Chapter 8: Thought Processes
I attempt to take a much-needed mental health day in my hotel between the trial's dates. I veg out on my couch with various bags of snack foods and my favorite Netflix shows and try not to worry about the trial, or the events preceding it, or anything—and I almost succeed.
Almost. Half an hour into my TV binge, my mind is unable to stop thinking through what happened last night. And once my brain remembers the exact details, I can't focus on anything else.
I try to wrap my head around what I overheard Alan saying. Did he actually say that he's falling for me? As in falling in love? I just don't know if I can believe it.
But his words, his tone, his face after I walked up, all seemed so emotional, so open, that I have a hard time disbelieving it. I've never witnessed Alan lying, and he strikes me as an astoundingly honest man, even in the most difficult of circumstances. What's more, some of his behavior actually seemed coherent with his being attracted to me, even if they were sometimes harsh and often secretive.
And even though I know him to be an ofttimes…flirtatious man, I don't know if I could see him falling for a client as young as I. I don't believe he would have many scruples against dating a client…but…
So, after much cerebration, I deduce that Alan Shore is falling for me.
And with that, everything I think about him changes.
But also with that, I cannot do nothing anymore. I cannot just sit here when there is a man in a building in this very city who is falling for me.
Because the problem is, I think I may be starting to fall for him.
When I walk up to the doorway of his office twenty minutes later, he's sitting on the couch with the TV playing in front of him. On the screen, a partially-insane-looking woman with high blonde hair speaks in rambunctious tones with a thick southern-like accent about one of Crane, Poole & Schmidt's cases. It takes me a moment to realize that she's talking about my case.
"I mean, my God, what will it take for these people to realize that she killed the man?" I flinch every time she forcefully enunciates her words. "He was her ex-boyfriend, he beat her, her family died just months before. Is it so hard to believe that a depressed, wounded, psychotic woman could kill a man?" A picture of myself walking next to Denny and Alan in the courthouse flashes onto the screen, zoomed in with low resolution on my face looking particularly stoic and gloomy. "Come on, people, just look at that face! That is the stone cold face of a killer, and everyone knows it!"
When Alan realizes I'm in the doorway, he quickly turns off the TV, but the damage has been done. I'm beginning to turn away when he exclaims my name.
"Wait," he says, and I can hear him standing with a small exhalation.
I turn to see him standing in front of the couch with his hand on his stomach. "I'm sorry you had to see that," he says. He beckons for me to come in and sit on the couch beside him, and I do. As he settles in again, he says, "That woman…. She's verifiably insane, I assure you." He laughs a little, almost nervously, then says with a tone less convinced than I would like to hear, "Surely everyone does not know you're the killer."
"But many people think it," I say in a deflated tone.
"No," he says, finally with more conviction. "This case is clear to me, as it will be to the jury. Don't worry, we still have a whole day to show that."
Alan draws in a breath and inclines his head towards me somewhat. "So, was there a specific reason you stopped by? Not that I mind." He smiles slightly.
"Um…" My train of thought has been derailed by this madwoman, and I'm starting to think that coming here wasn't such a good idea. "No, maybe I should just head back."
"Wait, wait," he says again as I'm starting to get up. "I think there was a reason you came by. Tell me, I can be a good listener." He smiles a little again, reassuringly.
I frown. "Honestly, I don't even know why I came. I…" I decide maybe it's best to go with honesty. "Well, I heard part of what you were telling Denny last night."
His face is statuesque, but I can tell he's actually surprised inside. "Oh."
"I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but I walked in and heard what you were saying…and I just wanted to say…"
I trail off, because I can tell he's shutting down. All the friendliness and any emotion at all has quickly slipped off his face, and I'm worried I've created an abrupt distance between us. I realize that honesty that blatant may not have been the best idea after all.
"I'm sorry, Alan," I say, standing. "I shouldn't have come. I'm sorry."
Grabbing my coat from where I left it on the floor beside the couch, I head towards the door. Somehow, though, Alan is suddenly in front of me, stopping my hand before it can reach the door by grabbing the door handle quickly. I jump as it shuts loudly.
He straightens in front of me, awfully close again. "Bella," he says, looking me up and down. He musters a small smile, but then it drops as quickly as it appeared. "Don't go."
I take in a shaky breath gently, our faces mere inches apart. Every molecule in my body wants me to close that tiny distance and kiss him right here and now, but my head is screaming for me to get away fast. Mind and body war for what feels like hours.
My mind loses as one of us spans the tiny yet massive gap and presses our lips together.
The kiss is gentle, soft, oh-so-sweet. His lips are soft and supple, his breath on my face warm, and my heart feels like it's being filled to the brink with emotion. It's the best kiss I've ever had, and I feel so hungry for more as Alan raises a hand to cup my cheek and pulls me in close.
But then I suddenly break away, our lips parting with an audible sigh. I desperately want to keep kissing him, indefinitely, possibly forever, but I also feel a sudden need to get out of this room, and fast. So, turning around, I quickly grab my coat and purse.
"Bella," Alan says, but I can't look at him now. I flee before I can change my mind.
I don't know which hurts more—my stupid impulsivity, or the fact that Alan doesn't follow me.