Strangers

by A. L. Parks

  She dreaded the Christmas party on Saturday night, though. She had promised Becca and Rob that she and Bryce would attend. Abby was sure Bryce would attend with the grinning little fool, Cindy. Abby detested the fact that she would now have to go alone...again, as she had every year since Trevor passed away. But at least she hadn't been forced to see Trevor with another woman. It had torn Abby's heart up when she had seen Bryce with Cindy at the coffee shop - and that had been but a brief moment. There was no way Abby would be able to watch Bryce and Cindy together, and pretend that she was happy for him.

  The same email sat open for thirty minutes, but none of the words registered with her. Her mind drifted to Bryce constantly; memories of the past few months spent with him as they healed each other, visions of him starting a new life without her, and the

  overwhelming dread that she would end up in the same black hole she had escaped from the day she met Bryce.

  She hadn't noticed that one of the new account managers, Tim, made his way around her, and sat on the very corner of her desk. Only a couple of inches taller than Abby, he had massive muscles across his chest and arms. His blue eyes smiled under his close-cut blond hair, but Abby had seen them turn dark and dangerous when he was angry. Abby wondered sometimes if his mood swings were part of a Napoleon complex or due to steroid usage.

  But he was always nice to Abby, despite having a bit of an edge to him. On a few occasions he had allowed his anger to get the best of him a little too quickly. He was in a high pressure sales job, so it was not unusual to see the account managers lose it every once in a while. But Abby had no attraction to him, and did not always trust the charm he turned on whenever she was present.

  "Hey, Tim," Abby greeted him, "What's up?"

  "I was wondering if you’re busy this weekend, because, if not, I thought we might get dinner and a movie?" He looked at her, his eyes hopeful, yet pleading. Abby felt her heart clench, and her stomach roll at the thought of going on a date with Tim. He was not her type at all. She knew who she wanted, and even if she couldn’t have Bryce, Tim was never going to be an option.

  "Um, I can't this weekend," Abby said slowly. Her mind flashed to the Christmas party, and the extreme dread of having to show up alone, while Bryce had a bubbly dingbat on his arm. Tim sighed heavily and stood, as he prepared to leave her cubicle. This was not the first time he had been unsuccessful in asking her out. She grabbed his hand before he got out the door, and he turned back towards her. "I have a Christmas party I have to go to...do you want to go with me?"

  A grin crossed Tim's face. "Sure, sounds like fun." Abby swallowed the lump in her throat, and proceeded to make plans to meet Tim on Saturday night.

  Abby fidgeted on the front stoop of Rob and Becca's house. Adjusting the tie on her jacket for the hundredth time, she dropped her hands to her side, and started on an endless round of clenching and releasing them. She bit at her bottom lip, as her toe tapped rapidly on the cement. She avoided all eye contact with Tim, and had to fight the constant urge to flee. This was a bad idea. Why had she come to the party, and what had possessed her to ask Tim to come as her date? Before she could turn and leave, the front door opened. Rob greeted Abby with a kiss on the cheek, as his eyes slid over to Tim. Standing in the foyer, she handed Rob her coat, and introduced Tim through her dry mouth.

  Rob shook Tim's hand, and welcomed him to the party. Abby and Rob worked at the same consulting firm, although they were in different divisions, and separated by three floors. About once a week they tried to get together for lunch in the cafeteria. After Trevor had died, it was Becca's way of keeping tabs on Abby, and making sure she was still alive. Becca and Rob had been Abby's only lifeline for awhile - the only people she would let in. Now, though, her lunch dates with Rob were habit, and a way to keep up with the comings and goings in each other’s lives.

  As they made their way into the living room, Abby glanced around, looking for the mass of black hair and gray eyes that haunted her dreams. She had not spoken with Bryce since she had kicked him out of her apartment two weeks earlier. The ache to see him again consumed her, and she longed to hear his voice. They waded through a mass of people, finally entering the kitchen. When Becca saw Abby, the blond squealed, and threw her arms around Abby’s neck, hugging her tightly.

  "I'm so glad you came! I was worried you wouldn't make it..." Becca's message was loud and clear. She knew Bryce was dating someone, and may even have heard that Abby was not speaking to him. Abby gave her a desperate look, hoping one of her oldest and dearest friends would understand what she was asking. "He's here," Becca whispered, "with her."

  Sadness rushed through Abby and she could feel the tears threaten. Becca quickly grabbed Abby’s elbow and began leading her away from the crowd. "Rob, get Tim a drink and introduce him to the guys. I want to show Abby the new bedspread in the guest room." They moved into the master bedroom and Becca closed the door before spinning around to face Abby.

  "Spill it, Abby. What the heck is going on with you and Bryce?"

  "I don't know. It's all screwed up. And it's my fault. I fucked it up, and I have no idea how to fix it." Abby’s chest lifted dramatically as she drew in a large breath.

  "Okay," Becca soothed her, running her hand up and down Abby's arm. "It can't be that bad...and it is certainly fixable."

  Abby poured her heart out to Becca, telling her everything; the locket, Abby's feelings for Bryce, her belief that he was not interested in her romantically, and how she had yelled at him and thrown him out of her life. Becca listened, but did not say anything until Abby was done talking.

  "Well, Babe, the only way to fix this is to talk to him. Trust me, Abby. Bryce cares about you so much. I wouldn't be surprised if he felt the same about you as you do about him...and is probably just as scared to tell you. Talk to him, Abby. You need to get things right with him, and he deserves to know how you feel and why you acted the way you did." Becca wrapped her arms around her friend, and held her tightly, before pulling away and smiling at her. "Now, go in the bathroom and fix your make-up. I'll make excuses for you with Tim."

  Abby looked at herself in the mirror, and barely recognized the person staring back at her. She had done the best she could with makeup to cover the dark circles under her eyes. But she had lost weight over the past two weeks, and it was evident in her sunken cheeks. Depression had stripped her pallor of all color, and her eyes were dull and tired. She placed a cold washcloth against her eyes in an attempt to decrease some of the puffiness, and eliminate the red in them. Exiting the bedroom, she squared her shoulders and rejoined the party, even though she was feeling anything but festive.

  Scanning the small clusters of people that stood in the living room, Abby finally located Tim. Coming up beside him, she looked at the people he was in conversation with, and locked onto the gray eyes that melted her heart, and danced in her soul. And she froze. Bryce smiled at her, but a pained look was set in his eyes, and a large lump form in Abby's throat.

  "Abby," Tim drew out her name, placing his arm around her waist. Abby stepped away from him, hoping his arm would fall back to his side – where it belonged. Instead Tim tightened his grip around her, and pulled her into him. Ice traveled from where Tim's hand rested at her side, and invaded her heart.

  "Do you know Bryce and Cindy?" he asked. Abby felt the swift kick to the gut with the introduction of the two as a couple. Somehow, she maintained her composure, and turned to Cindy.

  "It's nice to meet you," Abby held her hand out to the girl who was ruining all of Abby's hopes and dreams of a future with Bryce.

  Cindy giggled, and Abby had to refrain from punching her in the mouth. She was wearing a red dress, cut low in order, no doubt, to show off the handy-work of a local plastic surgeon, as her disproportionate-to-her-body-sized breasts spilled out the top of her bra. The woman was much shorter than Abby, even in her excessively high street walker heels. Abby took her in, trying to hide her contempt for this woman who either had a stupid grin on her face, o
r was giggling at nothing in particular. What the hell does he see in her?

  "It’s so nice to meet you, too! I have heard so much about you. Bryce is always talking about Abby this and Abby that. I just had to meet the person Bryce thinks is perfect!" Abby felt a flush hit her cheeks, as Tim's fingers dug into her side. She stumbled for words that would not come, so she just smiled awkwardly at the woman.

  What the hell did that mean? Abby grabbed for the locket around her neck, and held onto it for dear life. The locket contained only one picture – it was Abby's favorite; Bryce laughing and smiling, his eyes bright and beautiful. Finally chancing a look at Bryce, his eyes were trained on her fingers moving across the locket, before they lifted to meet hers. She was instantly lost in them. Where Tim had filled her heart with a cold dread, Bryce was now warming it, as he always did.

  She knew she had to tell him how she felt, especially after seeing him with the bleach blond squealer. The past two weeks had been hell – not talking to him, not seeing him. It was worth the chance he would refuse her – confirm her worst fears that he was not interested in her romantically. The mindless wandering through unknown possibilities night after night was slowly killing her soul. Their friendship had been based on communication, and a unique understanding and acceptance of each other. There was absolutely no reason to believe they could not talk about this – figure out where their relationship was – and where it could go in the future. But this was not the time or the place. It was unfair to Tim, and even flighty Cindy. So, Abby decided that she would just have to wait until the following day, and hope it was not too late.

  Abby finally pulled her eyes away from Bryce's, and turned to Tim. "I'm just going to check on Becca real quick and see if she needs any help. Are you okay?" Tim smiled at her, and then slid his gaze suspiciously to Bryce. When Tim's eyes met Abby's again, a shiver ran through her. It wasn't an outright threat, but Tim was making Abby more than a little nervous.

  "I'm good," Tim acknowledged, and the warm smile returned to his face in an instant. Abby looked at him for another second, before turning towards the kitchen in search of Becca.

  Leaning against the counter, Abby watched Becca mix another batch of margaritas, glancing up more than occasionally to watch Bryce. Not once did he put his arm around Cindy. In fact, there was very little physical contact with her, and he was not really engaged in the conversation. A few times he would catch Abby's eye, and hold her gaze, but them Tim would say something to him, and pull him back into their conversation. Abby could not bring herself to return to the group; it was just too hard to be that close to Bryce, with the feelings that coursed through her body. It was becoming increasingly impossible for her to not kiss him, and feel his arms around her. Abby had dreams about him making love to her, and wanted desperately to wake up with him, feel his skin against hers, wrapped up in each other.

  "Earth to Abby." Becca's voice snapped Abby out of her fantasy. She looked over at her friend, who had a sly smile on her face, and shook her head. "I thought you came in here to help me?"

  "I did...I am," Abby stated, as she moved to the island, and started cutting more limes for mojitos.

  "Really? Because it looked like you were in a whole other place...perhaps with a certain someone who shall remain nameless?" Becca kidded her. Abby smirked and gave her friend a dirty look. "Seriously, Abby, you cannot hide out here in the kitchen all night long, and avoid him. You need to talk to him."

  "I know, but I have a couple of problems...his date and mine. I can't stand having to pretend that there is nothing between us. I really can't stand for Tim to think there is something between he and I." Abby sighed. All she wanted was to get Bryce alone, to tell him that her feelings for him were so much more than friendship. She wanted to have his hand in hers, to feel his lips move across her skin, to have his weight on top of her as they

  discovered a deep intimacy all their own.

  Shaking the visions out of her sight, she caught Tim peering at her. She had to get out of here. She could not stand to be around Bryce while he was with the blond set of boobs. And it was not fair to lead Tim on this way. She knew she had no interest in him. She needed to leave, text Bryce from the comfort and serenity of her home, and beg him to meet her for coffee in the morning - alone.

  "So, how mad are you going to be if I take off now?" Abby asked Becca as soon as the blender of margaritas was turned off.

  "Depends. Are you going home to wallow in self-pity and eat a gallon of ice cream? Or are you going to be more constructive?"

  "No wallowing, no ice cream...well, maybe ice cream, but not for medicinal purposes. I promise to use the time wisely, and formulate a plan to talk to Bryce about my feelings. Acceptable?"

  "Get your ass out of here. You're a serious downer on my lively festivities." Becca winked at Abby as she walked around the island, and gave her friend a kiss on the cheek.

  Tim crossed the living room and sauntered toward her. Smiling, she asked, "So, do you mind if we go?" She hoped he wouldn't be disappointed in ending the night so early.

  "No, of course not," he answered enthusiastically, and a rush of shame came over Abby. He obviously hadn't enjoyed himself at the party, and was as anxious to leave as she was. Although, it would make it easier to get out of a second date with him, if the first flopped in spectacular fashion.

  Tim retrieved their coats from the bedroom, with Rob's help, as Abby said her goodbyes. Bryce came up behind her, and placed his hand on her lower back, sending intense but sensual

  tingles throughout her body. She knew instantly it was him, and turned slightly to face him. She smiled up into his face, feeling positive for the first time in weeks.

  "Are you leaving?" he asked; his eyes narrow, dark and suspicious.

  "Yeah, I think so, but I'll text you when I get home, if that’s okay." Bryce's eyes sparkled, and warmth instantly flowed throughout her. Tim came up behind them, forcing Bryce to step away and break the physical connection as Tim helped Abby with her coat. Abby glanced one last time at Bryce; but Bryce’s eyes were trained on Tim, and the dark suspicion of a moment earlier returned. Abby reached out to touch his arm, get his attention, and try to figure out was going through his head, but Tim intercepted her hand, and pulled her out the front door.

  Chapter Six

  The taxi ride back to Abby's was quiet, and uncomfortable. Abby tried to make small talk with Tim, but they could not seem to sustain a conversation for very long. She breathed a sigh of relief as the cab pulled up in front of her building. Tim followed close behind her as she got out of the cab, and they stood on the sidewalk.

  "Well, thanks for coming with me tonight," Abby offered in a sing-songy voice. "I hope you weren't too bored, and had a little bit of fun."

  "I had a great time," Tim stated, but it seemed a bit contrived. "I would feel better if I at least walked you to your apartment, though."

  "Oh no, "Abby protested, "I'll be fine. Thanks."

  Tim put up his hands, "I insist," he ordered, and turned to talk to the cab driver. Abby pulled the keys from her clutch, held her breath, and her anger, and opened the door to the building lobby. She was pissed that he assumed he could invite himself up, even when she had clearly indicated that she was not interested. And why the hell would he want to see her to the door? It was not like this had been a successful first date. Surely he had no desire to extend this; no chance that it would go any farther.

  Opening the door to her apartment, Abby once again turned to Tim, "Okay, safe and sound. Thanks, again, Tim."

  "What? No invite to come in?" Tim asked, his eyes growing dark and hooded, his voice low and edgy.

  "I don't think so, Tim. I'm going to go to take some aspirin and go to bed." Abby hoped her overly sweet voice would convince him to go, but Tim pushed past her into the apartment.

  "Well, Abby, I think I will come in anyway. After all, I feel I have earned something in return for being played tonight." He turned to face her, and an evil smile curled his lips. "So, wh
at was I? Someone to make Bryce jealous? And who is he?" Tim ran his hand through his hair, and made a hissing sound that made Abby's skin crawl. "I mean, I get that you want to fuck him. That was pretty obvious. And that's fine – fuck away. But I think I get some compensation for my role in this little setup."

  Abby opened her mouth to object, but Tim closed the divide between them in two quick steps. His lips were on hers in an instant. He pushed against her. His hands grasped her upper arms forcefully, digging into them. Wriggling, Abby attempted to pull back from his mouth and scream. But Tim held her tightly. He thrust her backwards, and she hit the door. His tongue pressed against her lips, trying to force its way into her mouth. She locked her jaw, not allowing any space for his tongue to enter. He moved his lips to her ear, and his gruff voice flooded her disoriented mind. "Yeah, you like that, huh? You can't fool me, you little slut. You like it rough."

  The pounding of her heart was distracting. She felt beads of sweat form on her skin. Various scenarios of where this was headed filled her mind. She knew she had to get away from him. She knew it was imperative to remain calm; to wait for the right moment to strike. Abby was at a disadvantage physically. Tim was too strong. She would never be able to overpower him.