by Eden Finley
I laughed at her assumption. It happened to me a lot. “Nope. Don’t have one of those.” I wasn’t going to set her straight—no pun intended. It didn’t matter to me whether she thought I was gay or not.
She pushed her thick-rimmed glasses up her nose after they’d slid down her face. She was pretty cute in an artsy-girl kind of way. Her cropped blonde hair was in waves and sat just below her chin, and she had those pouty lips that any girl would kill for and any guy would want on them. But I wasn’t interested.
“Is that why you’re sitting in the corner by yourself? Because you don’t have a boyfriend? Want me to play wingman? I have to keep my models happy.”
I shook my head with a smile. “If you must know, I’m sitting here because the girl I have a thing for is ignoring me.”
She pulled back, aghast. “I’m so sorry. I just assumed. You’re so …”
I waited for her to finish because I was interested in which offensive stereotypical label she was going to slap on me, but she didn’t end up finishing her sentence.
“It’s all good.” I waved her off. “I guess you went with the safe bet in this industry.”
She smiled. “Is the girl back home?”
“Yeah.”
“So live a little. I shouldn’t be encouraging you to drink seeing as you have to walk my runway tomorrow, but a few won’t hurt. You’re all used to walking hungover anyway, right?” She lifted her hand to get one of the waitress’s attention.
“Yeah, we’re pros at walking in a straight line while drunk. It’s a prerequisite,” I said sarcastically.
“What’ll you have?” the waitress asked.
Georgie waited for me to answer.
“Scotch ‘n’ Coke.”
“I’ll have a house wine,” Georgie said. The waitress walked off and then Georgie turned on her side to face me straight on. “Okay, tell me about her.”
Talking about her wasn’t going to make me feel better. “I kinda just want a distraction from it all.”
She nodded.
“Are you ready for tomorrow? Your first big show,” I asked. There were fittings and rehearsals over the last week, but tomorrow was the big day. For her and me anyway. I had another show later in the week with another designer. It was common for models to double-book big shows.
She recycled my words. “I just want a distraction from it all.”
Our drinks arrived, so I held up my glass. “To distraction.”
We clinked our drinks together, drank them down, and then headed to the bar for more. And more.
I cut myself off at five, knowing if I had any more, I’d be screwed for the runway the next day, but Georgie kept throwing them back.
There was dancing, yelling, selfies, and then hours later, I found myself dragging her back to her hotel because she was too drunk to walk. When we got into the elevator, she put her head on my shoulder and let out a loud breath. She may’ve even fallen asleep for a second.
“You going to be all good for tomorrow?” I asked her as she fumbled opening her hotel room.
“Yup. No sweat,” she slurred. “You coming in?” she asked, turning to face me and stumbling a few feet backwards into her room.
How I ended up babysitting my designer, I wasn’t entirely sure, and even though I knew it was a bad idea and I should’ve walked away, I took the three short steps across the threshold and into her hotel room.
8
- SARA -
Fucking asshole. “Fashion Week is killing me, he said. So much work, he said. Oh, really? Is that why some cute blonde tagged you in about a billion Instagram photos where it looks like you’re in a nightclub partying it up?”
I really had to stop with the ranting. Especially considering I was the only one in my apartment and my neighbours already thought I was a tad crazy. Okay, a lot crazy. What sane person counters party music with the Spice Girls? Me. To be fair, it shut their party down. Nineties music would make for great torture techniques. The fact I had the Spice Girls on my playlist in the first place shouldn’t have been taken into account. That was a whole other issue.
I didn’t know why I was torturing myself by stalking this Georgina woman. According to everything I read and her Facebook page, she was from Brisbane and was the next big Australian designer. Ugh.
In my irrational rage, I took a screenshot of a photo where their heads were close together, both grinning like idiots and looking like the perfect couple. Without thinking, I sent it to him.
Sara:
Work looks extremely taxing
It took less than thirty seconds for a response.
Ryan:
Jealousy works on u. I love it.
Sara:
Not jealous. Just pointing out that you’re a liar
Ryan:
I like that you’re stalking me on social media. This can only mean 1 thing. U LIKE ME.
Sara:
I wasn’t stalking.
Ryan:
U suck at lying. Even in text. Today is a winning day, my sweet Sara. Thanks for the smile (and the encouragement to keep messaging u)
He didn’t deny sleeping with her.
I reminded myself that the photos of Georgina and him proved he was the same person he was four years ago. He hadn’t changed at all, and he still slept with anything with a pulse and a vagina. Actually, knowing the fashion industry, he probably slept with a few people with penises as well.
I understood we weren’t together so he had every right to bone whoever he wanted. But to be messaging me and then sleeping with other girls? It showed how serious he was about me—not very.
If I kept entertaining the thought of him, I knew I was going to give in. And if I did that, I was only going to get hurt when he inevitably moved on from me again. It took him only four hours last time; maybe next time it’d only take thirty minutes.
My phone chimed again, and as much as I told myself not to check it, I knew it was futile arguing with myself. Of course, I was going to check it. That’s the kind of hold Ryan had on me.
It wasn’t him, though. It was the other one. The good on paper, safe one. Yeah, Danny had hurt me in the past too, but it didn’t sting anywhere near as much as what Ryan did. Still didn’t mean I wanted to go back there again, though.
Danny:
Have lunch with me tomorrow
Sara:
Can’t. Have uni.
Danny:
Paige says ur lying.
Sara:
Tell her she’s a traitor
Danny:
LOL. Just lunch. Please. U deserve my apology in person
I did want to hear his apology. I’d waited two years for it.
Sara:
Just lunch
Danny:
Pick u up at 11
It wasn’t a date. A date would be dinner. Lunch meant friends.
Keep telling yourself that.
***
“I was scared. I left because I started to want more than a fling with you and that wasn’t what we agreed upon when we started—”
“Getting straight to the point, huh?” We’d just sat down for lunch. The food wasn’t even ordered yet.
“I’ve been holding onto this for two years. So yeah, I’m getting it out of the way.”
It was hard not to smile at that. The whole car ride, we sat in comfortable silence. Well, mostly. There was small talk, but it all felt easy. Just like sitting here with him was easy. It always had been with Danny.
“There’s really no need to apolo—”
“There is. I was an ass. I still had a year left of college, and I didn’t want to screw up my chance at getting drafted to the NFL. I freaked out because I knew if I kept hanging out with you, there was a good chance I’d throw it all away to stay. I ran away before it got too serious.”
I didn’t know what to say. If I were completely honest, I probably wouldn’t have let him stay. He was fun to be around, but I never thought of him as marriage or long-term material. But that might’ve
been because I thought there wasn’t even the possibility of a future.
Biting my lip, still unsure of what to say, I changed the subject. “What happened with the NFL?”
“Paige never told you?”
I shook my head. “To be honest, she hasn’t really spoken about you since … uh, the last time you were home. To me, at least.”
“Ah, right. Well, I tore my ACL one too many times and fucked my knee. Blew any chance I had.” He sighed. “I became the clichéd ‘almost was’ football player who became a coach.”
“At least you’re doing something you love.”
“I do love it. I love Texas and my kids.”
I sputtered as I took a sip of water. “Your kids?”
He laughed. “The kids I coach.”
“Oh.” I grabbed at my chest as my heart slowed down. “So, you’re here for two months?”
“About that. Give or take.” He took a sip of his water, eyeing me as he swallowed it down.
I dropped my gaze and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, overly conscious of the way he was looking at me.
The waiter came just in time to break the tension building between us. We ordered and then fell into easy conversation.
There it was again: easy. Danny was the type of guy I should’ve been pining for. Not asshole Ryan.
Danny’s blond hair had that quality that made me want to run my fingers through it. His blue eyes were eerily similar to Paige’s, which should’ve freaked me out, but instead, I found comforting. His muscled physique was something any girl would drool over.
“Are you checking me out?” he asked.
“What?” My eyes snapped up to his.
He chuckled. Leaning back in his seat, he threw his hands behind his head, stretching his muscles. He was impressively large. All man. I should’ve needed to cross my legs from wetness pooling in my underwear. But nothing was happening downstairs. It was all upstairs. My brain was begging me to feel something that could’ve been classed as desire.
I thought back to the times Danny and I did have sex. It was passionate to an extent, but it was more educational than anything. It was easy to let my guard down with him, and he was up for trying anything I wanted and vice versa. It was more comfortable than hot and needy. We only had two weeks, but we definitely had fun and made the most of our time together.
“I realise we probably can’t pick things up where we left off, but—”
“I … umm …” I shook my head.
“I get it. I really do. I just want to spend time with you while I’m home. Is that okay? I have a few things I need to set straight in my head before I go back to the States. If I go back.”
My brow furrowed. “You just said you love it over there.”
“I do, but sometimes I wonder if I ruined something two years ago I could love more.”
Oooh, boy. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel anything in my lady parts that time. Perhaps it was my ovaries sighing.
***
Danny walked me to my door and went in for a goodnight kiss, even though it was two o’clock in the afternoon. My head reflexively turned at the last second, and his lips touched my cheek softly.
“I’ll speak to you soon,” he said, walking away.
I opened my door and flopped onto the couch without even taking my shoes off.
Even though I’d just come from what most would call a great date, I found myself scouring Instagram for more photos of Ryan and other girls. It was unhealthy.
My phone started ringing, and my heart thudded in my chest at the sound. It calmed right down when I saw it was Paige. My stupid heart clearly wanted it to be Ryan.
“What?” I answered the phone. This was a standard greeting between us.
“Soooooo, how did it go, Miss future sister-in-law of mine?”
“Oh, God, you’re not going to start with that crap again, are you?” I didn’t hear the end of it two years ago.
“Hey, I’m depressed over here and getting over a breakup. The least you could do is humour me.”
I sighed. “Fine. I’m pregnant with his baby.”
“Wow. My brother moves fast.”
“How are you really doing?” I asked, changing the topic.
“I’m fine. I’ll get over it. Eventually. Maybe. Okay, I won’t. I’m going to die alone and become a crazy snake lady.”
“Snake?”
“Well, yeah. I don’t like cats.”
While I laughed at her, she went quiet. “What’s up?” I asked.
“I’m going to have to see Cole this weekend. It’s his son’s birthday and it’s at the house.”
“That sucks. Maybe you should go out and avoid him.”
“Danny and I both need to be there. Dad emphasised that fact. And what am I supposed to do? Pretend like Cole doesn’t exist? I can’t do that.”
“I think you can.”
She grumbled, “I’ll try.”
“You’re twenty-one, I’m only twenty-two. We’re young. We should be going out and having fun. Nothing serious.”
“So the date with Danny really didn’t go well, then?”
“Can we not … you know, talk about this? I don’t know how I feel yet. It’s weird that he’s back. It’s even weirder talking to his sister about it.”
I hadn’t told her I was in contact with Ryan. I thought it might’ve been weird for her, seeing as he’s Cole’s roommate. If anything, I made her think I hated Ryan more than I did before. I was constantly telling her Cole was probably a manwhore like Ryan. Although, aloud to her, I was still calling him Calvin or Hunter. It felt weird to call him Hunter. To me, he was always going to be Ryan. The fact he hated that name probably cemented it even more.
God, four years of comparing dates to “Calvin.” Paige and I had actually used phrases that included “He’s not Calvin-worthy” and “He doesn’t have that Calvin spark.” I felt like such an idiot. I’d built him up so much in my mind, only to be constantly reminded that he was still the same guy who ditched me for someone else. Yet, I still wanted him and still smiled whenever my phone went off and it was him. Idiot, idiot, idiot.
9
- HUNTER -
I knew it was a bad idea for Cole to go to Cody’s party. I tried to stop him, but he wouldn’t listen. It would’ve been nice if someone had given him a heads up that Paige’s brother was in town. We didn’t even know she had one. So, of course, Cole almost punched him out when we both thought she brought a date to his son’s birthday party.
Part of me was hoping Paige had invited Sara, but a quick scan of the party showed she wasn’t there. Not that we stayed long enough to talk to her if she was. After the incident with Paige’s brother, Cole wanted out of there as soon as possible. Especially after Reece’s big announcement that she was pregnant with Paige’s little brother or sister. Their relationship just kept getting weirder and weirder. As much as I liked Paige, I was beginning to think their breakup was for the best.
I hadn’t called or texted Sara again since Sydney because I didn’t want to push. Now that I was back, though, I needed to up my game.
Cole disappeared as soon as we got home from Cody’s party, and that was a few hours ago. Even though I was worried about where he was, I’d already been yelled at earlier for “babying him” or whatever. I figured he just needed time to cool off, so I didn’t bother going after him.
I realised that was a mistake when there was a knock at my door and Paige was standing behind it. Behind her, carrying a very passed-out Cole over his shoulder, was her brother.
“What happened?” I asked.
Paige directed her brother to Cole’s room to deposit him on his bed, and then she turned to me. “I got a phone call from some guy at a bar telling me Cole was passed out. We’ve tried to wake him, but he’s completely out of it.”
I ran my hand over my hair. “Shit. I shouldn’t have let him leave. I knew he was upset over this afternoon and … I didn’t actually think he’d fall off the wagon. He’s bee
n sober for over two years now.”
Her lips pursed together as she tilted her head. “He never told you how we met, did he? It was at a bar.”
Shit, shit, fucking shit. I didn’t know how I didn’t see it before. I’d been worried about Cole, yes, but he didn’t show any signs that he’d been drinking again.
Paige’s brother joined us in the living room, and Paige went into crisis mode. She was trying to cover up for his mistake tonight.
She also wanted to stay, and I wouldn’t allow that. No matter how many times I told her it wasn’t a good idea for her to be here while Cole was drunk, she wouldn’t listen.
“Hunter’s right, P,” her brother said. “If he was out drinking tonight because of you, he probably won’t want to wake up with you here.”
I was thankful for him taking my side. It was no wonder we thought Paige was on a date at the party. Looking at him, I couldn’t see a single ounce of resemblance between him and Paige. Except for maybe their eye colour, but you had to look closely to notice it. She was a petite brunette—although, not as petite as Sara—and he was tall, blond, and built like a brick shithouse. He carried Cole up three flights of stairs. The dude was impressive, and even I was intimidated by him.
Paige wasn’t backing down. “He’s not your responsibility. You do so much for him. He—”
I admired her for wanting to help, but it was obvious she was still unaware of the problems Cole truly had. “He has demons that he needs to deal with,” I said. “I happen to love the guy like a brother, and I’ll be there for him no matter what. I’ve pulled him out of his hole before, and I’ll do it again. That makes him my responsibility.”