When I Was Yours, When You Were Mine

by Evie Sinclair

  “Yeah. As in he finds me in the crowd.” I cringe at how corny it sounds.

  “He finds you in the crowd …” Sammy repeats.

  “Yes.”

  “And you look at each other longer than most people look at most people. And you slow dance in living rooms …”

  I’m laughing, again. “Shut up! But, yeah. Maybe. Or maybe not! Maybe I’m looking at him too much and he’s looking at me wondering why I’m looking at him. We’re in a spiral, Sammy. And nothing good can come from it.”

  “Firstly. Logan’s great - aside from the overprotective crap - he’s great. But, I was inwardly questioning his intelligence when he told me Kingston was chaperoning you home.”

  “He said chaperoning?” I ask, dumbfounded.

  “Ha! Not exactly. But we all know Logan …” Sammy says. “I think he’s so far in Dad mode he’s not thinking straight.”

  “But, why? Why now?”

  “You’re all each have, Mae. He’s obviously dealing with his own shit, trying to keep together the only family he has.”

  “Did he say this?”

  “He struggled for the exact words, but I could sense the desperation in his need to get you home safe. Somehow he thinks if you get back to Maine, things will be okay; he can help heal everything from back here.”

  “Has this been my fault, Sammy?” I pick at my nails. “I’ve needed him and then I’ve wanted to be independent. Have I been messing with his head?”

  “This is his shit to deal with, Mae. With your Mum gone and your Dad not in your lives, Logan’s been putting it all on his shoulders, feeling like he has to carry everything. But, it’s not his to carry. You can love someone and support them, without needing to fix them or be fixated on keeping them safe. It’s him trying to control situations in his life and that isn’t on you. It’s the way things have progressed.”

  “I love him so much.” I admit, my nose stinging from growing tears. “I don’t know where I’d be without him. He’s bailed me out of financial crap, he’s always supported me, and I know if I need him by my side he’ll be there. But, if it’s unhealthy for him and it’s not working for me, then it’s something we need to talk about. I don’t want him to think he needs to bear the responsibility of everything. That’s unfair.” I wipe salty tears from the corner of my eyes.

  “It’ll be good for you two to talk when you’re back.”

  “I agree. I feel bad for pushing him away.”

  “I think it’s what he needed. I think it’ll slowly bring him clarity on the situation, too.”

  “I hope so,” I say.

  “Me too. Especially when you and Kingston get married and have babies.” She’s laughing at her own joke.

  “Very funny,” I deadpan. “I forgot to mention, after he told me he didn’t know what this was, a bunch of fans came circling and he introduced me as his best-friends-twin-sister.”

  Sammy laughs even harder now. “He didn’t!”

  “He did. Which I guess is completely true!” I point out.

  “Sure. But, he’s losing his mind.”

  “Maybe he legitimately doesn’t know what a hand is.” Sarcasm emanating from my words. “I could have put it all to rest … I could have given him a run down on human biology and thought nothing more.”

  “Or maybe, and most importantly, he doesn’t know what his feelings toward you mean, and then throw Logan into the mix and it would be flipping him right out.”

  “He doesn’t like me, Sammy. He didn’t like me then, he doesn’t like me now. We’re in a weird time of our lives where we’re alone together, more than ever before.”

  “Okay,” Sammy declares. “He doesn’t like you.”

  I’m frowning on the end of the line. “Okay, well, I didn’t need you to say it,” I grumble.

  Sammy giggles. “I’m not there, Mae. But, I know you and I know men. Those looks, they mean more than you’ll both care to admit.”

  I swallow, my throat dry. “Tell me about this Englishman.” I change the subject.

  “Eh - we had fun. But, fun was all.”

  I can sense a sadness in her answer.

  “Did you want more than fun with him?” I ask.

  “Not with him, I don’t think. But, it was the first time I realized that I do want more, somewhere with someone. Maybe I’m done with fun and flings, Mae-Mae.”

  “Well, that’s good for you to know …” I point out.

  “Yeah. But, does that add pressure to my next relationship?”

  “Not unless you let it - or tell them three seconds into the first date.”

  Sammy laughs. “I’ll just propose via message straight away.”

  “You’re laughing,” I state. “But, most men would say yes.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah, go have a loving stare off with Mr James.”

  I jolt out a laugh and at the same time there’s a knock at the door.

  “Fuck. One minute,” I say to Sammy.

  I look through the peephole to see Kingston.

  “Foods here,” he says, and it catches me off guard.

  “Yea - yeah … okay. I’ll be there soon!” I squawk through the door like an awkward teenager.

  “What was that?” Sammy asks when I’m back on the phone.

  “Oh, just Kingston and I yelling at each other through my hotel door, like the fully capable adults that we are.”

  “Well that’s fun!” Sammy sounds chirpy again.

  “Mmmm, wish me luck eating dinner and watching movies on his king size bed with him.”

  “I’m sorry, you’re what?”

  “Oh yeah, no biggie.” Once again the sarcasm pours out of me.

  “Good luck with that, let me know if he’s good in bed.”

  “Sammy …”

  “Bye, love you,” she chimes.

  “Love you, too.” And I hang up.

  I throw my hair up in a messy bun, adjust my sweatpants and matching hoodie, and head next door to Kingston.

  God, give me strength.

  “Were you just praying?” Kingston asks with a smirk as he opens the door.

  “Huh?”

  “I saw you through the peephole, looked like you were praying.”

  “Nope.” I raise my palms in mock innocence.

  He eyes me, looking sceptical. “You took forever. Your food is probably cold.” He looks over his shoulder at the food cart.

  “That’s a crazy amount of food,” I say.

  “You ordered a lot.” He points out.

  I dig into the mac and cheese. “So what are we going to watch?” I ask, spinning toward Kingston on the office chair at the desk. He’s sitting on the bed, back against a pillow on the headboard, tucking into a burger.

  “I’m up for anything,” he says.

  I dip my head back over the chair and close my eyes.

  Seriously, Universe, help me out here.

  “You all right?” he asks.

  “Mmmhmmm.” I keep my head back and my eyes closed.

  I hear him chuckle to himself. “Mae. What’s up?”

  I lift my head and look at him - sitting on the bed, same grey sweats, eyes on mine. I suddenly feel nervous being in this hotel room with him.

  “Nothing. Nothing. Fine. I’m fine.”

  “You repeat words when you’re lying,” he states, an eyebrow raised, a small grin. “What happened in your room?”

  “I showered.”

  “And …”

  “And I spoke to Sammy.”

  “Did she mention Logan?”

  “Yeah …” I watch him, confused.

  “Well, there you go. Is this the longest you’ve gone without speaking to him?”

  “Yeah. It is. That’s probably it.” I shovel food in my mouth.

  We sit in silence as I polish off the rest of the salad and some fries. Kingston flicks through movies, and we mumble half-hearted groans at each one.

  I get myself a glass of water and sit on the edge of the bed.

  “Oh, Atonement,�
�� I pipe up.

  “Any good?” he asks.

  “So good! And sad! The scene with the fountain. The way he looks at her, but also doesn’t. The way he touches the water when she leaves!” I swoon.

  “Are you going to sit on the end of the bed the whole night?”

  I turn to him. “No, no,” I say, quickly, trying not to appear weird. I place my glass on the bedside table and shift over to the middle of the bed, moving pillows around.

  Kingston has settled on Atonement and it plays in the background as I settle into a comfortable position.

  “Happy?” I glance over to him.

  He shifts closer to me. “Comfortable?” He returns a question.

  “Very.” I return my attention back to the movie, completely aware of how close Kingston is to me.

  “Watch. Watch. This is the fountain scene.” I softly shake his arm.

  He tenses at my hand on him, so I pull it away.

  We watch in silence. After the scene ends Kingston looks at me, his lips pressed together, his eyebrows raised.

  “You can’t say that wasn’t great. They barely touched and the sexual tension was … palpable …”

  “Palpable?” he teases. I don’t reply. He doesn’t say anything further.

  I shift my body, moving from him. We quietly watch the movie and I begin to enjoy the comfortable silence between us.

  After some time, the scene between Keira Knightley and James McAvoy in the library comes on.

  Oh, fuck, the bookcase scene.

  “Huh?” Kingston asks beside me. Did I say that out loud? “What did the letter say?” He asks, as he watches intently.

  And then they’re kissing, and he goes quiet. Before I know it they’re confessing their love and having sex against a bookcase, and I’m trying to work out if it’d be quicker to escape through the window or door.

  Door. Much safer, too.

  We don’t move an inch as the scene plays out, and as the movie continues, we watch in silence, still. Halfway through, I realize our hands are touching, again. My heart accelerates and I once again feel like a teenager, nervous and clammy. The only difference is - this time there’s new feelings, deeper ones, feeling’s I thought I’d felt, but nothing as strong as this.

  As the film ends, I wipe tears from my cheeks.

  “Thanks for that,” Kingston half jokes.

  Our hands are interlaced. He glances down at them.

  Don’t you dare tell me you don’t know what this is, again. I inwardly curse. He looks back up at me. My chest rises and falls, quickly, with my anxious breathing. I can tell he’s watching it - he knows I’m affected - he’s always known he has this hold on me.

  I watch his mouth, lips slightly parted, and I’m close enough to smell the whisky he’s been drinking.

  His cell begins vibrating, my eyes dart to where it sits on the bed, and then back to him. He’s still looking at me. It stops buzzing, and then begins again. He doesn’t look away. I glance back down and see Logan’s name on the screen.

  Officially turned off. “Logan’s calling you.”

  There’s a grumble deep in Kingston’s throat as he picks up the call.

  “Loges,” he sounds semi-pissed off and moves to sit on the couch. He talks softly, laughing here and there. “She’s fine.” I hear him say a few times.

  I move my dishes to the cart, keeping the cake to eat my sorrows away. I push the cart outside by the door and consider going back in, sitting back on the bed, seeing if we could get back to that place. The one where our hands are tangled and our mouths are close. But things are never the same when they’re forced.

  Falling back on my empty bed, in my empty room, I sigh a deep sigh.

  I can’t help but feel that Logan will forever be a dividing force when it comes to Kingston and I.

  ◆◆◆

  The next morning I find myself staring at the ceiling for far too long, way too early.

  I decide to go for a swim in the hotel pool. I can’t find my one piece or even one part of my bikini, but I decide it’s so early that surely no one will be there.

  I pull on my tight cotton tank top and a pair of black underwear. They’re smaller than I want, but I haven’t washed any clothing in nearly a week and am living out of a small suitcase, having misplaced the box with my lingerie in it somewhere beneath the other boxes.

  I pull on my sweatpants and grab my towel, flip-flopping along the halls in the hotel slippers.

  Swimming was a good idea. The moment I’m under the water, my thoughts shrink. I swim for half an hour, grab myself a coffee from the breakfast bar and head back to my room to shower.

  I turn the corner in the hallway to catch Kingston standing outside my door.

  “Hey,” I call.

  He looks up. “Hey?” he asks as a question. “I thought you were sleeping through my obnoxiously loud knocks and phone calls.”

  “I went for a swim. I couldn’t sleep.”

  He glances at his phone. It reads 6:11am. “Neither.” He looks tired, he’s in navy sweats this time, he runs his hand through his hair, zoning out.

  “The swim helped clear my head. You should try it,” I offer.

  He raises his chin at me, as if he’s trying to work something out.

  “Clear my head, huh.” He watches me again. “Yeah. I could do with that.”

  I feel my chest rise in anticipation at the awkwardness that has been settling between us after our teenage-night-time-hand-holding-sessions.

  He watches my chest rise beneath the towel wrapped around me. He blinks, slowly.

  “You do look tired,” I say. “I’ll drive first. You have to play tonight.”

  He offers me a warm smile. “Thanks.” And retreats back to his room, nothing else to say.

  While I shower, I wonder what Kingston spoke to Logan about, what got his mind all mixed up. Was it the hand holding? Our mouths so close we could taste one another without touching? Was it that Logan is my twin brother and if he knew Kingston was that close to me he’d lose his mind?

  As we cruise up the I-55, Kingston sleeps in the passenger seat. He’s slept most of the drive, which I’m happy about - we haven’t had to talk and hopefully he won’t be tired for his gig tonight.

  He barely opens his eyes as I pull up to a beautiful row of houses in Wicker Park.

  “Number 11,” he mumbles beside me, eyes still closed.

  I chuckle to myself and park the car. “These look beautiful.”

  “Wait ’til you see inside. Taylah says they called it urban,” he says with slight sarcasm.

  “Urban?” I laugh. “Nice.”

  Once Kingston is sufficiently awake, we make our way into the urban house. It’s all white, with exposed brick and gold trim everywhere.

  “Tell Taylah that I like her urban house,” I joke, and place my things on the kitchen benchtop.

  “Oh. Taylah’s not - ummm …” Kingston trails off.

  He runs his hand through his hair again, and I cock my head to the side, waiting for him to continue.

  “Taylah’s my PA. She booked it.”

  “Your PA? You never mentioned you had a PA,” I tease.

  “Well. She’s my on again, off again PA.”

  “Oh,” I say, finally understanding what he means. I stamp a smile across my face.

  He’s scratching the back of his head now, elbow in the air, pulling his t-shirt up to expose his v-shape disappearing below his jeans.

  I glance away, busying myself with my bags. “I’m going to pick out a room.” I leave quickly.

  I pick the room at the end of the hall, floor to ceiling windows lining one wall, looking out to the tree-lined street.

  I sit on the bed, my knees vibrating. Taylah. He has never mentioned her. I feel dumb as all hell even thinking twice about it.

  I rest my palms over my eyes in frustration.

  My cell vibrates in my pocket.

  I check the screen. “Hey Sammy,” I say unenthusiastically.

 
“You sound chipper,” she responds.

  “Is that a word Mr. Englishman uses?” I ask.

  “Let’s not talk about him.”

  “Let’s not talk about men in general,” I concur.

  “Good. Happy not to. Tell me something.”

  “I’ve decided when I get back to Maine I’m going to start painting again.”

  “Girl! Yes! I have been waiting for you to get back into it. You are crazy talented and could be making a fortune!”

  “Thanks, Sammy. Now tell me something, too.”

  “Well! Now that you ask! I’m opening up an interior design business.” She goes quiet.

  “What? No way! That’s incredible!”

  “Yeah. I was talking to Logan about it. We were thinking we could incorporate his carpentry.”

  “You’re going into business with Logan?” I ask, shocked.

  “Well, going into business is one way of putting it.”

  “You’re both damn good at what you do. It’s a great idea!” I confess.

  “And you can sell me your art!” She pipes up.

  “Maybe ...”

  “And we can finally be making good money - great - money,” She corrects herself. “And we can go traveling and eat all the bread in Italy and go on that yacht cruise we wanted to go on when we were, like, eighteen.”

  “We were fifteen.” I laugh. “Time has moved quickly, we have aged.”

  “I’m going to be old and alone,” Sammy mumbles.

  “You’re not. And, there are worse things to be!” I admit. She’s quiet. “Spending your life with someone who makes you feel ridiculously lonely is a sucky existence. So, I never, EVER, NEVER,” I half-yell. “Want you settling for anyone, whoever you love.”

  “I like that pep-talk,” Sammy declares. “Please never, EVER, NEVER settle for anyone either,” she yell-whispers back at me.

  “I promise.”

  We lie in silence for a short time.

  “Where are you now?” she asks.

  “Chicago.”

  “You’re getting closer to me.”

  “I’m so excited to see you.”

  “Me too, Mae-Mae.”

  “I love you, bestie. I’m going to have a nap before tonight.” I yawn.

  “Sleep tight, have fun, stay safe, do crazy things because you’re young, but not too young to be so dumb.”

  I chuckle. “Always!”