When I Was Yours, When You Were Mine

by Evie Sinclair

  Kingston shrugs. “Drunk,” he states.

  My heart thuds.

  “Good night,” Logan says without another thought, heading for the stairs.

  And with that he’s gone. Sammy doesn’t move, she’s staring at us with a big grin.

  “Fun night you two? You look mighty worked up,” she says, laughing and heading for the spare bedroom at the end of the hall. “Good night,” she chimes in before we hear her bedroom door close.

  “I can’t sleep in here,” Kingston says after we’ve made our way upstairs to my room.

  “I know. But we need to finish this.” I peel my dress off and kneel on the bed.

  He shakes his head and begins unbuttoning his shirt. I help him with his belt and pants. Lying in bed together, my back against his rock-hard body, we bring each other to the softest, most intimate climax.

  Walking away from Kingston is going to be the hardest thing I’ll ever have to do.

  ◆◆◆

  The morning sunlight shines sharply through the curtains, training itself right on my face. I shift slightly, my eyes jolt open with the sensation I’m being watched. Logan stands directly to the side of the bed, staring at a fast asleep Kingston with his arms wrapped around me.

  “What the?” I ask, groggily shielding my eyes from the sun.

  Logan steps in front of the glare, making it easier for me to see his pissed off face.

  “I could ask you the same fucking thing, Mae!” he growls. “Kingston wake the fuck up!” his voice barrels.

  Kingston’s body stiffens behind me as I properly wake up to the whole scenario.

  This has to be the worst way for Logan to find out, aside from actually catching us in the act.

  “What’s going on?” Kingston rubs his eyes and shifts onto his arm, he clocks Logan. “What the fuck, Loges?”

  “ What the fuck, Loges?” Logan repeats. “What. The. Fuck. Kingston. What the fuck is this?” He asks through gritted teeth, motioning to us in bed and then turning from us, running his hands through his hair. “I wake up this morning … I wake up … and our little chat in the kitchen last night flashes back into my head. And I’m thinking something’s not right. Something’s off. Then, I feel bad. I feel bad for thinking that my sister and my best friend would … could … so I come in here to wake you up for breakfast, Mae, and I find … this!” He yells, motioning again.

  “Fuck,” Kingston mumbles, sitting up.

  “Yeah. Fuck is about right you asshole. You drunk last night? Think it was a good idea to crawl in bed with my sister? Look at her as one of your easy lays, King?” he asks, spiteful.

  “Logan,” I say. “It’s not like that.”

  “Then what is it like? Someone care to explain this situation to me?”

  “Logan, get out. Now. We’ll talk about this downstairs once everyone is properly awake,” I say.

  “No. Fuck that. I want to discuss this now. So wake the fuck up, Kingston.”

  “Logan. We’ll see you downstairs in a minute,” Kingston says calmly.

  “No.”

  “Let us get dressed and we’ll see you downstairs …” Kingston's tone is calm.

  Logan’s face morphs into that of disgust. “I’m going to fucking throttle you,” he says, eyes on Kingston.

  “Logan!” Sammy appears at the door. “Come downstairs, give them a minute.” She’s trying to appear overly calm.

  “Are you seeing this?” he asks her, pointing to us in the bed.

  “Yeah I am. I see two adults in bed together and I also see that you’re not giving them time to explain themselves. Come downstairs.”

  Something in the way she speaks to him helps his shoulders to relax. He makes his way toward her. Even though the tension is still at an all time high, I’m taken aback by the effect she has on him.

  “You have one minute.” And he leaves the room.

  Sammy looks at us from the doorway. “I’m sorry,” she says.

  I shake my head as if to tell her it’s not her fault.

  At all.

  It is very much ours.

  “Fuck!” I groan, rubbing my face aggressively once she’s gone. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

  “Fuck.” Is all Kingston can manage, too.

  “Let me talk,” he says.

  I look at him shocked. “Are you kidding me? I think I should. He wants to rip your head off.”

  “He thinks all I look for in a woman is a one night stand, Mae. I need to put it straight with him. Prove to him you’re so much more than that.”

  “I don’t think he’ll care either way. Plus, he’s going to be even more confused when we tell him that we’re taking a break.”

  Kingston’s eyes move to his hands that are in tight fists. “You still want that?” he asks.

  “Kingston,” I say, taking his fists and trying to ease them.

  “It’s fine.” He gets up and pulls his pants on. “Whatever you say.”

  Downstairs we’re met with a pacing Logan, doing laps of the living room.

  “So. Last night. The kitchen. The dark,” He half mutters to himself and then looks at us standing by the couch. “That was, I’m guessing, nothing to do with Kingston scaring you …”

  “Logan - ” I begin.

  “ - was it, or was it not, Mae?” he asks matter-of-fact.

  “No. It wasn’t,” Kingston admits.

  “I asked Mae.” Logan stares Kingston down.

  “No. It wasn’t,” I repeat.

  “Kissing in our kitchen. You two,” he murmurs.

  I look at Kingston who raises his eyebrows at me.

  Thank fuck he thinks we were just kissing.

  “So. Was this the first time you fucked my sister?” he asks, staring blankly at Kingston.

  “Logan!” Sammy and I say in unison.

  “Sorry. Had sex …” he corrects himself, his tone flat.

  “We didn’t have sex,” I say.

  Logan looks to Kingston for confirmation.

  “We didn’t have sex last night, no,” he says.

  “Last night?” Logan asks.

  “Well - ” I start.

  “ - I’m asking Kingy.”

  Huffing, I shake my head and look at Sammy, feeling hopeless. She shares the same forlorn look.

  “We’ve been together - ” Kingston starts.

  “ - been together?” Logan clarifies, laughing at the term he’s used.

  “Logan. It’s not what you think.”

  “What I think, Kingston, is that you’ve had sex with my sister who has just come out of a shit breakup for starters and also … she is my sister. I thought we knew she was a no go.”

  “A no go?” I ask, in disbelief. “Logan, I’m not fifteen.”

  “I asked you to bring her home safely,” Logan says, looking at Kingston. “Not to …” He trails off, his face turning red. “Fuck! I cannot believe this.”

  “I love her, Logan!” Kingston states.

  I look at him and lower my head. This isn’t going to help.

  “What?” Logan asks.

  “I love her. I always have.”

  “And do you love him?” Logan asks me.

  “Logan. None of this matters. All that matters is that I’m an adult. King is an adult. We can make whatever decisions we want.”

  “Have you slept with any of my other friends?” Logan asks suddenly.

  “No,” I say defensively. “Your other friends treat me like a bad smell.”

  “Exactly as they should!” Logan states.

  “No, Logan. That’s old school teenage bullshit and I won’t stand for it anymore.”

  “So you want to sleep with my friends?”

  “Logan,” Kingston warns.

  “So how many times?” Logan asks.

  “That is none of your business,” I say.

  “Logan, it really is none of your business …” Sammy chimes in.

  “I’m wanting to know the degree of seriousness.”

  “More than once,” I sa
y, defeated. “But. We’re not. This isn’t … I’m … ” I get caught on my words as I look back and forwards between everyone in the room. “I’m moving to New York,” I half-whisper, because I can barely believe I’m saying it myself. I haven’t bought tickets. I haven’t properly thought about it. But I had to say something. So, New York it was.

  “You’re what?” Logan asks.

  “What?” Kingston asks, confused.

  “So. You’re sleeping together, but Kingston doesn’t even know you’re moving? Did you know, Sammy?” Logan asks, everyone looking at her.

  Sammy smiles and nods, covering up the fact she also had no idea.

  “I didn’t tell him. After I found out that you both lied about the road trip I was really hurt,” I say pointedly to Logan. “Everything between Kingston and I stopped. And I have been trying to work out what to do since. It doesn’t matter what I feel about Kingston because I need time to myself. Time to sort everything out.”

  “So you love her,” Logan says, motioning from Kingston to me. “And you,” he says, pointing at me. “You're moving to New York?”

  There’s silence in the room.

  “When were you going to tell me?” Kingston asks.

  I look at him, regret and sadness filling every part of me.

  “I’m sorry. I haven’t been one-hundred percent sure. But, I think it’s what I need. And for you, too - for us both to know what we want.”

  “I’m telling you what I want. It’s you,” he says.

  “Fucking kidding me,” Logan mutters.

  Tears fill my eyes. “I’m sorry. I love you, too … I wish things were different.”

  He looks like he’s in his own thoughts, his eyes aren’t focusing on anything in particular. Nodding, he takes a step back and picks up his suit jacket from the couch where he left it last night.

  “I have to go,” he states, emotionless, as he makes his way to the front door.

  “Kingston,” I say, running to him.

  “I can’t force you to stay. But I can’t watch you leave,” he says, his eyes red.

  And with that he’s gone.

  Spinning around, I look at Logan and slowly shake my head at him, disappointed. He doesn’t waiver, he stands firm in his anger.

  New York, new life, here I come.

  CHAPTER twenty

  NEW YORK - Five months later

  “Heartbreak.

  When your nerve endings feel open and raw, as if the wiring has come undone; every invisible connection tangling itself up, messing with the mechanics.

  When everything around you suddenly feels new, unknown - a culture shock of the once content. More places to add to the list of places you can no longer go. That tree he once pointed out, where his ex broke his heart. At the top of a cul-de-sac by the bend where he broke his arm when he was nine. I remember thinking we’d never have a place like that. A place on a street people traipsed through all day, in their worn out shoes walking to their worn out jobs, in their worn out clothes, with their worn out feelings of their worn out lives.

  He loved me.

  He loved me once.

  And those days when the pain is more visceral than others, I swear I can feel my heart breaking beneath the load of it all. And the pain takes me for all the hours I’ve lost, wasted away on thoughts of him. Sinking into nothingness.

  Who was I before you? Who am I after you? Where do I go in the midst of confusion? How do I lay my body on a bed that I know we’ll never share?

  When I was yours, when you were mine.”

  I stare at my laptop screen, at my dumb attempt at poetry. Trying to find the words to describe the paintings I’ve been finding myself manically scrawling acros canvas after canvas. Throwing my ache into painting memories of love, lust and hurt.

  It’s been five months since the eventful morning. Five months to the day. I know because I think about that morning constantly.

  Unlike the sigh of relief I had after my breakup with Dale, I haven’t felt that with Kingston. I’ve waited for it. I’ve replayed it, over and over. Our conversations about forcing relationships to happen and fighting for them because you think you should. And that feeling never stuck.

  I walked, drove, and flew from him and it has left me with an emptiness so rooted in my gut I often confuse it with a deep hunger.

  New York has been good for a few reasons: I’m painting more and more commissions, and more importantly, my own work again. And it feels invigorating.

  Now, when I look back at my life with Dale, I’m mystified at how I stayed with him for four years when I was obviously so unhappy. Sometimes you don’t know you’re that unhappy until you feel good again.

  I’ve been selling my art online and was commissioned soon after moving here by a funky new bar and a few of its venues.

  I’ve made new friends. Friends who I can be myself around. I always thought making friends as you got older was difficult, but I think you become more selective - you’re old enough to know who you do and don’t want to spend your time and energy around. Sammy spent a month with me when I first moved. Processing the whole mess with her helped get me through it. Logan and I talked less to begin with. His upset at being lied to burned hot. I took responsibility for that. He’s recently taken responsibility for not providing me the space to be truthful because of how protective he gets. It’s opened up a new friendship for us. Although, who knows if he’d have been so open to it if things had turned out differently for Kingston and I.

  The only hole New York hasn’t helped to heal, is Kingston. Seeing him on the front of magazines, billboards, and numerous news app's is difficult. It’s not a world I’m from and it keeps the ache fresh. I loved Kingston with such intensity at the time that I left. I thought it was best for us, and in some ways that still rings true, and in others, it feels like the biggest mistake I’ve ever made.

  ◆◆◆

  It’s December in New York. I leave a cafe in Soho, pulling my jacket tight around me. I’m in a new funk, trying to work out if I head back to Maine for Christmas or stay here. My friends are having an Orphan’s Christmas. I could so easily fit in there, pretend the mess I made in Maine doesn’t exist.

  I check my phone, deciding which way to get back to my apartment.

  I hear yelling and shuffled feet.

  I look up to see an SUV pulling up to the curb, men with cameras waiting. I realize I’m standing in front of an expensive hotel.

  The door to the SUV opens, and mess follows mess because I’m looking at the man that won’t leave my thoughts.

  Kingston wears dark denim jeans that fit him like they were made for him - they probably were. He’s wearing boots and a cream knit with a dark denim jacket. Of course he would double denim like a King - pun intended. He looks incredible and, honestly, he looks happy. He’s smiling at the woman who exits the SUV after him, a beaming smile that hits me deep in the gut because it’s not for me and it’s my fault that it isn’t. I recognize the woman from photos I saw online months ago, her long blonde hair with pink tips standing out.

  I fumble to the left and back to the right, trying to work out which will make a quicker getaway. Being clumsy sucks at the best of times, and even more at the worst. My hop-step somehow turns his attention. He notices me. I know he does, because the beaming smile fades in seconds and I’m left cold to the core with his sad glare looking back at me.

  I don’t hang around to let it play out. I choose left and veer down an alleyway.

  I stop when I hit the next corner and lean my hands on my knees. He’s always had a way of taking my breath away.

  ◆◆◆

  “Maybe he didn’t see you …” Sammy ponders that night.

  I lie in bed nursing my bruised heart.

  “He saw me. Trust me.” My shutters are drawn, I’ve been lying in total darkness for two hours, staring into nothing.

  “Maybe you should message him?”

  “And say what? ‘Hey you looked crazy happy and I’m here to make sur
e you feel crappy again?’ Yeah? Ok, cool.”

  “Oooooh, you’re snarky,” Sammy huffs out a laugh.

  “Argh! I’m sorry. I hate being like this and I hate that you have to listen to me.”

  “It’s what besties are for.” I can hear her chewing on the burger someone just delivered to her door. “Breakups suck.”

  “But did we even break up?” I ask. “I mean. Were we dating? I don’t even know.”

  “Hmmm. He ate you out on your kitchen counter,” she says. I laugh at her bluntness. “So glad Logan doesn’t know the full extent of that,” she adds.

  I groan in embarrassment at just the idea. “Same.” I pull my duvet up over my face. “How is Maine?” I ask.

  “Good. We miss you. Logan misses you.”

  “Yeah? Have you seen him lately?”

  “Yeah.” Sammy’s still eating her burger. “Last week for a job.”

  “Cool. Maybe I should come back for Christmas. If Kingston is here, maybe I shouldn’t be.”

  “Yay! We’ll do Christmas here! Exactly how I’ve wanted it!” Sammy cries out. There’s the sound of a door slamming in the background. “I’ll be right back!” She must leave her phone on the bed because I can hear muffled voices and then the sound of crackling. “Back.” Then she’s silent. I wait for her to say something.

  Nothing.

  “Who was that?” I ask.

  “Huh?”

  “At the door? Slamming your door?”

  “No one was slamming my door.”

  “Yeah. I heard it, because those weird little gremlin charms you have with the bells on made the ding noise.”

  She’s lying to me! I can't believe it!

  “Oh. My door …” she drawls.

  “Yeah. Like I said.” I’m smiling and frowning at the same time because she’s obviously lying and I don’t know why - she tells me everything.

  “That was Mrs Rawlson from next door. I forgot to close the door when the man dropped off my food.”

  “Okay.” I let her sit in awkward silence, knowing she’ll dig herself in deeper.

  “Yeah. She’s got some kittens she found in a box. I should go help her feed them?”

  “Is that a question?” I tease.

  “No. No. I should go help her. They’re cute. I should go ...” she’s babbling now.