When I Was Yours, When You Were Mine

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When I Was Yours, When You Were Mine Page 19

by Evie Sinclair


  ‘Cause New York stole my lover

  Mad as hell I couldn’t keep her

  Lost her faith in me

  Trade every card I own

  Give up every game I’ve won

  Give her everything I can

  Call it even baby, if you want me to

  Call it even baby, do I want you to?"

  The room is quiet for one second, two, three - and then applause. Kingston finds my eyes, holds my shocked expression for a moment before fixing his gaze back on the audience. He drops his head, a smile on his face.

  “Let’s wait outside,” Hannah says to everyone as Kingston moves off stage. She glances over at me as my leg vibrates with anticipation - thanks - I mouth.

  I’m glad we’re all sufficiently filled up on alcohol because the night air is cold as we wait.

  “We could go,” I offer. “I can text him.”

  “You can’t go now.” Jane wraps an arm around my shoulder.

  Will and Camden, who have been trying to share a jacket, make their way over to us and join in on the hug. Felix and Paige follow.

  “You just want to meet Kingston again.” I try to joke as we huddle in a circle.

  Camden laughs. “Look. A photo isn’t too much to ask for.”

  Paige swats him and then deadpans. “I’d like one too.”

  “Yeah, same,” Jane and Felix say in unison.

  I roll my eyes, grinning. “Thanks for the support, gang. Seriously. I love you all.”

  “We love you, Mae,” Jane chimes.

  “Usually, yes,” Camden says. “But tonight I only love you if I get a photo.”

  I laugh and let the warmth of the circle keep my heart from running off with panic.

  We wait a while longer with no sign of Kingston. Emotion rises, Jane frowns looking at me closely. “Are you okay?”

  “That song was about me,” I barely whisper into the circle, looking at my feet. “You’ve got my heart, I think I want it back,” I repeat the line that he sang.

  “It’s a song, Mae,” Jane assures.

  I smile up at them, tears in my eyes. “New York stole my lover?”

  “Let’s go home,” Hannah whispers.

  On the ride back to my apartment, I text Kingston - You were amazing tonight as usual. Thanks for inviting me.

  When I get home I shower and place my hair in a high messy bun. I sit in front of the canvas that began in Kansas, Kingston’s face looks back at me. The one painting I couldn’t finish for the exhibition.

  My phone vibrates beside me - I’m outside -

  I buzz him up and wait for him.

  He knocks and I open the door, again, looking at this man I know so well.

  “You left,” he states.

  “It was cold and I wasn’t sure what to do.”

  “Stop leaving?” He offers me a small smile.

  I choke back a sob. “I don’t know how to fix this,” I say, honestly.

  “Neither,” he agrees.

  “I want to be with you every second. And then I see you and I can’t work out if I hate myself, if I’m still mad at you, or if I want you to kiss me.”

  He watches me, his eyes roam to my lips, and he looks more handsome than I remember. I think about the girl he’s been seen with, I wonder if they’re an item. I wonder if she knows that he’s here.

  “Have you been seeing those guys?” he asks me as if reading my thoughts.

  “Will?” I ask.

  “And the other one.”

  I shake my head. “No. Not at all. They’re friends. They’ve been so good to me.”

  “Looks like it.” He jabs the insult at me.

  “They’re friends, Kingston. Felix dates Jane and Will dates everyone,” I say. He raises his eyebrows. “Not including me.”

  “Are you dating the girl from the hotel? From the photos?”

  “Not dating.”

  “Seeing?” I barely want to ask, but I somehow manage to do so.

  “She’s listened to me talk about you more times than I can count.”

  “You looked happy with her,” I say.

  “I have to look happy when the cameras are around, otherwise people will know what a mess I’ve been since you left.”

  “You’ve been a mess?” Just asking the question sounds self-absorbed.

  “Of course I have. I loved you, Mae.”

  “You lied to me.” I choke up.

  “And I said I was sorry over and over again. You blocked my number. No one would tell me where you were living! I wanted to explain. I wanted to take full responsibility, but I couldn’t!”

  “I thought it would be easier for us,” I say.

  “No. You thought it would be easier for you. When I told you it was always you, I meant it!” And it’s the first time I hear a hint of venom in his voice. “Not hearing me out meant I could be the bad guy and you could place me in the same box as the rest of them. It meant you didn’t have to admit that you loved me and that we could have worked.”

  “That’s not true! You lied to my face the whole time. You slept with me. You told me you loved me and you were never going to admit to anything,” I say with jagged breaths.

  “Because it became more than just looking out for you. I wanted a life with you, Mae. I saw a life with you. And I couldn’t work out how to tell you without breaking what we had. I wish I could go back and front up to it all, but I can’t. So I’m fronting up now. I. Fucked. Up. I lied to you and I’m sorry. But what happened between us was real. I have loved you in many ways in my life Mae, but this love, this was it … it was it.”

  “Was?” My voice sounds husky, unlike my own.

  “What?” he asks.

  “Was?”

  “You want me to tell you I still love you the same?” he asks. His anger fades, making way for tender hurt. “Of course I still love you. The problem is trying not to.”

  “Then don’t stop.”

  “Well, that’s great. I’ll spend the rest of my life pining over you and you can keep moving further and further away from me.” Sarcasm drips from his words.

  I feel my eyes sting, fresh tears on sore red lids. “I don’t want to move further away. I want to be where you are. I love you with every part of me that’s brave and terrified and messy and fucked up. And I’m sorry for leaving you.”

  He steps toward me. “And I’m sorry for lying to you.” He steps closer again. “I love you, Mae Walker.”

  “I love you, Kingston James.”

  My breath catches, our chests rise in sync. His mouth crashes on mine, breath, and lips, and movement, and hope, and passion. My tears mixed with his. I feel every intricate tingle, every part of me, alive.

  That’s the thing about loving and being loved. Maybe it won’t begin or look the way you imagine, but it will feel like home, despite anything else.

  And he is home.

  And I am home.

  And we are home.

 

 

 


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