Progress (The Progress Series)

by Queau, Amy

  “See, Jess. This is one of our problems.” Wetting her lips, she scratches the back of her head. “Do you think I’m an idiot? You don’t get scars like that from a bar fight, unless the bar happens to have boiling water or hot grease available to the public.” She chews the inside of her cheek, thinking the worst of his scars. “I’d rather you say nothing at all than lie straight to my face. You can’t seem to talk to me about anything important, so what’s the fucking point anymore?”

  He takes a deep breath in and opens her car door for her, then skulks back into the building without a word.

  She shakes her head. Nope, not gonna cry another tear for this guy.

  I still feel horribly. It isn’t his fault he doesn’t have feelings for me. I’m acting like a teenager, but I don’t care.

  As she drives away, her cell phone rings and it’s work. There is no way she’s returning and picking up a shift, so she doesn’t answer it. She needs to go home and collect her thoughts.

  Once home, she waves at her parents and walks straight to the basement. She prepares a pot of coffee, changes into her tank top, and crawls under the sheets with her notebook.

  As she begins writing in her journal, her thoughts are interrupted once again by her phone. Looking at the caller ID: it’s Jess.

  “Oh God, why? Why can’t he just leave me alone?” she says, shaking her phone like she’s choking it. Not knowing what to do, she goes with her gut.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi.”

  “What?”

  “I need to see you.”

  “Why are you whispering, Jess? And I thought you had to work tonight.”

  “They didn’t need me. And I’m whispering because this isn’t easy for me. I just need to see you, talk to you, and make sure we’re okay.”

  She sighs. “We’re fine, Jess. Just go home. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

  “No! Don’t hang up. Are you still there?”

  Softening, she replies, “Yeah. I’m here.”

  “Come over,” he says. She can hear his smile.

  “I’m half naked and under my sheets.”

  “I want you half naked under my sheets. Come over.”

  Please stop teasing me.

  “Hey Jess?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m sorry,” she finally says.

  “Don’t be. I’m an ass,” he says.

  “Yes. That’s true,” she chuckles. “But…but I can be, too.”

  “Then we’re even. Please come over.”

  “Ugh! Okay. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. But I won’t stay long.”

  *

  She arrives at his house and he greets her at the door. Looking at her with sad, gray eyes, the same eyes he had the first night she saw him, he wraps his arms around her.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispers into her ear.

  An inner glow warms her stomach and moves outward to each limb and through her fingertips.

  “I don’t think you’ve ever hugged me,” she says, appreciating the sensation, ecstatic she hadn’t started to tremble. Taking in the scent of crisp soap and deodorant, she closes her eyes and allows herself to feel like he’s real.

  He holds her for what feels like several minutes. And too soon, he pulls away.

  “Can I get you a drink?” he asks, taking her hand and guiding her upstairs to the kitchen.

  “Whatever you’re having is fine.”

  “Hey, the delivery manager position is opening up at work. What do you think? Think I stand a chance?” he asks.

  “Sure, why not? Although, you’ll have to come up with something pretty damn good to make them forget about all the shifts you screwed up.”

  “Yeah, you’re right.”

  Charlie leans against the counter, and a silver shimmer catches the corner of her eye. Lifting a few pieces of paper to expose it, she takes two glances at it before realizing what it is. Her lips part slightly and she looks at Jess. He’s pouring her a glass of water and looks up at her just as she is about to ask him why he has it.

  “What…I mean. Why? Why do you have my necklace? I’ve been looking all over for this thing,” she asks, still puzzled.

  Horrified for a quick second, he hands her the glass of water. “Because it’s yours,” he says.

  There is a long silence as Charlie tries to process his words.

  Suddenly he speaks as if it’s been well-rehearsed and a heavy burden lifted. “I don’t know how to explain what’s going on between us. I don’t know how I feel and I don’t want to lead you on. I don’t want to have to explain it to anyone and I don’t do the girlfriend thing. When I start to have…when I get…well, I start…I mean, listen to me! I’m an idiot!” He pauses. “She left me broken. They’ve all left me broken.”

  “I’m fine, Jess. This game we play, this torment, is fun and exciting. It drives me crazy. Good and bad crazy. I just want to make sure that we’re not doing any permanent damage to each other. That’s what I’m not so sure of.” Charlie speaks like it’s a brand new revelation. “I feel like I’m walking on eggshells with you. The smallest thing could light a fire under your ass and you’ll make fun of me, insult me, and use things I say against me. I’m fragile, too. I don’t think you take that into consideration sometimes. But you were right when you said I want you to touch me, then push you away. I hadn’t realized I was doing it all this time,” she says.

  He takes a step toward her and she pretends not to notice. There’s a long silence that is getting charged with their energy, and he’s just a foot away from her now.

  “Don’t let my words fool you, you terrify me,” she whispers.

  “You scare me, too.”

  “For the first time in my life, I feel beautiful. I just don’t want that to be the only reason that you…” She trails off, not finishing her sentence.

  As he takes another step toward her, she stares at his feet, trying to think about something else in order to cool the pulsing heat of her skin. Fisting her hands, she starts to feel a slight tremble in her fingers.

  She wants to touch him. She wants to reach her hand out and rest her palm against his chest, wrap her arms around him again and feel the definition of his back and shoulder blades. But most of all, she just wants him closer than he is right now.

  She opts for something a little less risky. “What does this mean?” She reaches out and touches the tattoo on his forearm and softly traces it with her index finger. What she hadn’t noticed before now, what had seemed to be just abstract wavy lines, had been an optical illusion; his tattoo is of a small ballerina. A tiny dancer.

  His jaw clenches and his eyes grow dark. Pulling back his arm like she is running a blade through his vein, there is an instant shift in his posture and demeanor.

  Bree. The one that got away.

  In the same instant that he closes his eyes, he closes his mind. Fear blankets him and his throat runs dry. He can’t break this never-ending circle, this chain of stabbing disappointment. If he lets her in, she will hurt him. It’s inevitable.

  “Get out. I can’t do this with you. Not you,” his voice is hushed and ragged.

  “Jess, I’m sorry. Don’t make me leave.”

  “I don’t know what I was thinking, asking you to come here. I can’t do this.” He begins taking emotion out of his voice.

  “Please. Just talk to me. I care, Jess. Please stop pushing me away. Or one of these times I’ll just stay away.”

  “If you stay, I can’t be responsible for what I say to you. So just go!” It’s almost a shout.

  “Let me help you.” As soon as it slips out, she closes her eyes. Damn eggshells.

  “Help? I don’t need your help! I don’t want anything to do with you! Why can’t you just leave me alone?” he screams as he moves towards her, urging her back downstairs to the front door.

  Startled and embarrassed, she turns around awkwardly to escape this personal hell. She was so sure he was opening up and receptive to her kindness. Her throat is in her stomach
and she suddenly can’t wait to get home and hide under the covers for a week.

  She opens the door quickly and runs outside. It takes a split second for her to get her bearings and remember where she is and where her car is parked. As she turns towards the driveway, her shoe slips off and she stubs her toe but doesn’t skip a beat; cursing, she limps her way back towards the car. She can’t risk looking behind her to see if he is watching this whole scene, certain he’ll see right through her, as she thought he always had. And of every thought that ever ran through her mind, she’d never want him to see how much he hurt her just now. She doesn’t think there is anything anyone could do now to rectify this, until she feels his hand on her arm.

  “Damn you,” he whispers in her ear. Quickly, he has her back pinned between his hip and the car. She tries to buck him off, but he has such a tight grip on her that there is no escaping. Not yet.

  “Damn you. Why did you have to be so damn sexy? I mean, my god. You’re irresistible,” he repeats in a softer whisper. Resting his head on her shoulder, he waits for her to stop struggling.

  Her entire body softens. Say it again.

  As soon as he is satisfied she won’t run, he loosens his grip on her wrists, but only slightly.

  “Why couldn’t you have just left me alone? Why did you ever agree to have a drink with me in the first place? I would have been fine if you just would have left me alone.” He begins with soft kisses on the back of her neck, trailing up to her ear.

  So many things tumble through her mind. Whether to stay and give herself to this man she’s waited her whole life for. To trust someone with her body, her mind, her damaged confidence. Or should she just leave and forget all about this train wreck of a relationship? Both options are tempting; pros and cons alike. But she doesn’t have time to think about them all. She just has to choose.

  “Jess, don’t.”

  He ignores her and continues kissing her neck. Folding down her collar to get to her back and shoulder blades, she can hear him inhaling her hair, her perfume; a soft moan escapes his throat.

  His cold hands find her waist and he starts moving them up the front of her shirt. She can feel his arousal on her backside and can’t believe she’s having this effect on him. This shouldn’t feel so right.

  “No!” She turns as tears fall from her eyes.

  He steps back. “Please,” he pleads with her, knowing how hard this will be for her, not just because of her lack of experience, but also because it’s him. For a year they’ve been battling back and forth, a game of who was going to make the first move, neither of them daring for their own reasons. Neither of them secure enough to do so. Both scared to see who they’d become if they did.

  She’s never seen this look on his face before. He is broken; rejected, damaged goods – just like she is. He’s sick of fighting and his mind is weak.

  “Don’t leave,” he stumbles over his words as he approaches her slowly, waiting for her reaction. “This little dimple you have here…is…is....” He touches the corner of her mouth.

  He doesn’t wait long before he wraps his hand around the back of her neck and pulls her to him. His mouth is on hers before she can protest.

  “Please don’t leave me,” he whispers between each kiss.

  “I don’t know what to do. I can’t…think.” Trembling hard now, she’s trying to speak between each shivering gasp.

  “No. No thinking. There’s too much of that here,” he says just before the intensity of his kiss increases. “No more talking.”

  He can feel her trembling and pulls her closer. You’re safe. I’m here.

  His hand finds her panties and he exhales as he trails a soft finger over the warmth of her bare skin underneath them, gently caressing and soothing her. Her hips betray her and start moving along with his rhythm. She feels him smile and she freezes.

  Is he laughing at me? Oh god, not again. He’s laughing at me. I’m such a fool. I am nothing.

  No.

  No. Fuck you. I’m not nothing. I’ve never been nothing. Fuck you, Jesse Anders!

  “Enough.” She takes a sharp inhale and rips his hands away from her quickly, ending the childish make-out session.

  “No. God, I’m such an idiot. You’re not doing this to me again, Jess. Did Jake dare you to do this?” Shaking her head, she closes her eyes. “I’m done. You can’t keep doing this to me.” The last sentence trips out of her mouth along with a suppressed sob. She quickly opens the car door, slides in, locks the doors, and ignores his pleas and pounds on the glass.

  She doesn’t want to look in her rearview mirror – she doesn’t know what she’ll see. Is he laughing? Did she accidentally run him over in her haste to get out? Has anyone been watching? She tries so hard to resist the urge to look back, but fails.

  Jesse is sitting on the sidewalk outside his house with his head between his legs and his hands raking through his hair.

  Shit.

  As soon as she gets out of his neighborhood, she pulls over. Getting out of the car, she paces with her hand over her mouth. Back and forth for several minutes, trying to calm herself down. She is on fire with passion and completely furious.

  Her heart rate returns to normal as she sits on the trunk of her car and lights a cigarette.

  She sits for over an hour until the sun comes up, replaying the night in her head and crying. Remembering the warmth, the feel of him against her. His scent, his chest. The pained look in his eyes when he pleaded with her to stay.

  Exhaling a drag of her last cigarette, she scrapes herself off the trunk and gets in the car. She drives off not caring which direction she’s going.

  Finding a gas station to get another pack of cigarettes, she looks at herself in her rearview mirror and sees the hot mess that she is. Attempting to clean up her mascara and eyeliner by wetting her fingers and smoothing the skin under her eyes, she realizes nothing is really going to work. But at least she has a bandana in her glove compartment she can use to pull back her hair.

  She purchases a pack of cigarettes, candy bar and a very large cup of coffee. She thinks there’s no point in sleeping that day before her shift, because—

  Shit! My shift! He’ll be there! She panics.

  She has two hours to figure out what she is going to say to him at work that morning. Oh no, it’s Wednesday! Parm and pepp morning, too! Fan-fucking-tastic.

  “Sick! I’ll call in sick.”

  Chapter Four

  Two days later, Charlie’s phone rings and the caller ID shows Jesse’s number.

  Do I answer this?

  Yes.

  No.

  All right. Here goes nothing…

  “Hello?” she says quickly.

  “Hey.” His voice is soft.

  “What can I do for you, Jesse?”

  “You can talk to me.”

  “About what?” She is going to make him say it.

  “You know what.”

  “I’m tired, Jess. Tired of how much effort it takes to be friends with you. Tired of how much it takes to want you. I’m sick of the torture of your highs and lows. You make me feel so inadequate one second, and then you treat me like I’m the only woman in the world the next. You are so wonderful and so horrible at the same time--”

  “Wait, Charlie. Let me explain--”

  “No. No more explanations. No more apologies. Because then I’m going to go back to adoring you, spending every minute thinking about you, wondering when you’ll touch me and fearing what you’ll say when you do.” She shakes her head. “Did you know that I listen to that damn CD you gave me three times a day? Every time I exercise. You are the reason I’ve lost every pound. Yes, you. I thought if I lost it…” She pauses. “No matter what I do, you’ll never want just me. I’ll never be enough. I’ll never be the one who makes you want to be a better person. I’ll never have the right words. I’ll never be beautiful enough. I’ll never be as smart as you. I will continue to be a lost little puppy who follows you around forever, but who you’ll ne
ver respect, never fully love, and never give the kind of attention I deserve. After a year, I still can’t trust you. I can’t trust you with my mind, my body, my insecurities, any of it. Every time I think I’m getting close, you catapult me to the other side of the fucking Earth! I’ve let you get so close, and every time you crush me to oblivion.”

  Jesse swallows and breathes heavily on the other end of the phone. He says nothing.

  “So that’s it. That’s all I have to say. Can you now understand why I can’t be your friend? Why I can’t be near you? Why I can’t endure another day with you?” She waits for his response.

  What can he say? If she truly feels this way, there is nothing more he can do.

  “But I still want you. I want you in my life,” Jess says.

  “Then maybe you should think about me the next time you decide to make a friend. You’ve messed with my head; I don’t know who you are, if you care, when you’re serious, and whether or not I should even know you anymore.”

  “What do you want me to do?” He doesn’t want her to hang up. It will surely be over.

  “Remember me.” With those two last words, she lets out a sigh and hangs up her phone.

  Chapter Five

  The next time she sees him is six days later. Jesse has called Charlie’s phone twice, but hung up before the voicemail came. Work had been a nightmare the whole week. Bussers had called in sick, there was only one hostess on, and the Manager was stuck delivering food to tables.

  Charlie was called in to hostess tonight, and she’s waiting for the last table to leave as she finishes up her side work.

  “Hey Charlie. Can I talk to you a second?” Jesse speaks softly, but has a very businesslike tone to his voice. Wearing a dress shirt and tie, he has hinds hands tucked behind his back and nods in the direction of the kitchen.

  “Sure,” she says, rolling her eyes behind his back.

  He brings her into the kitchen area, assuring staff won’t hear.

  “Um, this is a bit unorthodox, Jess. Shouldn’t you have me where people can see us? You may get accused of fraternizing,” she says sarcastically. “Ehm, manager, sir.”