by Lexy Timms
She took a breath.
Cayden rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. He wasn’t walking as straight as he usually did; he looked tired. Lillian felt sorry for him for a blink, but that blink showed her what she was angry about again. Her skin got hot.
He put a foot on the bottom step leading up to his house and stopped. Turning his head slightly, he jumped back. “Holy shit, Lil, what the hell are you doing there?”
She didn’t say anything.
“You missed the party,” he tried, sounding uncomfortable.
“The party your girlfriend was at?”
He froze. “What?”
“Don’t try that with me.”
“I genuinely don’t know what you’re talking about,” he contradicted, the pitch of his voice rising.
“Can you guess?”
It was his turn to not respond.
“What kind of asshole,” she growled, standing up, “invites his girlfriend to a party, then invites the girl he just slept with? What kind of asshole cheats and pretends like nothing happened?”
“Hang on, hang on.” Cayden took a step forward and pointed a finger at her. “I don’t have a girlfriend.”
“So you have nothing romantic going on with the one who got out of that car?” She thrust her hand at the blue car still sitting there.
“Hannah?” His mouth dropped open. “No, I don’t have anything going on with Hannah.”
Lillian frowned. “She sure looks like she has something going on with you.”
“What gives you that idea?”
“Hey, babe,” she mocked. “Hey, good-lookin’.”
“Dammit, Lil.” She saw he was really frustrated now. It soothed that emotional burn she had been nursing since before sundown. “Were you watching?”
“Was I not supposed to be?”
“It’s not that.”
“It’s hard not to hear what’s going on over here when there’s loud noises and our houses are so close together.” She crossed her arms.
“I don’t know how to explain this without you getting pissed off at me even more.” Shaking his head, he put his foot on the step again. “I don’t think you’re going to listen to anything I have to say.”
“All I want to say,” she interjected, “is that you shouldn’t sleep with a girl when you have something going with another.”
Cayden lost it. His voice rose to a yell. “That’s impossible when the girl I slept with is the girl I have something going on with.”
All the blood left her head and she put her hand on the chair for balance. “What?”
“Oh, come on. Don’t be ridiculous. You would literally have to be emotionally void to not see what’s going on here.” He pointed at both of them. His face had changed from irritation to something softer—something vulnerable.
“I...” She couldn’t think of a single word to say and sat back down, looking at Cayden’s feet.
“I don’t have anything going on with Hannah,” he clarified, his voice firm but with a tender edge. “That’s the last thing I want you to think.”
“How do you explain the side of the house?” The emotions had returned, and she met his gaze. “You didn’t look like you minded.”
“How the hell did you keep seeing all this?” he asked incredulously.
“When I hear yelling outside my house, I usually look to make sure no one is hurt. Especially when there’s alcohol involved.” Good one, she mentally high-fived herself.
“If you were looking, didn’t you notice she was drunk?”
“Yes.” There was no defense for that one. “But how did you even get over there when the car is on the other side of the house?”
“I can’t help it when a drunk girl runs off and almost breaks her ankle from wearing those stupid high heels!” He was shouting again. “There’s loose dirt back there. She was having a hard enough time running on flat ground!”
“She kissed you, Cayden,” Lillian reminded him. The words physically hurt her to say, as if they were laced with poison. “She literally kissed you, and you didn’t fight back.”
He nodded and looked down. “Yes, she kissed me. But in that short time she was right here—” he held his arms out in a circle just before his chest, “—she was about to throw up right down my shirt. Just like you did in my bushes. Probably worse.”
She crossed her arms.
“I don’t want to kiss that,” he declared. “If I had pushed her away, she would have vomited.”
“You don’t have to defend every little thing you did.” Lillian stood up again and felt tears sting her eyes. “This isn’t about what you did. This is about how I’m really confused, and what I feel; and what I saw tonight made it worse.”
Silence.
“I probably shouldn’t have come over here anyway,” she murmured. Her face burned. She was an idiot.
“I texted you,” he said quietly. “I really wanted you over here. If you had come, you wouldn’t be so mad now because it wouldn’t have happened.”
“How do you know?”
He looked at her face fixedly. “Because I would have been with you instead of floating around by myself.”
Shit. That was the only word she could conjure up. “I don’t know, Cayden. I don’t know what to think.”
“I swear to you, I don’t have a girlfriend.” With the last word, she heard his voice break. “I have never cheated on anyone, and that’s something I take pride in. Always have. That’s not my style. At all.”
She knew the discussion was over; they’d said everything they needed to. When she opened her mouth to say something—anything—her voice wouldn’t work. No apology or opinion or retort would come out. So, with a last glance at him, she turned and ran, disappearing into the darkness of her own yard.
Chapter 8
Everything hurt.
Lillian had tossed and turned for most of the night, kept awake by the thought of everything she could’ve—and should’ve—said. There were so many better responses she could’ve made. She could have walked away earlier—or later—than she actually did. The doubt that she had really thought through what she wanted to tell him crept in, and she wondered if confronting him was a wise idea after all.
Eventually she hit her chest with her fist, hoping it would slow her heart rate. “Too late,” she croaked to herself as the dim morning sunlight shone through her sheer curtains. “It already happened. What’s done is done.”
It was easier said than done, of course. No matter how she tried to shift her mind to other topics or even mentally prepare for her meeting with Claire, she kept returning to the emotions of last night.
I’ve lost him, she thought, burying her face in her pillow and yelling. Not that I had him to begin with. But the worst part is that I thought I was starting to have him.
She knew she wasn’t going to sleep anymore; there wasn’t time left before her alarm was due to go off in ten minutes. It didn’t help that her back hurt from lying in contorted positions, trying to get comfortable.
When she’d come in last night and gone straight to her bedroom, she couldn’t sleep. She’d tried stretching, yoga, deep-breathing exercises, scrolling through articles on every topic under the sun. Nothing helped, not even wiggling her toes or listening to the cats’ breathing. So she resorted to the good old-fashioned technique of turning the lights out and waiting for sleep to take her.
It never did.
Now, as she pulled the curtains aside, she squinted at the daylight and cursed. Her head felt like it was a raisin, and no amount of water she chugged helped it feel normal again. She dragged her feet to the bathroom and braced herself on the vanity, staring at her reflection.
“I look like shit.” Her eyes were swollen and her lips were so dry to the touch she swore they might fall off. Getting enough sleep every night was the most important thing to her, and it had been for years. In the last several months there had been only a couple of night she was restless, but eventually she was able to sink in
to dreams and remain there until her alarm went off. Last night, however, was the first night in probably a decade or so, she wagered, that her sleep schedule had been truly, hopelessly, disturbed.
“You can’t think about any of it,” Lillian commanded herself, still staring into the mirror. “Nothing matters right now except the appointment with Claire and the coffee with what’s-her-name later this afternoon.” She didn’t even feel bad for not calling to mind immediately the name of the woman she was meeting at the café later. She was a new client and they were meeting to discuss appointment times, décor style, living preferences... All those things I try to stay enamored of every day for the sake of clients who think my home looks like a Pinterest palace. Shifting her eyes down the hall to the living room, the first things she noticed were a ball of cat hair and a tangle of random computer cords she had yet to find a storage space for.
She couldn’t help but let out a laugh that sounded more like a cackle. I’ll just let all those people keep their visions of what they think this place looks like. For now, carry on the morning routine as usual.
That was all she knew to do. Once, she read somewhere that coffee and sugar were the worst things to consume after a night of fitful sleep, since they were dehydrating. She could deal with foregoing the sugar, but the coffee? No way. And besides, it had already started brewing. She heard the water start to gurgle and the pleasant dripping noise of it running into the carafe.
Yes, she nodded to herself while she splashed water and cleanser on her face, coffee will be my savior today. Already she was beginning to hear Claire’s voice in her head. That had to go. She started humming various songs to fill her house with some kind of noise, hoping that it would somehow take her mind off things.
Trudging back to her room she pulled on a pair of skinny jeans, but couldn’t bring herself to change from the warm sleep shirt draped over her frame. That would have to happen sometime between coffee and leaving the house. Her muscles weren’t fully awake or rested, or whatever they were, and she struggled with the button. Once she got it through, she felt her pants drop just a little, but enough that it was uncomfortable.
Stepping in front of the mirror, she saw that the jeans were indeed looser than they were last time. She scowled. Maybe I just need to wash them, she figured. Then they’ll fit again. I probably just haven’t washed them for a long time. Opening the closet, she grabbed a leather belt off a hook and looped it through her waistband.
Better. And that’ll look nice with my shirt later. She knew her tendency to be negative and pouty when she didn’t get a good night’s rest. Now, she reminded herself, was time to put all that reading about positive energy and mindfulness into action.
Easier said than done, she growled as she pulled her big sweater on and shivered. The sun hadn’t gained its warmth yet, so the house still held the cold of the night. She hopped into the kitchen, hoping to get her blood flowing and warm up.
As she reached for the coffee pot, she stopped abruptly and listened. The cats, who were chowing down on breakfast, raised their heads for a moment at a quiet banging noise.
She heard it again. Someone was definitely knocking on the door.
Glancing at the clock on the oven, she raised an eyebrow. It wasn’t even 8:00 yet. Who on earth...
The wooden door was closed in front of the screen door, so she couldn’t get any clues as to who the intruding visitor was. Coffee in hand, she unlocked the dead bolt. “I’m not interested in a morning paper or—”
She stopped when she opened the heavy door all the way.
There, on the other side of the screen door, was Cayden. And he was holding a plate of food in his hands.
Her jaw dropped. “What’s this?”
His lips pressed together when he smiled. “I made you breakfast.”
“I...” She flung open the screen door to let him in. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Isn’t that adorably cliché of you?”
“What’s the occasion?” she asked, ignoring his comment.
He drifted into the kitchen and set the plate down. “A couple of reasons.”
Lillian thought for a moment that he sounded a little embarrassed. “Reasons?”
“Last time you wouldn’t eat with me—”
“That makes me sound like an idiot.”
Cayden shook his head. “You’re not, but I’ll admit that it felt like you were one.”
“The other reason?”
“I’m sorry about last night.” His voice came out hard and fast, and his light blue eyes pierced her skull. She hadn’t seen him look this intensely at her before; there was no hint of a smile on his face. “I know I came across like an idiot.”
“I shouldn’t have come over,” she countered.
“No, I’m glad you did.”
She paused, waiting.
“You were hurt and you told me. I appreciate that.”
After a minute, she fidgeted. “The vibe in here just got pretty tense.”
“I’m not tense. Please don’t think that.” He put his hand next to the plate. “I made pancakes for you. I don’t know if you eat pancakes, but I figured since you have an appointment this morning you could use some extra nourishment.”
The food looked delicious. The first thing she noticed was a tiny daisy resting on top. Slices of banana peeked out from the golden pancakes, and two slices of bacon covered the bottom of the plate. He had just walked in but already the smell was filling the kitchen.
“Where’s yours?” she asked meekly.
He looked at her, surprised. “Mine?”
“Did you eat already?”
“No.”
She gestured at the kitchen table. “Bring it here.”
“I didn’t think you would want me here.”
Shit, am I really that much of an asshole? Putting her hands on his back, she pushed him toward the door. “Bring yours here.”
“You might need to warm yours up—”
“Shhh.” She put a finger to his lips. “I’m a grown woman. It’s okay. Now, hurry up.”
He half-smiled when she gave him a last little shove, but it was more of a confused expression than anything. She stood at the door and watched him leap over the hedge and run into his house in only a few steps.
It’s impossible for me to be mad at that guy, she realized, and gave herself a little smile.
In less than two minutes he was back at her place, inviting himself in this time. His plate had wisps of steam rising from it, and she made him sit down while she waited for hers to heat up.
“Did you sleep okay?” he asked.
“No.” She froze. “I didn’t mean to say it so bluntly.”
“I can guess how well you slept by that one word.” His eyes glimmered curiously as he pulled a chair out for her.
“Aren’t you a gentleman?” she remarked as she sat down.
“Does it scare you?”
“A little.”
He didn’t look directly at her, but she could see the pleasure on his face. They took the first bite of breakfast at the same time and ate in silence for a couple of minutes.
“Did you not sleep well because of our argument?”
Lillian cleared her throat and took a gulp of coffee. “Talk about blunt.”
“I didn’t I slept well, either.”
Frowning, she set her mug down. “We’re really screwed up, huh?”
“You could say that.” Cayden took another bite and smiled. “It’s good, though. In some ways.”
“How so?”
“The fact that our disagreement affected us that much means we care about each other.” He said the words so matter-of-factly that her heart punched her ribcage.
“You could say that,” she agreed, her voice so soft she could barely hear it.
He didn’t look back at her, but focused on the last bites of his food. She gaped at his nearly empty plate. “How do you put down so much food like that?”
“What, like eating five panca
kes in less than ten minutes is a big deal for you?” His eyes flickered to her plate; she was only halfway done with her two pancakes. “I’ve got some training to do with you, by the looks of it. At least you’ve eaten your calories.”
“I’m not hiring you,” she joked.
“What do I have to do to persuade you that I’m the best for you?” A sneaky smile waved over his mouth. “The best for your training, I mean.”
Everything in this moment seemed so normal that Lillian let herself laugh at yet another one of Cayden’s dual-meaning jokes. He chuckled with her, and they let their gazes settle on each other.
“What are we doing?” The words escaped her throat before she even knew they were there.
It caught him slightly off guard, but he seemed to know immediately what she was talking about. “What are we doing, Lil?”
“I feel like things are really unclear between us.” The fatigue was wearing on her mind, breaking that wall that kept her from saying what she wanted to say so often. “We’re in some weird kind of limbo right now, and we need to straighten things out. I think I need to know.”
“Sounds very academic.”
She looked down at her half-eaten pancakes. “I need clarity. I wish I didn’t, but I do. This ‘us’ thing is throwing me for a loop because we haven’t even acknowledged what’s going on.”
“Except for the fact that we slept together.” As he spoke she felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment, but he still had that pleased look on his face. “Which, by the way, was an excellent experience.”
A flashback hit her, and she felt his skin on hers. “Yeah,” she nodded, “it was.”
“So...” Cayden leaned back and motioned at the bottles on the counter. “When do you take those? Or are they just there for good measure?”
“Oh, damn!” She scooted back from the table quickly. “I’m supposed to take these with food in the morning.”
“Perfect timing then. You have food and it’s morning.”
“Very funny.” Opening the bottles to measure her pills, she stuck her tongue out at him and saw him smirking fiercely. “What’s that face for?”