by Kelly, Hazel
Chapter 12: Addison
Maybe I shouldn’t have picked up.
After all, it was Friday. I should’ve let him think I was out. Then again, it was still early. I could still have plans tonight.
I didn’t, of course, but I could.
Though now I had no choice but to stay in and make my place presentable in case I got a visit tomorrow from someone who lived in a goddamn mansion. As if there was any arrangement of my coffee table books that was going to make my apartment look twenty times bigger.
I shook my head and opened the fridge.
Nothing looked appealing except for the leftover half of my BLT from lunch. Not that I should really be eating bacon sandwiches with my heart keeping me on my toes, but I figured it was okay. After all, Dr. Bower said I was better than ever. Or just a smidge better. But still.
Plus, I hadn’t gotten any word on my promotion and everyone walked around all week like that wasn’t bizarre. I mean, how long did it take to decide these things? Shouldn’t Deborah have followed up with me or something? Or maybe that was my job? Whatever. I could stick it out a few more days.
Just as long as I got the promotion over Chris.
I sighed and swung the door closed. Thinking about my promotion purgatory wasn’t doing my appetite any favors.
Shit.
Maybe I should’ve at least hesitated about going out tomorrow. I didn’t want Wyatt to think I had nothing else going on. He might change his mind about thinking I was the good company he was after.
And that would be sad. Especially because lately he was my favorite thing to think about. Or at least the only thing guaranteed to make me smile.
I leaned in the kitchen doorway and crossed my arms, staring back and forth between the dishes in the sink and the clutter on the table, pondering which to tackle first.
Ultimately, I decided to call Holly before I made any decisive moves.
“Hey hey,” she said. “Happy Friday.”
“Happy Friday,” I said. “What are you up to tonight?”
“Nothing much,” she said. “To be honest, I was just about to masturbate when you called.”
I dropped my head. “Why can’t you just say you were about to do the dishes like a normal person?”
“Cause,” she said. “I want the whole city to know how terribly fun I am to have sex with. Otherwise, how can I expect anyone else to be interested?”
I considered sliding down the doorframe but reached for a nearby kitchen chair instead and sat down. “I’m sure lots of people would be interested if you left the apartment on the weekend wearing something besides Nick’s sweatpants.”
“Suddenly you’re the relationship expert, huh?”
“No,” I said. “Definitely not.”
“Well, for your information, I’m going out in something cute tomorrow.”
“For what?”
“Becca’s birthday.”
“Who’s Becca?”
“This girl I work with. She’s from Texas so she doesn’t know that many people out here and-”
I was already bored of Becca.
“Do you want to come? I basically organized it so I think I’m entitled to bring a plus one.”
“You aren’t bringing Nick?”
“Oh god no. Nick is my dirty little secret.”
“I’m sure he’d love to hear that.”
“Probably not,” she said. “But I’m pretty sure it’s mutual.”
“Uh-huh.” I leaned over and looked at my heel. I had the makings of a small blister that I hoped wouldn’t interfere with my Saturday night shoe selection.
“So what do you say?”
“I can’t,” I said, perhaps a little too happily.
“You can’t cause you have other plans or you can’t because Texans make your hair frizzy?”
“It’s not the people of Texas that my hair has a problem with,” I said. “It’s the weather.”
“Whatever.”
“But that isn’t why, anyway,” I said. “I have a date.”
Holly squealed at such a high pitch I had to pull the phone away from my ear.
“You’re going out with Wyatt, aren’t you?”
“How did you know?”
“Just a hunch.”
“Yeah,” I said, putting my problem heel back on the ground. “He just called.”
“Excellent.”
I sighed. “I don’t know. I kind of wish I hadn’t agreed so fast.”
“Why?”
“I don’t want to seem easy or lame, ya know? Like I don’t have shit to do.”
“Whoa whoa whoa,” she said. “Stop right there.”
I could imagine her talking with her hands when I blinked.
“Let’s get one thing straight,” she said. “Wyatt is not the kind of guy you play hard to get with.”
I rolled my eyes. “As if I’d even know how to do that.”
“Oh you do,” she said. “I’d say it’s your default setting.”
“I’m not sure that’s a compliment.”
“That’s irrelevant. The important thing is that you said yes.”
“I’m not so sure,” I said. “I can’t shake the feeling that I have no business falling for anyone right now and every time we hang out-”
“Addison.”
“What?”
“Dating isn’t meant to be convenient.”
“It’s not?”
“No,” Holly said, like it was so obvious. “It’s meant to be stressful and competitive and anxiety ridden.”
“I’m listening.”
“That’s just how it works. You have to put up with the hassle of dating to earn the perks of being in a committed relationship.”
“I’m not sure that’s where this is heading.”
“We’ll see.”
“And can I ask what perks you’re referring to?”
“Sex on tap, a shoulder to cry on, someone to make decisions when you’re braindead.”
I slouched in my chair.
“Someone to give you their coat when you’re cold and soup when you’re sick and the truth when no one else will.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Someone to laugh at your jokes, someone to try new things with, someone to complain about your parents to- okay, sorry- not that last one in your case- but-”
“Alright. I get it.”
“Are you sure?” she asked. “Cause the list goes on and on.”
“No, really. I’m good.”
“Not as good as you’re going to be after another night with Wyatt.”
I smiled. “He is really fun.”
“And hot and rich and talented.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Just ask him.”
“Don’t be like that.”
“I’m not being like anything.”
“Yes you are. You’re totally looking for reasons it’ll never work out with him. You shouldn’t do that.”
“No?” I asked. “What about the widely accepted merits of low expectations?”
“I think most women have the opposite problem.”
“What do you mean?”
“I think most women create romance where there is none to the point that they can imagine entire relationships with people.”
“Go on.”
“But you seem hell bent on refusing to see any kind of relationship potential even when you’re actually really compatible with someone.”
I shrugged. “What can I say? This stuff doesn’t come easily to me.”
“I know,” she said. “But you should still try to keep an open mind.”
I pursed my lips.
“I mean, just cause most of your past relationships have been big fat letdowns doesn’t mean you should take that shit out on this guy.”
“I know.”
“And for the love of god, don’t play hard to get-”
“I’m pretty sure he’s already gotten me a number of times now.”
“You know what I mean.”
&nbs
p; “I’m not sure I do.”
She groaned. “What I’m trying to say is that, while sometimes your ability to be emotionally unavailable is a good thing, don’t be like that in this case. Let him in a little. Don’t make him work so hard to get to know you.”
“I thought that was how I’d be able to tell if he really liked me.”
“It’s not.”
“So how am I supposed to know if I’m wasting my time?”
“You’re not.”
“How do you know?”
“Because when you called me on the way home from his house last weekend, you sounded high as a kite.”
“That’s just chemicals.”
“Call it what you want,” she said. “But you obviously like the guy, and if I recall, the last guy I remember you having something nice to say about is that Starbucks barista who sometimes gives you a free scone at the end of the day because of his debilitating crush on you.”
“Now that’s what I call a relationship.”
Holly laughed.
“Seriously, though.” I ran my fingers through my hair. “That relationship is so easy to live with and understand. Whereas now, I feel like a crazy person for how much I’ve second guessed a two minute phone call.”
“That’s perfectly normal.”
“I’m glad one of us thinks so.”
“It is. Honestly, if you weren’t a bit flustered, I’d be more worried.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Cause then it would be obvious that you don’t give a shit about the guy.”
I leaned an elbow on the table and rested my chin in my hand.
“My mom always says if you’re not nervous, it means you either don’t care or you think you can’t fail.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“Did it not?”
I sighed. “Maybe I do care about him a little.”
“Unbelievable.”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“C’mon, Holly.”
“I just don’t know what’s going on in your head. It seems obvious to me that this guy is the best thing that’s happened to you in a while.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Cause.”
“Cause what?”
“Cause, no offense, but achieving life balance isn’t exactly your strong suit.”
I let my head fall back. “If you go all new age on me, I’m going to hang up.”
“I’m not going new age on you,” she said. “All I’m saying is that there’s more to life than working, and it’s nice to see someone besides me trying to convince you of that for a change.”
“I’m not a project, though,” I said. “And I definitely don’t need a man.”
“I know you don’t,” she said. “And you know what?”
I raised my eyebrows. “What?”
“That’s probably exactly why you attracted one.”
Chapter 13: Wyatt
I saw her as soon as I walked in.
She was perched on a barstool in a short blue dress with her back to the door. Not that it mattered. I would’ve recognized the way her dark red hair fell down her back to her waist from a mile away.
And while I doubted she chose the Blue Note Lounge because of how good she looked in it, the soft blue light from the modern wall sconces only made her dress look brighter.
And her teeth, as I learned when I stepped up beside her and placed my hand on her lower back.
She smiled.
“Did you wear that to torture me?” I asked, pressing my cheek to hers before sliding onto the adjacent barstool.
Her thick lashes fluttered upwards with her eyes. “Of course not,” she said. “It’s just the only thing that was clean.”
One corner of my mouth crept up. “Shame everything wasn’t dirty. You might’ve had to meet me naked.”
“I assure you that wouldn’t have happened,” she said. “Though it might’ve improved the chances of me getting served.”
“Have you been here long?” I asked, noticing the full martini glass in front of her. The liquid inside it looked so cool it was glowing.
“No,” she said. “Sorry. I don’t mean to complain. I’m just old school that way.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Old school how?”
“Well, I think single women at the bar should be served first.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” I said, though there wasn’t a twitch in my pants that considered her a single woman. “I’m sorry to hear you were inconvenienced.”
“It’s fine,” she said. “I shouldn’t even have mentioned it. Or ordered before you got here I just-”
“Don’t apologize,” I said. “If anything, I wish you were a few drinks deep.”
She shook her head and failed to suppress a smile.
“What are you drinking anyway?” I asked.
“That’s the other thing,” she said. “I ordered this ridiculous cocktail because it was on special-”
“What is it?” I asked, stealing a glance at the bartender who was lining up tequila shots for a group of women who were doing nothing but making Addison look good.
“It’s called a Vesper.”
I pointed at it. “May I?”
She laid her delicate fingers on the base of the glass and slid it towards me. “Be my guest.”
I smelled it before I tasted it. “Wow,” I said. “That’s a drink alright.” I smacked my tongue against the roof of my mouth. “I think that sip just incinerated some of my taste buds.”
She laughed. “I know. I feel like I’m on a cleanse or something.”
“What’s in it?”
“Vodka.”
“And?”
“Gin.”
“Is that it?”
She shrugged. “More vodka? Who knows?”
“Do you want something else?”
She looked at me guiltily for a second and then shook her head.
I cocked my head. “You sure?”
“Yeah.”
I narrowed my eyes at her.
“What can I get you?” the bartender asked, laying his closed fists on the opposite side of the bar in front of me.
“Can I have two pints of Daisy Cutter please?”
He nodded and disappeared.
“Why two?” Addison asked.
“One’s a chaser for you,” I said, pulling out my wallet. “Just in case.”
“You want to split this with me?” she asked, tilting her head towards her drink.
“Ooh I don’t know,” I said. “What’s in it for me?”
“Besides a free cleanse-”
“Yeah. Besides that.”
“My deepest gratitude?”
“Deal,” I said. “But only if you down your half before the beers come.”
She shook her head. “I’ll be trashed.”
“If you get trashed off half a cocktail, I’ll carry you home myself.”
She squinted at me. “That’s exactly what I’m afraid of.”
“Better hurry,” I said, nodding towards the bartender at the end of the blue lit bar.
She took a deep breath and raised the glass to her lips, downing half of it much more handily then I expected and gasping afterwards like she was breathing fire.
I watched with amusement as her eyes watered.
“Oh god.” Her face puckered like she might not keep it down. “That was a terrible idea.”
I laughed. “You okay?”
“I think my insides are stripped.”
“If only it were your outsides.”
She smacked my arm with the back of her hand and warm shivers fluttered up my spine.
“Your turn,” she said, sliding the glass in front of me.
“No way,” I said, shaking my head. “That drink is disgusting.”
Her mouth fell open. “You better be kidding!”
“I was,” I said. “About downing half of it.”
She shook her head. “Oh no you d
on’t.”
I shrugged.
The bartender set the beers down and made my twenty disappear.
“I’m actually speechless,” she said.
I rolled my eyes. “I find that hard to believe.”
“Seriously,” she said. “After all the trouble you’ve gone to to convince me you’re not a pussy-”
My eyes grew wide. “Excuse me?!”
“You heard me,” she said, turning away from me and looking straight ahead.
I leaned over to whisper in her ear. “Let’s get one thing straight right now.”
She swallowed.
“If you start talking dirty, this night is going to get cut short really quick.”
She turned and looked at me, her face so close I considered biting her glossy bottom lip.
“And by cut short,” I said. “I mean you’ll be going to bed without dinner.”
She looked down at my lips and then back at my eyes.
“Cause there’s only one pussy worth teasing here.”
She bit her bottom lip.
I leaned back onto my stool, my eyes fixed more intensely on her than ever now that she’d been so close.
Then I reached for her Vesper and drained it so fast I didn’t feel the cool burn in my throat until it hit my stomach. And for a second it was fine, but a moment later, I understood what she meant when she said her insides had been stripped.
She smiled and shook her head.
“My eyes are still in my head, right?” I asked.
She laughed. “Yeah. They’re still in your head.”
“Well, that’s good,” I said, reaching for my beer to wash the sterile taste out of my mouth.
She slid hers in front of her at the same time and placed the empty martini glass as far away as her arm could reach.
“Cheers,” I said.
She raised her eyebrows with her glass. “What are we toasting?”
“To you finally meeting your match,” I said, clinking my glass against hers.
She turned her head towards me, her hair falling over her far shoulder. “What makes you think you’re my match?” She took a sip and licked her lips. “If you don’t mind my asking.”
“What makes you think I’m not?” I asked. “I’m successful, crazy about you, and- correct me if I’m wrong- but I bet most guys are totally intimidated by you.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Then you mustn’t get out much cause you are the sexiest woman in New York.”