It's a Date

by Jess Epps

"What do you want?" I ask with every bit of irritation in my voice.

  "I want to know why you were dumb enough to leave that sex god."

  I'm taken aback by her question. I'm sick of her crap, so I stop being nice. "Wow, is that any of your business?"

  "Kind of, since we're both his exes now.”

  I'm not even going there with her. "Still. I don't know what you want from me?"

  “I want to talk about him. Surely you want to brag about his size...he's incredibly hung!"

  I roll my eyes and walk back over to my music. "I'm not talking about this with you. Have a nice day," I say dismissively.

  “So you don’t care that we both fucked the same guy?” She’s standing with her hands on her hips, waiting for me to react.

  I think I just threw up in my mouth. I almost trip and fall. What? I thought he...but he said..."What did you say?"

  “I’m almost positive you heard me. I enjoyed my time with him. Did you? Or could you not handle him?”

  I turn around and face her. "I'm..."

  I stop, shaking my head in confusion before trying again. "You slept with him?" I seriously think I'm going to pass out. He lied to me? Why would he? Suddenly it hits me. He lied to get me in bed.

  “Uh, duh. Who the hell wouldn’t sleep with that fine piece of ass?”

  I'm literally going to be sick. "I see. Uhm, how long were you together?"

  “It was five years ago but I think we were together for about two months.”

  “Well, good for you. Are we done here?”

  "Oh no, sweetie. It's obvious that you didn't put out and that's why he left you. What a shame. It's a good thing I went through my old phone to get his number because he's been sending me some rather inappropriate pictures."

  Jealousy surges through me. I've never wanted to harm someone before but at this moment..."I'm happy for you. Are you done trying to provoke me?"

  "Provoke you? No, I'm just making small talk." Her phone goes off and she looks at it. "Well, speak of the devil himself! Bye-bye now."

  I look down at her phone and then at her retreating back as she walks away. As soon as the door closes I fall to my knees, unable to hold it in anymore. I can't believe I fell for it. I can't believe I let him trick me. The floodgates break and I sob uncontrollably into my hands.

  I never expected him to be that kind of a guy. I'm so, so stupid! I should have known. He seemed so sincere. What a lying jerk! Wiping my eyes, I get up and change out of my pointe shoes and put on my flats, deciding that was the last time I cry over him. "What a fucking asshole!" I'm so beyond angry, maybe even more upset with myself. I should have never sent him that letter, I think, shoving my things into my bag angrily.

  Anger.

  That's all I'm feeling right now. I grab my phone and send a text to Dillen: We're going out tonight. I'm getting drunk! And do not tell me no.

  I look at my contacts list and have the sudden urge to send him a message. I feel so betrayed.

  I want him to hurt as much as I'm hurting right now. I storm out of the room and into the main hall. Alexis is smiling at her phone while she finishes reading a text out loud to her friends. “Aw! He called me his ballerina. I’m so going to suck his dick.”

  My heart just stopped. I don’t think anything could hurt me worse than that. He’s calling her ballerina? That was my name.

  I hate her. I fucking hate her.

  Dillen sends a reply.

  I love it when you're feisty. Me, you, Jack, and José!

  YES!

  I just got out of the shower. Meet out front; I’ll drive by the drop-off area. I hope you don't mind if I'm wet ;)

  Only she would say that.

  I don't mind. I just need to drink and forget. I have to come home and change.

  On my way.

  A few minutes later Dillen pulls up with Am I Wrong by Nico & Vinz blasting in her speakers.

  I open the door and get in. "Dillen, I fucking hate her! Today couldn't have gone any worse."

  "Whoa. Uh-oh. Who are we talking about?" she asks, as she takes in my foul mood.

  "Who do you think?"

  “Okay, I should have guessed. What happened? Spill it all.”

  Dillen drives back to her apartment as I fill her in on my eventful, nails-against-a-chalkboard day. It takes the entire drive and when I finally stop to breathe again, we are in her apartment and she’s pouring me a large glass of wine.

  “Thanks,” I mumble as I take the glass by its stem.

  Dillen is just staring at me. "I really don't know what to say, Heather. He didn't seem like a lying piece of shit. But anything is possible nowadays."

  I swallow the glass of wine then set it down on the counter. “Can we just go out, please?”

  “Of course we can! Go get into the sexy little gold number we bought for you on Thursday.”

  I smile for the first time in what feels like forever. Feeling loose from the wine, I go into my room to get ready. When I finally emerge from my room, Dillen is lounging on the couch flipping through a celebrity gossip magazine dressed in a nude canvas-like dress with a cheetah print clutch and black stilettos. There’s a triangular piece of sheer fabric running down her cleavage. All together, she looks gorgeous.

  "Super cute, Dill. Are you ready?"

  She looks up at me and smiles brightly. “Heather, you are a sight for sore eyes, you little shit. I love how shiny that dress is. Turn around. I want more!”

  I laugh. "Shut up. You've already seen me in it when I bought it."

  "But not the entire outfit. Those black stockings make the dress, and those heels. Oh little shit, you are going to get some D tonight."

  I point at her. "No. No way. I am not going there. I just want to dance, get drunk and forget about my problems."

  "That I can help with. Let's go." She jumps up and grabs my hand, pulling me out of the apartment. We take the long elevator ride down thirty-five floors until we are in the lobby where she asks for a cab to be called. I have to keep from thinking about the last time I went out. It only reminds me of him.

  We get in a cab soon after we step outside and we are whisked away to Club KOKO.

  “You’re going to love this place. It looks like an old dance theatre.”

  "I can't wait!"

  Once we arrive, we walk into the club, holding hands as we make our way through the crowd. Crap, this was such a bad idea. Everywhere I turn I either feel or see a pair of eyes on me. I just want to get drunk. Is that too much to ask? Dillen finds the bar and orders us three shots each. One of each man: Jack, José, and Captain Morgan.

  "Woohoo! Here's to being single." I raise one of my shots and hold it up to Dillen's.

  “Here’s to living with my best friend…in London.” We both giggle and take our three shots.

  I scrunch my nose and squeeze my eyes shut. "Holy hell!"

  “Shit!” She breathes in deeply and makes a face. “That burns.”

  I giggle and order us each three more.

  We take them and Dillen does this little dance when she finishes the shots. “Let’s go dance. As if we don’t do that enough.”

  "Yes!" I grab her hand and we head out to the middle of the dance floor. We start to move to the music as the alcohol takes over our bodies, warming them in ways no man in this club can.

  I’m not sure how many hours pass of us drinking and dancing, but I'm struggling to dance with my heels on. We’re thankfully standing next to a barrier dividing the dance floor from a walkway. I’m using it to help me stay up straight as I sway with Dillen to the music.

  I'm having so much fun and without fail, I’m starting to feel emotional. Slurring my words, I scream over the music, "I love my best friend!"

  Dillen’s arms flail around me as she squeezes me to her. “I love you too, little shit. Are you having fun?”

  With a goofy grin on my face, I answer her. "I’m having the best time. Let's get one more drink."

  “Okay, one more.” She takes my hand and we drunken
ly walk to the bar where she flaunts her breasts to get the bartender’s attention in the crowd. “Two more!”

  I pout, trying for cute. "I want some of those…" Looking down at my own pair with disgust, I gasp with an idea and look up. "Ohmigod! I'm going to get a boob job!"

  She laughs too loudly and looks at my boobs. “I like yours. They don’t bounce around like water balloons when you are dancing.”

  I sigh dramatically. "But that's what I want." My fuzzy brain starts running overtime. "What if that's what Noah wanted? Big boobs."

  She takes our shots and hands me one. “I like your boobs, so you should too. I think Noah liked your boobs too.”

  I wave my hand in dismissal and take my shot. I don't even feel it go down anymore. Dillen takes the glass and puts it down on the bar before struggling to get into her clutch. The music is booming and I can feel each and every vibration move through my body. Dillen pulls her phone out and holds it up to her ear, mouthing “Coen” to me as she grabs my hand and leads me toward the exit sign hanging atop a large double door. We go out onto the smoking patio where the music can’t be heard as loudly and I can hear my heart in my ears.

  When she mouths Coen's name, I instantly get mad again. How dare he be friends with Noah after what he did? Even though it's never a good idea to drunk-text, I do it anyway. Trying to text him...well, thank goodness for autocorrect.

  I just hope you know that I know you lie.

  I sit down next to Dillen on an outdoor couch and cross my legs while I wait for Noah to text me back. Moments later, my phone vibrates.

  Hold up. What did I lie about?

  I angrily type out my reply, my fingers hitting the screen a little too hard.

  Don't continue to lie! I found out that I wasn't the only one you slept with. I can't believe I fell for your shit.

  What? Who the hell said that? THAT is a lie. I never lied to you, Heather. I have to go. I’ll talk to you later.

  Excuse me? He's dismissing me? Uh-uh. No, no, no!

  Don't bother! Have fun with your next conquest.

  I don’t get a text back from him and it makes me furious. Oh the nerve!

  “Dillen, I want to go home,” I say as I pout with my arms folded. She looks at me, nods, and tells Coen she’ll call him back. Disconnecting the call, she helps me stand and we make our way to the bar to pay for our tab. We stop at the bathroom on the way out because I have no idea how long the cab ride is going to be. After pushing through hordes of people, we finally exit the club and to the sidewalk where Dillen flags down a cab driver. I’ve never wanted to be so alone before.

  "Dillen?" I ask as we ride to her place. She’s drunkenly leaning against me. Or I’m leaning against her. I’m not sure, but either way we are helping each other stay upright.

  “Mmm?”

  "It'll stop hurting, right?"

  “The alcohol or Noah?” she slurs.

  I whisper in her ear, "Don't say his name. He's probably sexting Alexis.”

  “Troll!” she cries out as the cab comes to a stop. “Don’t think that.” She pulls out £30 and we get out, helping each other through the lobby and to the elevator.

  I take off my heels and look at my phone, frowning and getting mad again. "Why? Stupid jerk!" I show her my phone. "See! No reply. Wanna know why? Cause he's onto his next girl."

  “Was he not upset when you left him, little shit?”

  The elevator pings and we exit, going to the apartment door. She struggles to unlock it but finally, after what feels like an eternity, it opens.

  "Lies. All lies. Crap, I have to pee."

  “Go pee,” she says, and the door shuts behind us and she locks it. “I’m going to pass out on the kitchen floor. The tile is going to be cold and I am so hot.” She takes off her dress before lying down on the kitchen floor in just her matching underwear.

  I laugh as I step over her and head to the bathroom but I get sidetracked when I pass her pantry. Opening it, I find some cookies.

  “I want some.” She giggles and stretches her arm out.

  I walk over with the package and lie down on the floor next to her. We giggle and eat our cookies and I completely forget about having to pee. I've also forgotten about how mad I am. The alcohol finally takes a toll on us and our eyes grow heavy as we laugh on the floor. "I love you, Dill."

  “I love you, little shit,” she squeals and nudges my foot. “Take me to bed…” she whines.

  I laugh and try to sit up. "What? I can't carry you." But I try anyway. We laugh hysterically when we fall repeatedly all over each other, finally making it to her room where we both crash on her bed and fall asleep.

  Noah

  THE PLANE WAS literally rolling down the runway when I got Heather's text. I've never been so fucking frantic to type out a text before. I have no idea what she's talking about. I've never once lied to her. I want nothing more than to get on the plane’s Wi-Fi and email her to tell her I'm coming and that I wasn't being an ass. There are no other girls, and I doubt there ever will be with the way she makes me feel. Once the plane reaches 10,000 feet, the flight attendant announces that we are allowed to use our laptops and other approved electronic devices. Meanwhile, I'm having an internal battle with myself. I can't tell her because she'll run.

  It took Joel to the last minute to get my new ID and passport. The passport is not under Noah Ryan; it's under Jorden Somer. As much as I hate seeing that name next to my passport picture, it's better than losing my ballerina. I haven't asked Joel for my parents' names, and I won't until I'm ready.

  I'm anxious as all hell on this plane, and I'm going to be until I see her and make her mine again. Dani helped me with the hotel arrangements. All of the hotels in her area were fully booked, but apparently Brannon has some hookups in London and I now have a suite in the hotel across the street from Dillen’s apartment.

  I cave in and pay for the plane’s Wi-Fi when I get out my tablet. Instead of emailing her, I type in "Jorden Somer, 1985 kidnapping" into Google search. The first article title that comes up reads "Jorden Somer—Taken After Birth."

  I exit out and set the tablet in the empty seat next to me. I can't read that shit. These were the articles that were supposed to be clipped out and added into that white binder of Mae's with the others. I can't and won't read them. They'll tell me more about my life and parents than I want to know right now.

  Hours pass before I am able to pick up the tablet. I decide to type out an email in preparation of sending it to Heather in case she pushes me away, in case she wants nothing to do with me.

  To: Heather Lane

  From: Noah Ryan

  Subject: My Thoughts

  My little ballerina,

  I've been lost without you these past few weeks. I can't begin to describe the physical ache I have inside of me all of the time…

  I finish typing out the email and I save it to my draft folder, in preparation for the rejection of a lifetime.

  Christ, this flight takes forever. I can just imagine how Heather handled it on her own. The thought of her afraid and upset makes me sick to my stomach.

  To think that she faced her fear of flying alone just to get away from me also makes me sick. Wait…was she alone, or was he flying with her? Jesus, am I making a mistake by going after her?

  She went to great lengths to get away from me.

  The flight attendant walks through the cabin offering beverages when I'm scrolling through my tablet’s gallery—picture after picture of my ballerina. The flight attendant asks me if I’d like a drink and I request something stiff. Her eyes catch the photo on my screen: it's the first picture of Heather I ever saved.

  "Now she was a handful on the plane," the flight attendant says.

  "Excuse me?" I ask, as she passes me a miniature bottle of vodka.

  "She was on a flight to Heathrow International a few weeks back. Poor thing had a panic attack."

  "Wait…you were on the plane with her?"

  "Yes, sir. She flew in first class. She
was so darling and so upset. I wouldn't be able to forget a sweet thing like her."

  "Yeah, me either. Was she alone?" I ask the question under my breath but she seems to hear me.

  "She was. Are you a relative of hers?” she asks as she hands me a small bag of pretzels. Fuck, I can breathe again.

  "No, I'm actually her ex. She chose London over me and now I'm going after her."

  "Really?" She seems surprised. "That was over two weeks ago, I'm sure. You're a bit late, if you don't mind my being so blunt."

  "Yeah, I know. I had a few hiccups in the road that I had to get through before I could come get her."

  I empty the two bottles of vodka over ice and hand the empties to her.

  "Well, let her know that Marlene said hello and that I hope she's doing well...and I hope it's not too late for you."

  Taking a deep breath in, I nod. "Will do, thank you."

  She smiles and pushes the beverage cart forward, farther down the aisle, and she takes another drink order.

  WE'VE LANDED AFTER the longest flight of my life. I'm tired. But there's one thing keeping me going. I have a feeling that after her texts, this won't be easy. My thoughts on her being a little tornado were correct.

  She's mad. She thinks I've lied.

  I've never been forceful with her—I've yet to push her. But I'm done being passive. She's going to listen to me whether she wants to or not.

  After making my way through border control and customs, I grab my bag from the turnstile at baggage claim before getting into a cab, and giving the driver my hotel address.

  The ride isn't too long, but my mind is racing anyway. I'm on edge, not only from what I have to do, but also because this damn driver is worse than a New York cabbie. Not to mention, it's fucking with my head that he's sitting on the opposite side of the car and we're driving on the left.

  Thankfully, we arrive at my hotel without being killed in the process. I pay and get out. Instead of going inside like any normal person, I stop and turn around to face the building that holds Heather. I want to go now. I'm anxious as all hell. I force myself to go check in and find my room. It's too big, much bigger than I'll ever need, especially if she rejects me. I decide to shower before walking over to Heather's apartment building.