by A. L. Parks
waves of heat to places that had been cold for too long. She couldn’t look at him, afraid he would see the effect it had on her. And she was sure it was just an innocent gesture. But a forgotten pull made Abby want his actions to mean so much more.
After dinner, the men retired to the family room to watch more football. Clara and Courtney herded the children to the basement playroom Abby and her siblings had used growing up. Although, the toys had been upgraded since then, and there was now a flat screen TV and X-Box.
Single, female, with no children, Abby was forced to help clean the dishes and endure Charlotte once again commence a litany of, "what is going on with you and Bryce?" and "You two seems so perfect together." Abby had a hard time generating the usual answer of "we are just friends," when for a while now she had felt a stronger attraction to Bryce. It had started so subtly, Abby could not put her finger on when exactly it had happened. But she knew for sure on her birthday, when Bryce had given her the locket. Even now, as she tried to convince her mother that she and Bryce remained friends only, her hand went to it. Each time she thought of Bryce, which was often these days, her hand would hold it, a smile would cross her face, and butterflies would take flight in her stomach.
And Bryce was not helping matters. He was very affectionate, and would think nothing of walking hand-in-hand with her, pulling her into an embrace, or kissing her goodbye on the cheek. The impact those innocent actions left on her, though, were becoming hard to ignore. She looked for ways to encourage his affections, and was beginning to crave his touch. Sparks would ignite within her, and she would feel a rush of heat ravage through her. And just as quickly her high would drop to a low knowing that these gestures did not have the same meaning to him as they did to her. The idea that she would long for him, and never have him the way she wanted, initiated storm clouds that rolled through her head, heart and soul.
Hurrying through the rest of the dishes, partly so she could get back to Bryce, but mostly to get away from her mother, Abby loaded the rest of the dishes into the dishwasher, turned it on, and made her way to the door.
"Well, Abby, if you wait too long, someone else is going to take him right out from under your nose. You are not getting any younger, you know. And Bryce is a catch. You could do a lot worse," Charlotte continued her admonition.
"Mom, for the last time; Bryce and I are friends. We don’t think of each other that way, so just drop it." Abby tossed the dish towel she was drying her hands with onto the counter, and walked out of the kitchen as quickly as she could, before her mother started in on her again. Turning the corner, her head down, she ran into Bryce in the hallway. She hit his chest just as she was beginning to raise her head. His hands went around her upper arms to keep her from falling backwards as she bounced off him from the impact.
"Oh!" Abby exclaimed, and then giggled when her eyes focused on Bryce. "Didn't expect to run into you out here." He had a pained look on his face, and Abby's stomach sank.
"What's wrong?" she asked, a lump forming in her throat. "Are you okay?" She reached her hand up and placed it on his face, and immediately felt an electric current that sent tingles through her fingers and up her arm.
Bryce's hand was over hers, and removed it slowly from his face, but held onto it. "Yeah, I'm okay," he answered, keeping his eyes down, as his fingers traced the outline of her fingers.
"Did something happen?" Her heart was racing, but Abby wasn't sure if it was anxiety or from the sensual effect his proximity was having on her body.
"No," he said, as he finally looked at her, and gave her a
weak smile. "No, everything is fine...it's as it should be." He turned and made his way back into the living room, and joined the rest of Abby's family. She followed him, and sat on the edge of the couch next to Courtney. They watched as he interacted with the rest of them, but something was gnawing at Abby. It seemed so easy, and relaxed...and meant to be. But she couldn’t imagine how it would ever be more. The thought of Bryce and her in a romantic relationship, that may potentially ruin their friendship, nearly sucked the air out of her lungs. She could not risk asking for more, only to have Bryce pull away, not wanting the same thing, and shatter their friendship.
The following Wednesday night, Abby sat in front of her computer attempting to do some online Christmas shopping for her nieces and nephews. The sound of her cell made her jump, as the excitement in her built and her heart rate increased hearing Bryce's ringtone.
She had done nothing in the week since Thanksgiving, except the usual. And the usual for her lately was to maintain her friendship with Bryce in the same manner she had since they met, and dream of a future that would never be. She had noticed his own reserved manner in the last week, and worried that she was somehow broadcasting her true feelings towards him. When she had asked him if everything was all right, he had always smiled, and reassured her that everything was "fine."
"Hey," she answered with more excitement than she had intended, and less than she felt. "How was your day?"
"Not bad, I guess. Yours?" Abby picked up on something in his voice; he seemed off.
"Uh-oh. What's wrong?" She reached for her wallet to pull out her credit card after finding the iPod her nephew had asked for at a decent price.
"No, nothing, I just have to cancel our plans for Friday night." Bryce's voice was hesitant, almost wary.
"You have to work late again? I'm telling you, they better give you a huge bonus, because they have been working you to death." Abby half joked.
"No, I'm not working late." He paused, and then audibly exhaled. "I have a date."
Abby stopped typing and just sat there. Frozen. She felt all the blood drain from her face, as her chest tightened. The words screamed through her head, but she had no words of her own. She wanted to throw up, cry, hang up the phone, and run screaming from the apartment.
"Abby? Are you still there?" Bryce asked, apprehensive.
Abby finally found her voice, and muttered, "Yeah, I'm here."
"You okay?"
Abby took a deep breath, and mustered all the reserve she had in her, "Sure, I'm okay. Just surprised, that's all. But, that's great. I didn't realize you were ready to date. Not that it's any of my business. You can date whenever you want. Whoever you want..." The last words trailed off, into a whisper.
"Are you sure you're okay? You sound upset?"
"I'm sure," she tried to reassure him, but her shoulders slumped and her chin began to tremble. Close to tears, she needed to get off the phone before she broke down completely. "I need to go, though. Can I call you later?"
"Uh, sure..." Bryce responded, his voice soft, disbelieving.
"Okay, talk to you later," she stated quickly before he had a chance to say anything else, and hung up the phone. She held it in one hand, while the other covered her gaping mouth. Tears streamed down her face, and a strangled sob finally escaped from her throat. She had never considered that he would find someone else. She had allowed herself to believe that Bryce would be her’s forever, even if only in friendship, and never once considered that he would seek love in another woman.
Her phone beeped, and she picked it up.
**Are you okay? Are you upset with me?** Read the text from Bryce.
Yes! I hate that you're dating. And I really hate that you're not dating me. She wanted to text him how she felt, put it in all caps, but she resisted. But her heart was sinking into a black hole, and she was unsure of what to say to Bryce, or how to say it. Being impulsive was probably not the best option when her head was swimming in a sea of hurt and confusion.
**Fine. Just have a splitting headache. Will talk to you tomorrow** she lied.
**OK. Feel better. Talk tomorrow**
She was stunned by his actions. And she had no idea what she should do with the rush of emotions that surged through her body. She got up and paced around the apartment, trying to come up with a plan, some way to talk to Bryce. But as soon as she started down that road; she was halted by the reminder th
at he had not chosen her. He had not asked her out on a date. He had asked someone else. Telling him that she now wanted to move their relationship forward would only result in Abby being humiliated, hurt, and eventually left on her own when he told her he was not interested in her “that” way.
She buried herself in a new account at work the next day. She intentionally placed her cell phone in her desk drawer when she went to take a walk at lunch; avoiding the temptation to answer Bryce’s texts, or call him and beg him to date her instead. Abby could at least recognize the desperation of that act. Bryce was moving on, and she would have to accept it – eventually. For now, she needed to avoid it, and him. It was taking too much of an emotional toll on her, and she needed time to get her head and heart in order before talking to Bryce.
Abby avoided the phone call on Thursday night, texting Bryce that she had to work late, and would text when she got home.
**Just got home. Going to bed. Good night** was her short and simple text at eleven that night.
Abby pulled on her pajamas, and crawled into bed, as her phone pinged.
**OK. Good night**
She pulled her covers up to her chin, and let out a long, deep sigh.
Ping!
**I miss my best friend, Abby**
Abby just stared at the message, unable to move, or think, or breathe. Confirmation. They would only ever be friends. She laid the phone on the nightstand and buried her face in her pillow, and cried herself into a fitful sleep.
She sat at her desk on Friday afternoon, and realized she had been staring at the same financial statement for an hour. Nothing felt right. Her life was fading to black around the edges, and with each passing day without Bryce, the darkness encroached more and more, taking up more space. She had worked so hard to push the darkness away over the past few months, and live again. Bryce had made her live again. And now, he would leave her - just like Trevor had.
Trevor. He was still ever present in her day, but was no longer the one she thought of most often. That place in her heart and mind had been claimed by Bryce.
She hadn't had a nightmare about Trevor in so long; she couldn't remember when the last one had occurred. The heaviness in her chest had dissipated over the months, as the boulder of sorrow was being chipped away. Her hand went to the locket around her neck, and she raised it to her lips. Tears lingered at the back of her eyes, and threatened to unleash every time she thought of him. Visions of him with another woman laughing, holding hands, kissing, and...she clenched her eyes tightly not allowing herself to envision Bryce making love to another woman.
She plodded up the stairs to her apartment, leaned into the door, and went straight to the freezer, as she dumped her purse and briefcase on the floor. Pulling the icy bottle of vodka out, she grabbed a glass from the cupboard, and poured until it was half full, before grabbing the orange juice from the fridge, and filling the glass.
She shrugged her coat off, and let it fall to the floor, and grabbed her cell phone from the pocket as the coat pooled on the hardwood floor at her feet. She kicked her high heels off, and sent them flying across the room. Stripping out of her clothes as she made her way into the bathroom, she turned the hot water on in the shower. She prayed the heat would soothe her; allow her to get the visions of Bryce and whatever whore he was with out of her mind's eye and be washed down the drain.
Once the hot water ran out, Abby begrudgingly left the stall, and wrapped in her robe. She plopped down in front of the TV, and mindlessly flipped through the channels. She stopped on some horror flick, took a large gulp of her drink, and picked up her phone to see if there was a text from Bryce. In the back of her mind, she hoped that he had broken his date with the other woman, and would contact her; ask if he could come over. Then she could tell him what she had been too afraid to say; that things had changed, her feelings had changed, and she wanted their relationship to change. She could almost feel his arms around her, drawing her into his firm body. She wanted his lips on her, anywhere, everywhere.
But the phone was silent. No new text messages. Nothing from Bryce.
She took another large drink, and then another, before getting up and making her way back into the kitchen, draining the large glass as she went. Refilling it, this time with more vodka and less juice, she returned to the movie. At some point, after the juice ran out, Abby began drinking the vodka straight until she passed out on the couch.
The sun was shining obnoxiously bright through the windows as Abby pulled herself from her drunken stupor, and headed into the bathroom. Positioning her head under the faucet, she took large gulps of water, while tossing back a few aspirins.
It was Saturday morning. Her longstanding date with Bryce for coffee loomed before her. She was in no condition to go out, but decided that if there was any hope of salvaging a relationship with him, she had to see him; talk to him, and clear the air. She looked at herself in the mirror, and groaned. Her hair was plastered to her head. Her eyes were barely open, and what parts she could see were severely bloodshot. She threw on her jeans, and a black sweater, and pulled her hair into a messy ponytail. She required some makeup so as not to scare the other patrons in the café, or confirm their fears that the living dead were among them.
Grabbing her purse, and her cell phone, she headed out to the café. She had no idea what she was going to say to Bryce. She struggled with how she would handle the discussion about his big night, knowing she wanted information, but equally sure she did not. Did he have fun? Is he going to see her again? Could Abby
still talk to him about taking their friendship to that level? She feared the answer to the last question was a resounding "no." He had decided to start dating, and had not even discussed it with her. He was not interested in her romantically; if he had been, he would have talked to her, felt her out to see if there was any interest in dating. But he hadn't done that. He had made a date with another woman, and then didn't tell Abby about it until it was a done deal.
She placed her hand on the door handle to the cafe, and pulled it open while taking a deep breath. She glanced at their usual booth, and noticed the familiar black hair, his back to her. She smiled, and felt a little of the tension leave her body.
She moved towards him, and was about to sit when she was forced to an abrupt halt. Her face dropped, and her knees nearly gave out, as she looked into the face of a young blond sitting in Abby's spot in the booth, grinning madly.
"Hey, you made it!" Bryce's voice hit her like a freight train, and she whipped her head around, and just stared at him. The amount of hurt she felt in that moment was unlike anything she had experienced in a very long time. She felt tears start to sting her eyes, taking all her will to keep them at bay. She would not cry in front of him, and especially not in front of the blond tart that was taking her place.
Bryce's eyes grew wide, and his mouth opened, but nothing came out. Abby turned on her heel, and stalked out the door. He brought HER here? To our place? On our Saturday morning coffee date? How could he do that? She was a third of the way down the block when she heard Bryce calling her name. She pulled her coat around her tighter, and picked up the pace. There was safety and comfort in her apartment, and she needed to get there before she lost complete control of her emotions.
She tossed her keys and purse on the industrial concrete kitchen counter, and slammed her hands down hard. The door of the apartment opened, and she turned her head to see Bryce
coming through it, a deep worry line across his forehead. Abby watched the door to see if the fair-haired imp would cross her threshold, but Bryce closed it behind him.
"What the hell is going on, Abby?" Bryce asked, his voice slightly elevated, but not in anger.
"I should be asking you that question, Bryce? How could you bring her there? That is our place! Yours and mine! This is our time! How could you include her without at least talking to me first?!"
Abby paused for a moment, as she watched the blood drain from Bryce's face, and his eyes grow wide.
/> "Jesus, Abby, I'm sorry. I didn't think. I just wanted you to meet her…I told her so much about you…" He came toward her, but she took a step away from him, seething.
"Did you sleep with her?" Abby spewed, but tried to get the words back. The wholly inappropriate question had marched from her brain, escaped out her mouth, and lingered in the air heavy and dark.
"What? No!" Bryce was trying to keep his own emotions under control, but Abby could sense that he was a mix of confusion, regret, and on the hairy edge of pissed.
He took a deep breath and softened his voice, "What is it, Abby? What's going on with you lately? Are you jealous? I mean - not of Cindy - but because you're not dating anyone?"
Abby felt as though a knife had pierced straight through her heart. She stood for a moment, looking into Bryce's face, so hurt that she was unsure what to do or say.
"Get out," she commanded through clenched teeth.
“Abby, please…” but she cut him off.
"Now, Bryce. Just leave." She pointed to the door, and held his gaze, not giving in. Bryce finally turned and walked out the door, quietly closing it behind him. Abby picked up a glass from the sink and threw it as hard as she could. It hit the brick wall, and shattered into tiny pieces on the floor. She moved to the couch and fell into it, and buried her face in her hands. Deep, heavy sobs filled the too quiet apartment, and continued until she could barely breathe.
Her mind reeled. She had finally lost him. He was going to find someone else to love, and eventually – even if their friendship could withstand this fallout – she would be replaced in his life. Abby would not be the most important woman to him any longer. And the thought propelled her from the couch to the bathroom, heaving.
Chapter Five
The days were long, monotonous, and dreary. One flowed into the next, which flowed into the next. There was no meaning, no purpose, just a gray existence that left Abby cold, emotionless, and lonely. But nights and weekends were the worst. She barely ate, drank too much alcohol so that she could sleep, and tried to avoid the text messages, phone calls, and emails from Bryce. Her heart would twist every time she thought about Bryce, and if she allowed her mind to wander too far - to envision how far his dates were going - the pain in her chest would cause her to gasp. She felt horrible not answering him. She would reach for the phone when it rang, intent on answering it, work on finding their way back to the friendship that had saved her life. But she was too ashamed of her reaction to him after the café incident. She knew she had no right to be mad at him for dating again. Nor could she hold it against him that he didn't want to date her. She had never told him the depths of her feelings for him. If she had, he may have moved forward with her. Now it was too late. He had moved on, and despite Abby telling herself that she could just be friends; she was having a hard time accepting it.