Worst Valentine's Day Ever: A Lonely Hearts Romance Anthology

by Kilby Blades

“Don’t you walk away from me.”

  He grabbed her arm, and she yanked it back with a growl, tossing her full glass of champagne in his face in the process. Turning on her heel, she stalked off.

  It would go down in her personal history book as her best exit ever. Only two things marred her triumph: now she was out of champagne, and Cash had disappeared. All she wanted to do was get out of here and spend the rest of the night hanging out with her best friend, and she had no idea where he’d gone.

  Cash stalked to the el and caught the Red Line north, his head spinning from three strong drinks on an empty stomach and Lauren’s reaction. He was desperate to get home, even if home was a two-bedroom apartment in Wrigleyville that he shared with three other guys. It was away, and that was what he needed.

  He breathed in the filthy air of the subway and shivered on the platform, trying not to lose it. He’d left in such a rush that he’d forgotten to grab his coat, but he hadn’t been able to stomach watching her talk to that asshole one more minute. Hell, his gut was still flipping over it.

  It was bad enough that after their dance together, a dance he’d poured all of his longing into, she’d immediately looked for him. She hadn’t even let Cash stand up for himself when Devin had looked down his smug nose at him.

  True, the last thing this complete failure of a Valentine’s Day needed was an assault charge, but still, a man had his pride. Cash could respect that she wanted to confront Devin herself, but the impotence he’d felt was choking him. Punching out that asshat would have been worth it. At least he’d have gotten some of his frustration out instead of bottling it all up inside.

  And then, on top of it all, he’d had to listen while she defended him as her friend. It had been the straw that broke him. After everything he’d done, he was still just her friend. Rage, some for Devin, some for Lauren, some for himself, pressed at the inside of his skull, throbbing until he dropped into a chair on the train and clutched his head. It was too much. He was going to do or say something he’d regret. He needed some space.

  He’d watched her bounce from boyfriend to boyfriend for six years now. Some of them had been jerks and hadn’t lasted long. Some had been tolerable and had hung around longer. None of them had deserved her.

  This Devin fool had been the worst, because on paper he looked perfect, which meant he’d lasted longer than Cash’s bullshit meter would have predicted. But he’d held his tongue, because Lauren was an adult and capable of picking her own partners. Through it all, he’d stood by her side with a joke or a hug at the ready, a true friend.

  Now, when he wished she’d pick him, everything felt different. He didn’t know if he could cheer her up with a smile and a laugh when his own heart was breaking. He’d given it his best shot tonight, but apparently it hadn’t been enough.

  And he didn’t think he could stick around while she searched for a new stranger to give her the love she deserved, the love he desperately wanted to give her, the love she didn’t want from him. Before, he’d managed, because he’d had hope. Without it, years of misery stretched in front of him.

  He let his mind toy with the fantasy of leaving. He had friends in Nashville, L.A., Seattle…he could couch-hop for a while until he found his feet. He could wait tables anywhere while giving his heart and his muse some room to breathe.

  Right now, he needed to give his rage and defeat a path out of his head. He reached for his ever-present journal to spill his ugly thoughts onto a blank white page, trapping them and making them stand still long enough to be dissected. But as he patted his pockets, panic simply joined anger and regret for the pity party. His journal wasn’t here on a Red Line train hurtling towards his cramped, crowded apartment. It was in the pocket of a puffy coat he’d abandoned in a fancy hotel along with his hopes and dreams for love.

  Damn.

  He stared out the window as the city at night flashed past, and mourned his losses. Could this day get any worse?

  His phone vibrated in his pants pocket. At least he still had that on him. He pulled it out to find a message from Lauren.

  Lauren: We need to talk. GN. Half an hour.

  A second text quickly followed with a picture of his coat and journal in her hands.

  Well that answered that. It could indeed get worse. It looked like he wasn’t quite done being tortured for the night.

  He hopped off the train and instead of heading east for his apartment and oblivion, he turned west for the cold trek to the Golden Nugget.

  Lauren, having sprung for a cab, made it to the Golden Nugget before Cash. Open 24 hours, it had been their end-of-the-night, carb-loading and caffeine-bingeing hangout.

  Sliding into the golden vinyl covered booth, she sighed. She missed those easy days, laughing and studying together, just the three of them. Lauren, Alexis, and Cash. They’d been inseparable at Loyola. College had seemed like such a struggle back then, but it felt like a cakewalk compared to this adulting bullshit.

  How had everything gotten so complicated?

  She toyed with the worn edges of the leather-bound journal in front of her. She’d given it to Cash as a graduation present. He’d clearly been putting it to good use; the pages were wrinkled and worn. She felt a bit of pride that he’d valued her gift, and that he hadn’t given up on his writing. She was mighty tempted to peek inside and read what he was working on, but she wouldn’t.

  Cash had always been very particular about what he’d share and what he kept private. She wouldn’t break his trust like that.

  When he stumbled through the door, half frozen, she rose from the booth to greet him, but he just dropped heavily onto the bench across from her. No hug of greeting. Not even a hello.

  Just bleary eyes focused intently on the journal she now clutched to her chest. He pulled her coffee across the table and drank deeply before he asked, “Did you read it?”

  “No. Of course not. I would never, not without permission.”

  She tried to hand it back to him, but he just stared into his pilfered mug. What the hell had gone wrong?

  “Are you okay, Cash?”

  “Sure, I’m okay. I’m always okay, aren’t I? Isn’t that the role I play in your life?”

  “You’re drunk.”

  “Nah, I’m only up to Honest Harry.”

  “Sounds more like Pissed Off Pete to me.”

  “You might be right. So? What do you care?”

  Lauren flagged down a waitress and ordered another coffee and the Bonanza special that they’d been splitting since college.

  “I care because I’m your friend. I care because I don’t know what I did to make you run off, and the thought of losing you scares me. So eat some fucking food and sober up, because neither of us are leaving here until we get this straight.”

  Cash slouched sullenly in the booth, refusing to meet her eye until their food arrived. She waited until he’d finished half of his short stack of pancakes, picking at the ham and eggs herself. She’d been starving when she sat down, but now her stomach was tied up in knots by his uncharacteristic silence, and she could barely chew.

  Lauren’s phone buzzed with an incoming text from Alexis.

  Alexis: How did things go at the benefit?

  Lauren sent her a picture of their meal and Cash’s hands gripping his coffee cup.

  Alexis: Before midnight? That rough, huh?

  Lauren: Working on avoiding Pete.

  Alexis: Good luck.

  When he drained his coffee, she broke the silence.

  “Are we going to talk about what happened back there?”

  “Which part? The part where after everything I tried to do for you tonight, you still dissed me to that guy?”

  Lauren sat back against the seat, her shoulders sticking to the vinyl. There was a lot to unpack in that statement, starting with what?

  “What?”

  Apparently that was as far as she was going to get in her rational breakdown.

  “That’s really why you were so concerned about the ball, wa
sn’t it? It wasn’t about saving your feature. Or not entirely. You wanted in so you could get back at that jerk.”

  “No, the purpose of tonight was to save my reputation. Did you expect me to ignore the filth he was spouting?”

  “I sure as hell didn’t expect you to leave me standing with Monica fucking Delancey while you dealt with all of his shit alone. But I guess you just want me there to pick up the pieces. You don’t want me standing by your side.”

  “That’s not…” Lauren tried to find the words to explain.

  “I just wish you could see that you deserve so much better.”

  Her temper finally snapped.

  “And who’s gonna give me what I deserve? You?”

  That shut him up.

  “Listen, I pulled him aside because I didn’t want to cause a scene. I also didn’t need an audience for my embarrassment. I told Devin he was a jerk and that we were through for good. That he couldn’t hold a candle to you. And then I turned to find that you were gone.”

  “Didn’t think you wanted me there. You told him I was just a friend.” Cash mumbled to the table. Lauren would dissect why that particular statement sounded like it broke his heart once she got the rest of her anger out.

  “I also threw champagne in his face. Oh, wait, that’s right. You missed that part because you fucking ghosted.”

  More sullen silence. He poked at the pancakes with his fork until she gripped his hand to still it.

  “So are we going to talk about what happened back there?” she asked again.

  “Thought we just did.”

  “Contrary to what you might think, my stand-off with Devin was only the fourth most interesting thing to happen to me tonight.” He finally looked up at her, so she kept talking, desperate to get him to open up. “The third most interesting thing was when my best friend held my hand and sent chills up my arm. That’s never happened before. Then Alexis suggested that I might want to look at my best friend for my next boyfriend. Completely out of left field, right? That’s what I thought, but then I couldn’t get it out of my head.” He looked up at that, but kept his lovely lips pressed into a firm line. She pressed on.

  “But no, that only took second place. I want to talk to you about the most interesting part of my night. Any guesses?”

  He shrugged. Irritating man.

  “How about discovering that my best friend is capable of flipping every switch I have with a dance? That he can turn me inside out with one hot look? And then finding out that he can kiss me and just walk the fuck away? How about we talk about that?”

  He stared at her, jaw clenched. At least she had his attention now.

  She couldn’t have been the only one to feel that chemistry sparking on the dance floor. The more she thought about it, the more she wondered how much more he was hiding beneath his usual happy-go-lucky exterior.

  “You’re sure you didn’t read any of this?” Cash tapped his journal.

  “No. I didn’t.”

  “Maybe you should.” He flicked past the pages filled with slice-of-life essays and poems about race and class that she had helped him critique, settling on one, dog-eared and smudged. “How about this one?” His deep voice trembling, he began to read.

  It’s just a crush, they say.

  It’ll fade, they say.

  Never date a friend, they say.

  Date someone else, they say.

  It’ll get better with time, they say.

  The fuck do they know?

  Lauren’s jaw dropped. He’d written about her? He flicked further through the book, searching for another one. Before she’d regained her equilibrium, he was shaking it further with more tender words.

  I hope you feel the sun warm and loving on your face.

  The wind ruffling your feathers with stealthy laughter.

  The cool moonlight glittering in your eyes.

  The rain washing away the tears he left behind.

  The rainbow chasing your smile.

  The world reflects the best of you.

  I see you everywhere.

  Tears began to flow down Lauren’s face as he kept reading. When his voice trailed off, she snatched the book from him and kept reading, captivated by his scrawling handwritten poetry. There, between the words he’d shared with her, the words for the world, lay his hidden emotions.

  That skirt

  Worn to flirt

  Worn to tempt

  Worn to touch

  So soft

  So many wearings

  So short

  Does she know what I see?

  Does she care if I do?

  Or is it as ever not for me?

  Look but don’t touch.

  Long but don’t speak.

  I can’t. I won’t. I shouldn’t.

  That skirt tho.

  That was her second date skirt, short, denim, and flirty. She’d had it since high school and was proud that it still fit. But it was hers. These poems were speaking directly to her.

  “These are beautiful. Have you thought about publishing them along with your other stuff?”

  “No one wants bad love poems.”

  “I do. I want them. Are they all… are they all about me?”

  He nodded holding her gaze.

  “But you never said anything.”

  “You never seemed interested.”

  “I’ve always been interested in your thoughts and feelings. For crying out loud, you’re my best friend.”

  He leaned forward, his voice intense with suppressed emotion.

  “And if you had secret longings that could ruin that friendship, would you share them? Or would you bury them down deep, afraid that they might change things forever and you’d lose the one person in the world you really need? As much as I wanted you to be mine, I couldn’t risk losing what we already had. You mean too much to me, Lauren, and the thought of losing you scares me to death.”

  “Cash. I… I didn’t know.”

  “It’s okay. I told myself it was a crush and that I’d get over it. But I haven’t. I love you, Lauren, enough to let you go.”

  “What?”

  “It’s okay,” he repeated, as if he weren’t spouting nonsense. “That’s what I decided tonight on the train. It’s time to move on, start fresh. Our friendship can survive the distance, and hopefully the rest will fade away. And someday, when this has all blown over, we’ll have a good laugh about it.”

  Lauren’s heart stuttered in her chest. What in the fresh hell was this? I love you, but I’m leaving? Panic pulsed in her chest, and she pushed back hard against his words, hoping to goad him out of this insane plan.

  “Hold up. You’re just going to drop all of this on me, and then snatch it away? That’s not the Cash Hendricks I know. I think you like the idea of love, but doing the actual work of being in love is what’s really scary, isn’t it?”

  “Pffft. What do you know about it?”

  “I’m just calling it like I see it. One kiss, and you’re ready to bail. My very own love it or leave it.”

  “That’s not… I didn’t…”

  “There’s only one way you’re going to convince me you’re not afraid to love me.”

  His head snapped up at the challenge in her voice.

  “Oh yeah, what’s that?”

  Lauren leaned over the table and grabbed his hand, linking her fingers through his.

  “Stay.”

  The glimmer of hope in his eyes when he looked at her sideways melted her into the seat. And when he smirked and tilted his head to the side, she couldn’t help grinning over her win. To hell with taking a break. This felt right.

  “So you think you can handle being my lover?”

  His cocky humor was back.

  “Only one way to find out,” she tossed back, dropping a twenty on the table and turning for the door of the gritty diner in her fancy dress and stilettos, still holding onto the hand of her best friend.

  The taxi wasn’t driving fast enough. Lauren leaned against C
ash in the backseat, conscious that everything felt different. She had leaned on his shoulder a thousand times. She had always felt the firm muscles beneath her cheek and appreciated them for its unwavering support. But tonight she was aware of every inch of her body that pressed against him. Had he felt this overwhelming awareness, too?

  She shifted, burrowing her nose into the crease of his neck, inhaling his dark, woodsy scent, realizing that she could already identify it as his. She’d stolen enough of his sweatshirts to associate it with comfort and care. Pressing a kiss against the pulse racing at the base of his throat, she knew she would feel a layer of lust on top of that the next time she stole his shirt. She groaned when he caught his breath and swallowed audibly.

  “How did you do it?” she asked against his skin.

  “Do what?” he managed.

  “Ignore this need? I’ve only just started seeing you this way, and I can’t keep my hands to myself.”

  “Don’t.”

  Lauren leaned back at the harsh command. Cash grabbed her hand and put it flat against his racing heart.

  “No. Don’t keep it to yourself. I need this. I need you,” he gasped, pulling her closer to kiss her fiercely.

  She lost herself in the sensations he built with his hands, his lips. An old familiar love clashed with this strange new love to create something new, something powerful inside of her. She felt alive with it. Needs and desires twisted up inside her, and all she could do was cling to him and trust that he’d see her through the storm.

  He always had before.

  The taxi driver had to honk his horn to get their attention. Who knew how long he’d been parked outside her apartment, muttering about young love. Who cared?

  “Will you come up?” she asked on a breathy exhale.

  “Anything you want.” Cash replied. He’d said that earlier, too, and countless times over the years of their friendship. How had she missed the love behind those words?

  Lauren paid the still-grumbling taxi driver and left him a ridiculous tip. She fumbled to find her keys as Cash pressed kisses to the back of her neck.

  She didn’t want to fumble this, either. But who better to fall with than someone who’d always been there to catch her?