by S. L. Scott
I stand up, and wipe away my tears, deciding to head home, all the while, letting the events flood my thoughts, taking me back to a part of that night I’d long forgotten.
"Caris, I'm worn out. We’ve been dancing forever. I'm gonna get a drink and sit this one out." My feet hurt, so I slip off the dance floor.
"I'm exhausted. I’m going with Lydia," Heather says, trailing behind me.
"Party poopers. Tell Jack to get his ass out here then," Caris says, dancing and grinding out on the dance floor surrounded by enthusiastically dancing strangers.
Heather bumps me in the shoulder, and says, "You know, there's a very handsome man at the bar that's been eyeing you all night."
I don’t bother looking in the direction she’s encouraging. "Oh, no! No one-night stands for me."
As we approach the group, Heather leans over, uncharacteristically direct tonight, and says, "I was talking about Mr. Sexy himself."
My eyes flash to hers as if she's spoken some forbidden secret aloud.
"Don't give me that look,” she says, putting her hands on her hips. “You two should've hooked up in college, and you know it." She nudges me gently in the opposite direction from her and right into Chase.
"Whoa, there. You okay?" he asks concerned—always concerned for me.
He's holding my arm. I look up at him, and smile. "Yeah, just trying to avoid some unnecessary intervention." I give Heather a look, letting her know I don’t appreciate the obvious push forward.
She just laughs then turns her back to me, and leans against her boyfriend, Liam.
"So, you tired of dancing?" Chase asks, his hand settling on my hip and gently squeezing. It’s always been a comfort to me before, an encouragement to get out of my head and open up to him. Tonight, it feels different. Tonight, it feels good to be touched and the intimacy of friendship that it held before now feels like more.
"Yes, I need a break and a drink."
"I've got this one," Michelle shouts out, always the loudest and strongest personality in the group. Within a minute, all three girls are holding Long Island Iced Teas, and Michelle is reminiscing. "We practically lived off these in college."
Chase chuckles while scrunching up his nose. "Those are still gross. I don't see how you can drink that cesspool of liquor."
I take a big ole gulp, and say, "Good thing you're not drinking it then."
"Touché, Miss Nichols." He pushes my hair over my right shoulder. "Your hair is getting long."
After taking another sip of my drink, I start to feel the effects. "Something different for the new job."
"It's pretty," he says, running his finger slowly down the exposed skin of my neck.
Trying to read his thought by deciphering his expression, I decide to let the compliment go, chalking it up to alcohol and him feeling sentimental about me leaving. I drink my cocktail while trying to memorize my friends smiling faces. The eight of us are all together one last time. As of tomorrow, this group becomes a group of seven. The thought makes me sad, and I take another big gulp from the straw then set the empty glass on the bar.
"Oh, no, you don't. Round two. Here ya go, babe," Michelle says, shoving another Long Island in my hand, and hitting her glass against mine. A few drops splash out, indicating our growing level of intoxication.
Trying to live in the moment, I stare at my drink, realizing this may be the last drink I have with them for who knows how long.
"I can tell something is on your mind," Chase says, his hand landing on my forearm, reading my thoughts well. "What is it?"
"Tomorrow and the future."
"Worrying about the future can be dangerous territory."
I laugh. "Yes, it can be." I look up at him, and am blunt when I say, "We never hooked up." It's just hitting me that we never dated or even hooked up. He's attractive, and I can tell he thinks I am, too, but we always kept things on the up and up, making our friendship the priority.
His eyebrows shoot straight up, and that sexy smirk appears with a little laugh escaping. "No, we never did." He leans forward, his breath brushing across my cheek, and says, "Remind me why that is again."
Goosebumps cover my skin, and I close my eyes, inhaling his closeness.
"Lydia?" Michelle says, standing next to me.
"No!" Chase says abruptly, cutting her off and effectively blocking her by stepping between us. "Give us a few minutes. Alone."
I can hear her huff from behind him. "Okay. All you had to do was say so. Geez, ya grumpy git.”
"Lydia, look at me. Let me see those beautiful browns," he says, tilting my chin up.
"I'm afraid to," I answer, keeping my eyes lowered.
"Why?"
"I'm afraid of what I'll see in your eyes."
I hear him take a deep breath and exhale, his breath hitting my hands.
"Lydia—"
"Chase, there's no point. I'm leaving in the morning," I say, turning around to my name being called from the dance floor. The whole gang has left us, and I hadn't even noticed. They are all out dancing together. I take a big gulp of my drink, finishing it, and set the glass down before I finally have enough liquid courage to meet his gaze, and ask, "You wanna dance?" I hold my hand out to him, hoping he accepts and that we can move on.
"Go dance, Lydia." His face isn't sad, it's neutral… almost resigned. I hate seeing the lack of emotion from him. He's protecting himself. I've hurt his feelings, and it pains me to hurt him like that.
I stand there a moment longer, still hoping he'll dance with me.
"Go on. Have fun. It's your last night here," he says, poking me playfully while putting on a good show for my sake.
I turn around, and start walking away. Looking back once, I can feel his eyes caress my body even though I don’t see him immediately, but feel the pull between us—strong and tethered. Against my better instincts, I join my friends on the dance floor instead.
Chapter Four
"Lydia, you asked me not to talk about him," Caris says, waiting for me to lock the car.
"I just want to know if we're going to run into him or not. Help a girl out here," I reply, the shake in my voice evident as we walk through the parking garage toward the street.
"I really don't know. If I did, I would tell you.” She shrugs. “Chase kind of dropped off the face of the earth a few months after you left." She hooks her arm with mine as we round a corner. "Jack’s seen him a handful of times over the last few years, but it was just to grab a beer. I know he made Junior Partner at the firm he was working at. But, other than that, he didn't give him much information, so we have no idea if he'll be here or not."
We take another corner and I see the bar entrance up ahead. "I hope not."
She stops in front of the door, her hand on the knob. "What happened exactly? You were best friends, always together. Hell, I thought for sure you two would end up together. No one knows what happened, and we're all more than a little curious."
I look down the sidewalk, avoiding her eyes that read me too well. It’s relatively empty for such a festive night in San Francisco. Local bars don’t get as much action as the fancy new clubs that are springing up all over the city. When my eyes meet hers again, I put on a little smile, and say, “Life happened.”
Caris pulls the door open, knowing she’s not going to get a better answer than that. The music is loud, a popular song on the radio a few years back, and my thoughts drift to New Year’s Eve two years ago.
"Looks like our boy is getting lucky," Mark says, hitting Jack on the shoulder without missing a beat to the song blaring over the dancefloor.
Jack spins Caris around, letting her continue her grinding on his front side as he looks over my head. "About time. That dude needs to get laid."
"Who? Chase?" Michelle asks, dancing with Mark.
My head spins around so fast that I almost pull a muscle. That's when I see him. Chase has his hand is on a girl's lower back as he leans in, whispering in her ear. The girl, some blonde, tosses her hair careles
sly over her shoulder and laughs, leaning against him.
I stop dancing, not able to stop staring at him, at them. My heart breaks as my temperature rises, and jealousy surges inside. I move with determination. I don’t know what I’m going to say, or really what I’m doing, but I’m a woman on a mission. I just wish I knew what that mission is—to stop of friend from hooking up, or to stop of friend from hooking up with the wrong girl.
As I storm toward them, I hear Michelle behind me yell, "Oh, shit!"Right before I reach them, I feel her grab me from behind and yank me right past them to the other side of the bar.
“Ouch! What are you doing?” I ask.
“What are you doing?” she replies, giving me the evil eye. "Two Long Islands, please, and make it quick," Michelle demands, slapping a fifty on the bar.
“Just coming to get a drink,” I say, lying through my teeth.
“Great! I just ordered you one.” Although she used the word great, I have a feeling it wasn’t meant in a positive way.
Turning around, I stare at the back of Chase's head, trying to mentally will his attention my way. Blondie tosses her head back, enjoying something charming and funny he said. Little does she know that he's always charming and funny. I take three long gulps, finishing half my drink at once. "Prince Charming all right," I mutter under my breath while staring daggers at Blondie and her pert, up-turned nose. I hate her.
"Lydia?" Michelle calls. Chase continues charming the undies right off the overly-peroxide blonde. She calls me again and it’s becoming not only distracting to what I want to be doing right now, but it’s annoying. "Lydia?"
"What?" I say, snapping back in anger as I look her in the eyes.
Michelle has her hand on her hip. "What are you doing?"
"What do you mean?"
"You know exactly what I mean! It's your last night. You could've bagged that hot ass six years ago if you wanted, and now the claws come out tonight?"
"Don't be crude, Michelle." I finish my drink, and slam the glass down on the bar.
"I don't get you. You act like you’re just friends, but then you get all bent—"
"We are just friends." I lean forward. "Two more." The bartender nods and punctuates it with a wink in my direction. I roll my eyes at his blatant flirting.
"Then why does it bother you so much if he hooks up? The guy's been an angel. Let him go, Lydia. You're moving on. Let him. He's been living the life of a monk. Let him have fun tonight." Michelle hugs me.
I lean my head against her shoulder. "I know it shouldn't, but why does it hurt?"
"You're right. It shouldn't. You’ve both dated other people over the years and never had a problem before. Why now?"
"I think I'm just feeling overly emotional about leaving you guys."
Not sounding very convincing, she hands me my drink, and says, "That's probably it."
We take a few wobbly, buzzed steps away from the bar. Holding hands, we make our way to a nearby leather couch and plop down.
Within a few minutes, Mark returns to Michelle's side, and some guy settles down next to me. As he introduces himself, I notice how good looking he is. Not Chase good looking but attractive. Blonde, blue eyes, fake tan, but friendly. His name is Lex, and he's funny, touchy-feely, a little too touchy-feely, but I'm three sheets to the wind and kind of enjoying the attention, and this guy knows it. His hand rubs up and down my leg as he leans in to tell me how sexy I am.
Although I could use some private time with a hot guy, even drunk this situation doesn't feel right. I stand up, unsteady on my feet as the alcohols’ heavy effect kicks in. Lex jumps up, grabbing me by the arm to steady me. "Hey, there. Where you going?"
I pull my arm out of his tight grip and stumble forward, right into Chase's arms. "I've got you, babe."
"Excuse me," Lex cuts in, trying to knock Chase's hands off of me. "She's with me, dude."
Chase moves closer, looks him straight in the eyes, and says, "Listen, dude. Back off. She's with me. As in we came here together, and we'll be leaving together. So I suggest you move along." Chase rubs his thumb over his lower lip, knowing he's got the upper hand. His other hand grips me around the waist, our bodies flush and every nerve in my body is alight from his touch.
Jack’s voice cuts into my memory, bringing me back to the present. "Hi, Lydia?”
“Hey there.” The bar has gotten louder since I arrived—the crowd drunker. I’m too sober to face my past alone and feel grateful to have my close friend checking on me.
“You need a top off?" he asks.
I glance down at the drink in my hand then back up to him. "No. I'm good. I think I'm gonna take off." I turn my back to the couples slow dancing on the small dance floor, the romance of it all a reminder of what I’m missing in life. When I look at Jack, I smile and say, "It's been good to see you again."
"You, too. It’s been too long. You shouldn't be such a stranger."
"I feel like a stranger even to myself these days. I'm happy for you and Caris. I'm sorry I couldn't make the wedding-"
"We understand. You were in Europe. At least you closed the deal." He leans against the table next to me, looking like the college kid I once knew—carefree and content . "Are you happy, Lydia?"
I chuckle to myself. "I'm not unhappy."
"That's not the same thing, and you know it."
"My job is interesting. What more can I ask for?"
He rests his hand on my shoulder, and says, "I didn't ask about your job. I asked about you."
I gulp, feeling vulnerable, hating weakness and realizing this kind of conversation is why I stayed away so long. At least part of the reason I stayed away.
He reads the silence between us as answer enough and doesn't push. After a quick kiss on the cheek, he says, "Just so you know, I'm glad you came home for the holidays. I'll go get your coat."
"Thanks." Turning around, I watch the couples to pass time, but it makes me feel lonely and depressed. The holidays do a swell enough job of that all without the added torment of witnessing love in the air.
"This is a pleasant surprise," a deep, smooth voice says from behind. It’s a voice from another time and another place, but still so familiar that my heart clenches in response. "Lydia."
My body moves involuntarily closer to him, and I look up. "Chase. Hi."
His head tilts just a bit, and there's that smile I missed so much. "I didn't know you'd be here."
"From what I hear,” I say, “you've pulled quite the disappearing act yourself."
He looks away, chuckling. "I faced reality. It's no fun to be a seventh wheel."
"I'll bet."
"Chase?"
"Lydia?"
We both speak at the same time then laugh in the awkwardness.
I let him go first. He says, "You look great. You look different. I can't quite place how, but you do."
"Thank you, I guess." I take a moment to really look at him, and his handsome face. He's more manly-looking and more gorgeous than my memory gave him credit. "You look more… different somehow, too, but all the same." I feel stupid, insecure. My heart is beating out of my chest, and my mind is chaotic, making coherent, mature dialogue difficult right now.
"Do you still call New York home?" he asks, his voice blanketing my heart with warmth and comfort.
"I never called New York home, but yes, I’m still there. I travel a lot to Europe these days, too."
"Sounds exciting. All your dreams have come true, Lydia. You must be happy."
I look back up, directly into his eyes. "Dreams, happiness… hmmm, maybe. I don't really know anymore." I avert my eyes back to my barely touched cocktail on the table in front of me.
"That's too bad. It was always your number one priority."
"Chase, I screwed—" I start to say, but I'm interrupted.
"I'm ready to go now, Sweetheart."
My mouth drops open as a leggy brunette with ice blue eyes and long eyelashes slides under his arm and rests her hand on his shoulder like she own
s him.
His eyes flicker to mine, concern and unease covering his features—always concerned. He’s always been so concerned about me, but now I feel what we were sharing a moment earlier was false, a charade just for me.
Chase's arm slides around the draping woman's waist, and he makes the introductions. "Darcy, this is Lydia, my—"
She turns to him quickly. "Your what?" The woman asks confused by the possessive he just used.
I’m feeling a bit confused myself, but stand there and watch as he shakes his head, and continues, "Lydia, this is Darcy—"
"His fiancée. We just got engaged last week." As the contents in my stomach lurch, I press my hand flat against my middle, and she talks on. "He wanted to surprise me before Christmas. A ring for Christmas would have been so passé, if you know what I mean." She holds her hand out flashing her rock at me.
I don't remember responding, but I must have, because she seems pleased with my reaction. Looking at Chase, the pain in his eyes is clear as crystal to anyone who really knows him.
My heart aches in my chest knowing I had him. He was mine, and I let him go. I let him get away, or more accurately, I forced him away.
Racing, pounding heartbeats cease altogether as I realize this is love. I love Chase. I'm in love with Chase, and now he's going to marry someone else. How could I not see this before? Why did it take an act of jealousy to make me see what’s so obvious?
"Here's your jacket." Jack interrupts my inner thoughts and Darcy's blathering.
Unable to face Darcy any longer, I turn to Chase, and say, "Congratulations." It’s weak and has no true feeling behind it, but it’s the polite thing to say, so I force it out.
"Thank you. We're so happy! Right, Sweetheart?” She says, patting his chest. She keeps blabbering, leaving no room for his reply. “I think we're going to have an early summer wedding. Why wait when you know it's meant to be?"
The heavy tension is felt between Jack, Chase, and myself as we glance slowly from one another in silent understanding.
"I should walk Lydia to her car… for safety," Chase says, looking at me then to Jack again with a firm nod.