by Scott, S. L.
He looks deep into my eyes, exactly where I’ve tried so hard to keep him from going. No one is allowed to that place inside me anymore, especially not him. I instantly drop my gaze to his shoes. They’re casual sneakers, but nice.
“Jules, I’ve said before. I don’t know why I’m here. I just want to be near you. You’re on my mind, fucking with me.”
“I’m fucking with you?” I walk away too annoyed to stay and listen to any of this bullshit.
“Jules.”
“No. Don’t!” I yell over my shoulder.
He doesn’t… and when he doesn’t I start questioning his motives, sincerity, everything he’s been trying to tell me. His words are hard to believe when his actions mean the opposite. I stop on the corner and look back. He still stands there watching me. I throw my arms in the air and scream not caring that it’s still early in the morning. “What? What do you want, Dylan?”
He runs as if I called him to me. I didn’t. I just want answers, but he seems to want answers to questions we don’t even have yet. Confusing. And fucked up. He’s messing with my mind, too. I wonder if he realizes or if he’s doing it on purpose. He grabs my wrists as if we know each other these days. His thumbs graze over the underside of my wrists, my lifeline pulsing beneath his touch. I want to pull away, but I can’t. I like his touch too much.
“What do you want from me?” I whisper scared to see what he’s feeling but dare to look into his eyes anyway.
He doesn’t waste the opportunity. “I want us to start over.”
“Start what over?” My tone is harsh, incredulous.
“Friends. We can start as friends.”
Glancing to the street, then back, I state, “We were never friends, Dylan.”
“We were. You were my best friend, Jules.”
The tears start coming, building in my chest, and seeping into my eyes. “You were my best friend too,” I admit, weakened by the moment, by the feel of his skin on mine.
Tears fall between us. When I look down, I attempt to close my eyes before another falls, but one falls too quick. But that one isn’t mine. It’s his.
I look up, needing to see that he feels something, that maybe I meant something to him or even mean something now. Maybe I’m beyond repair, my emotions permanently damaged, but when I look up, I don’t see the person I hated for years. I see the person I once knew standing before me, caressing my wrists and my heart starts to race, so I drop a confession of my own, “I have a boyfriend, Dylan.”
My wrists are dropped. The last of his tears are wiped away onto the back of his sleeve. “Since when?”
After wiping away my own weakness, I stand strong once again, my heart and emotions closed off just as fast as his. “Since none of your business.”
“You’re impossible, Juliette!” His voice and words sickened with hate as he uses my full name.
I strike back not willing to let him hurt me again. “I hate you, Dylan. I hate you so much.” Anger causes tears to fill my eyes again and my face heats.
“You’re so far removed from the person you once were that I don’t even recognize you anymore,” he says, “you’ve lost your soul—”
“I didn’t lose it! You stole it just like everything else you stole from me. You took it with you that day. And if I’m such a horrible person, then why do you keep coming around? I mean, who does that? Who keeps going where they’re unwanted? It’s insane.”
“Call me what you want, but at least I feel.”
“Fuck you.”
“No, Juliette, fuck you.” He turns his back and leaves.
I scream in fury at the frustrating man. “You’re a bastard, Dylan Somers.”
He laughs. “Yes, baby. You’re not telling me anything I don’t know already.”
“Don’t you ever call me baby again and stop calling me Juliette! You have no right—”
He’s suddenly in front of me, towering over me. “I have rights. I used to make love to you. I have a lot of fucking rights that come along with that.”
“No, you don—”
He grabs me and kisses me. Hard on the lips. Holding my face between his hands, so I can’t escape. The kiss is a surprise, but the feelings we’re sharing so familiar… and wanted… welcomed. Then I remember Austin. Dylan is not him. Dylan is not mine to kiss any longer. I shove him on the chest, our lips separating from the abrupt interruption.
My arm flies through the air, but is caught before my hand makes contact with his cheek.
Toe-to-toe, his eyes narrow on me. “You will not slap me for something that I could feel you wanted just as much.”
I give him one last hard look before I yank my arm from his tight grip. No words. No words can capture how I truly feel about him right now. And hate and anger have been overused, so I turn and walk away. By the time I reach the corner, I’m running and this time, I hear nothing behind me except a car backfiring in the distance.
Seeking comfort from my bed, I snuggle on my side, squeezing a pillow as my mind reels. Despite how restless I am, I don’t give up on trying to sleep until ten o’clock at night. By midnight, I’m wandering the apartment because my brain is in overdrive. This place holds so many memories—good and bad.
A small circular crystal prism hangs from the window. During the day it catches the light and sends a rainbow of color across the nearby wall and the painting above the couch.
Dylan gave this to me.
At first, I thought he only left me the coffeepot. But a month later, in the back of the closet on the floor, I found it. The string was broken. He didn’t see it or choose not to take it. I don’t know which, but I’m glad I have it some days, others not so much because it carries a heavier weight than its own with it. Most nights it’s just a clear ball of glass and it’s more bearable to be around. Tonight it means more.
After retrieving my phone from the nightstand, I discover I missed Austin’s call while I paced in the living room. He left a message that makes me smile and feel warm inside. Those are the feelings I want. They come with certainty and I like knowing what to expect. I like him. I call him because regardless of the time. He said, anytime—day or night.
My relationship with him is good. We’re healthy together. There’s a comfort in Austin I desperately need.
Dylan only causes heartache.
TIME PASSED QUICKER than usual. Summer was a blur of work and romance, art and Austin. We spent five days in Paris back in June. It was amazing. I’d been once before a few years ago, but I was in no state to appreciate it back then. It was a work trip that I extended by a few days to enjoy the museums, the history, the art.
But I didn’t. My head was there, but the cavern in my chest still held empty heartbeats. The real ones only beating for a lost love.
The trip with Austin was different, incredible in so many ways. He would give me the world if he could. He’s that sweet and kind, loving and generous. But he’s worldly too, smart, and charming. He talks of taking the next step. I’m not sure if he means moving in together or getting engaged. And I’m not sure how I feel about either of those yet.
Austin: I’m sending the car for you. My meeting is running long. I’m sorry.
Me: You’ll still be there at 8?
Austin: I won’t be late.
Me: I look forward to seeing you later, sexy.
Austin: Sexy? I like that. Btw - I have a surprise for your birthday. Prepare to be showered.
Me: Literally showered? Is that my present.
Austin: lol. I like that idea.
Me: Glad you’re amused. I’m disappointed I have to wait through dinner to get my present.
Austin: You won’t be. I promise. Oh, and yes I will now literally be showering you. Hope you have plenty of hot water. I have plans while I’m in there.
Me: Aren’t you in a meeting right now?
Austin: Yep.
Me: How does the owner of a huge international company get away with saying ‘yep’?
Austin: Like you said, I’m
the owner.
Me: I need to get ready for a fabulous dinner with my boyfriend. He’s taking me to this bistro downtown that is impossible to get reservations to.
Austin: He sounds connected. Is he a keeper?
Me: A total keeper.
A few minutes pass before I receive another text.
Austin: Just got asked a question and I had no idea what they were talking about. I guess I need to pay attention but these financial strategists are so boring.
Me: Glad I’m not in finance then.
Austin: Me too. I’ll see you tonight, beautiful.
Me: Bye, Charmer.
I set my phone down on the bathroom counter to finish getting ready. I find it hard to apply makeup properly when smiling so big.
I ARRIVE AT Le Bonne Vie five minutes early and have just enough time to check my lipstick in the bathroom before returning to the waiting area.
“Hi there. Sorry I kept you waiting,” Austin greets, smiling, admiring. He kisses me lightly on the cheek.
“Hi there yourself. I haven’t been here long, so no worries.”
With his hands on my waist, his expression changes. “I have some bad news. Two of my business associates have to join us tonight.”
“What? It’s my birthday, Austin.”
“I know. We just need to get some contracts signed, then they’ll be off. I didn’t want to keep you waiting any longer, so I told them to meet me here. Just one drink and they’ll be gone.”
“That’s fine. One drink doesn’t ruin our plans.”
“Mr. Barker, your table is ready.” The hostess guides him, walking too close to him in my opinion.
He sits next to me, two empty chairs across. After looking over his shoulder, he nudges. “They’re here. Thanks for understanding.” Austin stands as they approach. “Jacqueline Rosen,” he starts the introductions.
I stand and shake her hand, “Jules Weston.”
“So nice to meet you, Ms. Weston. I’ve heard lovely things about you from Mr. Barker, such as it’s your birthday. Happy Birthday.” She hands me an envelope. “I hope you don’t mind the last minute wrapping.”
Her face, she looks familiar, but I can’t place her right away. I look down at the gift and say, “You got me a present? You didn’t have to do that.”
She waves it off like it’s nothing.
I peek inside the envelope just as Austin says, “Ah, here we go. Jules Weston this is Dylan Somers.”
My gaze flashes up as the envelope slips from my fingers to the floor.
“Ms. Weston.” Dylan smiles as his voice coats my body. When my eyes meet his, I see the same surprise I feel inside.
I glance back to Jacqueline and the picture completes in my head. Dylan, Jacqueline, the restaurant. She was all in red just like tonight. I find myself staring at her before my eyes work their way back to Dylan, shocked he’s with her… still.
Austin touches my elbow and asks, “Are you alright, honey?”
I glance to him. “Yes, I’m fine. I apologize.” I reach my hand forward and Dylan takes it. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Somers.”
“The pleasure is all mine.”
My heart races just from seeing him again, hearing his smooth voice that enunciates with confidence. The touch of his skin against mine sends warmth streaking through my veins and I wonder if I affect him the same way.
We all sit down, Dylan taking the chair across from me, and our eyes meeting again. “Happy birthday, Ms. Weston.”
Austin retrieves the envelope and hands it to me. Trying to act like my Ex being here doesn’t affect me, I look inside. “The Red Door,” I say, looking at the gift certificate. “That’s so kind. Thank you.”
Jacqueline leans across the table, caddy-corner, as if we’re old pals. “I was there last month for an entire day. I joke that they were going to have to kick me out. That spa does everything first class. You have to try their chamomile herbal hydrating facial. Wonders. It does complete wonders.” She laughs, Dylan and Austin chuckle lightly, humoring her. “Of course, you’re naturally beautiful, but some of us have to work a little harder.”
She’s fishing.
Austin’s caught because he’s polite like that. “I’m sure you have no trouble turning heads.” He has a natural ability to make everyone feel good while making it clear to me that he didn’t include himself in that group of heads turning, which makes me smile.
I lean forward and tell her, “Thank you again. I look forward to using it.”
We order cocktails and Dylan and I continue not looking at each other. I wonder if he’s avoiding me as much as I am him. When I dare to finally peek in his direction, the old anger that lived inside of me for so long is not quite like it should be. It’s not there at all in fact, which worries me.
Jacqueline puts her hands on Dylan a lot. I eye her fingers touching him, pretending to be nothing but a friendly touch, but I can tell it means more to her. When I look up at her face, I wonder if they’re dating. I want to ask so badly, so damn curious. While anyone can tell Austin and I are together, the two of them are not as obvious.
I bet Dylan doesn’t even remember that I saw them together at the restaurant all those months ago. If they’re dating then why is she touching my boyfriend right now? I watch as she reaches across and taps his hand lightly to get his attention. Everything about her annoys me. Her thick, long red hair is a nuisance the way it drapes over her dinner plate, almost knocking over a water glass as she talks to him.
Our cocktails are served. “Thank God,” I say out loud though I meant to keep that inside. Austin gives me a questioning look.
Dylan chuckles, making me feel a little less crazy and I smile. He understands the relief needed right now. Jacqueline turns to him, hands on his arm—always with the touching—and says, “Dylan, the contracts.” He pulls an envelope from his inside suit pocket, along with a pen he sets down in front of Austin. Jacqueline leans across and starts to explain, “Dylan went over the documentation twice…”
“You’re an accountant?” I ask, speaking to him directly as Austin and Jacqueline discuss the details.
“No.” Dylan shakes his head, a tinge of happy making his blue eyes sparkle in the restaurant.
I look to my left. Austin is reading the contract as Jacqueline continues explaining the major points, but she stops suddenly and says, “The food smells wonderful. Have you eaten here before, Jules?”
My eyes go toward the sound of my name. “No, this is our first time here.”
“I meant to tell you that I love your dress. It’s a wow dress. Just what a birthday dress should be.”
“Thank you,” I reply. “I wanted something special.”
Austin leans over, sliding his hand behind my back and pulling me closer. “I was going to tell you in private but since we’re on the subject, you look incredible.” He kisses me lightly, appropriately for a dinner. Then he whispers into my ear, “You make me want to skip dinner altogether.”
“Stunning,” Dylan adds unabashedly.
Everyone stops talking. Austin sits back in his chair, his hand immediately on my thigh. He tilts his head, surprised like everyone else by Dylan’s compliment. Jacqueline appears confused by his vocal nicety.
Maybe it’s the alcohol, but Dylan doesn’t seem to care. His eyes directly on mine, ignoring the others. He clears his throat and looks down before turning to Austin. “We should let you get back to your celebration.”
“Yes, well,” Austin replies, “everything looks to be in order and how we discussed.” He starts signing the paperwork, directing his attention back down to the documents in front of him.
Just as he hands them back to Jacqueline, I don’t know what overcomes me. Without thinking about the repercussions, I suggest, “You should join us. As you said, this is a celebration. Stay for dinner.”
Jacqueline jumps at the opportunity. “I’d love to try this place. I’ve heard it’s spectacular.”
“Thank you,” Dylan adds, “that’s very kin
d. But only if you’re positive we’re not intruding.”
I know what Dylan’s doing. I can see right through his act. He wants me to plead, wanting to hear how much I want him to stay. I’m in a good mood, so I oblige. “No intrusion at all,” I say, “Please. Stay.”
I feel Austin’s hand on my thigh, warming me as he rubs gently. “Great, let’s order then. I’m starved. That meeting went on about two hours too long.”
Jacqueline points out, “The meeting was only two hours long.”
“That’s my point.” Austin raises his eyebrows and smiles.
Over dinner, Jacqueline is working Austin hard. He seems interested in a lot of what she has to say but challenges her on some of those ideas as well. I like that for some reason.
Dylan clears his throat, and asks, “Discovered any new talents I should know about in the art world?”
That he’s talking to me over dinner is a bizarre concept, not wholly welcome, but not completely unwanted either. I look down for a moment, unsure how to proceed. How much of myself am I willing to give him? Since art is my professional world, it’s a topic I’m comfortable sharing with him. “Yes, we held an artist named Jean-Luc’s exhibit over the summer. He has another one coming up in a week. He’s talented, so talented. His next show is called Body Affair.”
He glances over to Austin who is deep in a business conversation with Jacqueline, neither of them listening to ours. He replies, “Sounds risqué.”
“One can only hope,” I reply, bringing my martini glass to my lips and taking more than a polite sip. Looking into Dylan’s eyes, I venture into dangerous territory. “What do you do, Mr. Somers?”
“I’d prefer if you called me Dylan.”