by Kent, Julia
The trip to the bedroom is short, and the next thing I know he’s sliding both of us between his sheets, cradling my head against him. Sobs are still wracking my body, and Arion just holds me tighter. This only makes me cry harder, because I know what he should be doing is letting me go.
Six
Angel
I eye the clock as I wipe down the oak tables, willing the minutes to pass faster. Almost all my closing work is done, so I can leave as soon as my shift is over.
Only ten more minutes until I’ll be on my way home to Arion.
“Are you still open?” Something in the voice causes me to still. I want to look behind me, but I don’t. The way he said it, I’m almost positive there is more behind his question.
Leaving the damp rag on the table, I slowly spin, taking in the tall, thin boy—no, man—smiling at me. He’s at least a few years older than me, and I’ve seen him in here before, sitting at the end of the counter, watching me. “For coffee, but the kitchen’s closed.”
“I’ll take whatever you want to give me, for now.” His eyes don’t match his smile. There is something dark and intriguing in them, some hidden depth. Almost a promise of excitement, of exhilaration. This man is different, and I should walk away.
But wasn’t I just telling myself last night that I needed different? That things had to change? I’m still undecided as he follows me to the front, taking a seat at the counter while I slip behind the espresso machine and grab a cup. “Okay, what can I make you?”
“Very happy. If you’ll go to the movies with me, that is.”
I gasp, leaning against the counter for support. He’s so forward, and it’s refreshing. Nothing like the subtle innuendo that always floats just between the surface with Arion and me, a constant ‘maybe’ but never a sure thing. This guy obviously doesn’t have a problem saying exactly what he wants, and I like that about him already.
“When?”
“Now.”
I shouldn’t. Arion will be online, waiting for me to log into WarQuest as soon as I get home. But… I smile, making a snap decision. “I don’ t usually go to the movies with people without knowing their name or anything else about them. How about coffee tonight, and the movies tomorrow?” That way, we can keep tonight brief, and when I go home, I’ll tell Arion I can’t make it tomorrow. He’ll be disappointed, but I can’t keep putting my life here on hold, hoping for something that is never going to be a possibility with someone who lives on the other side of the country.
His face lights up. “If I don’t tell you my name, do I get more nights out of it, Tess?”
He knows my name? The first seed of doubt burrows into the pit of my stomach. “How—”
“Your name tag.” He laughs. “Nick Guatieri. At your service.”
When I wake up, the room is silent except for the sound of Arion’s rhythmic breathing right by my ear. The sound is peaceful and steady, and I’m so groggy that it would be easy to slip back into sleep, if only the memories would leave me alone. There aren’t many things I dislike more than mornings, but today is only going to get harder if I wake up again in Arion’s arms. I should get up now, while I have any willpower left at all.
As close as the bar sits to the street and the university, I would’ve thought I’d hear cars moaning about a morning commute, but I don’t. It reminds me of the desert, where nothing truly comes alive until the nighttime for much of the year. Most everything that is able to remains in a state of stasis until the sun goes down and the temperatures drop. The daytime is a time to survive, to get through. Night, though, that is the time to live. Evenings and into the long hours of the morning were when Arion and I used to play WarQuest, too. I don’t know about him, but I’d wait anxiously all day for the chance to settle down in front of my desk and log into our shared world. At least I did until I started waiting anxiously for someone else.
I know he doesn’t understand why I stopped playing so suddenly, but the thing is, I couldn’t tell him then any more than I can tell him now. Nick came into my life like a beacon. The game had started to wear on me, and I needed a break. Honestly the only thing that had kept me there for so long was Arion, but it was getting to the point where that wasn’t enough. No matter how much I adored him, I knew he and I weren’t real.
When I met Nick, it seemed like he was exactly what I needed. A real life. Someone who could keep me warm at night someday, instead of just keeping me company.
I didn’t tell Arion because part of me was afraid he’d be jealous or that he wouldn’t understand. His dedication to WarQuest far surpassed mine, and I was his partner. He would’ve freaked, and I didn’t want to let him down. I know why I didn’t tell Arion about Nick at first. By the time I was ready to, it was too late. The memory of Nick’s jaw hardening, of the anger flickering in his eyes takes my breath away as sharply as if he were standing in front of me. The shattering of my computer monitor is a sound just out of reach, inches beyond my ears. And then the cord—
“No! What the fuck are you doing,” I scream. “He was just a fucking friend.”
“I’m not going to share you, Tess. Not with anyone. Not with anything.”
The excitement I felt about moving in with him earlier that day flees, leaving me as cold as Nick’s eyes as he stalks across the room toward me, snapping the cord between his hands. The destroyed remnants of my computer taunt me from behind him, laughing at my stupidity. I moved in with Nick to take the next step in our relationship—I didn’t realize that step would be off a freaking cliff. As the tears fill my eyes, I send Arion a silent goodbye and pray it will be enough.
I’m not sure if it’s the memories trying to take over, the lack of coffee, or the emotional night before, but my head feels like it’s taken a few too many spins on the tilt-a-whirl. Arion’s arm is cradled beneath me, so I keep my movements slow as I try to scoot away, toward the end of the bed. His breathing pauses briefly but then resumes its steady rhythm. He looks perfect and peaceful beside me, and I know I must look like a freaking mess—like a dishrag that’s sat beside the sink for too long. I’ve got wrinkles in all the wrong places, I’m stiff, and I just feel gritty and coarse all over. Even though my hair’s finally dried, it hangs in disgusting clumps and crinkles, courtesy of yesterday’s downpour.
The last thing I want is for Arion to wake up and catch me. It’s better this way. After inch-worming my way out of his arms and off the bed, I scan frantically for my clothes. Where did that bastard put them? Praying my other clothes are still where I left them, I tip-toe from his room, shutting the door behind me.
Yes! My clothes are not only in front of the fireplace, they’re dry. I gather them in my arms, trying to be quiet and hurry out of fear that Arion will wake soon.
Seven
Arion
My bed smells like a girl, and that’s just wrong. Not that I don’t like girls, I just sure as hell don’t like them in my bed. That’s one of my rules, and it’s one I haven’t broken—at least I don’t think I have. So why does my bed smell like sunflowers and honey?
One of the things I love best about my bedroom is that it doesn’t have any windows, so I don’t get woken up by too much sun at some ungodly hour. The downside is that I have no freaking idea what time it is. A glance at the bedside stand tells me a lot more than the time. I no longer care that it’s only eight and I rarely crawl out from beneath the covers before ten. Angel. She should be here, but all that’s left is her scent.
Not again, not again. I don’t know if it’s a prayer, a plea, or a chant, if it somehow makes her not be gone I’ll take it. I can’t lose her again. Last time hurt too damn much.
Stop panicking, I tell myself as I panic even more. The fucking covers want to tangle around my legs as I extract myself from the bed, stumbling toward the door. Pure momentum carries me through it, and the door slams too hard against the wall as I burst free of the dark bedroom.
How could she do this to me? How could she leave again without even a goodbye? “Fuck!” I
swear out loud. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I don’t even know where she would have gone. Does she know anyone in Philly but me? That stops me for a minute. Is it possible she came all the way here to see me? Then why the hell would she leave so soon without telling me why she’d come? I don’t understand anything other than misery and a sense of smothering grief that what I want—the only thing I want—just slipped through my fingers. Again. Fuck.
“What the fuck, Angel!” I scream, not caring that they might hear me all the way down in the bar. No one will be in this early but the cleaning crew, anyway. As if I give a shit.
The kitchen is untouched, but her clothes are gone from beside the fireplace. I need to just accept that she’s gone again. People are counting on me to keep it together. Falling apart like the last time she left isn’t an option. Chelsea is going to be pissed. I’d finally managed to pull my crap together, and now this.
No girls in your home, no girls in your heart. That’s the rule, but I’d never considered Angel just a girl. A mistake I’d better fix fast. This time, I’m not going to let myself pine over her. Good riddance. I don’t need her anyway, not anymore. Not ever again.
The stool she sat on at the kitchen island is askew, and I kick it back into place a little too forcefully. I’m not satisfied until it’s perfectly aligned and orderly, as if I could erase the chaos she’s brought over me if I just concentrate hard enough.
I can’t sit here at home, surrounded by her absence, but I can’t go out like this, either. I’m dirty from the hours at the bar last night, and a steamy shower might do me some good.
For one brief moment, the world stops turning as I open the door and step into the bathroom. It occurs to me that the door shouldn’t have been closed about two seconds before I spot Angel huddled in the far corner, with an iron toilet paper stand clutched beneath her white knuckles. A damp towel is wrapped around her, tucked between her arms and her chest. This is the second time in as many days I’ve come through a doorway to find her soaking wet in all of the wrong ways.
Even as her shoulders tremble, her eyes burn with determination. That’s the Angel I know. A fighter who won’t take crap from anyone. I don’t know what’s happened to her, but right now I know without a doubt she isn’t broken, maybe just a little bent. Somehow, I’ll fix this.
Scattered toilet paper rolls create a minefield between her and me, but I don’t care. I walk right over them, determined to take her in my arms and convince myself she’s really here. She didn’t leave me again.
The moment I reach toward her she screeches like a banshee, jumps to her feet, and lifts the toilet paper stand turned tire iron. My dumb ass doesn’t think she’s actually going to hit me, and I don’t duck. The iron slaps across my shoulder, driving pain down to my wrist. My fingers instinctively clench, but I force them to unfurl immediately while I wrestle my anger back into submission.
“What the fuck was that for?” I’m panting as I try to keep my focus. I can’t believe she just freaking hit me.
“Don’t touch me!” she shrieks.
Pure, unfettered wildness fills her eyes and tears at my heart.
I reach out, gripping the toilet paper rack. If she strikes again, I’d rather it not be with that. Thank god she didn’t aim for my jaw. Once I’ve calmed her down, I might mention that. If she’s gonna be picking fights, she should at least do it right.
One of her hands is still occupied with securing her towel; the other tries to free her weapon from my grasp.
“We’re going to set this down now, together, okay?” I try and keep my voice slow and soothing, without a hint of the remaining anger. I’m pissed, but now I’m not even sure at whom. When she left me before, it took a long time for me to learn to control my emotions, and eventually I did. Now I think that might have been the best thing I ever did, because something tells me if I let her see how pissed I really am right now, she’ll walk out of my life forever.
I’ve never seen a girl shake her head more vehemently. Taking it from her wouldn’t be hard, but I don’t know how she’d react. “Fine,” I say. “You can keep it, but just know if you hit me with it again, I will restrain you. Understood?”
She huffs out a breath but gives me a tiny nod. Those wild eyes of hers are still watching me, and I know I’m on shaky ground. I release the bar and let my arm drop to my side.
“You’re afraid of me.” I’m not sure who I’m accusing, me or her. Either way it sucks.
My acknowledgment seems to feed her confidence. “I heard you out there.”
Of course she did. I’ve been stomping around the apartment cursing the girl I thought abandoned me—again—all while she hid in here listening to it. “I thought you’d left. It’s what you fucking do. You just leave, and I just…” I just can’t handle it again. I silence myself before I sound like even more of an idiot.
“You can’t stop me! If I want to go, I will.” Her chin juts out, and it’s kind of cute, in that pissed-off, defiant chick way.
The fury is dying in us both. I nod while trying not to listen to her words, instead paying attention to the fear driving them. She doesn’t want to leave; she just doesn’t want to be forced to stay. “I won’t try and stop you, Angel. I promise.”
Long tangled strands of nearly-black hair drip rivulets of water around her, and my gaze watches one roll down her chest, slipping behind the towel. I’m not sure what I crave more: the chance to run my fingers through her hair, straightening it and feeling it caress my fingers, or to lick the water away. Even furious, she’s beautiful.
She rolls her eyes as I mention making a promise. “Whatever. If you’re done with your tantrum, close the door so I can dress.”
My eyes flick to the heap of clothes on the vanity, then back to the towel wrapped around her. I’m not sure if the tightening in my pants is giving me courage or making me stupid, but it sends a plea straight to my lips. “I don’t want you to go. Ever.”
Sadness consumes the spark of fury, and her eyes go dull. Her voice is barely a whisper. “That’s why I have to.”
I can’t understand why she came all this way just to turn around and go, but I refuse to beg. “What time does your flight leave?”
The brief glimpse of uncertainty that flashes through her eyes gives me hope.
“Um—”
Victory! She might have not decided yet if she’s staying, but she also doesn’t have a solid plan to leave. “You don’t have a return flight, do you?”
She heaves out a resigned breath then hangs her head. “No.”
“Then where are you going?” I’m praying the answer is nowhere, but it won’t be, unless she gives me a chance to convince her.
“I don’t know.” Her fingers loosen on the toilet paper stand, and she sets it on the floor beside her.
A crumb of an idea tumbles into my brain, and I snatch it. “Let me take you to lunch. We can talk, like we used to. You can tell me why you’re here, in a safe, open, public place. I can tell you why I flipped. And when we’re done, I’ll take you wherever you ask.” Hopefully, she’ll ask to come back here.
For a moment, I think she’s going to say no. I really don’t know what I’ll say if she does. A smile tugs at the stubborn corners of her mouth, and she almost loses her frown. “Okay.”
My lips aren’t stubborn, so I beam at her. “Great. Now, I came in here for a shower, if you don’t mind.” It’s all or nothing, and I’m tossing in my chips. I only have through lunch to convince her to stay, and I’m not planning on losing. I begin stripping off my jeans.
Eight
Angel
Disbelief. Utter. Total. Disbelief.
I have no freaking clue what just happened, and my confusion is like a fog that only gets thicker the more I try to figure it out. When confronted with my crazy, he decides the best thing to do is…take off his jeans?
This can’t be happening, but no matter how many times I blink, the scene before me doesn’t change. His fingers are peeling the denim away from his hips w
ith no sign of hesitation. My eyes flick up toward his face, and the anger of just a moment ago has been replaced by a cocky grin. He sees me watching, and he likes it.
Yanking my eyes away, I snatch my pile of clothes from the counter and burst past him like a cannon shot toward his bedroom to dress. Arion is way too hot for my own good, and it’s only cementing my resolve to go. The chemistry he and I shared in game is but a fraction of what I experience every time he stands before me in all his irritating perfection.
If I’m going to stay strong over lunch, I need coffee. Once I’m dressed I start tearing through his kitchen cabinets and find a can of instant coffee mix hidden behind a can of some men’s after-workout shake powder. As if Arion needs any help in that department. I hate instant coffee, but I hate a lack of coffee more. I pop a mug full in the microwave, wrinkling my nose.
First I’ll apologize for intruding into his life and for hitting him, and then I’ll go. I hate to do it, but I might have to ask him to spot me enough for a ticket to Florida. When I get there I can find a job and pay him back. And maybe, once I get my head straight, I can come see him again and we can start over. Because as much as I might want to run right now, I’m realizing I don’t really want to let Arion go. Not again. The last time was awful enough. We went from talking every night and texting some days to just… nothing. I can’t do that again, not to him or myself.
The bathroom door creaks open, and Arion is standing there, watching me sip his awful instant coffee while he towels his hair. He’s put his jeans back on, and I ignore that part of me that wishes he hadn’t. A million regrets are twisted into his smile, and each one of them breaks my heart a little more.
“You’ve already decided it doesn’t matter what I say, haven’t you?”
“Even if I go, I’ll have to come back. You obviously need a woman to shop for you. Your cabinets are a disgrace.” My tone isn’t quite as light as I intended. No matter what words are coming out of my mouth, a seed of jealousy was planted when I saw Blondie—er, Rachel—coming out of his apartment yesterday, and the thought of another girl in here only waters it more. He isn’t mine, not yet. I don’t know who said it, but some important person said something like ‘you have to be okay with yourself before you can be okay with someone else.’ I believe the truth in that, and I need to get myself okay for both us. My philosophy has always been if you’re going to play, win. And I’m not strong enough to win at the whole dating thing. Not yet.