Free Thirteen Hours by Meghan O'Brien Page B

still mortified by the memory. “She told me I just wasn’t her type, that she liked me as a friend, but—”
    “That must have hurt.”
    Dana nodded at the understatement. “It hurt even worse when she stopped speaking to me after that night. Nothing too obvious, but suddenly she always seemed to be busy and we never seemed to be able to get together, until a few months later I never saw her anymore.”
    “Her loss.”
    Dana couldn’t help but grin at Laurel’s obviously genuine reaction. It inspired another confession. “After that, I decided to just concentrate on school. Once I graduated, I focused on work. Thinking about relationships, or meeting women, scares me. I don’t want to go through that again.”
    “All because of one clueless college girl a long time ago?” Laurel’s voice was tender, and a little sad.
    Looking back, Dana was puzzled, too. Everyone had formative experiences in their teens, including humiliation and heartbreak.
    Somehow hers had assumed greater proportions than it should.
    “I felt much more for her than my high school boyfriend in the year and a half we dated. That scared the hell out of me, I suppose,” Dana admitted, as much to herself as to Laurel.
    “Getting your heart broken sucks,” Laurel said with an understanding smile. “But it would be a shame if you never put yourself out there again.”
    “It’s been easier.” Dana hated to admit to her cowardice. Now that she thought about it, she realized she’d missed out on the kinds of experiences that put college crushes in context. Hers had inhibited so much, her withdrawal had become a safe, comfortable habit.
    “Don’t you get lonely?” Laurel asked.
    “Of course.” Dana stared at Laurel’s legs, feeling that loneliness acutely. “I cope. I buy embarrassing amounts of porn, read stories, talk to women online.”
    “Do any of them know your real name?”
    “I don’t talk to anyone regularly.”
    Laurel touched the side of Dana’s face again. “Don’t you want something more?”
    Blinking back stinging tears, Dana said, “Of course. I want so much that I don’t know how to get.”
    Laurel’s gaze was full of something Dana had never seen directed at her before. “Do you think you would ever consider breaking your self-imposed isolation?”
    “Yes,” Dana whispered. For someone like Laurel, in a heartbeat.
    “Under extraordinary circumstances, maybe.”
    Laurel looked around the elevator car. “Think this qualifies as extraordinary?”
    “Maybe,” Dana said. “Why?”
    “May I take you to dinner sometime?” Laurel asked. She played with a lock of Dana’s hair as though satisfying some long-standing desire.
    “You mean—”
    “Like a date,” Laurel finished.
    Was this kind of like the pity fuck she was talking about earlier?
    As if the worry and doubt were displayed clearly on Dana’s forehead the moment they flashed through her mind, Laurel frowned.
    “Don’t even go there. After the way we started out, do you really think I would express an interest in getting to know you outside this elevator if I didn’t really want to? You make me laugh, I like talking to you. I think we get along pretty well.”
    “We do,” Dana said.
    “So have dinner with me.”
    “I’m buying.”
    “Oh, no,” Laurel countered. “I asked. I’m buying.”
    Dana wouldn’t concede this one. If she was going on a date with a gorgeous woman, she was going to do it right.
    As though sensing her resolve, Laurel said, “We’ve got plenty of time to debate who picks up the check. Why don’t you make me perform a dare instead?” Something mischievous sparkled in her eyes.
    “It seems like the right time.”
    Dana wondered if Laurel hoped she was going to dare her for a kiss. If only she had the guts to just go for the gold like that, Dana mused. She thought about various acts she could make Laurel perform, until she came up with something nearly as good as the kiss she really wanted.

H OUR N INE —3:00