Anti-Romance

by Cassia Leo

  “Did you hear anything I was talking about in there? George is off with his mom, running errands in London without me, when the whole purpose of my trip to London was to be his support system.”

  My mom was silent for a moment. As I dodged one pedestrian after another, I pictured her sitting in the gourmet kitchen of her fifteen-acre ranch in Bear Creek on the outskirts of Austin. As soon as my two younger twin brothers went off to college in Dallas, my mom uprooted her life and settled down on a non-working ranch far from the hustle and bustle of the city. When she wasn’t teaching or traveling around the country giving talks on the state of the American economy, she tended to a large fruit and vegetable garden and doted on the three dogs she’d rescued from the local animal shelter—Bear, Bubbles, and Bull—whom we all knew were there to replace her three children, Delaney, David, and Daniel.

  “Laney, have you thought of the possibility that George may be off planning a surprise for you with his mother?”

  I rolled my eyes as I realized she was probably right, but it didn’t do anything to alleviate my nerves over this whole situation. “What if I don’t want to be surprised, Mom? I love George, but I don’t know if I love him the way he loves me.”

  “Honey, I need to be frank with you.” She paused for a moment, and the waiting only added to my anxiety. “I know I didn’t set the best example for you when you were an adolescent. Those formative years are so important, but I often put my own needs before yours and your brothers’.”

  “That’s not true at all. You were always there for us, unlike Dad. You gave us everything we needed and more, and you were always there when I needed someone to talk to. You were a strong role model for me, and for Daniel and David. You showed us that women are just as, if not more than, capable as men are to support a family. You—”

  “Stop,” she interrupted my eulogization of her qualities as a mother. “You can say whatever you’d like, but that doesn’t change the fact that I was unfaithful to your father on multiple occasions. And it doesn’t change the fact that I’ve put my needs before the needs of every man I’ve ever been with, which is why I am solidly alone at the age of fifty-four.” Her voice cracked as she made this painful admission. “Don’t be like me, Laney. It’s one thing to possess a free and independent spirit. It’s quite another thing to push away the people who genuinely care about you in a vain display of sovereignty.”

  I stood still as hordes of bodies streaked past me. Memories rushed to the forefront of my consciousness.

  I remembered the time George and Breck got drunk and slept at my apartment. I woke to find he had plugged my phone in to charge during the night and had woken up early to make us breakfast, my favorite migas. When Breck accused him of trying to kiss my ass, he insisted he was just showing his appreciation for allowing them to stay the night, as if there were any other option.

  I remembered the time he picked me up to go see Interstellar in the theater and, upon seeing me in a new dress, told me I looked sexy. He immediately corrected himself and said that he meant to say nice, so I attributed it to a common male slip of the tongue.

  Then there was the time he sent me flowers after a particularly brutal breakup…with the motorcycle mechanic. Oh, God. How could I not have seen what was so plainly obvious?

  “I need a drink,” I said, barely aware that I had said this aloud until my mom responded.

  “Laney, don’t get drunk before the wedding. That will not solve anything.”

  The burning pain in the balls of my feet caused by my ridiculous heels returned along with my sobering reality. I set off down the road, in search of a pub or a restaurant with a bar that wasn’t overly crowded.

  “Mom?” I spoke the word so low I couldn’t hear myself over the sounds of the crowded street, but my mom heard me just fine.

  “Yes, dear?”

  I stepped aside to avoid a head-on collision with a handsome older gentleman who was absorbed in whatever he was looking at on his phone screen. “Mom, do you ever wish things had turned out differently with Dad?”

  She was silent for a moment before letting out a deep sigh. “For many years, I did. Again, don’t be like me. George is a good man. Unlike your father, he’s always been there for you, which is probably what scares you. Men like George, who stick around when things get tough, are becoming more and more rare these days. All I’m saying is, don’t be so quick to dismiss him.”

  I listened to my mom make a case for George as I approached a restaurant, where patrons were seated outside on the patio. The sounds of voices chattering and a lazy guitar melody wafted out of the restaurant, through the crisp February air. Stepping inside, I immediately spotted a bar with at least four open barstools. I would sit and have a drink or two, not enough to get me drunk, then I’d head back to the hotel. I was hopeful that I’d have made my decision by then on whether or not I was going to give a romance with George a chance.

  “I’ll call you back tomorrow, Mom,” I said as I approached the bar.

  “Okay. Above all, have a good time today, sweetheart. I love you.”

  “Love you, too.”

  As I tucked my phone into my purse, I did a double take. Nestled in the corner of the dining room, under the amber glow of the restaurant’s mood lighting, George and Erika sat huddled together. She seemed to be crying as he stroked her hair and kissed her forehead, the way he did whenever he comforted me.

  I didn’t know if I should turn and walk away or peel off one of my wicked heels and throw it at his head. I had no way of knowing what they were discussing, but by the tears streaming down Erika’s cheeks, it was obviously a difficult subject. George could be congratulating her on her big day or apologizing that they will never be more than friends. Or he could be consoling her, assuring her that they will one day be together again when all this has died down, though that does seem a bit dramatic and far-fetched, even for George.

  The bartender tapped the top of the bar. “What can I get you, love?”

  I stared at him for a moment in a daze, then glanced back at George. “Nothing. I was just leaving.”

  I took off my shoes during the twenty-minute Tube ride and walked from the station to the hotel barefoot. As I exited the hotel elevator onto our floor, my phone rang. When I saw the name on the screen, I shook my head in disgust, but I couldn’t stop myself from answering.

  “Well, if it isn’t Colonel Clusterfuck suiting up for the first battle in his self-declared War on the Truth,” I answered, smiling as I dug the hotel card key out of my purse. “Have you called to threaten me some more? Because you should know, for quality and training purposes, I’m recording every toxic second of this phone call.”

  “Very clever,” Rick replied, though his tone sounded decidedly unimpressed. “You can come up with as many nicknames for me as you want, Laney. Doesn’t change the fact that I can sue the fuck out of you for the things you wrote on your dinky little blog. I already have a call in to my lawyer, who is dying to bury you in legal fees for the next five to ten years.”

  I gasped dramatically. “Legal fees! Oh, no, Rick. Whatever shall I do?” I pushed open the door to the suite, ignoring his remarks that I wasn’t funny. “You want to know what’s funny, Rick? You cheating on your wife and giving me an STI, then having the nerve to call and threaten me with a lawsuit. Take your war and shove it up your hairy, de-virginized asshole.”

  I ended the call feeling more empowered than I had in weeks. If George were to walk through that door right now, I would give him a tongue-lashing so savage, he’d be the one crying on Erika’s shoulder.

  Tossing my heels on the floor, I plopped down on the sofa and stared at my phone for a few minutes, while contemplating who I could call. It was six a.m. in Austin. The only person I could talk to who wasn’t in my inner circle was my mother, and I couldn’t call her. I didn’t want her to prejudge George’s actions before I had a chance to talk to him. A few weeks ago, I might have called Rick for a shoulder to cry on.

  The only p
erson I could call now was Kade, but I couldn’t tell him about my problems with George. It was bad enough that he and George worked for the same company. If I pitted them against each other at this point, they’d have no chance of ever becoming friends once all this drama had blown over.

  My mom’s words echoed in my mind. I’ve put my needs before the needs of every man I’ve ever been with, which is why I am solidly alone…

  I was alone, really alone, for the first time in my life. No best friend to comfort me. No frivolous fuck buddy to fall back on. I was alone and I was terrified.

  I had to make a plan. I needed to attack my loneliness the way I attacked any goal. What was the first thing I had to do? How did one become less lonely?

  The obvious answer was to surround myself with people, but I had plenty of friends, a loving family, and no shortage of men to date. My problem wasn’t a lack of relationships, it was a lack of honesty in those relationships.

  My friendships with Breck and Tanna had become less close and more superficial over the years. My relationships with my brothers were barely serviceable, with an occasional text message exchanged or family dinner ever few months. I had no coworkers, except for the unsuspecting men I dated in order to line my pockets with blog revenue. My best friend was in love with me, probably because he was the only person in the world, other than my mother, with whom I felt comfortable being vulnerable.

  Was George the only person who knew the real me? Or was the “real me” this cynical person who railed against syrupy romantic declarations and never let anyone get close enough to take a shot at my armor?

  The wedding ceremony didn’t start for another three and a half hours. I was operating on just a couple of hours’ sleep. I was tired and emotional. I would take a short nap and decide what to do after I’d gotten some rest.

  I lay back on the bed, trying desperately to ignore the surge of emotions welling up inside me. My chest ached with the sheer effort of holding in my tears.

  I couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t be this cynical person anymore.

  The tears came in quiet waves, a silent storm of genuine emotion liberated for the first time in years. I wept for the friends I’d pushed away. I wept for the men I’d objectified. I wept for the father I’d rejected.

  “Laney?” The mattress shifted as George sat down on the bed. “Lane, are you okay?”

  “I didn’t hear you come in,” I said, my voice choked with tears.

  “Are you crying? What’s wrong?”

  I thought back to what I was doing just a week ago, the two-plus weeks I’d spent wallowing in a mountain of empty ice cream cartons and tissue boxes. I thought of the heartbreaking ending to the amazing night I spent with Kade. Then I remembered how I had jumped at the chance to wash that man right out of my hair with a bottle of extra-strength George.

  “All I wanted was a fucking vacation,” I muttered.

  “What are you talking about?”

  I swiped my hands over my damp cheeks and sat up. “No, that’s not true.” I turned around and faced him as I sat cross-legged. “I thought if I came here with you, maybe you and I could be together.”

  His mouth hung open, one eyebrow cocked in a state of utter disbelief. “Okay, now I’m really fucking confused. What happened while I was gone?”

  “Why don’t you tell me? You said you were going somewhere with your mom, but I saw you with Erika at the restaurant.”

  His face fell. “I don’t know what you think is going on, but I was out with my mom when I got a call from Erika. She was having doubts about going through with the wedding, so I met her there so I could talk her out of being a runaway bride.” He shook his head as he let out a heavy sigh. “What you saw was me telling Erika that we’re never getting back together.”

  “Are you gonna send Taylor Swift a royalty check for the rights to that performance?”

  His gaze fell. “That’s a pretty low blow, even for you, Lane.”

  “I just wanted a fucking vacation and now my whole life is in shambles!”

  He looked me in the eye, a piercing glare that told me he was not at all impressed with my tirade. “Well, far be it from me to get in the way of your fucking vacation.”

  I grabbed his wrist to stop him from standing up. “Wait.”

  “For what? More insults? Do you know any other way of communicating?”

  I tilted my head. “Was that an insult?”

  “Fuck yeah, it was.” He seemed unimpressed with the shocked expression on my face. “You think I didn’t tell you I was in love with you because I was trying to be deceitful? I didn’t tell you because I was scared. I was fucking terrified of your need to push away anyone who gets even remotely close to you.” The fierce glare in his blue eyes intensified. “Yeah, sometimes your insults and your quick comebacks are hot as fuck, but sometimes they’re just sad. It’s sad that you can’t see how fucking closed off you are.”

  I clenched my teeth as I tried to hold back the tears, but I couldn’t. I’d opened the floodgates earlier, and now there was no closing them.

  “I know.” I whispered the words so softly, I was almost certain he hadn’t heard me.

  “You know?”

  I stared at my hands as I wrung them anxiously. “I know I’m a terrible person. I push everyone away, but…I’m afraid, too. I’m…afraid of getting hurt the way I was hurt when my dad left. It feels so ridiculous to even say these words aloud, but it’s true. I’m bad at relationships.” I looked up and met his gaze. “Can you forgive me?”

  “Jesus, Lane,” he said, scooting toward me so he could take me in his arms. “You don’t need my forgiveness. I know why you are the way you are. And nothing you ever do or say could make me give up on you.” He let go of me and grabbed my face to force me to look him in the eye. “You believe me, don’t you?”

  I nodded. “I guess so.”

  “No. That’s not good enough,” he said, cradling my face in his hands. “I’m never giving up on you, Lane. I’ve waited too damn long for this. I won’t let you push me away when you get scared.” His gaze fell to my lips. “You’re mine now.”

  He kissed me and I grasped his forearms as my entire body relaxed. He held my face firmly as he laid me back on the bed. My breathing quickened as I wondered silently whether I should stop this. Would I regret sleeping with George? Or was this our destiny all along?

  I didn’t know the answer to those questions. All I knew was that I needed to feel the weight of him on top of me. I needed to feel close to him, to feel his skin pressed against mine, to look in his eyes and feel him moving inside me.

  He laid his palms flat on either side of my head and looked down at me. “I love you, Lane. I promise I will never hurt you.”

  I bit my lip as I tried to reason my way out of this. I tried to think of all the horrible things that could happen.

  What if my IUD failed and I got pregnant?

  What if the sex wasn’t good and it ruined our friendship?

  What if I fell in love with my best friend?

  I reached up and grabbed his ears as I pulled his face to mine. He ravaged me with his kiss and I wrapped my legs around his hips as he ground his solidness into me. His hips moved in a languid rhythm, a titillating preview of what was to come.

  I reached down and pulled up his shirt to feel those abs I’d seen yesterday morning. His skin was so warm and smooth. He groaned into my mouth as I caressed his skin, then hastily began unbuttoning his jeans.

  He pulled his head back and looked me in the eye as I finished releasing his erection from his pants. “I don’t have a condom. I didn’t expect this to happen.”

  “I have an IUD.”

  “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

  I looked into his crystal-blue eyes, my gaze wandering over the features I had always considered so adorably boyish. He looked different. He looked like a man who was more serious than I’d ever seen. I looked down to see what I was getting myself into and my eyes widened at the size of
his erection. It was much larger than I expected. There was no turning back now.

  I nodded vehemently. “I’m ready.”

  He leaned down and planted a tender kiss on my forehead, another on the tip of my nose, and another on my lips. A chill passed through me and the pulsing ache between my legs intensified as he slid his hand under my blouse and cupped my breast.

  I coiled my arms around his neck and pulled him closer. Tightening my legs around his waist, I ground the crotch of my pants into him. His hand slid under my back and fiddled around for a minute or so before he released the clasp on my bra. Hastily, he helped me out of my shirt. I bit my lip nervously as I slowly pulled off my bra, hoping my boobs didn’t look too big or loose.

  Oh, my God. I can’t believe I’m about to have sex with George.

  He gazed longingly at my breasts for a moment, before he leaned down and kissed a slow trail down the middle of my chest. He looked up at me and flashed me a brief smile before he took my nipple into his mouth. I swallowed hard as the longing in the pit of my belly grew. He rolled his tongue over my stiff flesh and I gasped with pleasure.

  Then he began to make his way downward, sliding my leggings down as he went, and I knew this was it. George and I were going to have sex, and there was no stopping it now, because I wanted it as much as he did.

  He buried his face between my legs and I let out a piercing moan. Whoever was in the neighboring suite definitely heard that. He chuckled softly and the vibration of his laughter brought forth a soft gasp.

  “Oh, my God,” I breathed, unable to control myself. “Oh, fuck.”

  He alternated between flicking his tongue and swirling it around my swollen bud. With every tortuous second, my pleasure grew exponentially, until I couldn’t breathe. I arched my back and held my breath as he gripped my thighs and made me come so hard I was seeing stars.

  “Holy shit,” I said as he kissed my belly. “Holy crap, George. What was that?”

  He chuckled as he kissed his way up my chest until he was settled between my legs and looking down at me again. “That was something I’ve wanted to do for a very fucking long time.”