No Interest in Love

  When I decided to use a stage name, I wanted something that would look good when I signed it. So I practiced “Jace Carver,” but even though that’s been my name my whole life, the c’s ended up backward six times out of ten. I’d always been better at s’s, especially cursive s’s. So I fixed it. I get it right nine times out of ten now.

  “I should just get a stamp made,” I say, trying to grin, but I swear the train runs over a mountain troll, shaking the entire room. I clutch at my stomach and start silently praying the train tucks in its wheels and takes off in flight, like in Back to the Future Part III.

  “I’ve never seen anyone’s skin that color before.” Shay gives me a once-over, then stands. Her ass is in my face again, but I’m too sick to even ogle it. “I know you don’t want to, but I need you to get up.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m lowering the bed.”

  I shove my butt from the seat, reach out and grab the unsteady wall, and then start praying.

  Doc and Marty, you have a time machine. Get me the hell off this damn train.

  A few clinks and one very loud CLUNK later, Shay lets out a long breath and turns to me.

  “Okay, lie down.”

  The bed isn’t lowered enough to make it possible to just plop down and take a snooze. Nah, I gotta climb up on the toilet, then take another step up on the inch-wide step next to the fold-out sink, and then onto the bed. By the time my head hits the pillow, I’m ready to roll back off and stick my face in the crapper.

  “Breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth,” Shay says, leaning against the wall and playing with her fingernails. “My dad always told me to do that.”

  “And it works?”

  “I’m almost eight years barf-free.” She peeks out the privacy curtain. “I’m going to try to score you some water.”

  “Don’t get caught.” I hear the door softly open and close, and I toss my arm over my eyes.

  Doing the opposite of what Shay says is my normal instinct, but I inhale deeply and let it out, repeating until, surprisingly, my stomach decides to move back to where it belongs, in my gut and not in the back of my throat. Mr. Kwak is really onto something with this method.

  Shay slides back into the room, shirt falling from her shoulder even though I tightened that sucker as much as I could. My stomach gets a wave of something slightly different than what I’ve been dealing with since the train started moving.

  She dims the overhead light, and once the privacy curtain is back in place and the door locked, she tosses a sixteen-ounce bottle of water up at me.

  “Sweet,” I say, cracking the lid and gulping down to the label.

  “Yeah, our neighbors had extras. And were very much asleep.”

  “You stole for me?” I say, lifting my eyebrow. “Didn’t know your feelings ran so deep.”

  “I will take it back, I swear.”

  I roll to my side and hold it out to her.

  “I was kidding, Jace.”

  “I know. I’m offering you some.”

  She takes the bottle, not-so-subtly wipes the top off, and then gulps down to the bottom of the label. Water and breathing have helped enough to make me want to crash for the night, and by the way Shay’s eyes are drooping, I can tell she’s ready for that too. But there’s only one bed, and she’s short, but now that the bed’s lowered there’s no comfortable-looking place to sit.

  Sliding over as much as I can, I pat the spot next to me. She raises an eyebrow.

  “Come on,” I say, “I promise I won’t make a pass at you. Well…intentionally.”

  The corner of her mouth picks up and she sets the water down. “I’m not sleeping by your head.”

  “Which one?” I ask with a smirk as she takes the first step up.

  “I’m already regretting this.”

  “Don’t fall into the toilet…again.”

  “Give me your hand.”

  “Only if you ask nicely.”

  “Give me your damn hand.”

  “There you go. Manners are important.”

  I pull her up, and she somewhat falls onto my legs. Her hand lands on my ass, but she doesn’t seem to notice as she pushes herself into position, her feet in my face, my feet in hers. Only she’s so short that her toes only come to just under my chin, while I think mine are past the top of her head.

  A light chuckle passes through the semidarkness.

  “What?” I ask her.

  “It’s just funny…My first time sleeping with a guy and it’s you.”

  I jerk a little bit, brow furrowing as I try to make out the expression on her face. “You said you weren’t a virgin, didn’t you?”

  “I’m not talking about that, horndog. I’ve never actually slept in a bed with a guy before.”

  “You called me a horndog.”

  “Because you are.”

  “That expression died in the nineties.”

  “Forgive me for not being caught up on the ‘hip to the jive’ lingo.”

  “The what now?” I say through a laugh. She ignores me. I tap her foot with another laugh. “So I’m your first…How old are you?” I ask, even though I know exactly how old she is.

  “Ancient.”

  “180. Got it. That’s a long time to never share a bed with a man.”

  “Apparently not long enough.”

  “Seriously, though, why haven’t you? Never been in a serious relationship or what?”

  She sighs. “I’m regretting bringing this up. I thought you were too sick to carry on a conversation.”

  “Your voodoo breathing method is working.” I quirk a grin at the ceiling and rest my head on my hands. “And this is distracting me. So please…do tell.”

  “It’s not that interesting.”

  “I’m interested,” I blurt, and that stomach wave—not the motion sickness but the other thing entirely—kicks up again, and I realize that I’m interested for more reasons than just the distraction. I want to know who’s been in her bed and why the jackass didn’t stick around.

  I want to know what’s going on in her bed.

  And I don’t know why I care.

  “The short version…” Shay starts, reaching down and scratching her leg. Her knuckles hit my belly button, and I suck in because it somewhat tickles. “When I started NYU I lived with my sister, who is a big blabbermouth. My parents are pretty opinionated when it comes to who we’re involved with. Korean background—even though I’m a born and raised Texan—Mom and Dad want a handsome Korean fellow for their daughter. There’s a montage in My Big Fat Greek Wedding that could’ve been my life for a while with all the rotating suitors over for dinner and such.”

  I laugh because, yeah, I’ve seen that one. It was part of my independent films course.

  “Anyway, I was dating this guy—not Korean—and never let him spend the night because my sister, Rae, would spill the beans, and if I spent the night at his place, I’d have to make something up, which I’ve never been good at.”

  Huh. I wonder how long ago this was, because the Shay I’m well acquainted with wouldn’t give a shit and a half about what anyone thought. She’d back up her choices, flaunt ’em around, and even if she knew deep down they were wrong, she’d never admit to it.

  “Hmm,” I murmur thoughtfully.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Liar.”

  “No, it’s just…It doesn’t sound like you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You don’t do that sort of drama. You’re straightforward and shit.”

  “And you’re so eloquent.”

  I grin in the dark. “See?”

  Her body bumps against mine as she laughs. I try to give her more room, but my ass is pressed flat against the window.

  “I just don’t have the patience for your crap,” she says.

  “What makes me different than your parents?”

  “You aren’t…”

  She drifts off, and I wait for the rest, but
it doesn’t come until I settle my hand on her knee and squeeze. “I’m not…?”

  “You aren’t disappointed in me.”

  The air around us fuzzes, and I have an inexplicable urge to say something, touch something, do anything, because I don’t want her to feel like shit. But instead I blurt out something else not entirely off the subject but enough to get us off the topic of her parents.

  “So what happened to him?”

  “Huh?”

  “Guy you slept with but didn’t sleep with.”

  I feel her shoulders move in a shrug. “We didn’t work. He was a total Barney.”

  “You speaking Korean again?” I joke. Her hip bumps into my stomach again when she laughs.

  “Sorry, I forget that you’re actually listening to me. It’s rare.”

  “I only tune out when you lecture me on lines and auditions and boring crap.”

  “Boring crap that is your job.”

  I ignore her, noticing my hand is still on her knee. I quickly pull it back. “So what’s a ‘Barney’?”

  “You’re not the only fan of How I Met Your Mother.”

  My mouth parts into a grin. I don’t remember telling her about my fondness for the show, but since it’s such a big part of my life, I’m not surprised. I am a bit surprised she remembers it, though.

  “That show is legen…wait for it…”

  “…dary,” she finishes for me. “Well, I’m talking about Barney from the show.”

  “Best character ever.”

  “I figured you’d relate to him.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.” I pretend to straighten a tie.

  “Well, he was a Barney and, no offense to all you Barneys out there, I want a Ted.” She smacks me when I scoff at her. “Ted is adorable!”

  “Exactly,” I say, grimacing at that ridiculous word. “Ted’s a buzzkill. He looked for ten seasons for ‘the one.’ ”

  “You believe in Sasquatch, but not ‘the one’?”

  “Sasquatch is real. There’s evidence.”

  “Now you sound like Marshall,” she laughs, bringing up the other major character on the show. Then we get into a How I Met Your Mother debate, arguing almost all plot points and character development, and I’m pretty sure we’ve been fighting for an hour and half before she finally relents.

  “Okay! So Barney is the most interesting character.”

  “Damn straight.”

  “But I still want a Ted.”

  “You’re gonna die alone.”

  “ ‘Things you never say to a woman.’ ”

  “ ‘You on your period?’ ”

  “ ‘You sure you want to wear that?’ ”

  “ ‘Make me a sandwich.’ ”

  “ ‘When’s the baby due?’ ”

  Lightly chuckling, I let her take the win on this one. I turn more on my side, closing up the space between us unintentionally. She’s on her side now too, and I’m talking to her toes, which I almost reach out and grab just for the hell of it.

  “You know what?” she says thoughtfully, her warm breath touching my shins. “I think I’m your first too.”

  “What are you on about?”

  “I don’t think you’ve ever actually slept with a woman.”

  “Hey, even if it was a one-night stand, I know how to cuddle.”

  She lets out a small laugh. “I mean slept without sleeping with her.”

  “You’re 180 years old. You can say the word ‘sex.’ ”

  “Sex,” she says, but even in the dark I can see her face lighting up like a traffic light.

  “Well, you’d be wrong,” I answer. “You’re number two.”

  “Was it Liz or Theresa?” she asks with an air of arrogance, picking my only platonic female relationships.

  “Uh, Landon and Alec would both kill me if it was either of them.” I shift, a little bit of discomfort prickling up the back of my neck. “You don’t know her.”

  And I almost let it all out. But Penny stays on the back of my tongue and a sarcastic comment leapfrogs over it.

  “If you really want to be one of my firsts, I’ll try to think of something.”

  Shay shoves my leg, getting real close to the Smurfs. “I’ll gladly be the first girl to kick you out of bed.”

  “You’d be the second with that one too.”

  “Did you open your mouth during sex and she was completely turned off?” Shay jokes. But something dips in my gut, and I can’t stop it this time.

  “She said she loved me,” I blurt. Shay’s silent laughter stops bumping against me. “Yeah…I didn’t…So she gave me the boot.”

  She’s quiet. I rack my brain for some joke to lighten things up, but it’s after two in the morning, and any decision I make now is probably just gonna dig me in further.

  “Well, you do want to be Barney,” she says. I can’t tell if she’s upset or joking.

  “Why do the commitment thing?” I ask quietly to her feet.

  “Is the player thing working for you?”

  Well, shoot. I grab the flat pillow under my head and toss it in her direction.

  “I’ll take that as a no,” she says with a light laugh, throwing it back.

  “It’s better than getting in too deep with a girl who’s just gonna end up not meaning that much.”

  “What makes you think she won’t mean anything?” she asks, as if my admission wasn’t a complete jackass thing to say.

  I shrug, resting my hands behind my head again. “I’ve tried feeling something for the girls I’ve been with. I tried falling in love, tried to picture a future, and I just…can’t. And it’s not the girl’s problem, it’s mine. And after…her…I don’t want to try to do that love stuff only to hurt someone. So I’m not jumping in unless the girl is after the same thing I am.”

  “To get laid.”

  “Yep.”

  “So someone like Carletta?”

  Miss Sure Thing. “Yep.” And though it never felt weird admitting this to Shay before, it does now.

  “Do you think you’ll ever want to fall in love?”

  “Maybe. If the love interest shows up.”

  “The love interest…”

  “You know, the girl who flips your world upside down.”

  “Your life is just one big movie, huh?”

  “And I’m the star, baby.”

  “And I’m the poor sucker who got roped into being an extra just for a little bit of cash.”

  “You’re…you’re hardly an extra, Shay.” It comes out a bit quieter than I intend, making the air around us warm and electric.

  “You know,” she says, arm bumping into mine as she reaches for her glasses, “I think you’re a jackass—”

  “Well, don’t sugarcoat it.”

  “…but at least you’re not after the girls who want a Ted.”

  “Like you?”

  She suppresses a laugh. “Like me…but a woman who would actually give you a chance.”

  “If you meet one on this trip from hell, let me know.”

  “I’m sure there are many girls who want one night with you…until you open your mouth.”

  “Well, I love you too,” I say, but my upset stomach starts to churn again, and my voice carries away my thoughts. “But seriously…I just don’t want to hurt anyone else.”

  She’s quiet for far too long, and I hear her biting that pinkie nail.

  “Look at you,” she says, and her hand flops down, grazing my leg. “You have a sensitive side.”

  The corner of my mouth twitches up. “It’s more like a rib.”

  She pops her knee right into that rib, and I reach down and stop her from further abusing me. Our sleepy laughter disappears into the dark, and I plant my hand on her knee. And even though I know I’m a Barney, the fact that I’m touching her like this, sleeping next to her with no intention of sex, it makes me feel like a Ted.

  Right now…I’m okay with it.

  2:53 P.M.

  So I may
have exaggerated a bit when I told Shay that I know how to cuddle. It’s true, I’ve slept in a bed with a woman after we rolled around, but I sort of let her do all the snuggling while I lay on my back and dozed off till morning. I’m not used to sharing sleeping space, especially so little sleeping space. So it’s no surprise that when I blink my eyes open to the moving train car, I’m taken aback by the extra weight flopped over my legs.

  Shay has me in a vise grip. She’s claimed my right leg, hugging it to her chest and using my ankle as her personal pillow. The left leg is hanging out between the bottom of the bed and one of her arms and, I notice with a slight shift, that arm is trapped between my thighs, hand lazily splayed against my ass cheek.

  I lift my head just barely, smirking at the way she’s latched on. One of her legs has been tossed over my hip…like she’s taken spooning to a whole other level. Backpacking maybe. If I’d woken up this way with a woman I was trying to get away from, I’d have a hell of a time escaping. But honestly, I can’t wait to see her reaction when she wakes up, so I let her stay there, closing my eyes and pretending I didn’t wake up first.

  She’s so damn adorable it’s driving me crazy.

  No. Not adorable. Some other word.

  My hand twitches and it’s only then I realize that I’m latched onto her ankle. It’s the only part of her body she hasn’t tangled up with my limbs…and I’m holding on to it. And instead of drawing my hand back, I slide it up from her sock to her skin under her pants and my breathing jumps from the steady track it was on.

  Her leg is prickly. It’s not smooth and oiled like how I’m used to women’s legs being. Granted, it’s been a few days since she’s seen a razor; my face feels the same way. It should turn me off, and I need it to turn me off because I’m damn near losing my mind with her wrapped around me the way she is. It’s Shay…but Shay’s body is warm and her hand is on my ass and her pelvis lined up pretty well next to mine. Dangerous thoughts sprout up in my barely awake brain, and I keep rubbing my hand up and down her somewhat hairy leg hoping it will douse the fantasies, but it doesn’t. Hell, it makes them worse. I’m suddenly hearing the conversation that would play out if she was awake.