THE DIRTY ONES

by JA Huss

  “Have you ever been back there?”

  “Why the fuck would I go back?”

  Hayes shrugs. “I dunno. Just to see if you could get back in. Take a fresh look at things from a ten-years-later perspective?”

  “No, thanks,” I say, kinda feeling sick just thinking about it.

  “You never showed for any of the alumni dinners.”

  “No. Why did you?”

  “Not at first,” he says, looking me dead in the eyes. “But the past few, yeah.”

  “Huh,” I say, trying to picture that. “Did anyone else go?”

  He nods.

  “Who?”

  “Louise.”

  “Hmmm,” I say. “Weird. She’s so fucking weird.”

  “Do you know what she does?”

  “No,” I say. “Never saw her again. Never heard anything about her again.”

  “She’s a doctor.”

  I nod. “I guess I can see that.”

  Hayes holds my gaze. Too long, so it becomes uncomfortable. I’m just about to ask him why he’s looking at me that way when he says, “Yeah. I’ll be interested to see your reaction to her on Saturday.”

  “Speaking of Saturday,” I say. “How did you know my father was going to throw a party at her house? Bennett said you mentioned it earlier.”

  “Just a really good guess.”

  Which is a really strange response that deserves all the follow-up questions, but the car stops in front of a building that must be Sofia’s, and Hayes opens his door to get out.

  He looks over his shoulder, one foot already exiting, and says, “Forget about all this shit for a night. The girls are waiting upstairs.”

  And then the rest of him is out on the street and the door closes, leaving me alone.

  Sofia’s apartment is like a smaller copy of her building lobby twelve floors down below. Black marble floors with glittering gold lines separating each tile. Long sheer black curtains flanking each of the floor to ceiling windows, crushed-velvet yellow couches placed facing each other, and armchairs in deep navy blue on either end creating a seating area that reminds me of Hayes’ third-floor library.

  She and Kiera are busy in the gleaming stainless steel chef’s kitchen when Hayes and I enter the main living area, their backs to us.

  “Hey!” Sofia calls out, putting a tray of bread into the oven. “I hope you two are hungry.”

  Kiera looks over her shoulder, washing her hands at the sink, and smiles as she turns and wipes them dry on an apron.

  I stop where I’m at and just stare at her. Fresh now, like me. She’s wearing an outfit similar to the ones I’ve seen her in all week. Beige leggings, long brown sweater with a low-hanging neckline, and those shearling boots that make her look like a model in a brochure for mountain cabin rentals. Her unruly blonde hair is pulled up in a ponytail, but it’s not a neat one—like how Sofia has her hair today—but messy and wild. Just like her.

  I smile back. Let myself get lost in her for a moment.

  “Let me help,” Hayes says, hanging his coat on a hook that holds an assortment of aprons. I stop and wait, wondering if he’s gonna put on one, but he doesn’t. Just unbuttons his shirt cuffs and starts rolling up his sleeves as he leans in to give Sofia a kiss on the cheek.

  My eyes dart to Kiera, watching her as she watches them, and then she lets him kiss her cheek too.

  “What can I do?” Hayes asks.

  “The meatballs,” Sofia says, pointing to the lower of her double ovens.

  “On it,” Hayes says, grabbing some oven mitts.

  Kiera is walking towards me now, so I reach for her and pull her into me, unable to stop myself from leaning into her neck to smell the fresh scent of her hair. “Hey,” she says. “I think I missed you.”

  I laugh a little, kissing her neck. “I think I missed you too.”

  I glance at Hayes and Sofia, wondering what they’re thinking about. Wondering if they’ve noticed the way I have that we’ve paired up. That foursome we had last night is feeling very far away now. Like a dream or something.

  But they’re not even looking at us. Way too busy with dinner. Having some conversation that I can’t really make out, but acting like this is a normal Thursday night for them.

  Acting like this is familiar.

  “Jesus,” Kiera says. “You guys look like a freaking power couple in there getting ready to throw a dinner party.”

  Sofia chuckles, looking over at us as she stirs a pot of what I assume is pasta on the stove. “We’ve been throwing Game of Thrones watch parties for a few years now. I’ve got him well trained.”

  I pull away from Kiera so I can see her face. We laugh.

  “Get the fuck out of here,” I say.

  “Seriously,” Hayes says. “When did we start doing that, Sof?”

  She stops her stirring and ponders this. “Season three? Four?”

  Hayes points to her. “Red Wedding season. When was that?”

  “Season three,” she confirms. “God, where did the years go? It seems like yesterday.”

  “Five years?” Kiera asks. “How come you never told me about this? I would’ve loved to come to those.”

  Hayes shrugs. “I didn’t think you were into it.”

  “You had those parties here?” I ask, looking around at Sofia’s apartment. The large flat-screen over her fireplace. Picturing how she’d arrange the seating to accommodate a horde of Game of Thrones fans. Imagining the conversation about dragons and dwarfs. Unable to reconcile this image of Hayes.

  “Yup,” Sofia says. “It’s kind of a big deal. Sometimes we have like twenty people. Camille always came, Kiera. Bennett didn’t come to all of them, but he made a few each season. We have other parties too, if you’re not into the fantasy stuff. I’ll add you to our Facebook group.”

  Facebook group? Hayes and Sofia have a Facebook group to coordinate their parties?

  “Hmmm,” Kiera says. “You should’ve invited me, Hayes. I’ve been having lunch with you at least once a month this whole time and you never said a word about watch parties with Sofia and Camille.”

  Yeah, that’s weird too. How is it that I got through these ten years barely talking to any of them and Hayes had a secret relationship with all of them but me? And is it weird that Bennett never mentioned this? I mean, I’ve seen him like almost every day since we graduated from Essex.

  “I’m starting to take this personally, Hayes.”

  He laughs, busy with the fucking meatballs.

  “Seriously, why didn’t you reach out to me?”

  His laugh falls away and he’s silent for a few moments.

  “Hayes? Did I like… offend you or something?”

  “No.” He laughs again. But it doesn’t feel real. It feels a lot like a… a reaction. “No,” he reiterates. “I just figured you were busy with your father’s plans for you, that’s all.”

  Well, that’s not weird. I mean, I get what he’s saying. I’ve kinda been on this whole you’re-gonna-be-a-senator ten-year plan for the last ten years.

  But it is weird. Because it’s the way he says it that bothers me.

  “Who wants to set the table?” Sofia asks.

  “I will,” Kiera says. “But I’m warning you, I have no idea where the forks and spoons go.”

  “No one cares,” Hayes says, winking at her.

  “Hey, where’s Camille and Bennett?” I ask.

  “They’re skipping dinner,” Sofia says. “Busy, I guess.”

  Hayes frowns, staring at Sofia for a long moment, then goes back to what he’s doing without comment. But he’s clearly worried about that development.

  I take a deep breath and let it out as I watch Sofia tell Kiera where the tableware is kept. Then I walk over to the bar area in the living room. “Anyone want a drink?”

  “Wine,” Sofia says, pointing to a wine fridge under the counter I’m standing in front of. “Any of them are fine.”

  “I keep a bottle of ’64 Glenlivet in the cabinet with the k
ey in it, Con,” Hayes says. “Help yourself as well.”

  I just shake my head for two reasons. One, the bottle I find in the cabinet with the key is a rare one worth as much as a new mid-size car. And two, he keeps one here. Like he’s got spares in keyed cabinets all over Manhattan.

  “Kiera?” I ask, getting glasses and choosing a bottle of wine.

  “Whatever Sofia is drinking,” she says, busy with the table setting. I stop what I’m doing to watch her for a moment. Because she looks so damn cute as she second-guesses herself with the position of knife versus spoon. Picking them both up, placing them back down, then switching them around one more time before blowing a stray piece of hair out of her eyes and mumbling, “Fuck it,” as she moves on to the next place setting.

  And even though I’m smiling and pretty happy in this moment, I also feel a little sad that these people—these friends—haven’t been in my life all these years.

  I’ve missed them. And I wish Camille and Bennett were here too. As weird as last night was, it was nice. And not just the kinky foursome sex part either. All of it. I’ve missed Camille’s filthy mouth and dark sense of humor. I want to know more about her books. Ask her questions about them like, So how do you reconcile these two sides of yourself in your writing?

  I’ve missed Hayes’ weirdness and control. I’ve missed the soft quietness of Sofia and the way Kiera can rock a pair of leggings and suede boots and still make my heart beat fast when she looks at me. Even Bennett felt different in the presence of the group. And knowing that he’s been a part of this and I haven’t makes me wonder what else I’ve missed out on in his life.

  Why didn’t anyone tell me they were still friends?

  And it’s not the same for Kiera. She was up there in Vermont, distant like me. But Hayes brought her into his world regularly. He included her.

  It’s hard for me to believe that I wasn’t deliberately excluded.

  But why?

  By the time I’m finished making all the drinks Sofia and Hayes are placing steaming bowls of food on the table and Kiera is standing in their way, oblivious with hands on hips, admiring her place-setting accomplishment.

  Who cares? I tell myself. Who cares how we all got here tonight? The only thing that matters is that we’re here.

  We all sit down and there’s a long pause where no one speaks and I have this rapid, heart-beating fear that we aren’t special. That maybe they have fun without me, but with me it’s nothing but awkward silence…

  But Sofia lifts her glass, smiles at each of us individually, and says, “I’ve missed you,” as we meet her gaze and raise our glasses. “It’s been too long and I hope this is a new beginning. I hope that we will come together more often.”

  “To the friends we left behind,” Hayes says, looking at me. “And the circumstances that brought us back together.”

  I nod. “Cheers to us.”

  “The Dirty Ones,” Kiera says.

  We look at her. Another awkward moment of silence as we picture all the things, all the nights, all the years that come with those three words.

  But she just shrugs. “Might as well own it. We’re not doing much to dispel the rumors.”

  Hayes laughs first. “To the Dirty Ones. Long may we reign.”

  And then we drink, and we eat, and we talk. And it’s better than it ever was in the past. Because we’re different people now. Grown up, doing our thing, being who we are…

  And this time around it feels like a decision and not a reaction.

  Later, after dinner is over and we’re paired up on the two couches—Kiera’s head in my lap as I play with her wild mane of hair, Hayes with his arm around Sofia as she talks in her soft, quiet voice about the new story she’s working on, mostly to Kiera, who asks her questions and adds commentary—Hayes and I look at each other. Read each other’s minds.

  There is no foursome in our future and that’s OK. It’s a part of us and we’re not ashamed of it. But this new thing we are comes in twos.

  Eventually Hayes gets up, pulling Sofia to her feet, and says, “See you both in the morning.”

  Kiera and I stay on the couch for a few silent minutes and then she says, “Are you staying? Sofia gave me her best guest room. And I’m telling you right now, it’s got a view to die for.”

  I smile, still twirling her long strands of hair in my fingertips. Loving the night so hard and daydreaming about all the nights we’ll spend like this in the future. Not wanting to move, but anticipating what comes next at the same time. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll never leave you again, Kiera. I’ll never lie to you, I’ll never cheat on you and if you fall, I’m still gonna be there. Because it’s my job to catch you.”

  She sucks in a deep breath of air, holds it as she turns her head, eyes on mine, and lets it out. “That sounds a lot like a vow.”

  I nod. “It is. I could kill myself for not being in your life all this time. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  She sits up, swings her legs over the edge of the couch, and stands up, pulling me with her by the hand. “Come with me,” she says. “I’ve got more to show you than the view.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO - KIERA

  I’m nervous, excited, afraid, and turned on as I lead Connor down the hallway towards the bottom-floor guest room.

  Nervous because I’m not sure what we are yet. The excitement I still feel coming off the heated sex of last night has many question marks attached. It felt so good, how connected we all were. No jealousy or insecurities. So I’m afraid that maybe what Connor and I have together isn’t true love. Maybe it’s just true lust? Maybe we are the Dirty Ones and that’s all we’ll ever be?

  But I’ll never know the difference between these two things if I don’t open myself up.

  I want him forever. Connor Arlington has always felt like the man I was meant for. And even though I didn’t feel his absence all these years, it’s caught up with me now.

  I feel it now and he’s holding my hand. I ache for the moments we’ve missed. I yearn for all the things I could’ve had and didn’t get. I long for him to be in my life, to grow old with me, and love me the way I love him.

  The room is dark. Lit up only by the city lights outside. But it’s so beautiful. I’ve always loved my quiet life in Vermont but if there’s one thing that could drag me away from the country and the lake, it’s this. The twinkling lights of one of the world’s greatest cities.

  “Come here,” Connor says, turning me towards him and sliding his hands around my waist. I slip mine up his arms. He took his suit coat off hours ago, so it’s just the soft cotton under my fingertips and the hard muscles of his arms that I feel as I gaze up at him.

  “Hi,” I say, smiling, picturing what we’d look like to someone standing in the open doorway or someone outside, looking through some other wall of glass, seeing us in our moment.

  Two people in a romantic embrace. In a romantic moment.

  I wonder if they’re writing our story in their head the way I write those of strangers I see from afar? I wonder if we come from a tragic past filled with mystery and secrets? Or if we’ve lived the charmed life of a prince and princess? I wonder if they’ll be writing our happily ever after right now? Or if that dark, black moment is still out in front, calling us forward into the story?

  I guess I lied earlier. I guess I do like the HEA and could do without the crisis.

  “Hi,” Connor says. “I’ve missed you.”

  “Today?”

  “Not just today. All the days that came before today, Kiera.” He tucks a stray strand of hair behind my ear and leans in. My heart thumps wildly in the moment I wait. Thumping like crazy when his lips touch mine.

  It’s a new kind of kiss for us. A claiming kiss. One that says, You’re mine. And I’m yours. One that speaks lifetimes of moments in this moment. A kiss that starts a new beginning and ends an old, well-buried past.

  I’m writing our story in my head, I realize.

  “Come with me,” Connor whis
pers. “I want to see you better.”

  He doesn’t leave me. Doesn’t pull away and take my hand and lead me closer to the twinkling lights. He turns me a little, hides my face in the shadows as he backs me up against the window and pressed my shoulders into the glass.

  I keep my eyes closed, still writing the story. Still picking and choosing just the right words to describe us. Our night. How later, when we’re done, I’ll get out my notebook and put it all down on paper so I’ll never forget how this feels.

  I will capture all of it. Never forget a single moment of this night.

  His fingertips slide under my long sweater and find their way to the bare skin hiding underneath. I suck in a breath of air at his cold hands, but a moment later the chill is gone and we’re warm together.

  Just as I get used to that he lifts my sweater up and over my head, reminding me that it’s December. But just as quick as I think that thought, his hands are back, playing with my breasts as he continues to kiss my mouth.

  It’s the most perfect kiss, I decide. So gentle. Silent, but saying everything at the same time. I wouldn’t have written it any other way.

  He reaches around my back, unclasping my bra, making it loose. He slides it down my arms, taking his kisses to my neck now. I don’t know if I want to fall into him and lose myself in the feeling of baring myself to him or just start ripping his clothes off, but he takes that decision away when he drops my bra to the floor and takes a step back. Unknots his tie and pulls it through his collar while I watch.

  I lean back into the window, experiencing the cold glass, but not caring. Because his fingertips are pulling his shirt out of his pants. Unbuttoning each button slowly. Carefully. His gaze locked on mine when I look up.

  He takes a breath. Breathes it out. Then takes off his shirt.

  I will never get tired of looking at his body.

  I reach for him. Splay my fingers wide across the right side of his chest, feeling his heart beating fast. He grabs my breast again. Lifts up from the bottom so he’s cupping me with his hand.

  His mouth becomes a small crooked smile and I know he’s feeling my heart beating fast too.