When Size Matters - Carly Laine

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a couple years younger than me and a real sister, Emily.”

      I tried to keep my face impassive, the whole time thinking, Whoa! Younger than you? Out loud I asked, “What’s that like?” Seemed like the Magnet Man and I had some family tree mutations in common.

      “Oh, you know, strange at first. But she’s a good mom to Emily and a nice tasty treat for the old man. She and I get along okay. Not too friendly, though.” He chuckled to himself, popping his eyebrows up and down. “She’s pretty hot.”

      Trophy wife. Arm candy. I named her Candy Love. Man, oh, man. You just knew Candy Love was a card-carrying Diamond Girl.

      “Big diamond?” I asked.

      “Huge,” he answered, deadpan.

      I knew it! Older = bigger. At least when it came to men and diamonds.

      We sat at our little table, pleased with ourselves, as though we shared some secret or maybe an inside joke. I didn’t need my grandma’s antennae to read the vibes. He wasn’t into the whole carat thing. You could just tell. And I was grinning, letting him think we were on the same page. But I wasn’t really opposed to carats. In fact, getting some would be nice, before I was too old and wrinkly to wear them. I knew they didn’t measure love. But if love went with it, a little, itty-bitty carat—or three or five—would have been fine with me. I got squirmy then, knowing I was deceiving him by allowing him to think I was above it all. And then the air changed, the moment was gone.

      Acting on some parallel cosmic impulse, we both reached for the champagne glass at the exact same time and knocked it on its side. It didn’t break. Of course not. If it could withstand Groom Daddy’s affections it could withstand anything. Brad reached for my hand with one of his and used his other one to hand me the glass. I took it but he didn’t let go and we became a completed electrical circuit. Switched on.

      “You gonna keep it?” he asked, lightly rubbing my palm with his thumb, increasing the voltage.

      I barely nodded.

      “Good,” he whispered.

      Another nod from me. What that thumb was doing to my insides!

      “And, Dylan,” he said in that soft, growly voice of his. “I wanna promise you something…”

      This time, I just let my eyebrows speak. Up they went.

      Both of them. I sat very still, watching him across the table and holding my breath. Waiting with Silence.

      “Sky Dylan Stone, I promise I, Bradley Hamilton Davis—”

      Oh, nice name. But I wasn’t about to distract him.

      “Also known as the Brad Davis and Brad Davis of Dallas—”

      No breath would pass my lips until he finished.

      “—will never, ever—” he said, dropping his voice even more, but still managing to heat up the “ever.” He paused and looked right into my eyes. Both of them. At the same time. And his thumb kept circling my palm. “—ever…call you Dill.”

      I took a deep breath and looked past his upturned lips, straight into the quiet of his charcoal eyes and I felt the rubber bands around my heart begin to snap apart, one by one, and that big, hard knot inside of me start to melt away. And I fell again, for the second time that day. Crashed hard. But this time there was no puffy orange dress to break my fall.

      5

      WE LEFT Skinny’s in the middle of a raging electrical storm. It wasn’t the drenching kind that we usually had in Austin, with water flooding the curbs and broken tree branches dragging down the power lines. This was more like a New Mexico storm where the sky spits fire—all dry crackle and flash—and zaps until the air gets that weird, edgy feel, like impatience or maybe anticipation. That balmy, October night in Austin, it wasn’t the whole sky that flickered with fire, only the part in between us. And that part was smoking.

      We worked our way up the levels of decking, past benches and tables, hand in hand, generating our own private atmosphere, making the molecules dance. It wasn’t just me; I knew that. You can’t cook up that kind of turbulence without two weather machines. We were moving slowly, savoring the suspense, and had just come upon a table in the front close to the sidewalk when I heard Matt’s voice, low and laughing. I’d know it anywhere. Matt laughs like he’s saving his energy for something else. So much for slumped shoulders and sad country songs. He was sitting with a group of people I didn’t know, mostly guys, probably some of his doctor friends. He saw me notice him and raised his glass, a no-expression expression on his face. Everyone at the table turned to look. Brad and I waved back with our un-held hands and we sizzled by without stopping. How lovely it would be, I thought, not to run into Matt anymore.

      We reached Brad’s car in Skinny’s parking lot, looked at each other, smiled, and got in without saying a word, neither of us mentioning that I’d told him at the wedding that I was busy, that I had plans for the night. Silence rode in the back and stayed with us the whole two and a half seconds it took to get up the hill and around the three bends to my apartment. Okay, it took about five minutes but he was flying. I think he actually straight-lined the drive and avoided the curves altogether. Maybe not, I was afraid to look.

      He parked to the side of the big house—where you have the best view of the lake—and before the engine had kachunked to a stop, his hardened hands were holding my face as if I was the most precious thing in the world and he was kissing me. And if I’d died right then at least I’d been kissed. Really kissed. Those beautiful lips came down on mine and he drank me in, as if I was water in the desert, as if he’d never drank before. His lips were so soft—but not too soft—and his tongue was pressing without being scary. His hot mouth became my world. The power of it sucked me in and sent me tumbling in the dark.

      He ended that kiss with another one that was even better followed by three small kisses, little sucking pulls on my lower lip. Then his lips were gone and I just felt his strong hands on the sides of my face. I didn’t move. He leaned over and again brushed my lips with his and finally, I opened my eyes.

      He fell back into his seat and looked out the windshield at the lake. There was a soft breeze messing up his hair a little. That was one of the best things about being by the water—the gentle winds. Breezes kept our little corner of Austin from having that help-me-Jesus-I-can’t-breathe sauna-feel you get in the other parts of the city. I could see the heave of his chest, as though he’d just run up the hill instead of flying. I put my hand there to feel the rise and fall and he covered it with his, closed his eyes and smiled.

      The crunch of tires on gravel chased away Silence as Andie pulled up in her little red Miata. If she saw us sitting there in Brad’s car, she gave no sign. I watched her jump out of the car, gathering the pale blue bridesmaid dress into a bulge as she ran inside. She looked great. It’d take more than a horrid dress to do Andie in. Many seconds later, Guinness barked his belated greeting at her.

      “My roommate’s home,” I said.

      “So I hear.” His head was tilted back, eyes still closed.

      “Maybe we should stay out here,” I suggested.

      “Whatever,” he said.

      Uh-oh. Was he already losing interest?

      I got out of the car, cooling off the exact number of degrees that he had. Or trying my damnedest to do so. I leaned against the hood of the car, and wondered what the hell I’d been thinking. The guy I’ve been waiting for my whole life hadn’t been waiting for me.

      After a little while, or maybe a long while, Brad got out and leaned on the car next to me. He put his arm around my shoulder and pulled me in to him, pressing his leg into mine.

      Hot, cold, hot, cold. What was the deal here? I felt as if I was dangling in space, hanging out over the water. I turned my head slightly away, tried to get my feet nailed back down on firm ground. I spoke but I couldn’t get the real question

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