by L.H. Cosway
I let out a loud snort-laugh. “Riiight.”
Louis smirked. “You don’t like that idea?”
“Definitely not. I’d rather die of unrequited love than ever reveal my true feelings.”
“Hey, don’t fall on your sword just yet. There is another option.”
I lifted an eyebrow. “There is?”
Now he leaned closer, his elbow brushing mine as he levelled me with what I was just now noticing were piercing blue eyes. “You try to get over your crush by seeing someone else and not to sound cocky, but there’s an absolute fucking catch sitting right in front of you.”
I laughed, flushing slightly. “That’s definitely…an option,” I said, my attention going to the stage where Sarita’s band had just started playing. She was classically trained at the Royal Academy of Music, but rock and roll was her first love.
“You like the band?” Louis asked, bringing my attention back to him.
“My friend is the guitarist,” I replied.
“They’re good.”
“They’re more than good. They’re amazing,” I countered. One of the reasons I always said yes when Sarita asked me to her gigs was because I was a gigantic fan of her band.
Louis chuckled. “Okay, I stand corrected. They’re amazing. So, can I buy you another drink?”
In my head, I saw James. Then, Diana appeared. He took her hand, and they turned their backs on me, walking away. Maybe Louis was right. Maybe I should focus my attention on someone else, distract myself from James by putting myself out there with other people. I hadn’t yet been brave enough to re-activate my Tinder profile, but I could start with the handsome and charming man right in front of me.
I levelled Louis with a friendly smile. “Sure, you can buy me a drink.”
Much later, Sarita and I got home, giddy and tipsy as we fell into bed. I’d spent the night talking to Louis and getting to know him. We exchanged numbers, and I tried to be excited about the prospect of him calling, possibly asking me out. I liked him, but despite my best efforts, I didn’t like him the same way I liked James. He didn’t make my entire body feel like it was made of air when he spoke to me. It was so frustrating. I wished to magically transfer all of my feelings for James onto somebody else. And maybe I could, but it was going to take time.
Yes, quitting James would be a long and arduous task, but I had to persevere.
I would persevere.
For my sanity, if nothing else.
Six
Michaela
Several days went by and I didn’t see much of James. I’d responded to his texts, telling him I’d think about letting him pay me, but really I was just biding my time, trying to figure out a way to say no.
That had been the plan then.
Now, however, my thinking had changed drastically.
I’d been sharing a bedroom with Sarita and Mabel for the better part of a week, and things weren’t running as smoothly as Sarita had promised. Don’t get me wrong, I really liked Mabel. The problem was she ran a routine that was almost identical to mine. We both woke up at the same time to get ready for work, which meant we both needed to use the bathroom and make breakfast around the same time. I’d been late to work twice because I’d tried to be polite by allowing Mabel to use the shower before me. Now I’d resolved to getting up a half hour earlier, which would cut into my precious sleep, but at least I wouldn’t be late.
So, yes, I was starting to reconsider staying at James’ house. In fact, I’d been thinking about it a lot. This week I’d hardly seen him at all and I was basically pining, longing for a shared moment where we discussed recent articles we’d read, exchanged interesting factoids, or shared jokes. You could say that being away from him made my feelings more intense rather than less. So, with this reasoning, I thought that seeing him all the time, being at his house and talking to him every day about renovations, could be the antidote to my pining. Yes, an overdose of James could be just the trick.
Or else I was a lost cause and nothing would work except for time, whereby I’d eventually move on to obsessing over someone else.
I hoped.
When I arrived home on Thursday evening after a long, busy day, all I wanted was to veg out in front of the television for the night. Sadly, Sarita and Mabel were already camped out in the living room watching a movie. Mabel sat on one end, while Sarita lay stretched out with her head on her girlfriend’s lap. Mabel stroked Sarita’s hair, both of their attentions on the TV as I entered, barely noticing my arrival.
I tried not to begrudge them their movie night, but I was nearing my wit’s end. It felt like I hadn’t had a single moment alone all week.
Looking on the bright side, I took the opportunity to have some alone time in the bedroom and went to call Mum and Dad. I usually called them once a week, just to check in, but I’d been so busy lately I’d neglected our phone calls. The last time we spoke was two weeks ago.
I listened to the ring tone, then my dad answered, his comforting voice filling my ear. “Hello, darling!”
“Dad, how are you? How’s Mum?”
“I’m well and your mother’s good, too. We’ve been deciding what we’re going to plant in the vegetable garden come spring. I’m favouring beetroot, but your mother is eager to try radishes. It’s a risky move since we’ve never grown them before.”
“That is quite the predicament,” I said, smiling to myself. There was something soothing about the little village where I grew up, because nothing ever really happened there. It might seem boring, but there was a cosy, safe feeling to the fact that though nothing exciting happened, nothing bad happened either.
“Oh! I’ve actually been meaning to call you,” Dad said. “Bennet’s going to be in London next week. I asked him to stop by your place for a visit.”
As soon as he said it, my stomach dropped. Mum and Dad adopted me when I was four, and their two sons, Bennet and Laurence, were teenagers. I’d always gotten along well with Laurence, but Bennet, well, let’s just say he wasn’t my most favourite person.
“You really didn’t need to do that,” I said, bringing my attention back to the phone call. “I’m sure Bennet has far better things to do than come visit me while he’s in the city.”
“Of course he’s going to visit you. You’re his sister, and he hasn’t seen you in almost a year,” Dad said.
Huh, was that why I hadn’t felt so crappy lately? It seemed my self-esteem got better the longer I was away from Bennet.
The bedroom door opened and Sarita came in. When she saw I was on the phone, she quickly apologised for interrupting, grabbed what she needed and left. I ran a hand down my face, feeling tired. This current living arrangement was really weighing on me. I was even having dreams about running through wide-open spaces. I yearned for privacy, to be alone in a room without anyone barging in every five minutes. James’ empty house loomed on the fringes of my mind, a convenient solution to my ever-worsening problem.
Also, if I was staying at James’, then I could avoid Bennet’s visit. Hmmm…
“I guess you’re right,” I said, bringing my attention back to my phone call with Dad. “Tell Bennet to drop by the flat for his visit next week.” I left out the little fact that I wouldn’t be here when he did.
“Perfect, I’ll let him know.”
Dad and I chatted for a few more minutes before I hung up and immediately dialled another number. If I didn’t do this right now, I’d lose my nerve.
“Hey M,” James answered, his voice somehow even more potent over the phone. Normally, we texted or spoke in person, but his phone voice was very, very pleasant to listen to.
“Hi, James, so, um, I’ve come to a decision,” I said, chewing my lip. I inhaled a deep breath, hoping I wasn’t making a monumental mistake. “I think I’d like to take you up on your offer to stay at your house.”
“You would?” he said, sounding surprised.
“I would.”
“And you’re okay with me paying you?” he hedged.
>
“Yes, I’m okay with you paying me.” I wasn’t really, but I didn’t think he was going to budge on that particular stipulation. Besides, I could always do with the extra money.
“How does Sunday work for you? I can come over to your place and help with your stuff.”
“Sunday’s fine, but you don’t need to—”
“I’m helping you, M. It’s the least I can do. The house is a twenty-minute walk from the nearest Tube station and I don’t want you lugging your bags all that way.”
Well, when he put it like that.
“Listen, I have to go, but we’ll talk more tomorrow and iron out all the details,” he went on.
“Okay, talk to you then.”
We ended the call and I sat on my bed, feeling slightly dizzy. I still wasn’t one hundred percent certain if this was a mistake, but then, I doubted James would be around much. He said himself he was rushed off his feet lately, so I guessed we’d mostly be talking over the phone. It would just be me and a bunch of contractors, then at night, I’d have the whole place to myself. The whole place.
What bliss it would be.
Deciding it wasn’t such a disastrous decision after all, I headed out to tell Sarita and Mabel the good news.
***
“So you’re going to stay at James’ house all by yourself?” Leanne questioned, her tone sceptical.
We were in a fancy, upscale photography studio, in the middle of her sports magazine photoshoot. She looked amazing in figure-hugging sports leggings and a black sports bra, her short black hair lightly tousled. She was currently taking a break while the photographer set up for the next shots.
“I know it’ll be mayhem during the day with all the builders around, but at night I’ll be alone.”
“Yeah, but it’s not going to be like staying in a fully furnished, finished house. There’ll be equipment and plaster and dust everywhere.”
“You’ve obviously never shared a six-hundred-square-foot flat with three other women,” I said. “Believe me, this is the lesser evil.”
She gave a little shrug. “If you say so.”
I stared at her. “What does that mean?”
“Well,” she said, eyeing me meaningfully. “I was just thinking of the little “vibe” between you and James.”
“What vibe? There’s no vibe,” I said, lying through my teeth. As far as I knew, Leanne was the only person who’d picked up on my feelings for James. I always told her she was imagining things, but she refused to let it go. The tiny woman was far too perceptive.
She let out an annoyed groan. “Here we go again with the denial. I can tell you like him, Michaela. He likes you too, but you know, maybe if he wasn’t getting married in six weeks something could happen. But he is, so it can’t.”
I swallowed tightly. Her tough love hit me right where it hurt. At the same time, her words lit up a flicker of futile hope. He likes me, too? “I’m well aware of James’ relationship status. And you can rest assured that whatever feelings you think I have, I’ll be taking them to my grave.”
She gave me a sad look, like she felt sorry for me. “You’re going to be staying in his house, Michaela. That’ll be a rough few weeks.”
I waved her off. “His future house. It’ll be fine. He’ll barely be there.”
She studied me for a long moment before she exhaled heavily. “Fine, you little sadist. Go emotionally torture yourself, what do I care.”
Turning away from me, she went to go talk to the photographer, leaving me sitting on a bench with an empty coffee cup in hand and an even emptier heart. Her last words echoed in my head. What had I gotten myself into?
***
On Sunday, I stared at my packed suitcase and felt a little sad that almost everything I owned could fit in there. Then again, I tended to be fairly minimalistic when it came to possessions. I think it went back to being adopted, always fearing I might be kicked out onto the street…No, I wasn’t going there. Those old insecurities my brother Bennet had instilled in me were something I didn’t allow myself to wallow in anymore.
“I’m going to miss you,” Sarita said as she came into the bedroom and threw her arm around my shoulders.
“Hey, it’s only for a few weeks. I’ll still be popping back every few days to see you guys. And I’m sure James won’t mind you coming to see me at the house.”
“It still won’t be the same,” she said glumly.
“I know, but here’s a silver lining. You and Mabel have my permission to push the two single beds together to make a double,” I told her with a smile.
“Okay, now I’m going to cry,” she said with a chuckle.
The doorbell rang, jolting me. “That’ll be James,” I said, inhaling a deep breath.
Sarita eyed me curiously. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine. Why?” I felt bad for not confiding in her about my crush. We always told each other everything. I’d just never had a secret like this before. A secret I feared would change my best friend’s opinion of me.
“You seem a little tense.”
“I do? That’s weird.” I rubbed my arm, wishing she didn’t know me so well. Clearly, she could see that I was nervous, she just didn’t know why.
Sarita studied me again. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
I nodded profusely. “I’m fine, really. I’m just eager to get settled and get to work.”
“Hmm, maybe that’s it,” she said, not looking entirely convinced.
We went out into the living room and found Afric standing by the door talking to James. “I’m telling you, UFOs are real. Why do you think the FBI raided Bob Lazar? Because he’s telling us all the truth and they want to silence him. It’s a bloody disgrace if you ask me. And don’t even get me started on element 115. Do you have an email address? I can send you some articles.”
Oh man, how had she managed to bring up UFOs so fast? Afric never met a conspiracy theory she didn’t like. Well, except for the one that said the earth was flat. Even that was too out there for her, and this was a girl who believed in Bigfoot and the Loch Ness Monster.
James’ eyes met mine, and I shot him a look of apology as I hurried to rescue him. “I’m sorry if my friend is bothering you.”
“Not at all. I’m actually fascinated,” he replied.
Afric shot me a smug grin that said, See? People find these things interesting. The fact that James didn’t sound sarcastic made me like him even more. He was genuinely curious about people, which was refreshing in a world where most were just waiting for you to shut up so that they could talk about themselves.
“Okay, I’ll just go grab my things,” I said.
“Let me help,” James cut in, following me into my bedroom before I could object. I saw his eyes scanning the space, and I knew what he must’ve been thinking—how small and cramped it was.
I quickly went to grab the handle of my suitcase, but he beat me to it, our fingers brushing for the briefest moment. I felt his touch like it had been scorched into my skin. I shoved my hand into my pocket and willed away the sensation.
When we had everything ready to go, I quickly said my goodbyes to Sarita and Afric and we headed down to James’ car.
“You shouldn’t have gone out of your way. I could’ve taken the Tube,” I said while he stowed my suitcase in the back. I wanted him to know I didn’t expect to be chauffeured around.
“I didn’t go out of my way. I had to drop something off at Mum’s, so I was killing two birds with one stone.”
“Your Mum lives close-by?”
“Yeah, I grew up around here. You do realise I’m Jamaican, right?” he teased with a warm smile.
I chuckled, my tone sarcastic. “No, I didn’t catch that.”
Brixton had one of the biggest Jamaican communities in London, but James being from here had never come up before.
“So, how’s everything with you?” I asked after we climbed into the car and James pulled away from the building.
I noticed his hands
tighten momentarily on the steering wheel. “Tense. Diana’s gone for her final wedding dress fitting today.”
“Why tense?” I questioned, feeling queasy as I pictured Diana in some stunning Vera Wang dress, lots of equally beautiful girlfriends telling her how gorgeous she looked as they sipped champagne. The wedding pictures were going to be amazing, that was for sure.
“She wants to fit into a certain size and has been stressing out about it,” James said, reminding me of their fight and my mood darkened.
It bothered me that Diana took her body insecurities out on James, but then, maybe I was judging her too harshly. Diana had a body most women only dreamed of, but anyone could suffer from insecurity, especially if you were marrying someone in the public eye.
Anyway, it really was none of my business. I used the wedding dress talk as a segue to more neutral ground. “Did you know that parachutes used to be made from silk, and after World War II, lots of women made their wedding dresses from parachutes because they couldn’t afford material? I just picture all these ladies clamouring for a fallen parachute in the middle of a field somewhere. It’s like a surreal version of those warehouse sales where people get into fistfights over the last cut-price Alexander McQueen number.”
“I think people having fistfights over designer dresses is a lot more surreal than them scrambling for a parachute,” James countered, arching an amused eyebrow.
“Ha! You’re not wrong. I guess the parachute dresses would be considered quite environmentally friendly nowadays, what with all the talk of the damage fast fashion does to the environment.”
“True. Would you wear a parachute dress, though?”
“Sure. There’s this story about a woman who got married in a dress made from the parachute that saved her husband’s life. Now that’s romantic.”
His mouth turned up at one corner. “I love these little stories you collect. Do you believe in conspiracy theories too, like your friend?”
I blew out a breath. “I don’t necessarily believe them, but they’re fun to think about. It’s like an exercise for your brain, gets the imagination going. The problem is when you get carried away believing in stuff because it’s so much more exciting to believe than search for facts.”