Three Stages of Love: Attraction

by T. Anthony

  We had, before all this, been regulars at 360. Walking up to the line of waiting partiers, we waved to the bouncer, who let us in the VIP entrance. As always, music blared from the brown stone building; coming from the back end where the dance floor was, and loud voices blared through the air especially the bar area. People shouted their orders over the crowd and to the bartenders.

  It was great. I couldn’t hear myself think; this was a blessing that I would have killed for in the last three months.

  Michael, our friend and bartender, saw us coming and made room at the overcrowded counter. He leaned in and gave us both pecks on the cheek and presented us with two shots. “This one’s on me, ladies. I’ve never been so happy to see you two.” He winked flirtatiously at me and turned to help the other patrons.

  Samantha and I chatted and drank—and chatted some more and drank a lot more—and only an hour in, we were practically shit faced. Feeling giddy and free, I realized I was laughing for the first time in months.

  The bad thing was, with all the alcohol in me, I had no filter; it was only a matter of time before the topic of Alexander came up. “You know, I can’t stand the fact that I miss him so much. I know I fucked up big time, and it is eating away at me. I made him hate me. You know that, Sam? I have never loved anyone the way I loved Alexander, but I fucked it up. I was too chicken shit, too fearful of trying and of having to sacrifice any part of me that, instead, I sacrificed him. I sacrificed the only love I have ever known. But at least I know he has moved on, right? Marcus said he was doing great. Hey, has Marcus heard from him recently?” I asked Samantha, lowering my eyes, holding back my tears, and swallowing the gulps of alcohol I had taken in.

  Samantha was obviously both shocked that I was asking about Alexander as well as nervous about giving me an answer.

  “Eva, he’s—”

  But before Samantha could respond, I watched, squinting my eyes, trying to bring my view into focus as Marcus walked toward us.

  “Sam, forget it,” I snapped at her, stopping her from continuing as Marcus approached us. She stared at me bewildered; my smile had turned into an annoyed expression, but once Marcus reached us, Samantha understood.

  “Sam, Eva, what are you guys doing here?” Marcus asked as he kissed me on the cheek and Samantha on the lips. His face was tight and uncomfortable, and so was Samantha’s.

  “Marcus, why didn’t you tell me you were coming here? We would have gone elsewhere. Eva, we should go,” Samantha nervously stated as she stood and quietly continued her discussion with Marcus as if I wasn’t even there.

  Samantha’s expression mirrored the concern that Marcus wore, and it troubled me. Something wasn’t kosher, as they say. “Um, does one of you want to tell me why we need to leave? What’s the secret?” I asked.

  But there was no need for an explanation. My heart thumped in my chest, and my senses awoke with a clear recollection of the quintessence that existed within me not too long ago; and it cut me like a thousand pieces of shattered glass.

  Tilting my head to look slightly over my shoulder, I found the salvation and damnation that kept me bewildered.

  Alexander!

  I gasped as my eyes immediately shot up to his; we were once again meeting for the first time in the exact spot that had united us initially.

  Alexander didn’t speak right away, but as he looked at me aghast, his smile turned sour. He wasn’t happy to see me, or so I assumed by his dry acknowledgement of my presence.

  “Miss Chase, hello.”

  But that was all he said, with no real emotion or significance behind it—nothing more, nothing less.

  Alexander moved toward Marcus and whispered something into his ear, at which point, Marcus motioned to Samantha and kissed her before turning to me. “Eva, we’ll see you soon, I hope?”

  They were leaving.

  He was leaving.

  I couldn’t let him leave.

  “You really don’t have to leave on my account. I was under the impression that we are all adults.” I threw out the first thing that came to me—the only thing that I thought would keep them there.

  Samantha eyed me and mouthed, I’m sorry. She knew that I wouldn’t be able to handle this, and I knew only two things. One was that I was standing only a few feet from Alexander—a moment that I had prayed for every day for the last ninety days. And second, that I was sure to burst into tears if I continued to stay near him. But I couldn’t be the cause, yet again, for him departing.

  “Look, I’m here to enjoy myself and my friends, so while you three decide whether or not you are going to stay, I’m going to have another drink,” I said, and then I prayed.

  “Hey, Marcus, what can I get you, my man?” asked Michael when he came over to replenish our drinks. “Are you guys going to be here for a while? I’m getting off in a bit and then heading to a party if you guys wanna hang.” Michael spoke at me but eyed Alexander precariously.

  The idea jolted me unexpectedly. Simultaneously staring at an unhappy Alexander as he watched the competition and processing the notion of having to spend the whole night with Romeo and Juliet, I leapt at the offer. “Sounds great, Michael. I’m in!” I said in my jolliest of voices.

  Michael nodded and gave me his usual wink and went on to finish up his shift.

  “Wow, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that my company had bored you so badly that you would jump at the opportunity to hang out with Michael and his fanatical group of friends,” Samantha said with attitude. “Careful, rebel, they are not our typical cup of tea. They could even scare you a bit.” Samantha worried about everything as she realized that I no longer cared about anything.

  I was hurt, depressed, and empty, and I cared little about what would fill my void at this point. Not to mention that my every move was now being watched by my only anguish in life.

  “Stop it, Sam. Michael’s a good guy. And anyway, the more the merrier, right”” I added as I nodded toward Alexander.

  I finished my drink, and before Samantha could add a rebuttal, Michael had come out from behind the bar. “All set. Hey, let’s go dance a bit,” he said to me. “You guys aren’t leaving, are you?” Michael asked the rest of the group, since I had already put my name on the party list.

  “No, we’ll stay a bit longer,” Samantha responded, but it was obvious—at least to me—that Samantha wasn’t staying to party. She was staying to watch over me.

  “Here, one more shot before we go.” Michael handed me the shot. “You can’t turn down a free shot, so bottoms up.” And as he threw back his shot of tequila and sucked on a lime, Samantha shot daggers at me through her stare.

  “Eva, don’t you think that’s enough drinks for you?” Samantha asked angrily.

  “Sam, don’t you think that’s enough talking for you? Chill. I haven’t had a good time since—” And realizing what I was going to say, I gulped the shot—out of pure desperation. “Now, that’s enough. Come on, Michael, let’s go dance.” I took Michael by the hand and led him stumbling through the crowd and onto the dance floor.

  The music was shooting through me; the people bumping into me as they danced nearly knocked me over. Michael stayed close to me, keeping one hand on my hip as I lost myself in the thumping rhythms.

  “So,” Michael screamed close to my ear, “what’s with that boyfriend of yours? How did he let you out of his sight?” Michael’s question woke me like a bucket of ice water. Even he led me to think about Alexander. I just couldn’t get away from it; I couldn’t get myself away from all thoughts of Alexander!

  “He’s not my boyfriend, and he didn’t let me out of his sight. I told him that I didn’t want to be with him anymore.” And as I admitted that I had sent Alexander away, I began to feel the pain; the ache I had been running from was threatening to imprison me yet again.

  “Was the sex that bad that you sent him away?” Grinning Michael tried to figure out the story, but I had no humor to return to him.

  “No, the sex was…phenomenal. Look, I d
on’t want to talk about him, I just need…” I had no idea what I needed, but I wanted to crawl into a dark place where my thoughts were blank, where my pain and misery were wiped away.

  Michael stopped dancing and held me close to him. “Hey, I don’t want to talk about him either. And I can definitely help get your mind off of whatever pain that is in your eyes.”

  And with that, Michael held my face in his palm and pulled me toward him, kissing me roughly, biting on my lips, and tightening his hold on the base of my spine. Between the alcohol and my preexisting pain, I couldn’t understand why he was kissing me and why he was being so forceful, nor did I have the strength to stop him.

  As he pulled away from me, inches away from my face, his demeanor was changed. He was aroused and unruly and a bit frightening.

  “I can make the pain go away while giving you absolute satisfaction if you’ll let me.” Michael wasn’t forcing me to do anything, but his persuasion to “make the pain go away” intrigued me immediately.

  I had no interest in Michael, but I was sold on his offer.

  I nodded, unknowing of what I was getting myself into. Michael turned loose, pulling me into his groin, squeezing my hips with a strength that shot through me—not in an aroused way but in a throbbing sting of pain. I felt no enjoyment in his touch or his kiss, but my mind focused on the dull pain he inflicted, and everything else began to drift away.

  I tried to pull back from him, but his hands were strong, and he grew in strength the more I tried to release myself from his hold.

  Finally pulling away, Michael spoke in a growl, “Is that too rough for you? Because if it is, then I won’t let this go further. If you want to free yourself of whatever is eating away at you, let me take you out of here and numb your pain from here,” he said, lifting his hand to my head, smoothing my hair, “to here.” He growled as his hand went to the crease of my inner thighs, and his fingers pressed onto my cleft through the fabric of my dress.

  I felt overwhelmed and queasy. I was making a decision drunk and depressed—in two very dangerous states. But could my feelings get any worse? I had already lost everything I enjoyed. Everything I appreciated and loved no longer had value for me; what was left? How could it possibly get worse? Anything or anyone that could make the pain lessen or go away was worth taking a shot at; and so I nodded, agreeing to leave with him.

  Michael wrapped his arm around my waist as we headed toward the entrance of the lounge. Only I had forgotten that Alexander, Marcus, and Samantha were still waiting there for me, the three of them angrily staring at me as I approached, having obviously just witnessed the show on the dance floor.

  “Are you leaving with them?” Michael asked me loud enough so that the group could hear.

  But giving me little time to answer, Alexander responded for me, “No, my friend—at least not with me.”

  And the sting shot through my heart; his negation of my being with him, though it was truth, were words that struck like a poison-tipped arrow.

  “Eva, we’re going,” Samantha said, implying that I was to go with her. Samantha liked Michael as a friend but always kept her distance. Samantha had hung out with Michael at one point when we first met years ago, and though she never mentioned anything more than that she wasn’t interested, she always watched him with a cautious eye. She mentioned something about his friends or activities being strange, but I never saw anything in him that was any odder than my own life.

  “No, I’m going to take a ride with Michael. His friend is having a party. You guys should come,” I added uninvitingly.

  But as I responded, Samantha’s concern came through her. “Eva, let’s go. You’ve had a lot to drink, and you need to get home and rest.”

  And as Samantha tried to mother me, my anger grew against her. There she was, glowing and gloating, happily in love with Marcus, best friend of the man who was torturing my soul, and I was the one who was doing something wrong. “Sam, you can go home and rest. I’ve taken enough of your time away from Marcus.”

  Still reeling on Alexander’s words, I barely heard what Michael was saying to me.

  “I’m sorry. What did you ask me?” I asked, leaning toward him.

  “I said, are you ready to go?”

  He stretched out his hand, and I wanted to say, No thank you, I’m taken, but I had no reason to do so. And with Alexander watching, there was no way I was turning this young bull down.

  “I’d love to!” I shouted, placing my hand softly in his. “Oh wait,” I said, turning back toward the bar counter, meeting Alexander face-to-face. I leaned over and brushed against his thighs. “Sorry, I’m just trying to get my shot.”

  Leaning almost completely across him, I could swear his breath was heavy and his body was tense—a tension that he only held when he was aroused. Intentional or not, he released pheromones that my body recognized and swallowed hungrily.

  I grabbed the shot glass and pretended to be unaffected. I stood tall in front of him; all while Michael waited awkwardly behind me. Alexander and I stared at each other for what seemed like a long instance, and at that moment, I had no doubt that fire burned between us. But something was different about him. He was too uptight and cold; but that was probably the remnant of the heart I had broken.

  Unexpectedly grabbing my wrist, Alexander shouted an order. “Put the shot down, Evangeline,” he said in an angry tone.

  “Excuse me,” I answered, giving him a “you don’t own me” grin and giggle. “I’m not with you, remember?”

  His eyes widened, and his fingers tightened around my wrist. “Don’t make me punish you. Put the shot down, and tell the boy to go away. I should have killed him out there on the dance floor, but I thought you could have handled yourself.” Alexander growled at me in a hush.

  My sex tightened between my legs, my eyes fluttered closed for a moment and my lungs took a deep breath as I thought of the jealousy that was spewing out of him and ultimately what punishment he could possibly give me. Never had I craved to be dominated so intensely than at that moment.

  But recalling the real punishment that I had endured for the last three months, there was no pleasure he could give me to make me feel secure in taking the chance with him again. There was still the uncertainty within me as to whether I would cower away at the slightest introduction of emotions for him.

  “Let go of me, Mr. Mason.”

  Hearing my distant and unattached anger, he let go. Against my true wishes, he let go…again.

  I took my shot in a gulp, and it burned my throat, but no worse than Alexander burned in my heart. I had to numb myself; I had to hold strong for what I had asked for. I hadn’t known the gravity of the consequences of my request, but I couldn’t recoil now.

  I felt furious. I wanted Alexander in the naughtiest of ways, and he wanted possession of what he couldn’t have—a combination that was both mischievous and wayward.

  Purposely neglecting him, I turned, flipping my hair back, fluffing it wildly. “Let’s go, handsome,” I said. I took Michael’s hand and wrapped it around my waist just to spite Alexander’s staring eyes.

  “I’m going to go enjoy myself, so, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to get past,” and without waiting for permission or for them to move, I brushed past, pulling Michael along, leaving Samantha practically in tears.

  “Here we are,” Michael said as he pulled into a parking spot in front of an apartment complex.

  But glancing at my surroundings, I realized where we were. “Michael, isn’t this your place?” I asked, noting that we were in fact parked in front of Michael’s apartment building.

  “Yes, actually,” Michael answered. “I thought we’d have a lot more fun here than at a party. You ready to go?”

  I came apart, once again feeling uneasy and unsure of the decision I had made. But Michael was a friend and not some random guy I picked up in a bar, not like—

  “Yeah, let’s go.” I jumped out of the car, stopping myself from thinking of him.

  Wh
en we reached Michael’s apartment on the fourth floor, I was surprised at his decor. “You’re a fan of skulls, I take it?” I asked, wearily pointing at the skull head designs pasted on his walls and the skull knickknacks on his coffee table. The entire apartment had skull paraphernalia and the like: daggers and snakes and things of the deathly nature. One could say it was a grunge look, but the mist from the incense that lingered in the air certainly exuded something much darker.

  “Yeah, you can say I’m a fan. The darkness and danger of all these things symbolize eroticism and excessive sexual desire.” He moved into me from behind, wrapping his arm around my entire waist. I felt suffocated and afraid.

  “Michael—” I said, unsteady on my feet and clouded in thought.

  But he cut me off, sensing my anxiety and insecurities. “Eva, listen, I’m not going to play coy with you. You’re a big girl who’s got a broken heart. I’ve been there. I too felt sad and depressed and angry within myself, but I met someone who made me forget.”

  I want to forget! My thoughts screamed in my head.

  “Look, I know this may sound strange, but try it,” Michael urged in a tone full of compassion and understanding.

  “What is it exactly you want me to try?” I asked, wondering if there really was anything for me to be afraid of.

  “Have you ever heard of sadomasochism?” Michael asked as he moved closer to me and once again turned my back to his chest. He breathed on my neck heavily as he waited for me to respond, but my body shook as I recalled the last time I had been touched by a man.

  Choking on my words, I responded, fearful of his intentions. “I know it has something to do with liking pain,” I admitted as Michael’s breath rumbled past his lips devilishly.