His hand closes over mine and drops something in it. For a wild second it jars me into a panic. But it’s just a piece of paper folded up into a square.
He says, “Meet me there, December thirty-first at two.”
“What?” I lower my eyesight to my hands as I unfold the paper; there’s an address there. I let out an incredulous laugh. “What is this?”
“There’s something I need to show you.”
Fear or stubbornness, or perhaps a poisonous mixture of both, floods my veins. “Whatever you have to say, say it now.”
He shuts his eyes then opens them again and shakes his head. “I can’t. I have to show you. If I just tell, you’ll think I’m crazy.”
“I already think you’re crazy,” I say.
Without warning, he pulls me into his arms. I gasp and somehow can’t catch my breath again. I manage to press my palms to his chest with the intention to push him away. But I don’t. I’m frozen, staring up at him with wide eyes as though I’ve turned to stone at his touch.
When he speaks, his voice glides over me like a breeze, permeating into my core.
“Tell me you haven’t been thinking about me, about us.”
“I haven’t.”
My voice betrays me; it’s breathless and damn near trembling. Having him touch me again is pulling my mind under murky water. He presses his mouth to my ear and says, “You’re lying.”
The tenderness of his voice feels so out of place that it sobers me up.
“I’m not lying.”
There. My voice is strong again, unfaltering.
With his lips still by my ear, he asks, “Then why aren’t you pushing me away.”
I push him away, then. He takes a few steps back, his lips turned downward.
“December thirty-first, Alexis. Please.” I’ve never hear him use this voice. It’s a real plea, from deep in his throat. It stirs me in a way I can’t describe.
I shake my head. “I need to go.”
Jacob is waiting for me. Downstairs, where I’m in control of my emotions, where I don’t turn into a weak mess at this man’s touch. I turn to leave again, but the tips of his fingers graze my arm as he tries to hold me back. “Wait. Say you will.”
I snatch my arm out of reach and glimpse back in time to see him swallow and blink for a second too long. He looks worn and tired.
“Alexis, if you don’t come, I can’t come back to work for you. I can’t see you every day. It’s killing me. I can’t sleep, I can’t eat. I’m drowning in you and I don’t know which way is up. Just say you’ll come. It’s important.”
Our eyes are fixed on each other’s. I can see it in the way he looks at me. He is in love with me. I don’t doubt it for a second. It’s on every line on his forehead, every twitch of his lips, the silent plea in his eyes. I see it clearly and it scares the shit out of me.
I think I’ve felt it early on. His feelings for me have been a relentless force all along, pushing and pushing for me to move. I can’t deny I have feelings for him as well, despite my furious attempts to the contrary. But is it love? Do I love Leo?
The truth is, I don’t want to. To me, admitting to being in love is the most vulnerable state I could bring myself to. Love is a leap of faith into something rooted to the wind. What does love guarantee? It’s nothing but a promise. And promises are for fools and children.
I know, my pride and my stubbornness are merged together and sealed by the hurt in my past, immovable. I know this. At least that is what I tell myself.
He’s a relentless force, I’m an immovable object. But how does that saying go? There’s no such thing as an immovable object. And that—that scares me the most.
“I should go, my friend is probably wondering where I am,” I say.
This time I don’t give him a chance to stop me. I turn and hurry down the stairs as quickly as my heels allow me to.
XXXVIII
Leo
I walk to the parking lot, passing a handful of people also leaving the holiday party early. A considerable amount of people are still in the event hall. I’m sure they stay because the food is free and so is the booze. But I can’t stand to be in there for a second longer.
I’m nearly at my car when I hear Scott’s voice along with the laughter of a few others. They are walking in my direction, probably heading toward another car farther down the lane. I hold my car door open but don’t get inside because I notice something that gives me pause. Katy is not with them.
“Heading out?” I ask when Scott is within earshot. I try to sound conversational.
“Yeah, man.” Scott stops in front of me and hesitates. “We’re heading out to a bar.”
Three other guys are with him. I get a few nods of recognition, but the last guy, I don’t recognize at all. Not that it matters. I speak directly to Scott.
“Where’s your date?”
My tone is not conversational anymore.
Scott swallows, but sounds unconcerned when he answers, “Hell if I know, somewhere inside.”
“You’re leaving her?”
He shrugs in response.
I can’t help it, I step closer to him. Everyone goes quiet. Obviously, I’m not going to hit him, I’m not a kid, but I’d be lying if I said I don’t entertain the idea of how good it would feel. Scott annoys me and is big enough to take a hit. Most of all, the people I’m really frustrated with are women. And, obviously, I would never hit a woman.
“It’s a douchebag move for you to leave your date,” I say under my breath. I’m inches away from him.
He straightens up, to show he isn’t intimidated. “Sounds like she knows other people here—you, for starters." He puts his hand up and adds, “Look, man, she’s a sloppy mess. It’s not what I signed up for.”
He walks past me before I can answer. I’m glad he does, because it took all of my self-restraint not to punch the snide look off of his face. I call out to him as he walks away, “For the record, kid, a real man would make sure his date gets home safe. Regardless.”
Scott doesn’t turn around, but some of the guys he is with laugh and jeer.
I slam my car door shut. Fuck.
I want to tell myself Katy isn’t my problem. That she will find her own way home. But I can’t leave her here, drunk, and be able to sleep tonight. She might drive me crazy in the worst ways imaginable, but I can’t pretend I don’t know her at all.
XXXIX
Alexis
“Can I ask you a question?”
Jacob is leaning really close to me. The bar is crowded enough to warrant this, but I feel like this was his intention in bringing me here. He wants to be able to get really close and brush his lips against my ear.
“Another one?” I ask him, feeling a weariness cling over my brain. I’m exhausted. Maybe I should just go home. I came here because I couldn’t have gone back to the event hall. After Leo cornered me in the stairwell and said all those things to me…
The walls of my mind are closing in on me. It’s all I can do to try to numb it and stall their progress. Obviously I know that’s only a temporary solution to a long-term problem.
Fuck it.
I stir my Mai Tai with the straw and suck down some of the drink. I really don’t venture off into hard liquor unless it tastes like something else altogether. Sugar and coconut, for instance. Tonight feels like a liquor night, not a wine night.
One of my elbows is propped on the bar behind me. There’s a group of girls to my right and they are circling the bar stool, in lively conversation. The waiter is a handsome twenty-something-year-old, who smiles at me often. Jacob and I are overdressed, looking like we just left a wedding ceremony. We get some prolonged looks from people around us. I really couldn’t care less.
“It’s sort of a personal question,” Jacob says.
His gaze slides down my face and lingers over my lips. I hope he doesn’t try to kiss me. I don’t know what I’d do. Push him away? Politely turn my face? Storm off upset? I really don’t have the men
tal energy to come up with an evasive strategy. But I know our bodies being this close is tempting him. It’s tempting to me; I find myself wanting the human proximity, just to feel something other than numbness. But that’s a ridiculous notion. The numbness is what I wanted to begin with.
It’s such a sick cycle.
Hurt, numb, desire to feel again. Repeat.
“Then maybe you shouldn’t ask it,” I say.
I divert my eyes away from him, looking over the crowded tables at the edge of the room. The groups of people are standing around, drinking, talking. Why people come to such a loud, crowded place to talk is beyond me. If it’s difficult for people to hear you, doesn’t that defy the purpose of talking?
“Lex.” Jacob touches my chin lightly and turns my face toward him, his expression serious. “I want out of the friend-zone. I want to be with you. For real.”
I let out a short breath.
“Jacob…”
I’m not sure how to say what crosses my mind as I stare into his eyes. Those eyes are deep and genuine, kind and familiar. My thoughts lurch in an unexpected way. I really could give him a chance. I do like him, but I know it’s a mild sort of like. The type I could walk away from now and he’d be just a fond memory of a handsome man who pursued me and sent me flowers at work. But do I want Jacob to be just a fond memory?
A part of me thinks Jacob is good for me. He’s patient and considerate. He’s handsome and successful. He makes me laugh and he makes me laugh often. Jacob takes the parts of me I choose to give him and never asks for anything more. Never once has he asked me to resign anything that could leave me exposed and defenseless. He leaves me full. Jacob could never break my heart; he could never get a firm enough grip around it.
I am safe with Jacob. With Jacob, I am in calm waters.
With Leo, I am a storm tearing up a harbor; I am a fire, grazing amber coals. I cannot afford to be a fire, not when I know how easily I can burn out. But I don’t need to choose between them. The choice has never been between Leo and Jacob because there’s a third choice. Me. I choose me.
I take a breath and try not to move because his face is so close to mine.
“Jacob, I’m in love with someone else.”
Disappointment floods him visibly. It floods me, too.
This isn’t what I intended to say. It’s the first time I’ve admitted to loving Leo. I haven’t so much as thought those words. I guess I say them now because I feel that Jacob deserves to hear the truth, and the truth poured out of me before I even had a chance to acknowledge it myself.
I struggle with the soreness the words seem to leave in my throat. They were much too big to fit through and pried themselves out of my lips by force. Jacob and I are staring at each other. His lips are now a long line, flat and emotionless, but his eyes are searching mine. He raises a hand to my cheek. Did he hear me? I really hope he heard me. I can’t say those words again.
But he did hear me, because when he speaks again, his tone is bleak. “Lucky bastard.”
He presses his lips to mine. My eyes go wide, but he pulls away before I have a chance to react.
“Sorry—had to steal a kiss.”
He gives me the boyish grin that I’ve seen many times before. I smile back at him, despite myself.
“You are forgiven.”
I hope I don't think back to this moment years from now and remember it as a mistake that I let this man walk away.
XL
Leo
“Let’s go,” I say to Katy.
“Oh, come on, baby. I was just—just getting the, uh, another drink.”
She is slurring her words. Scott was right, she’s a sloppy mess. People are looking at her, watching as I grab her by the upper arm and lead her away from the bar.
“Wait,” she says. “I need to say goodbye to my new friends.”
I ignore her, feeling my embarrassment melt away into livid anger and bite my tongue to keep from yelling at her.
We make it to the revolving doors at the front of the lobby when she suddenly snatches her arm from my grasp and says, “Let me go. I fucking—I can do it myself.”
She pushes forward and I manage to follow her into the same compartment. She collapses to the floor laughing, halting the progress of the door.
“Katy, get up.”
She sighs and I can tell she feels perfectly content there on the floor. I peer through the glass doors toward the lobby. The woman at the front desk is shaking her head and saying something to her coworker. I pull Katy up and lead her out to the parking lot and to my car. By the time I get into the driver’s side and start the engine, I think she has already fallen asleep.
“Why do you always do this?” I ask in a low voice, not expecting her to hear me.
“I was bored,” she says with her eyes still closed.
I start driving, thinking of all the things I want to yell at her. Instead, I mince my words, gripping the steering wheel tightly.
“Katy, this wasn’t some frat party,” I say, managing somehow to keep my voice steady. “It was a work function. Do you know how embarrassing it was to come in and see you dancing like that, drunk and obnoxious?”
She sighs again like she’s tired of my scolding. I’m certain she isn’t going to respond. Then she says, “Why should you care? I’m not your fucking problem anymore.”
Her voice is suddenly coherent. I feel my resentment start to bubble over as I remember another time she pretended to be drunker than she was, just for the attention. I don’t even want to get into that with her. I’m trying to keep my voice from rising, but my jaw is clenched so tight my entire face hurts.
“Somehow you manage to be my problem. Your date left you, did you know that?”
“He left? He said he was going out for a smoke. What an asshole.”
“Yeah, no kidding. And since when do you pass up the opportunity to take a drag?”
“I don’t smoke anymore.”
“Well that’s fantastic,” I snap, “You’re still a drunk.”
“Fuck you,” she says in a low voice. “I shouldn’t have come.”
“Yeah, no kidding. What the hell were you even thinking?”
“I wasn’t thinking,” she says, taking me off-guard by the uncharacteristic moment of self-reflection. “We have mutual friends, Scott and I. He mentioned once he got an internship where you work. I guess I just saw an opportunity to get a rise out of you.” She goes on, her voice low, and when I take a quick look at her I see her eyes are still closed. “I just can’t reach you, Leo. I keep trying but you’re always...right out of reach. And I can’t get through to you,” she sighs and seems to readjust in the seat, “I feel so much for you and I just want you to feel something for me. Even if it’s just hate.”
Maybe she is drunk. Katy sounds like she’s in a trance, like the words are coming from somewhere instinctive that she has no control over. It could be the alcohol, but it could also be her finally coming to terms with her craziness.
I keep my eyes on the road, but her words jar something in me. The feelings she describes are bizarrely similar to what I feel for Alexis. It’s overwhelmingly frustrating to feel like I can’t reach Alexis, not the way I want to. The parallels between the two situations make me feel sick to my stomach.
I can’t trust myself to say anything right now. Everything I want to say is sure to come out in a tirade of insults. Katy is so easy to insult and so difficult to love. That’s her problem. She wants to be loved more than anything, but her behavior blocks the possibility of it.
We drive in silence for the rest of the way. She seems to fall asleep. When I pull up to her apartment, my anger has already melted into the uncomfortable squirm of regret. Katy is still asleep. I watch her for a few seconds and some strange thoughts cross my mind.
A part of me, the part of me that wants to hate her, thinks she’s crazy. But a better part of me—the part that still cares about her—thinks differently. Maybe she’s just young and wild and doesn’t know how to
settle into herself. She loves me and that overwhelms me. Because overwhelming is the only way she knows how to love. The thing is, Katy loves too deep down to ever show it the right way. It comes out in all of these warped ways.
She is half in shadow and half lit by the glow of the street lamp overhead. I can’t help but think that she’s beautiful. Her beauty is the perfect shell to hide the mess inside. And those are the words she probably hears all of the time: pretty, beautiful, perfect body. I’m sure no one ever bothers to look further. I didn’t.
I give her a slight nudge until she wakes up. She looks around for a moment and realizes we are at her apartment. I turn my head forward. From the corner of my eye, I see her reach for the door handle. She murmurs, “Thanks for the ride.”
“Wait,” I say. She sits back and looks at me. I feel the overwhelming need to say something to her. Something that will shake her, stay with her, reach her. I keep my eyes forward when I speak. “I need you to understand something. I need you to really listen to me this time. You and me, Katy, we will never be together. And if you ever want to be happy with someone—or even just happy by yourself—you’ve got to stop living like this. When you don’t treat yourself the right way, it’s impossible for anyone else to either.” I pause, struggling to pull up the words.
This is probably the first time I’m not yelling at her or belittling her. The only insightful things I’ve ever said to her have been that she’s crazy and has issues. But for the first time, I’m trying to get her to listen instead of only hearing my ranting.
I have to dig down a few layers, past the annoyance and disgust I feel for her. At one point, I thought differently of her. I try to conjure up what I first thought of her, back before I saw all of the cracks in her and they became all I could see.
When I met Katy, I saw a gorgeous woman. She was smart, breezed through her classes without really trying. And not the easy kind; pre-med classes, things that kick most people’s ass, but she took in stride.
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