Quench Me
      Chapter 6
 

Dinner was wonderful, just like he promised, but I can't honestly say that I paid a lot of attention to the food. I was much too entranced with Danny and those incredible glances he gave me in between bits of our conversation.

"How do you know Phillip?" he asks.

"Oh, he and Rick are best friends. They've known each other forever, practically. That's why I ended up in your office by mistake. Phillip and Rick had been doing something earlier that day, and I was supposed to meet them so we could go to lunch."

"Lucky twist of fate," he says with a mischievous grin.

"Whatever you want to call it," I reply with a grin of my own.

"Well, I know it's not the recommended procedure to ask a woman her age, but since I already know you're older than you look, I'm going to ask anyway."

"I'm twenty-four," I answer. "And now I'm asking you."

"Twenty-seven," he answers.

The lighthearted conversation between us is a welcome change from the confrontational talks that we endured earlier this week.

The waiter clears our table, and we both order coffee. For some reason, neither one of us wanted a drink. I'm not sure what Danny's motivation was, but I chose not to drink because I want to be absolutely clear headed while I'm with him.

"So, I've told you all about myself," I say to him. "I think it's time you return the favor."

"I think you've probably read enough about my family in the newspapers," he says with a grin.

"I'm not talking about your public life," I respond. "I want to know about you."

"Well, there's not much to tell, really. My father was killed when I was ten years old, a result of the 'business'. My older brother is dead, and my sister is in Europe. My mother joined her there not long ago, for which I'm really grateful. And now I work for Phillip. End of story."

"Oh, I don't think so, Danny. What was it like being you when you were growing up?" As lovely as this evening has been, there still seems to be a part of him that he won't share, and I desperately want him to trust me.

"Lonely really," he answers to my surprise. "As you might imagine, I always felt 'separate' from other kids. My life was just so different from theirs. I never really had any friends. My brother and I were close once, but he changed, and that relationship went down the toilet. I adore my sister, but she's been in Europe since she was very young, and I rarely get to see her. My cousin Ray was probably the closest person to me, but that relationship changed as well. We're still close, but he's a priest now, and that kind of changes the dynamics of a relationship. So, lonely about sums it up."

"Are you still lonely?" I ask.

"I'm sitting here with you aren't I?"

I look at him with all the genuine emotion I can garner, hoping to somehow convey to him that he doesn't have to feel lonely anymore.

"That's why I'm so glad to be here with you, tonight," he says, and the butterflies in my stomach begin to swirl, wanting him to tell me what he's feeling.

"When I left my family's business and stepped out on my own, I knew it would be a lonely venture. I hoped that I'd find a friend, someone I could trust. I just never expected it to happen so soon."

Friend? Did I hear him correctly? Friend? I swallow hard, willing myself to remain collected.

"Is that what I am?" I ask.

"Well, yeah," he answers. "At least I hope so."

Did I imagine all that flirting? Did I just conjure up all the sexual innuendoes that have passed between the two of us? When did I become his new best friend? I tell myself it doesn't matter. The man needs a friend, and he's chosen me. Besides, I've known him for all of four days, so "friend" seems like an appropriate title.

I just never thought the word "friend" would hurt so much.

"Of course I'm your friend, Danny," I say, smiling at him, not wanting him to see what going on inside me. "I'd like that very much."


As we drive back toward Springfield, my head begins to throb. I don't know why I have to be one of those people blessed with migraine headaches, but I am. They started during my junior year of college, but I've learned to manage them pretty well, and now even the looming threat of med. school finals doesn't trigger them. But tonight, well, that's a different story. Tonight I had got my hopes up, despite the fact that I tried not to, and my expectations were dashed. "Dammit Michelle," I think to myself. "Why did you do this to yourself? Why did you let yourself hope?" I know why I did. I know why I wanted this night to be more than it obviously was to Danny. It's been so long since I felt someone's hand in mine, so long since someone told me I was beautiful. My entire life I've searched for that special feeling, that connection that can only happen once in a lifetime. I thought I'd found it. Evidently not.

My head is about to explode, and I can't hide it from Danny anymore. Involuntarily I lean my head over and put my face in my hands. I can't control the audible sigh that escapes my lips as I try to hide my eyes from the headlights of the oncoming car.

"What's wrong?" Danny asks quickly.

"My head," I answer, as another groan of pain builds in my throat.

"What can I do? Do you need to go to the hospital?"

"No," is all I can manage to say.

"Should I call your brother?" he asks, and he seems genuinely concerned.

Still not looking at him, I say, "It's a migraine. I get them sometimes." I'm now massaging the back of my neck in an attempt to find some relief. "I have some pills in my purse, if we can just stop and get something to drink."

"My house is about a half mile away," he says. "We'll be there in a minute."

I feel the car lurch forward as Danny's floors the gas pedal. My head is still practically in my lap when I feel the car come to a stop, and I realize that we've arrived at Danny's house. I look up to see a huge, stately house. Even through my pain I imagine Danny living here alone, and how lonely this big house must be for him.

Before I know what's happening, Danny is opening my door and helping me out of the car. The feel of his arms around me is almost more than I can stand, as I remember that I'm his "friend". We're in the house in an instant, and I feel as if I'm gliding, as he leads me to the sofa.

"O.K.," he begins. "The pills are in your purse?"

I nod.

He's at my side in less than a minute, with my bottle of pills and a glass of water. He knew enough to not turn the lights on, and as I sit there in the dark, swallowing my migraine medication, I can't help but notice the panicked look on his face.

"Do these pills work fast?" he asks.

"They usually work well, if I can rest for a little while after I take them."

"Well then, you can rest here."

"O.K.," I say. I have no choice but to comply. This headache is completely disabling me.

"Do you want me to see if there are some clothes of my sister's upstairs. I'm sure you'd be more comfortable in something casual."

Why did this have to happen tonight? Why couldn't we have just driven back to Springfield like we'd planned and gone to Spaulding so that Danny could get his car? Then I could've gone home and gotten myself out of his presence, and nursed my wounds alone. Instead, I'm forced to look him in the face and pretend that I'm happy to be his "friend".

"No," I answer. "But you can go out to the car and get my gym bag out of the back seat. I've got something in there I can wear."

"I'll be right back," he says, leaping from the sofa. "Will you be all right by yourself for a minute?"

"Of course. I'll be fine," I answer, as I think to myself that this situation could not possibly be any worse.

He slips out of the house, and I'm left alone for a moment to ponder what happened this evening. I don't know how my feelings got so out of hand before I even realized it. I suppose it must be the lack of romance in my life that caused my emotions to run away from me. There haven't been many men in my life, certainly none that I wanted to consider a future with, none that I felt so connected to. Really, aside from Jesse, there has never been anyone significant, and even Jesse turned out to be mere infatuation. I hadn't realized how much I longed for that kind of relationship, until I saw Danny standing in the lobby this afternoon, waiting for me. But I totally misread everything since then, and now I'm stuck in his house, alone with him, while I wait this migraine out.

When he comes back with my bag, I ask, "Where can I change?"

"Here," he says, taking me by the hand. "I'll show you."

He leads me down the hallway to a very large bathroom, decorated in deep reds. I gently shut the door behind me and lean my back against it. "How did this happen?" I ask myself. This stupid headache could not have happened at a more inopportune time.

"All right in there?" he asks from outside the door.

Damn. He's waiting outside for me, which means I can't stall in here for very long.

"Fine, Danny," I answer softly. "I think the medicine's starting to kick in," I say as I quickly take my hair out of the bun and let it fall loose.

I dig through my gym bag and find a pair of baby blue knit pants. Searching frantically, I realize that my Springfield University sweatshirt is not there. It's probably in the laundry, and the only thing left for me to wear is a white tank top. Yes, white, and sleeveless. I was wrong earlier. This evening could get worse, and it has. Now, not only am I hiding my emotions from him and stranded at his house, but I'm also going to have to expose my skin to him as well. I say in a whisper to myself, "Again," as remember that I've already done that once - the first day I met him.

I emerge from the bathroom, and he's standing there in the hallway. I'm starting to get sleepy from the medication, so at least I'll get to sleep through some of this agony. Again, he puts his arm around my waist and helps me back to the sofa. He sits down next to me and starts gently massaging my neck and shoulders. I'm melting into oblivion, brought on by the migraine pills and Danny's touch, and in that brief moment where consciousness and sleep meet, I decide to enjoy it.

When I wake up, my head is laying in his lap and he's lovingly brushing the hair out of my face. Before I realize the horror of the situation, I think to myself, "This must be heaven."