Uninhibited

by Melody Grace

My head spins. This is crazy, he has to see, he’s not making any sense!

  “This is happening too fast!” I protest. I see Dex’s face harden in steely determination. He’s shutting down. I feel a lurch of panic. He’s slipping away from me, but I can’t give him what he wants, I can’t even think straight. “Dex, I’m not like you, I can’t just take a running leap like this. I need time, I need to figure this out.”

  “It’s simple, Alicia,” Dex stares at me sadly. “Either you feel it, you know for sure. Or you don’t.”

  I catch my breath, my heart racing. What does he want me to say? That I love him? That I want everything he has to give?

  How can I know that so soon? It doesn’t make sense!

  But you know. You felt it in his arms. You belong to each other now.

  No. I shake my head slowly, clinging to logic and reason, the only things that make sense to me in this whirlwind of emotion. I can’t. Love isn’t a game to me, a cliff you leap off with your eyes squeezed shut. I’ve spent my whole adult life being irrational—clinging to my dreams of Hunter instead of building something real. I can’t make that same mistake again, my heart won’t take the hit.

  Dex is certain, so sure I’m the one. But what happens if we’re wrong? He’s the wild rock star, the spontaneous, reckless daredevil. And me? I need a solid ground beneath my feet. I don’t take risks. I don’t gamble on the most important thing of all.

  “I can’t be like you,” I whisper, tears stinging in the corner of my eyes. “You know that, Dex. Please don’t make this all or nothing. We can talk about it.”

  “There’s nothing to talk about,” he says, his voice hollow. “The deal was a week, right? That’s all this was ever supposed to be. Just a fling, some cheap thrills.” His grin turns twisted, “I’d say you got your money’s worth, don’t you think, sweetheart?”

  I feel like he’s just taken a knife to my gut. “Don’t say that.”

  “Why the fuck not? Let’s just cut our losses now and call it a day, no need to make a big deal out of it.”

  My mind races. I can see the hurt in his eyes, and I know he’s just lashing out. But I don’t know what to say, what I can tell him anymore. This is all too much.

  “Dex…” I start, pleading.

  “You can stay,” he cuts me off. “You’ll want to see them cut the cake, right? You like torturing yourself, after all. You can watch your precious Hunter be all happy and in love, and wish the whole fucking time it was you.”

  “Don’t leave like this,” I tell him, tears stinging in my eyes.

  “Too late, baby,” Dex looks at me one last time, “I’m already gone.”

  He turns to leave, walking away. My heart clenches in my chest.

  “Wait!” I cry, but he keeps walking. “Dex, please!”

  For a moment, I’m frozen in place. My limbs won’t move, I can’t do a thing but watch him leave.

  Dex. My Dex.

  Walking away forever.

  I break, taking off at a run. I have to stop him. I can’t let him leave, not like this. I stumble around the corner, desperation tight in my chest. “Dex—”

  I stop, my words dying on my lips.

  Dex is nowhere to be seen, but someone is standing there, frozen by the door. They’ve heard the whole thing, every terrible word.

  Brit.

  I see the confusion and hurt in her eyes, and it’s more than I can take. My heart is splitting wide open in my chest, and I couldn’t keep it together anymore if I tried.

  Everything’s breaking. Everything’s wrong.

  With a sob, I push past her and flee.

  32.

  “You’ve got the conference call at two, and Jacob’s waiting in his office with the new summer fabric samples. Alicia? Alicia!”

  “What?” My head snaps up. Lily is looking at me across my desk over the stacks of untouched paperwork.

  “The conference call? Did you just listen to a single word I said?”

  “No,” I admit slowly.

  Lily gives me a sympathetic look. “I’ll resend those notes so you have everything. And watch out, Jacob is in a serious mood today. He saw some girl in culottes on the way in to work, and now he’s questioning the ‘aesthetic black hole’ that is American fashion.” Lily grins, but I can’t even smile at the joke.

  “Look, I know you don’t want to talk about whatever’s been going on with you,” she adds, dropping her voice. “But I’m here, OK? If you need to go out and drink mojitos and just get it off your chest.”

  “Thanks, Lily.” I exhale. “I’ll try to pull it together, I’m sorry.”

  “Hey, break-ups are tough. Not that you had a break-up,” she adds quickly. “I wouldn’t know anything about that at all. Oh, and you got another message from that Brit girl. She really wants you to call her back.”

  I wince. “Just tell her I’m out of the office.”

  Lily raises an eyebrow, but she doesn’t argue. “I’m running out for lunch. You want a salad, right?”

  “Right,” I sigh.

  Lily heads back out, leaving me to a brief moment of peace. The phones are ringing non-stop; the company just announced a big collaboration with a chain of stores and work has never been busier.

  And all I can think about is him.

  Dex.

  It’s been a month. One whole month since that disastrous fight between us. One month where I’ve done nothing but wonder if I made the worst mistake of my life. I can’t even bear to think about Brit and Hunter, not with memories of Dex consuming my mind. Rushing back to the beach house that day, I found the place empty, with nobody around. I thought that if I packed up my things and came back to the city, just gave him some time, we’d both calm down and talk about it when we weren’t so stressed and emotional. Calmly, like rational adults.

  But he hasn’t called, not once. And with every day that passes, our time together drifts further away, so out of synch with the rest of my ordinary, mundane life that it feels like a dream. Some mornings I wake up still lost in the feel of his lips against my skin, and have to stop and wonder if it was a memory or dream; if my mind is playing tricks on me now, showing me visions of things that never happened at all.

  I’ve tried to pull it together. I can tell myself all the rational arguments under the sun. I spent five days with him, and it’s been six times as long since then, I calculate. More than enough to get over it: a brief fling, the only reckless hook-up of my life to date.

  But no matter how much I try and write it off as a hook-up or sexy adventure, I know those words are an insult to the time we shared.

  It was real. It meant everything. And now it’s over.

  Where are you, Dex? How can you just walk away?

  **

  I drift through the rest of my day on auto-pilot, until finally the clock hits six and I can leave. But heading home is no better: when I open my front door and step inside, I’m hit with the silence all over again.

  I’m alone.

  I grit my teeth and flip on the lights and radio. I was happy before Dex, I tell myself, unpacking my takeout and setting the table for one. I don’t need him to be happy again.

  But you want him.

  I stare at my dinner salad, limp and boring on my plate. Why did he have to do this to me: sweep me up in a riot of excitement and sensation, and then leave me back in my ordinary life again? Everything seems bland and dull without him, my usual routine suddenly empty compared to the few brief days I spent in his embrace.

  It wasn’t about the house, or the rock shows, and speedboats, and luxurious trappings of fame, it was him. Just a glance could make my heart race. A single touch set my body on fire. Hanging out in a dive bar playing pool was the most fun I’d ever had.

  He made me feel alive.

  I push my food away and grab my laptop, settling on the sofa with a glass of wine. I meant to check emails, focus on work to drown out the whispers in my mind, but instead, I find myself clicking to a search engine and typing in his name.
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  The Reckless to reform for one-off tour.

  Greatest Hits coming in fall—with bonus new tracks.

  Dex Callahan pictured leaving the studio in LA.

  The Reckless booked for MTV awards in Las Vegas this weekend.

  It’s the only way I have of tracking his life now. Every night, I promise myself I’ll move on, but I still wind up staring at my computer screen, wondering what the story is behind the snapped photo.

  Is he happy now? How is Tegan doing? Is he excited about playing new material, or is he still worried about going on tour again?

  He’s a million miles away, and his silence is deafening.

  I click through the search results, looking for something new. Then I see it, a gossip item from today.

  Dex Callahan and Jamie Keller: hot new couple?

  The headline makes my heart clench in my chest. There’s a blurry photo of Dex leaving a restaurant with some Hollywood actress, and even though I can see Austin and Tegan in the group, it still rips me in two.

  He’s moving on. I’ve lost him forever.

  The sadness welling up inside me is unbearable. I feel paralyzed, hating myself for obsessing over someone yet again. But this is different from Hunter. This was real, Dex could have been mine, but I didn’t take that leap. Even if I called him, what would I say?

  It’s too late. It’s over now.

  I slam my laptop shut. I can’t stand the empty apartment anymore, so I grab my purse and go the one place that will give me some comfort, where I can wallow without judgement; and with carbs.

  I go home.

  **

  My mom is fixing lasagna when I let myself in, and the whole house smells like a delicious Italian restaurant. I make my way to the kitchen, and find her standing over the stove, humming along to the radio.

  “Sweetheart!” She brightens, pushing back a lock of the same red hair I inherited. She’s wearing her favorite blue apron over jeans and a loose linen shirt, putting down her wooden spoon to envelop me in a soft, warm hug. “You didn’t say you were coming. I thought you were snowed under at work.”

  “I am, but I couldn’t miss Friday night dinner.” I go to rinse my hands. “Give me something to chop.”

  Mom directs me to a bowl full of vegetables, and soon I’m working out all my frustration on a paring knife and some cucumbers.

  “You know, you can talk to me.”

  I look up. She’s watching me with a concerned expression. “I know you like your privacy, but I’m worried about you, sweetheart.”

  “You and Lily should form a club,” I remark wryly, but Mom just gives me a knowing look.

  “You always keep everything bottled up inside. Even when you were a kid.”

  “I don’t bottle,” I object. “I just don’t make a big drama out of everything. I like to think things through rationally.”

  “Sometimes a drama is what you need,” she points out.

  I sigh, remembering the terrible scene at the wedding: the tears and yelling and humiliating exit. “Believe me, I’ve had enough to last me a lifetime.”

  Mom lets me go back to cooking for a moment, then her voice comes again.

  “What’s his name?”

  I freeze, giving her a guilty look. “Nobody.”

  She chuckles. “I may be old, but I know what heartbreak looks like, sweetie.”

  I pause a moment, staring down at the stove. “Dex,” I admit. It’s why I came here, after all. I want my mom to comfort me, and tell me everything’s going to be OK.

  “And this Dex broke it off with you?” Mom prods.

  “Yes. No,” I sigh. “I don’t know. Everything happened so fast,” I explain, quickly telling her about the time at the beach house—minus the more scandalous details. “We barely knew each other and suddenly he was talking about love, and marriage. That’s crazy, right?”

  “Only if you didn’t feel the same way.” My mom tastes the sauce, and then adds some more herbs.

  I frown, surprised at her response. “It doesn’t matter how I felt, you can’t just go diving into a relationship like that, not if you want it to last. He was all wrong for me, anyway. He lives this crazy lifestyle, he’s impulsive and reckless, and…”

  I trail off, suddenly hit with a stab of longing so intense, it takes my breath away.

  Mom smiles. “A bad boy, huh? I had one of those.”

  “What?” I exclaim. “What about dad?”

  “Before him,” Mom sighs, smiling at the memory. “Jean-Claude, he was a foreign student from France. He drove a scooter, which was the height of glamour to this small-town girl.”

  I giggle. “I can’t believe it, you’re always saying how dangerous motorcycles are.”

  “I know,” Mom laughs, “But something about him was…intoxicating. I didn’t care about anything else, being with him was such a thrill.”

  “So what happened?” I ask, fascinated. I never imagined my mom being young and reckless, she and my father seem like such a stable, reliable team.

  “Well, his semester abroad ended, and he went back to Paris. I was devastated, of course,” she adds., “We shared lots of teary long-distance calls, and then he invited me to go out and be with him that summer.”

  “What?” I gape. “You didn’t go.”

  “Oh, I did.” Mom smiles. “I packed up my things and spent all my savings on a ticket. Your grandfather swore he’d disown me, but I didn’t care. I remember meeting Jean-Claude at the airport in Paris, it felt like the most romantic thing in the world.”

  “I can’t believe this,” I breathe, the salad long-since forgotten. “What happened next? Why didn’t you stay?”

  “Oh, it was a disaster,” Mom says cheerfully. “We were crammed in his tiny attic in the city, and fought day and night. Jean-Claude ended up cheating on me with Lord knows how many girls. I’d only been there three weeks when I walked in on him making out with the woman from down the hall. I called Grandpa and had my flight booked back home that same night.”

  “So it was a mistake,” I say, strangely disappointed. “You should never have gone after him.”

  “No, getting on that flight to Paris was one of the best things I ever did.” Mom gives me a quiet smile. “If I hadn’t gone, I would have spent the rest of my life wondering about him, regretting what might have been. This way, when I met your father in that lecture the next semester, I knew Jean-Claude was in the past. And I knew exactly what I needed in a real relationship.”

  “Someone solid and dependable,” I reply. “Not a reckless bad boy.”

  “Someone who made me feel like the most beautiful girl in the world,” Mom corrects me with a smile. “Someone who could send my heart racing, but who would never let me down. Your father may not have been as wild as Jean-Claude, but he still made me feel like I was flying —because I knew he would always catch me before I hit the ground. Reckless is one thing,” she adds. “But if you can find a man who makes you feel safe too…Well, that’s real magic.”

  A sob suddenly wells in my throat. Laying in Dex’s arms, I’ve never felt safer. Totally secure. Completely loved.

  “Oh sweetie.” My mom comes and puts her arms around me, and I realize my answer must be written all over my face.

  “It’s fine,” I lie. “It wasn’t meant to be.”

  She tuts at me. “You’ve always been so worried about doing the right thing, I’m afraid you’re missing out on experiencing life.” She pulls back, stroking my hair like I’m a kid again. “I want you to have a full life, sweetheart, and sometimes that means making mistakes, taking a risk with your heart. Otherwise you might wake up and find you’ve let love pass you by, and there’s no greater regret than that.”

  I shiver, remembering what Dex said to me, the very first night I arrived at the beach house. That he’d rather regret the things he’d done than the things he didn’t do.

  I’ve been playing it safe my whole life. Following the rules, careful and quiet. Even my crush on Hunter was a way of ke
eping control: focusing all my hopes and dreams on a man who might never love me back, just so I didn’t have to go out and bare my heart to the world. Try something real.

  Risk getting hurt.

  Dex demanded everything from me: body and soul. He didn’t settle for casual, he wanted more, and was brave enough to ask me for it.

  But I was too scared to say yes. Too timid to take his hand and make that leap.

  And now…?

  Now I’ve lost the realest thing I’ve ever known.

  I stay for dinner, and spend the night too, wrapped safe in my old comforter in the room I grew up in. But I can’t hide from my problems for long: there are already three late-night voicemails from my boss when I wake up, and so I quickly get in the car and head back to my apartment in the city. I rush upstairs, trying to figure out my schedule for the day. I figure I just have time to shower and change before heading into work for—

  I round the corner and stop. Someone’s waiting outside my apartment, sitting cross-legged on the floor in a patchwork vintage dress, working in her sketchbook.

  She sees me and scrambles to her feet. “Alicia. You know we need to talk. You’ve been avoiding all my calls.”

  It’s Brit.

  33.

  My stomach drops. I wish the floor would open wide and swallow me up. I’ve been pretending like the scene back at the wedding never happened—that Brit didn’t overhear how I’ve been in love with her boyfriend for years.

  Not her boyfriend anymore, I correct myself. Her husband.

  “I’m late for work,” I try to excuse myself, my skin flushing bright red. “I really don’t have time—”

  “Bullshit.” Brit plants herself in my doorway. “Come on, Alicia, we need to talk. Please?” Her expression isn’t angry, just determined, and with her blocking my way, there’s no way around it—save running away. But I already did that once, and it hasn’t solved anything.

  Reluctantly, I nod. “But only for a minute,” I add quickly. “That wasn’t an excuse. I really do have to get to the office.”

  “Fine, a minute.” Brit stands aside so I can unlock the door. “We just want to know that you’re OK.”