by Thea Dawson
Brianna looks slightly pained at the thought; clubs aren’t really her scene. They aren’t mine either, to be honest, but I could use a distraction.
I’m not looking for another guy—I need some time to lick my wounds over Archer first—but I’m no longer worried about being in Carina and Brianna’s shadow. I’ve learned my lesson, and from now on, I just want to be myself.
And heck, a high-end club with a bunch of Carina’s co-workers could actually be fun.
“You don’t have to come,” I tell Brianna with an understanding smile. “But it would be nice if you did.”
She sighs. “Fine, I’ll show up for a bit. But I’m not staying late.”
“Yay!” Carina claps her hands together. “We’re going to show you the best time,” she says to me. “This time next week, you’ll have forgotten all about Archer!”
Carina insists on taking me shopping on Saturday afternoon. We get a quick dinner, then she goes back to my place with me to help me get ready.
I dress in my new white cigarette pants, gold sandals, a leopard print bustier, and a cropped white jacket. It’s a new and somewhat alarming look for me, but once Carina is done with my makeup, I have to admit, I like what I see in the mirror.
I’m still short, still curvy, but I look sophisticated, like I go clubbing on a regular basis. The truth is, I’ve only been a few times, but tonight, I promise myself, I’m going to have fun. I have no plans for tomorrow, so I’ll stay out late, dance with anyone who asks me, have a few drinks, and take an Uber home.
I’m just going to enjoy myself, and not worry about what anyone thinks of me.
We meet Brianna on the street outside the new club, and thanks to Carina’s passes, we skip the line that’s formed and head in. We get drinks, Carina runs into a bunch of people she knows from work, and pretty soon we’re dancing with them.
Despite my determination to have fun, my heart isn’t really in it, but after a couple of drinks, I’m starting to loosen up. I don’t let myself think about Archer, I just focus on the music, and the dancing. It might be my imagination but one of Carina’s co-workers seems to be paying particular attention to me; he seems like a nice guy and I’m flattered, but he doesn't do anything for me.
He’s not Archer.
A couple of drinks and a several dances into the evening, I slip away to the ladies room and shut myself up in one of the stalls just so I can have some peace and quiet. I appreciate Carina and Brianna trying to cheer me up, and I acknowledge that I'm probably better off here than moping at home, but the whole evening feels forced. It’s not my scene, and I decide that I'll have one more drink, maybe a couple more dances, then head home and get some rest.
I’m on my way back to our table when someone grabs my arm.
“Oh my God, Annabelle! How are you?”
I turn.
It’s Alex, and she's smiling at me like we’re old friends.
27
Archer
It’s still only Saturday, but I'm about as prepared for the screen test on Monday as I can be. My clothes are clean, pressed and laid out, there’s gas in the car, I have three alarms set on my phone, I’ve gone over the script in detail with my coach, and memorized my lines. I’m going over them one more time before heading off to bed when Alex’s text comes in.
After three days of dragging herself to work and moping when she got home, she finally let some friends talk her into going out. She was reluctant at first, but much to my relief, she finally went, with me practically pushing her out the door. I’m still pretty much a mess over Annabelle, who has not unblocked me, and Alex’s mood isn’t helping me either get over Annabelle or prep for my screen test.
I've decided to focus on the screen test for now, and if I haven’t heard back from Annabelle by Monday afternoon, I'm going to drive to her parents’ house and throw myself at their mercy.
I ignore the first text Alex sends, but she sends another, then the first one dings again. I sigh in exasperation, put the script down and pick up my phone.
OMG, you’re not going to believe this! says her first text. I roll my eyes. Alex loves her drama.
That girl you like is here! says her second.
That gets my attention. “Where is ‘here,’ Alex?” I mutter, starting to type.
A third comes in before I can finish. I’m going to go talk to her. I’ll explain everything.
“Oh shit,” I say out loud. I try to type faster, but she beats me to it.
Club Cosmos, she texts. Get here quickly! I’ll try to keep her here :)
I slap my forehead. Knowing Alex, she’ll just send Annabelle fleeing out the door. Leave her alone, I’ll get there asap, I text, without much hope that Alex will listen, and hurry to get ready.
A few minutes later I call up directions to the club on my phone and I’m on my way.
It’s about a 20-minute drive, and I make it in 15. I’m incredibly lucky that the bouncer is a guy I know from other clubs. He waves me with a friendly nod, so I get to skip the line. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see a few people craning their necks at me, probably wondering if I’m someone famous.
I can only hope my luck holds.
It’s crowded, but fortunately the club isn’t too dark and the music isn’t crazy loud. There’s a dance floor in the middle, but plenty of tables and booths lining the walls, and people are milling around, talking and drinking as well as dancing.
My eyes dart frantically around the room for a moment, then I remember myself. Never act desperate. Getting agitated isn’t going to help matters. I take a deep breath and press into the room. I’m about to text Alex to see if she can tell me exactly where Annabelle is, or if Annabelle is even still there, when I catch a glimpse of Alex's long brown hair. She’s standing by the bar, her back to me. I can see that she has a drink in one hand, and it looks like she's talking to someone.
Maintaining my poise as well as I can, I stride over to her, hoping the person she’s talking to is Annabelle.
“Alex!”
She turns and to my dismay, I see that the woman she’s talking to isn’t Annabelle.
“Oh, you made it!” Alex says, a huge grin on her face. “Lacey, this is my roommate, Archer. Lacey and I work tog—”
“Nice to meet you,” I say, barely glancing at poor Lacey. “Is Annabelle still here?”
Alex looks around the room. “I saw her just a moment ago … You don't have to worry, I explained everything. I told her that we are totally not lovers, and you’re crazy about her, and that she has nothing to worry about.”
“What did she say?”
“Um … she didn’t really say a lot, to be honest.”
I sigh in frustration and follow Alex's gaze around the room.
“Look, there she is!” Alex points toward the sunken dance floor in the middle of the room.
I squint into the crowd, trying to distinguish Annabelle in the crowd.
“There.” Alex gestures impatiently. “White pants and a really cute leopard thingy top.”
Finally, I catch a glimpse of her dancing too close to some tall skinny guy. The top she’s wearing is way sexier than what she usually wears. It takes me a moment to recognize the unpleasant surge of emotion in my chest for what it is: jealousy.
“Did you tell her you'd texted me?” I ask Alex.
She shakes her head. “Didn't want to scare her off,” she says cheerfully. “Now go get ’er, tiger!”
I roll my eyes at her before meeting her gaze with a grateful smile.
“Thanks, Alex. I mean it.”
“Of course. At least one of us deserves a happy ending.”
There’s sadness in her eyes, and I want to stop and reassure her that she’ll find a better guy soon, but she gives me a gentle push toward the dance floor and turns back to her friend.
I take a deep breath and stroll toward the dancers trying to look composed, although my heart is beating almost as loudly as the bass. For a brief moment, I consider just cutting in between An
nabelle and Mr. Skinny Guy, but I suspect that being an asshole isn't in my best interest. Instead, I wait for a break in the music.
The song changes. Skinny Guy says something to Annabelle, who is flushed and glowing, and the ugly surging feeling gets stronger. She laughs and smiles and shakes her head, then turns away.
She takes two steps, then our eyes meet. She stops, mid-stride, and her expression morphs from cheerful to shuttered in a second. Her lips pressed firmly together, she starts walking toward me again.
She gets to the edge of the dance floor, gives me a cool glance, then steps past me without stopping.
I put a gentle hand on her arm.
“Can I talk to you?”
“I’m busy,” she says. Her face is expressionless.
This close to the dance floor, I have to practically shout to make myself heard. I lean closer to her ear and am unreasonably, stupidly hurt to get a whiff of her Reciprocity perfume. I know it’s childish, but I hate the thought of her wearing it for anyone other than me.
I bite back the jealousy. “Annabelle, please. We have something together. I'm not sure exactly why you're upset, but whatever it is, please give me a chance to explain.”
She looks up at me, about to say something, but we're interrupted.
“Annabelle, is everything okay?” Carina has stepped protectively in front of Annabelle and is glaring at me. I'm touched to see her sister come to her defense, because I want Annabelle to know how much people really love her, but I’m also annoyed that she has to show her loyalty now.
“I’m fine, Carina. Archer is just leaving.”
“No, I'm not just leaving,” I insist. I look at Carina. “Please, give us a few minutes alone. I really need to talk to your sister.”
Carina gives me a grim look. “How do you feel about this, Annabelle?” she asks, not taking her eyes off me.
Annabelle pauses for a moment, glances quickly at me, then back at her sister. “I’ll take care of it, Car. Wait for me at the table, I won't be long.”
After a parting glare at me, Carina stalks away. I see her heading toward Brianna, who looks over at us, her expression stern. Fortunately, it seems they've decided to let Annabelle handle this for now.
Annabelle crosses her arms and looks up at me. Once again, I'm reminded of the Yorkshire terrier trying to act tough, but this time it’s not funny.
I focus on the issue at hand. “Listen, can we go someplace a little quieter so we can talk?”
She studies me for a moment then turns and leads me down a hallway toward the bathrooms then stops and turns to me again. It’s quieter, but still not quiet, and certainly not the place where I want to hash out the intimate details of our relationship.
“Could we go somewhere else where we can sit down?” I ask. “Coffee shop? Bar?”
She shakes her head. “Whatever you want to say to me, you can say here.”
I concede. Maybe I can talk her into going somewhere else later. “Fine. Listen, I'm not sure what you think is going on with me and Alex, but I swear we're just friends, always have been, always will be. She’s the closest thing I have to family, though, and I couldn’t just leave her when she needed me.”
Annabelle just stares at me, and I start to feel a flush of frustration creeping up the back of my neck.
“I thought I mentioned that my roommate is a girl. If I didn't, I'm really sorry. I never meant to spring her on you like that, and if she said something out of line, I apologize. She's just gone through a really bad breakup with this asshole guy, and she kind of has it out for the world.”
“I know how she feels,” Annabelle says.
“Alex will vouch for me,” I say. “If you talk to her, she'll tell you we're just friends.”
“She already talked to me,” Annabelle says, her face still grim. My stomach tightens. I don’t doubt that Alex meant well, but there’s no telling what she actually said.
“Did she tell you we're just friends? Did you believe her?”
To my surprise, Annabelle nods. “Yeah. She said you're just friends, and after she said it nonstop for about ten minutes straight, yes, I believed her.”
I’m hit with a wave of relief but it lasts only a moment when I realize she's still not smiling.
“But you're still upset with me.”
She looks up at me, and I'm appalled to see those huge green eyes glittering with unshed tears.
“How did your meeting with Zac go?” she asks.
I blink. “Is that what this is about?”
“You used me, Archer. You used me to get to Zac through my dad, didn’t you? You used my entire family, for that matter.” Her mouth twists, and I can tell she's trying hard not to let the tears fall. “That's why you wanted to come to the lake with us, isn't it? Somehow you found out that my dad and Zac are friends and you were hoping you'd get your big break through us.”
I'm a good actor—a very good one—but I'm not prepared for this, and I can feel my face betray me even as the words are coming out of her mouth. I grope for a response even as she nods, disappointed, but not surprised.
I run my fingers through my hair. “I know what it looks like, but … I was going to tell you, but then Alex—”
A couple of giggling women push between on us on their way to the restroom.
“Please, Annabelle,” I lower my voice as they pass. “Can't we go somewhere else to have this conversation?”
I hate the way I sound—rattled, nervous, uncertain. Desperate. But my acting abilities have deserted me. I am desperate, and it’s showing. I can feel her slipping through my fingers, and I don't know how to get her back. I just want to get her alone someplace where I can explain everything properly, hold her until she understands how much she means to me, but I know she’s not going to come with me, and I can’t force her.
She steps back, blinking back the tears and shuttering her expression again. “You didn't answer my question,” she says. There’s an artificial, fake-conversational note in her voice that grates on my ears. “How did your meeting with Zac go?”
I shut my eyes for a moment then open them again. “It went well. I have a screen test Monday morning.” It feels like I’m admitting a crime.
“Congratulations on getting your big break,” she says, still in that fake voice that makes the distance between us seem like miles, not inches. “I’m sure you have a brilliant career ahead of you. Just don't go forgetting the little people who helped you get there.”
She turns to walk away and I grab her arm. “God damn it, Annabelle! You're not a ‘little person.’ You mean a lot to me.”
She raises her eyebrows. “Really? Because from where I stand, I was just one of your transactions. I got you hooked up with an influential director, and you … what? Paid me back by sleeping with me? Is that what that was? Quid pro quo, poor Annabelle couldn’t possibly get a man any other way, so this is how I'll pay her back? Well, we're done. You got yours, I got mine. I'll see you at the movies.”
She tries to leave again, but I step forward to block her path. I'm being a jerk, but I can't let her go like this. “If that's all it was, then why am I here now?” I ask.
She shrugs. “Maybe you want something else. A date with Carina? My mother to introduce you to the Dalai Lama? A job at my dad's firm? I don't know what you want, but I know you want something.”
I want to grab her and kiss her until she believes me, but I settle for taking her hands in mine.
“I do,” I tell her. “I want you, Annabelle. That's all. That's everything. Is it really that hard for you to believe that I don't want anything else?”
For a moment, just a brief one, the mask falls away from her expression and catch a glimpse of hope in those big, beautiful eyes, then the gates fall again and I've lost her.
“Yes, Archer,” she says. “Yes, it is too hard to believe.”
She pulls her hands out of mine and turns away, her high heels clipping sharply on the floor as she heads back into the club, leaving me behind.
I glance at the table where Carina is sitting surrounded by her friends. She meets my eyes with a cold glare and turns away. No help there.
I consider trying to find Alex … but no. I'm done. I just want to get out of here and go home to be by myself.
I’m almost at the door to the club when I hear a woman's voice calling my name. “Archer!”
My heart jumping, I turn, but my hopes are dashed when I see that it’s not Annabelle.
She just stares at me for a moment, her expression uncharacteristically agitated.
“You love her, don't you?” she finally asks.
I nod.
She studies me carefully. “Well … you're going to need some help, then.”
28
Annabelle
My advisor got back to me over the weekend with some notes about my grant proposal, so Monday morning I go to Insomnia Café to finish it up once and for all. The past ten days have been a rollercoaster of events and emotions; today I can take some comfort in getting back to the familiarity of the sunny coffee shop and my grad school work. While I can’t say I’m over Archer, I’ll at least be distracted from my thoughts about him for a while.
I’m sitting at a corner table, typing away at my computer, when I become aware of someone standing next to me.
“Is this seat taken?”
I look up and my mouth falls open.
Archer takes my silence for a “no,” and slides into the seat across the small table from me.
God damn him. I was just adjusting to the idea that Saturday would be the last time I ever saw him, and now I have to start all over again.
“How did you know I was here?” It's not the most eloquent response, but it’s all I can come up with on short notice.
“It's where we met, remember?” he says. “This coffee shop where you go to study all the time. I saw an intriguing woman engrossed in her studies and asked if I could sit with her.”