she wore.

“We don’t need to talk,” she said.

“Are you sure? I did make you a promise.” He offered a smile, but she only cringed.

“I’m sorry about last night,” she said. “Like, really, really sorry.”

“Hey, it’s okay. Honestly.”

“No, it’s not. But we don’t ever need to talk about it. You’re not going to tell anyone, are you? Because if you did, I could—”

“Hey.” He started to reach toward her, but the tight way she was holding herself made him hesitate. “I’m not going to tell anyone. Why would I?”

“I don’t know.” One of her shoulders rose in a shrug. “Because I’m living a lie. Because it’s funny. Because it’s so fucking weird.”

“Jesus, Veronica. That’s crazy. I don’t think it’s funny or weird.”

“It’s a little funny,” she insisted. “You know it is.”

He thought of her confession and ducked his head to hide a smile. “Okay, I admit I’m intrigued by the ‘pretty much’ part.”

She groaned, but when he glanced up at her, he noticed that her hands had relaxed. She wasn’t gripping her arms nearly as firmly now.

Gabe leaned against the door frame. “I haven’t said a word to anyone and I never will. I swear.”

“Okay,” she said, squeezing herself tight again. She looked tired.

“I just got off work. I’m starving. Have you eaten?”

She shot a look toward her kitchen. “Kind of.”

“Kind of? Is that like ‘pretty much’?”

“Shut up,” she said, pouting a little now. He noticed that her lips were full and pink even without lipstick.

“Come to dinner. We can have a drink and talk.”

“Nope. I never want to have a drink or talk again.”

“Food, though?” he pressed. “Food sounds good?”

Her head dropped. She took a deep breath. “I’m not even dressed.”

“You look dressed to me.”

“I’m wearing yoga pants and a T-shirt.”

“Throw on a hoodie and you’ve got a look. Let’s go.”

She finally cracked a smile, though she tried to hide it. Gabe ducked down and met her eye. “Come on. You’ve got to eat.”

She shook her head. “I wasn’t planning on leaving the house today.”

“Why?”

She groaned and rubbed a hand over her face. “Because I didn’t want to take the chance I’d run into you .”

“Well, shit, I really screwed that up. No wonder you didn’t want to see me. I’ve ruined everything.”

“You’re a dork,” she muttered, but this time there was no hiding her smile. Her eyes crinkled at the edges and her gaze rose to his. He suddenly remembered the way she’d leaned close and whispered the word fucking to him the night before.

Gabe stood straighter and cleared his throat. “What sounds good? Mexican?”

“Oh, God, yes.”

“Mexican is always good after a hangover. Come on. My treat.”

Despite what he thought was an inspiring tone, she still stared doubtfully at him for quite a while. He wasn’t sure why he felt so invested in getting her out for dinner, but he wasn’t going to give up.

“I look like shit,” she finally said.

“You’re beautiful,” he answered.

Her face flickered in a brief frown, but she hid it quickly. “Whatever. I’m starving. Let’s go before I change my mind.”

Gabe stopped himself from raising a fist in triumph.

She slipped on flip-flops, took a hoodie from the closet by the door and grabbed her keys. Her toenails were painted bright blue. Gabe knew it was a bad sign that he found that impossibly cute.

They headed toward a place four blocks away that even Gabe already knew was the best Mexican in town. She had her arms crossed tight again, pushing her breasts up in a way that caught Gabe’s eye.

Damn. There was no way to pretend she hadn’t told him what she’d told him. She clearly wanted to forget, but Gabe might need electroshock therapy to shake last night loose. Are you sure you won’t stay? He was afraid she’d never ask that again.

When they reached a busier street, Veronica pulled her fleece jacket on and tugged up the hood as if she was hiding.

“No one else knows,” he said in a stage whisper.

“I know,” she sighed, “but I’m supposed to have my shit together. I’m not supposed to be the depressed, hungover girl who hides in her house in old yoga pants all day. I really can’t believe I’m dressed like this in front of you, of all people.”

“Me? Why? My hobbies are basically sweating in the woods, reading in my underwear and nerding out on my computer. Flannel shirts and workout gear make up about fifty percent of my closet.”

“Fine, but you’re just...” She waved a hand up and down his body just as she had the night before. “Whatever. I told you last night.”

“Sure, but I thought that was the alcohol talking. Are you saying you really think I’m beautiful?”

“Please don’t tell me you’re going to bring up every word I said last night.”

“Not every word. But that one was pretty good.”

“Like I’m the first girl to call you beautiful,” she muttered.

Gabe laughed. “I swear to God, you’re the first. And probably the last. So let me enjoy it.”

Her face was pink with embarrassment, but she was smiling as Gabe reached for the door of the restaurant and waved her in. “How about a margarita?” he asked with a wink.

“You’re a monster,” she answered, not even looking at him as she breezed past.

“Sorry.”

Service was quick, one of the benefits of living in a tourist town during the off-season. The full-time residents could eat cheap and fast at even the best restaurants because they were dying to get people in.

They both ordered quickly. Gabe got a beer, but Veronica stuck with water. “Lots of water,” she explained to the waiter. She glared at Gabe when he smiled.

“I’m not laughing at you,” he explained. “I’m laughing with you.”

“I don’t think I’ve quite reached the ‘this will be funny someday’ point.”

“Wrong. You already pointed out how funny it was,” he said before he popped a chip into his mouth. “God, they’ve got great salsa.”