Read Online Shelter Us: A Novel by Laura Nicole Diamond - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Laura Nicole Diamond
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were celebrating hitting the halfway mark of law school. Carolina—beautiful, confident, red-hair-down-her-back Carolina—attracted attention wherever she went. We’d been assigned to each other as Moot Court partners as 1Ls. I had expected to hate her but had been surprised to discover that besides being intimidatingly gorgeous, she was whip smart and had a wicked sense of humor. She made me laugh—no mean feat—and she became my best friend. When we went out, I amused myself by watching the parade of guys competing to get close to her. Occasionally, a second-placer would make eye contact with me and we’d flirt for a while.
Carolina and I weaved our way into Kip’s, a crowded hangout for Berkeley grad students. A band played in the corner. A television over the bar was tuned to a Cal basketball game. The bartender was flirting with three young girls who had to be freshmen with fake IDs. Robert, whom I hadn’t yet noticed, was sitting toward the far end of the bar, watching the game, his back toward us.
Carolina and I squeezed up to the bar, and I watched heads turn in her wake. We ended up on either side of Robert. She ordered a cosmo (bartenders got to her pretty fast), and I asked for a snakebite, with olives on the side. Sweet with salty. Robert touched my arm, and when I turned to acknowledge him, my stomach filled with butterflies. He smiled like he already knew me, leaned in close to be heard over the music, and said, “I guess I’m not the only one who likes olives,” then he pointed to the napkin covered with empty toothpicks in front of him. Those were his first words to me. Corny, right? But I felt the heat of his breath on my neck and ear, and it traveled across my shoulders and up my neck, right into my brain. Even then he had that same strength, warmth, confidence. When he looked at me with such attention, it gave me an instant buzz.
Carolina moved toward the makeshift dance floor. I stayed next to Robert, and we talked about the basketball game, the people in the bar, the band. The whole time, I felt vibrations up and down my spine. All I could think about was kissing him.
He asked if I’d like to go outside to talk more, get away from the noise, and I felt my heart race. I motioned across the room to Carolina to indicate that I was going outside, and she looked at him, flicked me a thumbs-up, and returned to dancing.
He held my hand as we weaved our way outside. I felt good, weirdly safe, taken care of. No sooner had I felt the cool February air on my face than he stopped walking and turned around so fast that I bumped into him—happily, I must say. We started kissing. My instincts took over. I was a walking id. We paused for breath and I said, to my shock, “I live two blocks away.” We practically ran down the street, laughing and holding hands. I could barely pull the keys out of my pocketbecause he was kissing the back of my neck in a way that made me feel as if I might faint.
When we got inside my apartment, we were like one of those cheesy television movies—clothes strewn in a path from the front door to the bedroom. Except we tripped over our shoes in our haste, landing on each other and bumping heads in the hallway, which they never do on TV.
He still laughs when he recalls the look of surprise on my face the next morning when he offered to walk me to Evidence. I’d had no idea he was a fellow law student. How could I not have noticed him? He told me he was glad I was too serious in my front-row seat to notice a guy in back, and that he’d been watching me all year, waiting to make his move. At the time, I thought that was just a line, that he’d never seen me before the night at Kip’s. But after knowing Robert all these years, I believe him. It sounds just like him: patient, focused, directed.
“Yes, I remember Kip’s,” I say now, and he walks his fingers around mine, touching my wedding band. Falling in love with Robert pulled me away from the dark cloud of my
Carolina and I weaved our way into Kip’s, a crowded hangout for Berkeley grad students. A band played in the corner. A television over the bar was tuned to a Cal basketball game. The bartender was flirting with three young girls who had to be freshmen with fake IDs. Robert, whom I hadn’t yet noticed, was sitting toward the far end of the bar, watching the game, his back toward us.
Carolina and I squeezed up to the bar, and I watched heads turn in her wake. We ended up on either side of Robert. She ordered a cosmo (bartenders got to her pretty fast), and I asked for a snakebite, with olives on the side. Sweet with salty. Robert touched my arm, and when I turned to acknowledge him, my stomach filled with butterflies. He smiled like he already knew me, leaned in close to be heard over the music, and said, “I guess I’m not the only one who likes olives,” then he pointed to the napkin covered with empty toothpicks in front of him. Those were his first words to me. Corny, right? But I felt the heat of his breath on my neck and ear, and it traveled across my shoulders and up my neck, right into my brain. Even then he had that same strength, warmth, confidence. When he looked at me with such attention, it gave me an instant buzz.
Carolina moved toward the makeshift dance floor. I stayed next to Robert, and we talked about the basketball game, the people in the bar, the band. The whole time, I felt vibrations up and down my spine. All I could think about was kissing him.
He asked if I’d like to go outside to talk more, get away from the noise, and I felt my heart race. I motioned across the room to Carolina to indicate that I was going outside, and she looked at him, flicked me a thumbs-up, and returned to dancing.
He held my hand as we weaved our way outside. I felt good, weirdly safe, taken care of. No sooner had I felt the cool February air on my face than he stopped walking and turned around so fast that I bumped into him—happily, I must say. We started kissing. My instincts took over. I was a walking id. We paused for breath and I said, to my shock, “I live two blocks away.” We practically ran down the street, laughing and holding hands. I could barely pull the keys out of my pocketbecause he was kissing the back of my neck in a way that made me feel as if I might faint.
When we got inside my apartment, we were like one of those cheesy television movies—clothes strewn in a path from the front door to the bedroom. Except we tripped over our shoes in our haste, landing on each other and bumping heads in the hallway, which they never do on TV.
He still laughs when he recalls the look of surprise on my face the next morning when he offered to walk me to Evidence. I’d had no idea he was a fellow law student. How could I not have noticed him? He told me he was glad I was too serious in my front-row seat to notice a guy in back, and that he’d been watching me all year, waiting to make his move. At the time, I thought that was just a line, that he’d never seen me before the night at Kip’s. But after knowing Robert all these years, I believe him. It sounds just like him: patient, focused, directed.
“Yes, I remember Kip’s,” I say now, and he walks his fingers around mine, touching my wedding band. Falling in love with Robert pulled me away from the dark cloud of my
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