Now and Again

by Jennifer Ellision

  The fight. The one where he'd relegated my father's death to some clichéd psychological issue.

  The one where I didn't have the balls to admit that, on some level, he was right. Even if it was a cheap shot.

  He runs an agitated hand through his hair. "I shouldn't have said it. I was wrong and I know that. But I texted you. I called you. I knocked on your door, trying to apologize, but you totally disappeared. You were my best friend, you know? I always had a thing for you, and I thought you had one for me too. I wanted to give it a real chance—"

  "—I didn't," I blurt, interrupting him.

  He starts, clearly taken aback. "Didn't what? Didn't have a thing for me?"

  "No. Well, yeah, I did. I always did," I amend. "Nikki told me I should ask you out when the fire alarm went off our freshman year, but I don't know. I wasn't ready. First, it was that being friends seemed safer. Then, it was that I didn't want to risk our friendship. And then it was junior year, and at that point…" I shrug, trailing off.

  "At that point, you became a commitment-phobe," Cole finishes. He nods. "I get it."

  I frown, not liking the ring of 'commitment-phobe.' "I wouldn't go quite that far," I start to say before being interrupted by a swarm of drunken bridesmaids and one extremely drunk bride. At this point in the night, I can't say that I don't fit right in.

  "Em!" One of the bridesmaids—Alyssa— shrieks at me. "Dance!"

  Joey picks up this thread with slightly more eloquence. "Fuck guys tonight," she declares.

  No one but me seems to notice Cole's wry "Gee. Thanks."

  She tugs at my wrists, pulling me out onto the dance floor. "It's time for a girl's dance," she says. Nikki stomps away from our huddle with the determined gait of a drunk on a mission.

  The lights are dark. When we'd entered the bar that night, I'd thought the flashing strobe lights were more likely to induce a seizure of epic proportions than inspire dancing. It's different now, with the vodka and tequila pulsing through me. The small dots of light flicker over me and they don't feel like a seizure anymore. They feel like glitter and sparkle and carefree days and what they don't feel like is in the heaviness of indecision, the weight of commitment.

  I spy Nikki and Ron in the corner and Nikki's hair is wild as she smacks the back of her hand against her palm. She's animated about something and Ron just looks bewildered. But for once, I think, it's not my job. And it's not my problem. So I look away and laugh with the other bridesmaids, twirling my hips in time with the music. My limbs are liquid as they raise to the ceiling, head turned to the side, hair falling into my eyes.

  My hips are pulled into a warm body, one hand on my hipbone, my back against a familiar chest. Cole murmurs in my ear below the music as I let my head fall back into the crook between his neck and shoulder.

  "So, college is all you missed?" he murmurs into my ear.

  I hum, neither agreeing nor disagreeing and turn to face him. The alcohol's finally hit him— or something has. His eyes are intent, his pupils dark. My fingers curl at the base of his neck and I swallow, making a decision.

  "I missed you, too," I say. I make sure to say it clearly so there can be no mistaking what I've said. And I reach for him.

  When he leans toward me, hands moving to my hair, I let him, heart in my throat.

  Forget jumpy. When my stomach drops, I'm falling.

  Without a parachute.

  Without a safety net.

  I'm in freefall.

  Down,

  down,

  down.

  TWENTY-ONE

  COLE

  ∞ Then ∞

  Graduation

  The ceremony was over.

  It should have been a happy day, filled with family and laughter and friends. It should have been a day during which Cole looked forward to his future, joked about it with Em, Nikki, and Ron over drinks. He should have been fully occupied with his mom's camera flashes, his dad's corny jokes.

  But when his eyes wandered the sea of students in the crowd, he didn't see Em.

  He tried not to let it preoccupy him. Maybe he'd missed her name being announced. Or gotten distracted as she was handed her diploma and shook the dean's hand. After all, after the blow-out they'd had, it wasn't like she was going to sit and talk with him during the parade of speeches and graduates, whether they were in the same major or not.

  This was what he told himself. It wasn't what he believed.

  His parents took him out for dinner at an upscale restaurant later and he got ready at their hotel room. In between, he called Em, unable to rid himself of the cloud of foreboding hanging over him.

  Just like in the weeks before, she didn't answer.

  At the restaurant, he snuck away to the bathroom to text Nikki, who was off celebrating with her own parents and Ron.

  Cole 8:42 PM:

  Have you heard from Em today?

  Nikki 8:44 PM:

  No :/

  His throat worked, tightening over this evidence. His thumbs flew over his phone's screen in the dim light of the bathroom.

  Cole 8:45 PM:

  Ok. Thx

  Nikki 9:01 PM:

  Just tried calling her. Got sent to voicemail. What's going on?

  He didn't answer that. If he was right, they'd know soon enough.

  By the time his parents went back to their hotel and he returned home to their darkened, vacant apartment, he suspected what he'd find when he flicked the light in Em's room on, but God. He wanted to be wrong.

  He was right, though. Her room was empty. Her things had disappeared.

  Whether she'd set off for Boston, California, or New York, he didn't know.

  All he knew was Em was gone.

  TWENTY-TWO

  COLE

  ∞ Now ∞

  Em is everywhere as they crash through the doors. She fills his senses, surrounding him. Her hair falls soft over his arms and he happily tangles his hands in it. Finally. Finally, he thinks as Em slips his jacket over his arms and off of him. She's here with him. And he actually believes that she's not going to run this time. That she wants to be here. With him and no one else. He's not just a stand-in for a warm body or a way to escape. It's about him this time. Both of them.

  "You look—" Unable to resist, he breaks off his sentence and sucks at her collarbone. She arches in his arms, losing her breath. "—too clothed," he finishes.

  His hands hover over the zipper on her dress. Taking his cue, she reaches back to tug it down and he feels like singing as it falls forward to reveal her bra.

  It's been too long, he silently addresses her breasts, flicking the clasp open. And too brief. She hisses as the cold air hits the sensitive skin.

  "I could say the same for you. Lose the clothes." She catches his earlobe gently between her teeth.

  "Jesus," he swears. She grins, pulling back and without any further warning, leaps onto him, wrapping her legs around his torso.

  He catches her. Of course he catches her. He's been waiting to do just that for years, but she's never let herself fall before, even knowing he was standing at the bottom of the cliff waiting with a safety net.

  They move to the bed and he brushes a long strand of hair over her shoulder.

  "Before you ask," she says.

  He freezes, flashing back to that night so many years ago. Another dark room. Em in his arms.

  "You're not drunk, right?"

  "Drunk? Sure, a little."

  He freezes and groans. He can't believe he's made this mistake again. They've been drinking. "Right. Of course. We can't do this." He slides slowly, torturously away, hating himself every second.

  We can," she says, grabbing his neck and pulling him back in. "I'm not drunk. We're grown-ups now, remember? I'm fully capable of making this decision." Her eyes search his. "What's yours?"

  He laughs, letting her pull him back into her warmth.

  ∞ Em ∞

  My hands are cold when I wake up. It's the first thing I'm aware of. Cold, and fisted
into sheets I don't recognize. An arm that is most decidedly not mine sprawls across my stomach. A masculine hand curls possessively around my hip.

  Cole.

  Last night comes back to me in bursts of heat and flash. Strong hands caressing every inch of my body. Gasps and arches. Moans and tangled sheets.

  Utter release.

  And I'd indulged without reservation. But now, in the weak morning light filtering through the room's curtains, my reservations blaze to the surface.

  It isn't that I'm not that last night hadn't been amazing. It had. I have no regrets about it. We should have done that years ago. But it's also something I need a minute alone to think about. Figure out how I feel about it and what it means for me. What my next move is. And to do that, I need to get out of this hotel room and back to my own where I have some space to breathe.

  Biting my lip and closing my eyes in a prayer, I slide one bare leg out to toe the downtrodden hotel carpet, but an uncomfortable sensation stops me.

  I don't have any underwear on. Where the hell…? Flinging my eyes about the room, I find my black thong laying haphazardly on a chair in the corner. Right. I seem to remember shimmying out of it and flinging it away in a fit of impatience last night.

  Now, how to get out of here without waking Cole?

  Quick like a cat, that's how. If I'm fast enough, maybe it won't register. Maybe he won't wake up.

  One, I count. Two… three! Like Supergirl on speed, I dart out of the bed and hold my breath. Cole's only response is to turn and flop, mumbling onto his other side.

  I don't bother to stop a smile from unfurling across my face. He'd always been slow to wake in the morning.

  I slip on the thong. Now for the bra… I turn in a useless circle before I spot it on the headboard, over Cole's head.

  The universe is testing me.

  Somehow, I manage to retrieve it and finish getting dressed without incident. And slowly— ever-so-slowly, I put my purse on my shoulder and tiptoe to the room's door. Almost home free.

  Taking a deep breath, I turn the knob.

  And the mother-effing door creaks.

  For a minute, I'd been stupid enough to think I'd manage to get out of here undetected. The mattress shifts and I freeze, unable to bring myself to flee. I'm still framed in the doorway when Cole's husky, sleep-thickened voice says, "Em?"

  Crap. How in the hell is it that he manages to sleep through my bumbling and fumbling around the room, but a freaking door squeak wakes him up? I squeeze my eyes shut. It had all been going so well.

  I whirl. "Hey!" And I have to fight back a wince. Even to my ears, my voice rings false. I inch out the door.

  "I was just… um… just, you know…" I throw a desperate look into the hall and my eyes catch on a discarded room service tray. Oh lord, thank you for the inspiration. "Going to get some breakfast!" I finish in triumph.

  "Okay," Cole draws out. He gets out of the bed slowly, moving as if he's afraid of startling a wild animal.

  I avert my eyes at the first glance of his unclad legs, sure I couldn't feel more awkward if I tried. I just need to think, but I'm sure he thinks I'm running again.

  "I could eat. If you wait a second…" His eyes scan the floor, clearly searching for his own underwear. "I'll go with you," he says, seizing his boxers to tug them on.

  "No!" I exclaim. He stills, eyebrows shooting up as my hand flies forward to stop him. The heavy door slams shut behind me, sealing my escape route. My laugh sounds forced as I grope behind me for the knob again.

  "I mean… no, don't be silly." This, I manage a little more naturally, with a slight chuckle. "I'm just going to grab some cereal, maybe hit up a vending machine for a Pop-Tart or something, go check on the bride…"

  My fingers close around the metal handle and I give it a turn. Got it. Door open; route cleared. I step backwards out of the room, practically able to taste my escape. I feel only a smidgen of guilt about it. I'll talk to Cole later, but for now, I need to get my head on straight.

  I lick lips that are suddenly dry and swallow hard as his eyes narrow on me. He's not buying it. I have to get out of here. "Besides, I've got to shower and make sure I've got the whole maid of honor thing covered. Take care of the hungover bride and all of that. I'll see you later, okay? Okay. Bye!" I waggle my fingers at him and dart out the door as he stares at me, jaw agape.

  I rub at last night's smudged eyeliner and mascara as I hurry back to the shelter of my own room.

  Thankfully, I don't hear Cole crash into the hallway after me and my key card works on the first try.

  I head instantly for the bathroom, turn on the shower, shed my clothing and step beneath the hot water, letting it ease the tension in my muscles while I think.

  San Francisco's been my goal since I returned home. And it's just a state away right now. I picture the orange-red cables and towers of the Golden Gate Bridge, a clear route for countless drivers getting from Point A to Point B.

  I think that's part of why it's always appealed to me. I mean sure, there's also the obvious reason: it's safer to keep everyone away. Safer to keep half of a country between us. But California… San Francisco. The bridge is iconic. And what it represents to me is obvious.

  I haven't had a clear route in years. Not since we lost Dad.

  People complicate things. Throw me off-course. But maybe that's not such a bad thing. I miss being able to be there for my mom and Nikki in person. I miss Cole knocking me off-kilter.

  There are bridges everywhere. I just have to choose to cross them.

  I turn off the water, towel off, and shrug into the hotel-provided robe.

  I think… the thing is that I want to stay.

  I mean, not here. Not in Vegas. I want to be at home. With Mom. With Nikki. With Cole.

  And, finally, with Cole, it's not just him. I want to try for something more, too.

  I have to tell him. God, when I think of all of the time I've wasted… What losing Dad should have taught me is that time is precious and not to take any of it for granted. To grab onto the moments I can with the people that I love. Not to run wild in the opposite direction for fear of getting hurt.

  A few tears squeeze loose from my eyes and I sniffle, slumping pathetically down onto the bed. Great. I'd never been a pretty crier. My eyes always redden so that, at the very least, I look like I've been smoking pot.

  There's a knocking on my door.

  Shit. Now? Really?

  I rub at my cheeks, trying to rid myself of the evidence. Not bad. Good enough to fool everyone but Cole, Nikki, or my mother. It's probably just housekeeping. I'd forgotten to hang the 'do not disturb' door hanger from the knob. I'll send them on their merry way and go back to Cole's room.

  It's time we talk about some things.

  I yank the door open, polite smile plastered on.

  Of course. It would be Nikki when she's on the short list of people that I don't want to see right now.

  She squeals when the door opens, dancing a little in place, but her grin fades when she gets a good look at me. "What's wrong?"

  "Nothing," I chirp. I reinforce my smile and she lets me get away with it. For now, anyway. A narrowed look tells me that I'll be in for a serious interrogation whenever we get through whatever she came to tell me. "What's up?"

  "I talked to Ron last night. Told him everything I've been worried about. And he had an idea." Her grin springs back, refusing to be contained. "Are you busy?"

  Just examining the corners of my soul and not loving what I find. "No. Why?"

  "Get dressed. Do your make-up." She grins. "Ron and I are getting married. Tonight."

  TWENTY-THREE

  COLE

  She'd left.

  How had he been stupid enough to think things would be different with the space of just a few years?

  But the things she'd said on the flight over… The way she'd finally relaxed with him…

  And God, he swears there had been something in her eyes last night. Before, in the bar, while
they'd been talking. And after, too, while their legs, mouths, hands, bodies, intertwined. Something had shifted. He'd been so sure.

  Ron grabs him around the neck in a loose, good-natured headlock before releasing him with a grin. "Lose the frown, best man."

  A Vegas wedding. The stress of doing what everyone else wants finally got to them—and all Ron and Nikki want is to be married, whether there's a big, fancy dress, a DJ, a bunch of speeches, and a fancy cake, or just the two of them and a few of their closest friends in a gaudy Vegas chapel.

  When he forces Em to the back of his mind and thinks about Ron and Nikki instead, it's actually not hard to smile. And it's not because he's off the hook as a wedding planner. "Dude, you're getting married." He lassos Ron around the neck and rubs his fist roughly over his hair.

  "Are you going to be okay with seeing Em there?" Because with one look at his face when he'd opened the hotel room door, Ron had known that something happened. Apparently Cole has a very specific "Em despair" expression.

  And just like that, she's at the forefront of his thoughts again.

  His grin fades. But two of his best friends are about to get married, and he refuses to do this right now. "I'll be fine."

  ∞

  The quickie wedding chapel is about what he would have expected of Vegas. Lots of lights. Lots of neon lights, cheap clothing, and alcohol at the fringe of it all. The place is far and away the opposite of what Nikki had stressed at her engagement party: class. This was tacky.

  "Hey," Em says as they walk in. She tugs his sleeve, looking bewildered when he yanks free from her touch. "Can I talk to you?"

  "Later," he says shortly. He doesn't really want to hear what she has to say right now. At least this time, she has the balls to say it to his face, instead of letting her silence speak for her. But it's hardly the outcome he'd hoped for last night.

  Their wait in the chapel is brief. Nikki and Ron called ahead, putting their name down like a wait list at a chain restaurant.