by Bella Court
"The first time we met, she teased me about the circles underneath my eyes because I was always working back then. She called me a panda. She asked me questions like what I would do with my life if I didn't have to work. What were my dreams? Where I wanted to travel. Easy questions that I didn't have an answer for. That's when I realized my life was empty.
"Once, I was dropping Melissa off at her hotel when it started snowing. So what does she do? Melissa leaps out of the car while I'm driving, and she starts tumbling around and playing in the snow. I get out and scream at her, because I was scared she hurt herself. And right when I'm almost to her, she throws a snowball in my face and screams, 'Snowball fight!'" John paused, thinking over the happy memory.
"So we had a snowball fight. Geez, I don't think you and I have ever even had a snowball fight Connor. At the end of it all, she turned around and gave me the most gorgeous smile. God, she looked so beautiful. Her cheeks were rosy, and her eyes were so clear and blue. I knew then that I could love her. That I would love her. That I would love her more than I could ever love Kristen, and that I would do anything to keep Melissa by my side."
"I heard she was at the wedding,” Connor mumbled, noting the way John winced slightly.
"Yeah, mom told me this morning. I didn't see her last night,” John replied, looking relieved. Connor stared at John almost dumbfounded. How could he not see Kristen? She was wearing a red dress in a sea of black and white. She entered in full-blown Technicolor, while the rest of the world was in black and white.
She looked completely amazing. But then, why would John when he had Melissa? He didn't notice her…maybe that's why Kristen was so upset at the end of the night. She had looked in John's direction with a gaze of longing, and then she had proceeded to bury her face in Connor's shoulder.
"So why did you have to leave her at the wedding? Why did you have to pick the cruelest time and way to break the news to her?" Connor prodded. His brother had made a massive mistake, and it was Kristen who was left to suffer for her mistake of loving John. Despite himself, Connor felt a stab of pity for her. Who truly deserved that?
John's eyes flew up to meet Connor's darkening silver orbs. People usually preferred not to talk about the whole situation, and Connor was really the first one to berate him for his actions. Connor was the last person John would ever expect a reaction from. Connor was like Kristen, beautiful on the outside, cold on the inside.
"I didn't…I didn't mean to hurt her." John knew that was a lie, he fell deeper in love with Melissa, knowing that Kristen would be hurt in the end.
"Yeah, right. How would you have felt if Melissa had left you at the altar yesterday for me?"
John's face fell. He would be crushed. There would be no point in him living. Is that how Kristen felt?
Instantly, at the sight of his crestfallen brother, Connor felt a twinge of guilt. "Look, I'm sorry. It was just kind of harsh is all. Let's not talk about this anymore. You're married now, who cares about her?"
"No, you're right,” John said softly, standing up.
"I thought I could make my growing feelings for Melissa go away, so I forged on with the wedding. Melissa thought so, too. But then…that morning, Melissa came to visit me. She told me how handsome I looked, and that I would make Kristen very happy. Then, she burst into tears. She told me she loved me, and that she was so sorry for betraying Kristen, but she wouldn't have even bothered if she weren’t sure that we had something together. And we do," John continued, pacing now. Connor wasn't speaking anymore. This was obviously something John had to get out, to expel the shame and guilt from him.
"Thinking back on it, we should have just told Kristen straight out, she's a tough cookie, and she wouldn't have let us see her pain. But back then, we thought it would be easier if we just left. Stupid, right?" John gave a forced laugh to cover up his discomfort. "Melissa and I just sat there for a while and finally decided to just go. Come back in a few hours when everything had settled down and explain it all to her."
John sat down now, and cradled his head in his hands. Unsure, Connor placed a comforting pat on his brother's shoulder. "We came back to the church. Everyone was gone. We were about to go, when I heard someone crying in the back. It was Kristen. She probably knew already, but the instant she saw us together, there was no doubt. I-I…" At this point, John broke off, beginning to stammer.
"I've never seen her cry before, Connor. Never. In all two years of us dating, I never once saw her cry. I've never seen her look so hurt before, and I was the cause of it. I tried to explain, but she ran. She picked up her wedding gown and ran out of the church. I'll never forget how she looked. She was sitting by the stained glass, the light shining through on her gorgeous gown, and she still looked perfect, even when she was crying. She left and never came back." John was breathing heavily now.
"I swear, I never meant to hurt her. I was selfish, I know. Melissa and I both were, but what else could I do? Live my life and hers in a meaningless marriage? I had to get out, and…I can only hope she'll forgive me one day. I'm too much of a coward to ever face her again." John's eyes had cleared now, and he was no longer tense and twitchy. He seemed calmer now, relaxed, like a burden had finally been taken off his shoulders.
"I've never talked about what happened before. Even with Melissa, we just didn't talk about it. It feels good to finally let it out." John admitted.
Connor sat on the bleachers, thinking contemplatively. He should've hated her for what she did to him, and to an extent, he did, but now that he knew the full story, he was even more intrigued by her. They had a lot more in common than he would have originally thought. She was fragile; she just never let anyone see that side of her. Connor had. John had only seen her cry once in two years. In the matter of hours, he had seen her break down completely. Cursing himself, he couldn't help but still feel attracted to her, even after what she did to him.
"Come on, let's just get cleaned up. You've got to make it in time for your honeymoon flight, right?" Connor changed the subject; glad to see his brother's trademark carefree grin return upon his face. That was John, he was easily sad, easily happy, easily amused.
Following his older brother into the gym, he was glad Connor had decided to bring up the subject. Though he was unsure as to why he did, it was good to finally hear someone else's opinion, to tell him he was wrong and to finally let it out. Now, he could finally get on with his life with Melissa and leave the pain in the past. Her ghost and his shame could finally stop haunting him.
Stepping into the empty showers, both men stepped into the downpour of water, washing the sweat and grime of the game away. Connor felt sharp stinging on his back, as hot water came down hard.
"Shit. What's wrong with me?"
"Hmm? What's wrong, Connor?"
"My back is killing me. It feels like…"
"Damn! Your back is full of scratches. Deep ones, too." John winced, looking at the deep marks across his brother's back that looked strangely like… "You did get some last night, you liar! And damn, she must have been pleased, she left deep scratches with her fingernails all across your back."
Connor went shock still. The night before came crashing down on him with painstaking detail. Her moans, his movement, her hands raking across his back as she urged him on, and the amazing release he felt.
"So who is this infamous drunk girl?" John teased, still gawking at the scratches that marred his brother's otherwise flawless back.
Connor took a moment to answer, his head still filled with her. "No one you'd know."
"Oh, right. You don't kiss and tell. Fair enough, but damn! Must have been good."
"For me it was, not so sure about her." Connor smirked, remembering how she practically begged him to finish screwing her. She was about to come, when he had stopped. Well, it was what she deserved. Luckily, John didn't hear his comment.
Tucking the white towels around their necks, both men emerged from the gym showers, feeling refreshed. "Can you drop me off at home? I walked,
" John asked.
Nodding, Connor gestured towards his BMW. "It was worth the walk to just ride in this baby," John moaned, sliding into the passenger seat.
"Why don't you just buy one yourself, you've got the money,” Connor replied, putting the key in the ignition.
"Nah, Melissa's not too fond of the BMW. She likes practical cars." John rolled his eyes upwards. Stretching his legs out, his feet hit something, and his eyes caught the shimmer of red.
"Hey. What's this?" Reaching down, he touched the soft satin of the clutch, picking it up. It was a small, red clutch made out of a smooth satin material, with a jeweled closing decorating the top.
"Huh?" Connor had pulled onto the road; his eyes glanced briefly over the clutch, dismissing it as he returned his attention to the road.
"Does this belong to your mystery lady?" John laughed. Panic made Connor grip his wheel tighter, as he looked over at the clutch once more. It was red. The exact same shade as Kristen's dress made of almost exactly the same material. Recognition shot like hot fire through him.
"Well, let's see who she is," John joked, prying open the clutch with one hand, while Connor watched out of the side of his eyes with horror.
"Give the girl some damn privacy, John! And I never said she and I slept together!" Connor snapped viciously, snatching the purse out of John's hands and tossing it into the backseat, swerving dangerously in the process.
John was too shocked by his brother's hostile tone to care about the purse. "Sorry, man. I didn't…just forget it."
Quiet echoed throughout the car. Connor didn't bother trying to break the silence, savoring it, knowing that any second his brother would try and break it. He didn't.
With a screech, Connor pulled up to John and Melissa's Upper Eastside apartment moments later. John didn't move and shot his brother an apologetic glance. After a few seconds, John unbuckled his seatbelt slowly; opening his mouth to say something, when Connor cut him off, "Have a good trip, man. Bring back some Cubans, if you can."
He couldn't let John leave with that awful expression in his eyes. Guiltily, Connor reached over and gave John's shoulder a comforting squeeze. John gave him an easy smile in return, "Yeah, I will. Melissa is probably going to bring back a suitcase full of souvenirs for people. It should be easy."
John was so easy. A cold look or word would wound him, but a kind word and gesture would bring him right back up. Melissa was exactly the same. They both cherished every moment like it would be their last, and they hated any moment that was not spent with a smile upon their faces. Life between them was so…simple. No wonder John hadn't understood Kristen's complexity. John barely understood Connor's complexity.
"Bye."
Connor watched his younger brother saunter up to his building, fumbling with his keys along the way. He was so happy. Physically, they were almost carbon copies of one another, but inside, they were like oil and water. They didn't mix well, and nothing was the same.
Connor let loose a long breath. The basketball game and the whole conversation had been wrought with tension and awkwardness for Connor. He was used to lying, but he most definitely not used to lying about a woman whose past and present were so carefully entwined with his own and his brother's. Stretching his arm behind him, his hands brushed against the red satiny material of the clutch, and involuntarily, the way the dress skimmed over her body and the way her skin felt through it surfaced in his mind.
His memory of it was so acute, and his reactions were so strong whenever he thought about her. Why the fuck couldn't he stop thinking about her? Grasping the clutch in his fingers, he brought it to the front. Having no qualms about opening a woman's purse, he pulled it apart. He'd have to return it to her. No matter his resentment towards her, she would undoubtedly need it.
His large hands sifted through the intimate contents of her purse. You could learn a lot about a woman by what she carries in her purse, Connor mused.
There was a Lancôme lipstick in a neutral shade, Nars blush, a small coin purse with Hello Kitty adorned in rhinestones on the outside, and a cell phone.
Despite himself, he was vaguely fascinated by her possessions. Expensive makeup. She liked to keep herself looking her best. A little Hello Kitty rhinestone coin purse, she had a playful and childish edge to her, underneath her tough and cold exterior. Her phone was sleek and small, and for a second, Connor's morality got the better of him. Was he really going to go through her phone, too?
That decision was taken out of his hands as the cell phone began to vibrate, and he listened carefully to the song that was her ring tone. It was Bang, by the Yeah, Yeah, Yeah's.
Connor stifled a laugh at how ironic her ring tone was. Without a second thought, he flipped her phone open and answered it.
"Who the hell is this, and why do you have my phone?" Kristen's unmistakable voice crackled through the earpiece. She had a nice voice, Connor noted. It was a scratchy, low, husky voice, the kind of voice that happens when someone smoked, but he was pretty sure she didn't smoke. There were no cigarettes in her purse, and any devoted smoker would have a pack on them at all times. But in any matter, he liked her voice.
"Why don't you guess who it is? I'll give you a hint, I'm not John,” Connor replied smoothly, keeping his voice devoid of emotion.
At the other end, Kristen cringed. She figured he would have her phone. God, could she be anymore humiliated? Placing a clammy hand to her forehead, she forced herself to breathe deeply, in and out. The hangover she had from the night before had been the worst, and she had spent the time after Connor had left in her comfortably cramped bathroom.
"Look, I'm sorry, okay? It was a bitchy thing for me to do, and all I can say is that I have an extreme hangover to punish me for it. All I want is my phone back, and we can both agree to never see one another again, all right?" Kristen didn't bother trying to make herself sound contrite. She had always been a straightforward kind of gal, and she wasn't about to waste anymore time explaining herself. Besides, she was sure he already had a firm opinion of her in his mind.
"You don't sound too sorry," Connor remarked, missing the apologetic tone that was supposed to be laced in her voice.
"If you can't hear the obvious remorse in my tone, then that's your problem." Kristen closed her eyes as another onslaught of pain hit her like a sledgehammer, and her voice came out sharper and choppier than was necessary.
Connor wasn't sure whether or not to hate her for her lack of compassion or admire her for her tenacity. She had used him to ease her mind, and he wasn't quite sure what he was expecting when he had walked into her apartment last night. Counting slowly in his head, he reminded himself that now that he knew the full story, she had a reason to be a bitch.
"I'm not going to bother returning your phone to you if you can't channel some of that sweetness into your voice that you had last night when you were trying to seduce me,” Connor said with a smirk.
"I was not trying to seduce you!" Kristen protested, the word carrying a bad connotation in her mind. She winced as she remembered her behavior last night. She had kind of thrown herself at him.
"What would you call it then when you ran your hand all over my chest and pulled me down for a kiss?"
Kristen gnawed at her inside cheek, her interest in the whole conversation going up a bit more. Apparently, her bitchy attitude wasn't helping her get her purse back.
"I guess I did seduce you a little bit, then." The admission hurt her pride a bit, but she needed her damn purse back. Connor's clear chuckle at the other end resounded in her ears. That was the first time she had ever heard him laugh. She couldn't even imagine the cold man she was with last night laughing. She was slightly thrown off her guard by how laid back he sounded now.
"Where should we meet up, then? I'm not going back to your apartment again," Connor told her mirthlessly.
"Like I would even let you in,” Kristen replied coldly, not liking how he was speaking to her. She wasn't some prostitute. She had made one damn mistake last nig
ht, and it wasn't like he was an unwilling participant.
Before he could toss in a sarcastic remark, Kristen quickly added, "There's a Starbuck's on Fifth, a couple of blocks away from my house. Can we just meet there?"
"I know it,” Connor said dryly, hanging up her phone.
In a matter of minutes, he had pulled up in front of the overly commercialized coffee shop. Like any other lazy, Sunday afternoon, the shop was crowded. Grunting as he maneuvered around the shop, which was not easy due to his large frame, he scanned the room for her. He spotted her almost instantly. Even when she was slouched over, sipping her coffee like a homeless woman, she stood out in a crowd. Only this time, it wasn't because she looked good.
"You weren't lying when you said you had a hangover," Connor commented, sliding the satiny clutch across the small table towards her. It slid into her lap, and Kristen glared at him. She wished she hadn't even looked at him, because now, she was wishing she had spent more time on her appearance. Why did he have to look so clean and fresh and boyishly handsome? Self consciously, she tucked her mass of black wavy hair behind her ears, hoping she didn't look as bad as she felt.
Oh, whom was she kidding? Her skin was a pasty pale, and her almond eyes were rimmed in black. She had thrown on her old Columbia University hoodie and some jeans. Thankfully, her hair was the one thing that behaved. There was still volume from the night before, and their activities last night had only added to her gorgeous, tousled waves, giving her a bed head look.
"No. I wasn't,” Kristen said shortly, not in the mood for small talk. She continued to sip at her coffee moodily, not offering Connor any form of thanks. Feeling slightly irked at her lack of ingratitude, Connor made himself comfortable on the plushy armchair across from her. Her eyes flicked up briefly, before returning to her coffee.