Someone to Stay

by B. M. Sandy

  “Even if that were true, it doesn’t change anything.”

  “Cassie!” Sam let out, startling her. “Why the hell are you so stubborn about this? Jake is in Pittsburgh, right now. He hasn’t called you - so what? You could be passing up your last chance to see him again, to tell him how you feel. Do you want to sit there and wonder for the rest of your life if you made the right decision with him? Because that’s what you’re looking at if you don’t take the initiative with this.”

  A chill breeze came in then, causing Cassie to wrap her cardigan around her tighter. She struggled to find a good reply to Sam, but failed. What Sam was offering seemed so much sweeter than continuously denying herself what she actually wanted. She wanted to talk to Jake. She wanted to see him. Sam was right - maybe Jake wanted those things too, but let his own insecurities get in the way.

  And if she didn’t talk to him, then she’d never know what could happen.

  “Alright,” Cassie said weakly. “I’ll...I’ll call him. Later.”

  “Wait, really?” Sam asked, incredulous.

  “Yes. Really. You’ve convinced me. I wouldn’t say thoroughly, but enough to change my mind.”

  “Get the fuck out of here. Oh, my God. Yes!”

  Sam’s raw excitement made Cassie smile despite her own boiling nerves. The thought of calling Jake, of him actually picking up, of his voice in her ear for the first time in over five weeks, was enough to make her shake.

  “Ok, my five minute break is up. I have to go back to work. But promise me you’ll tell me everything.”

  “I - I promise,” Cassie said. They hung up and she sat back in her chair again, wondering just what she was getting herself into.

  There was a certain amount of freedom in anonymity, Jake thought as he sat in his hotel room with a cup of tea, scrolling through the news.

  He’d been in Pittsburgh for five days, and hardly anyone knew about it. It was a vibrant city, he realized, full of art and culture that he hadn’t gotten to see much of during his time in Kittanning. He’d gone to his arranged audition just two days ago; there was a decently sized theater doing Macbeth. He smiled, remembering the looks of stunned disbelief on the faces of the director and a couple of the other production personnel when they read his name and ushered him inside. He had been quite nervous, standing there up on stage by himself, knowing that he had to prove something not only to them but to himself as well.

  It had gone well, he felt. Looking back, he could nitpick and point out every flaw, but he knew it wasn’t worth it.

  And now he could only wait. If he didn’t make the part, he could certainly try elsewhere - there were several theaters in town, and someone would have him. He told himself that he had to be optimistic about it.

  He’d been so tempted to call Cassie. Every day, he had to remind himself that he shouldn’t. That he had to be certain he’d be here for a while before he did. But it was hard, and it was getting harder.

  His finger stilled on his tablet screen, pausing, his own name in the headline of a piece of celebrity gossip news.

  Jake Mason Spotted At Pittsburgh Starbucks.

  Tapping it, he skimmed the article quickly; the article mentioned Cassie by name, which sent an unexpected wave of anger through him. Who had sold her name? Who would do such a thing to her?

  Probably not someone she knew very well, he presumed. He’d gotten the impression that Kittanning was a small town, and everyone knew everyone for the most part. It was not shocking at all that this information had finally spread, and he hoped that the paparazzi were leaving her alone.

  He set the tablet down, wondering if Cassie had seen it. If she had, then she was probably very confused and probably hurt. For the first time, Jake realized exactly how stupid it was to think that he could bide his time here, unnoticed. And then he realized that his plan, of sorts, had spectacularly failed.

  Sitting back in his chair, he realized he had to rectify this - he had to do something. Some grand gesture, perhaps, to ease her likely troubled mind. Something that would indisputably show her how he felt. It was what he had wanted to do all along, but he had somehow managed to convince himself he shouldn’t until he landed the part, but he knew that it was just an excuse. In the end, he knew he was afraid of what she’d say. He was afraid of her rejection.

  His heart then ached as he reminded himself just how much he missed her, how much he’d wanted to see her. How much he could barely bear being away from her, knowing she was so close.

  An idea struck him, then - and he picked up his phone, scrolling through his contacts. He landed on who he sought, staring at the name, feeling a sense of nervousness. He’d never called this number but had it just in case. A small grin crossed his face and he pressed the call button.

  That evening, when Cassie got off work, she got in her car, staring ahead, telling herself that it was time to call Jake.

  It had been a trying day. Every time she scanned the dining room, she had almost expected - or hoped - to see Jake, perusing a menu, sipping a drink. That place in her heart that still burned whenever she thought of him lurched each time she was told she had a new table.

  The hopes were for nothing. Jake never came to dinner tonight, and now it was the moment of truth.

  Opening her phone, she scrolled down to his contact name, biting her lip. Her conversation with Sam was fresh in her mind - Do you want to sit there and wonder for the rest of your life if you made the right decision with him?

  No, she said to herself, her skin prickling with fear and nerves. I can’t do that. I can’t always wonder what could have been.

  Bracing herself, she hit his contact name, pressing the call button.

  It felt like old times - it felt like it was still July, still August, when Jake would pick up on the first, maybe second ring. Like he had been waiting for her call.

  He wasn’t waiting for this call, though, and when it went to voicemail, she told herself that she should have expected it.

  “Hey, Jake, it’s...me. Cassie,” she said after the robotic, tinny beep. “Listen, I saw you were in Pittsburgh. I just wanted to...to talk to you. Just give me a call whenever you can. Bye.”

  For perhaps too long, she stared at the phone in her hand, a sort of numbness enveloping her as she felt herself crashing from her rush of adrenaline. Nothing had happened. Jake didn’t pick up. And she was still on square one.

  Starting her car, she backed out of her parking spot, pulling around the parking lot. Her fingers gripped the steering wheel tightly as she wondered what Jake was doing right now, what could have prevented him from answering the phone. It was barely eight o’clock; she had had the early shift today, and she found it unlikely that he had gone to bed already. As she took the short trip home, she began to worry about the possibility that he had ignored her call.

  Pulling into her driveway, she parked her car, shutting it off and exiting. It was almost October, and the night air was crisp. The moon was a perfect sliver in the sky, bare and sorrowful, and Cassie regarded it for a moment before making her way to the front door.

  The first thing she noticed upon entering the house was the scent of dinner. It was unlike her mom to cook so late; she kicked her shoes off and called down the hall.

  “Mom, I’m home. What smells so good?”

  Nobody answered her, and she padded down the hall, casting a brief glance into the living room as she passed it. The TV was off, and Max was sitting on the couch, watching her as she passed by.

  When she crossed the threshold into the kitchen, she was immediately greeted by the kitchen table, set and ready for a meal. The sight was so incongruous that she was momentarily stunned; the last time her mom actually set the table was probably the first time Jake came over for dinner.

  “Cassie.”

  She was so fixated on the set table that the sound of that voice caused her to jump. It was not her mother’s voice, and she turned, seeing the one person she would never have expected to see watching her, leaning against
the doorway of her kitchen. Her heart sped up, leapt into her mouth, caused it to go dry. Her breath caught in her throat as her eyes darted across his face, those blue eyes, that soft, curly hair. That strong jaw, those broad shoulders. All of the things that made him who he was.

  “J-Jake? What are you doing here? Where’s my mom?” Cassie sputtered, taking a slight step back. She could feel the pull between them, and then the hurt she felt come as a fresh wave as she searched his face which appeared unreadable. She had dreamed of this moment; she had wondered how it’d feel to see him again, to be close enough to touch.

  He pulled away from the frame, taking a tentative step toward her. His face softened, his lips parted.

  “I know you probably have a lot of questions.”

  His statement was mild, and she watched his hand reach out, watched it almost touch her shoulder before it paused. She wanted that touch - she wanted it more than she could say. She did have a lot of questions, but the tender expression on his face, the emotion roiling in his eyes, distracted her from that.

  And without further thought, she stepped forward, reaching her arms around him. His body felt familiar yet alien all at the same time - she nuzzled her face in his chest, felt his arms wrap around her, felt him squeeze. She could hear his heartbeat, could feel it racing beneath her cheek. That familiar scent curled toward her, ripping her back to the summer, settling her into happier times.

  Her eyes stung at the sudden wash of memories, and she shuddered into him.

  “God, I’ve missed you,” he said, and she felt the vibrations from his voice. She took a deep breath, breathing him in, wishing that this moment would never end. After a moment, Cassie released him, stepping back and looking at him.

  “I can’t believe you’re here,” she said.

  “Honestly, I can’t either,” Jake replied. “I...worked it out with your mum.”

  It was surreal, to see him. He looked so casual in jeans and a gray button-up, like he belonged here and not in some other world. She pulled a chair out from the table and sat down, staring at him.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked again.

  Jake ran a hand through his hair, which she took to mean he was nervous, or uncertain. He walked to the other side of the table and pulled out his own chair and sat. She watched him fold his hands together, watched him lick his lips.

  “I...I saw that article, about me. Earlier today.”

  Cassie found herself nodding. “Yeah. Me too.”

  There was a still silence then; the only sounds were that of the refrigerator kicking on and humming behind her. She sat back in her chair, aware suddenly that she wasn’t dressed for this at all. She suddenly became hyperaware of the feel of her dress pants hanging against her hips, the coarseness of her dress-shirt. She felt at a disadvantage, to look like this.

  “Cassie, I...”

  He stopped talking, looking down at his hands. She watched two perfect red splotches appear on his cheeks, his eyes downcast and insecure. She let him think, wishing she could read his mind, wishing she could see his thoughts.

  “I guess I can’t think of any better way to start than to apologize,” he said finally. “I’m sorry about the article, and I’m sorry I didn’t call you.”

  His words were quiet, and Cassie could see his sincerity. She struggled for words.

  “What brought you back?” she asked.

  Jake looked up, meeting her eye. He opened his mouth, but then she heard the oven beeping and she turned in her seat to look at it.

  “Ah - that’ll be the lasagna,” he said, standing. She watched him hurry to the oven, opening it and pulling out a baking sheet - she quirked a smile at the sight of the lasagna bubbling in cardboard resting atop the sheet.

  “I had no idea you were such a chef,” she said, her smile turning into more of a smirk.

  Jake chuckled, bringing the baking sheet over to the table, laying it down on pot holders that were already resting there, waiting for him.

  “I have to admit, I’m bloody awful at cooking. We’re both lucky I didn’t burn this as it is.”

  Cassie giggled at this and stood to help him find a spatula. Digging in the drawer where they kept such things, she felt his presence behind her, became aware of his closeness. Grabbing what she was looking for, she spun around and handed it to him.

  “Thank you,” he said, his eyes flicking to her lips. Their nearness was jarring - she could feel her heart begin to race, felt heat rush to her cheeks. In the five weeks he’d been gone, she had nearly forgotten about the way he could make her feel with just one look.

  But it wasn’t the time to be distracted by Jake’s sensuality, though. She breezed by him, sitting back in her chair. Her stomach growled as she took in the scent of the fresh lasagna, suddenly aware of how hungry she was. Jake cut a piece for her, sliding it onto her plate, and then cut himself a piece. She watched the steam on her plate rise toward the ceiling, knowing it was too hot to eat.

  Once Jake sat, he looked at her, a small smile on his face. “I couldn’t sign that film contract.”

  Cassie’s breath hitched, her meal forgotten. She stared at him, searching his face for any indication of dishonesty but finding none there. She only saw trepidation and a sense of nervousness.

  “Why not?”

  “I went home. I...I met with Drew. I just couldn’t do it,” Jake said, cutting into his lasagna. “I just couldn’t. My future...I couldn’t imagine spending the next four or five years locked into this thing I didn’t want. So I told him that I didn’t want it.”

  “And what do you want?” she asked, cutting into her own meal. There was a certain amount of heaviness in the air, something she couldn’t quite place. She watched him look down at his plate and then watched his eyes meet hers.

  “You.”

  That one word, spoken so simply, so plainly, caused her to sit up in her chair. Her heart went into overdrive, and she looked at him warily. It felt too good to be true - it felt like a strange, lucid dream, one which she’d wake up from soon.

  “Me?”

  Jake gave up all pretense of eating and set his fork and knife down on his plate. His eyes burned into hers with such intensity that she forgot to breathe.

  “I came back for you, Cassie.” He swallowed, the movement causing her eyes to momentarily dart to his throat, then back up. She parted her lips, intending to speak, but finding herself at a loss for words.

  It was very suddenly that Cassie found herself on her feet, having no recollection of deciding to stand. She crossed the small distance from her chair to Jake’s, feeling his gaze on her face, numbly aware that he was pulling himself back from the table. Her eyes fixated on his hands gripping the edge of the table, his fingernails white from the pressure.

  “Jake.”

  His name fell out of her mouth, and she watched his hands reach, making contact with her forearms, dragging her down, pulling her toward him. He was angled so that she could sit on his lap; the magnitude of her emotions were a rush of energy within her, and she grasped at his shoulders, digging her face into his shoulder, right where it met his neck.

  Jake rubbed her back gently, up and down, for a moment, and Cassie could only fixate on the scent of his skin and the rush of his pulse where her face made contact with his neck. She dug her fingers into the fabric of his shirt, wishing for something more, something she couldn’t quite name.

  “You came back for me?” Cassie whispered, pulling her face up, meeting his eye. She was momentarily stunned by how beautiful he looked like that, his face locked in an expression intense and full of yearning. She wished she could capture his face like that on paper; she wished she could perfectly capture the way his face made her feel. The words she wanted to say caught in her throat: I love you.

  “Yes.” His hands came back around, stopping on her arms briefly, before moving up and resting on her face, cupping her cheeks gently. His eyes flicked to her lips, then back up. “I couldn’t bear to be away from you. I couldn’t
live the rest of my life asking myself if I made the right choice. I just...couldn’t.”

  A savage sort of heat filled her with his words. Her whole body buzzed and hummed with life, an ecstatic elation filling her. Her face broke into a smile she couldn’t stop and before she knew what she was doing, she leaned in and closed the space between them, her mouth meeting his.

  Jake wasted no time at all in parting her lips with his tongue, deepening the kiss and sliding his hands through her hair, pulling her as close as he could. She gasped into his mouth, not at all prepared for the way this would make her feel; if she closed her eyes tight enough, she could almost pretend that no time at all had passed since the last time they had done this.

  Momentarily, she was lost in that fantasy: it was as if she were pulled into an everlasting summer, and she tightened her grip on him, as if afraid he’d disappear if she didn’t. She stunned herself by rocking into him, eliciting a startled gasp from Jake; she could feel his arousal beneath her, causing a strong jolt of white-hot heat to surge through her core.

  She ripped herself back, pausing for breath. Staring at him now, the transformation was absolute - his eyes looked wild, the blue nearly hidden from the dilation of his pupils, his lips parted and glistening. The sight was enough to drive her to insanity; she could think of only one thing she wanted, and it wasn’t happening here.

  “Let’s go upstairs,” she found herself saying in a voice she didn’t recognize. She slid out of his lap, his hand reaching to grasp her forearm as he stood too.

  Silently, they made their way out of the kitchen, through the hall and to the stairs. She began to climb them, aware that he was following, the portraits lining the wall watching them as they went.

  It was when they were on the landing that she felt him back her into the wall, pressing his body against her with animal force, his eyes alight with satisfying lust. She thought she saw something else there, too - but his mouth meet hers, claiming her, halting that thought in its tracks.