by Ana Huang
“This wouldn’t happen to be your phone, would it?” James held up my new phone.
“Yeah, it is!” I couldn’t have been more relieved. I reached for it, but he held it out of my reach with a teasing smile.
I stopped, confused.
“I’m not giving you your phone back until I put something in it,” James explained, typing something into my phone. When he finished, he gave it back with a wink. “Now, you’ll have no excuse to not call me back.”
I blushed, suddenly remembering how our last conversation had ended. “I’m so sorry about the other day,” I apologized. “My phone, uh, died.”
Technically true. I was just going to spare him all the gory details.
“It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” James assured it. A small smile lit up his face. “Although I do think you owe me a date for making me sick with worry like that,” he joked.
At least, I think he’s joking.
I turned even redder. “Um…well…” What do you say to something like that?
“Come on, it’ll be fun,” he persuaded. Oh. So he hadn't been joking. “And we can do something outside of Valesca, get away from all those snobs for a bit.”
I was actually a bit tempted, but I slowly shook my head. “I’m sorry, but I can’t,” I replied, slightly regretful. James seemed like a cool guy, and he was pretty cute, but if Parker was being loyal as my fake boyfriend, then I had to be loyal too. “I’m kind of…seeing someone.”
“Oh,” he said, sounding disappointed. “I suppose I should have guessed.” He gave me a small smile. “If you ever change your mind though, you know how to reach me.”
I nodded, smiling back. He really was nice. “Well, I should go. He’s, um, actually waiting for me.”
“Ok.” James nodded, gesturing to the suit. “And I guess I should pay for this before they think I’m trying to steal it,” he laughed. “Well, it was nice running into you again, Maya. And you tell that boyfriend of yours he's lucky to have you, so he better treat you right.” He winked at me.
By now, my face could be mistaken for a fire hydrant. “It was nice seeing you again too,” I murmured, and with a quick wave, I headed back downstairs to the café where Adriana and the others were waiting. I couldn't stop a smile from spreading across my face though.
It was so nice to see a friendly, down-to-earth face, although I couldn’t believe I managed to run into James in a city as big as New York.
What were the odds?
* * *
“Do I really have to wear this? It’s uncomfortable,” I whined, glaring down at the black cocktail dress I was stuffed into.
“Stop being such a baby,” Roman said, sounding annoyed as he got out of the Town Car that had been chauffeuring us around all day. “That dress is Dolce & Gabbana.”
“Considering Dolce & Gabbana seems to be Italian for I-can’t-breathe-right-now, I don’t really care,” I snapped. I narrowed my eyes. “How do you know that, anyway?”
“They make men’s clothes too. Plus, I can recognize their cut.” Roman pursed his lips and gazed pointedly at Parker. “You need to educate your girlfriend on the finer points of life, if she’s going to fit in.”
Parker chuckled, wrapping an arm around my waist. “She’s perfect the way she is,” he said loyally.
"Aw, thanks, sweetheart," I gushed with exaggerated sweetness.
Roman grimaced. “I’m about to throw up,” he muttered, not looking at us.
“Maybe you shouldn’t go to dinner, then,” I said innocently.
He ignored me.
“Settle down, children. Masa’s a restaurant, not a playground,” Adriana reminded us, as we entered the sleek, dimly lit restaurant.
We were immediately led to a table in the best part of the room.
“It’s ok, guys, I got this,” Parker said confidently, right after we sat down.
"Yeah, he knows all the best dishes," Zack said, nodding his golden head as he backed his friend up.
I shrugged. I didn't really care. Parker was the one who’d suggested we come here. As he rattled off a bunch of orders to the waiter, I gazed around the room.
It was so quiet and serene. And expensive-looking. I was half-glad Adriana had forced me to wear this dress, because all the other diners were pretty dressed-up too.
“You ok?” Carlo asked quietly.
I nodded. “This’ll be the second time today that I’m eating sushi,” I realized.
Carlo laughed. “Sadly, they don’t have Twix here as a dessert.”
I smiled, feeling touched all over again that he’d gone to all that trouble to send me lunch. Ok, so it had probably only taken a phone call, but still. It was the thought that counts.
“Really? Well, maybe they have a vending machine in here somewhere,” I joked.
Carlo let out another laugh.
I took a sip of my water, pleased. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw an older couple enter the restaurant. The man had his arm around the woman’s waist, and he leaned down to whisper something in her ear before giving her a peck on the lips.
The woman giggled. She had on a low-cut green dress that looked even tighter than mine felt, while the man wore a gray suit that actually looked kind of familiar.
As I got a closer look, though, I suddenly realized why that suit looked so familiar, causing me to almost spit out my water.
The man looked up, and we locked eyes. A horrified expression crossed his handsome face as I felt the bile rise up in my throat.
No. No, it can’t be! my mind screamed, as everything else in the restaurant seemed to fall away, leaving only my churning stomach and shocked, frozen body behind. It CAN’T!
I clapped a hand over my mouth, suddenly feeling unbearably nauseous.
“Maya! What’s wrong?”
I wasn’t even sure who asked me that question. I couldn’t seem to think straight right now.
I pushed back my chair with a loud screech, causing everyone else in the restaurant to give me scandalized glares, but I couldn’t care less what those overdressed snobs thought of me at the moment.
Biting back a sob and praying I didn’t throw up right there on the floor, I ran out of the restaurant, even as I heard the man frantically call my name.
I burst through the doors and ran to the edge of the sidewalk, gripping a nearby lamppost for support as I dry heaved. Tears slowly ran down my face and blurred my vision, but they couldn’t erase the image of my father kissing another woman, a woman who wasn’t my mother, from my mind.
Chapter 12
When I finally finished dry-heaving, I straightened up and slumped against the lamppost, my throat and eyes raw from crying.
Tonight was turning out to be the worst night ever. The fact everyone around me seemed so happy just made me more miserable.
I stared up at the sky, where the stars winked down at me. Please, just let me wake up and find out it was all a horrible nightmare, I silently pleaded. Please!
I was still standing there, hoping to wake up, when I felt someone touch my arm.
“Maya, look at me,” he pleaded.
And I knew that I wasn't going to wake up. Because this wasn't a dream, it was my life.
I yanked my arm away, glaring at my dad through eyes puffy from crying. No. Actually, he wasn’t even my dad anymore. The dad I knew couldn’t afford to go to restaurants like Masa—one of the most expensive in the world—with some slutty bimbo, to boot. He didn’t lie to his family about going on business trips. And he definitely, definitely did not cheat on my mom.
“Don’t touch me,” I spat, ignoring the hurt look that crossed his face. “I don’t even know you anymore.”
“It’s—it’s not what you think,” my dad stuttered. “Why don’t you just let me explain?”
“Oh, really? So what? Did I somehow hallucinate and imagined that you kissed that woman in there? Did the meaning of ‘going on a business trip’ change into ‘going to an expensive dinner in New York City with a bimbo’? Becaus
e unless those two things happened, then it’s exactly what I think!” I screamed, ignoring the looks passersby were throwing us.
“I—we—she’s—“My dad stopped, obviously at a loss for words.
“How could you do that to mom?” My lower lip trembled, and to my horror, I felt the tears rise again.
My dad let out a deep sigh, running a hand through his hair. Though it still held no flecks of gray, his face was weary, and for the first time, he looked every bit the 43-year old he was.
“Perhaps we should talk about this at home,” he suggested quietly.
I couldn’t believe it. He still had the nerve to say the word home?
“No!” I spat hatefully. “I want everyone to know what a scumbag you are!”
“Maya! Watch your language! I’m still your father, you know.”
“No you’re not! I hate you!” And with that, the tears started falling again, so that I barely noticed when someone pulled me protectively into his arms. “I hate you,” I repeated, sobbing into the person’s chest. I didn’t even care who it was. I just needed someone to lean on right now.
“Come on, why don’t we get you out of here?” I dimly heard Adriana suggest. “I’m sorry to interrupt, Mr. Lindberg, but I think it’s best if Maya’s left alone for a bit.”
Obviously, she’d caught at least part of my rant.
I heard my dad agree in defeat, and before I knew it, the person whose arms I was in ushered me into the waiting Town Car. It wasn’t until then that I finally looked up.
I blinked in surprise. Even through my tears, I was able to make out the planes of Roman’s face.
* * *
“Do you think Maya’s going to be ok?” Zack asked, leaning over to whisper to Adriana as he stared at where the brunette was curled up in her seat, sleeping.
“She should be fine. She just needs some time.” Adriana sighed. Poor girl. She’s been through so much since school started, and they weren’t even halfway through the semester yet.
“What bad luck. Out of all the sushi bars in all the world, he had to walk into ours,” Parker said jokingly.
Adriana rolled her eyes. “It’s nice to see you still have your sense of humor.”
Parker shrugged. “Adultery’s practically a fact of life in Valesca. Some people hide it better than others. And some take it better than others.” He looked over at where Roman was sitting, staring down at his untouched glass. There was a zoned-out expression on his face. “There’s nothing we can do except make the most out of it.”
She didn’t want to admit it, but Parker had a point. Affairs were more common than luxury cars in their town—they just ranged from discreet Mercedes to flashy Lamborghinis.
“Should someone wake her up? We’re almost there.” Parker checked his Rolex. “And she still hasn’t eaten yet.”
“I’ll go do it,” Carlo offered. He’d been unusually quiet since the dinner incident.
“No. I will,” Roman suddenly said, taking everyone by surprise.
They all stared at him. Ignoring their shocked glances, Roman stood up from his seat and made his way down the lushly carpeted aisle to where Maya was dozing.
“Wow. Did he have a brain transplant or something?” Zack’s eyes were wide.
Carlo raised his eyebrows. “Should you really be surprised?”
“No, I guess not,” Zack allowed. “I suppose he is the best person to go talk to her right now.”
Adriana, though, didn’t say anything. Instead, she kept her eyes trained on Roman and Maya, a small smile playing on her lips.
It was time to just sit back and watch the show.
* * *
“Maya, wake up.” Someone was shaking my arm. They seriously needed to go away. “Wake up!”
“Leave me alone,” I mumbled, snuggling deeper into my seat. I could feel the delicious cover of sleep evaporating, and I was not happy.
Whoever it was sighed and dropped my arm.
Good. Now maybe I can go back—was that pasta?
My nose involuntarily twitched as the delicious smell of Italian food wafted into my nostrils. Reluctantly, I opened one eye, my mouth nearly watering at the sight of the huge bowl of pasta in front of me.
“That got your attention.” Roman smirked, taking the seat opposite me.
“You think you’re so clever,” I muttered, even as I sat up straight and grabbed a fork, eagerly digging in.
God, it was so good! Today was such a good food day.
Roman’s jaw dropped slightly as he watched me shovel the food in my mouth. Ok, so I was not being ladylike, but whatever. I was hungry. I hadn’t eaten since lunch and—
Suddenly, my chewing slowed as I remembered why I hadn’t eaten since lunch. And just like that, my appetite was gone again.
“What’s wrong? Isn’t it good?” Roman asked, when I pushed the bowl away from me. I felt slightly nauseous.
“No, it’s good, I’m just—not that hungry,” I mumbled, staring down at my lap. I couldn’t believe I was about to cry again. How much could a girl cry in one day?
A lot, apparently.
“Bullshit. You were just destroying that like you’ve never had food before.” Roman paused. “Are you thinking about what happened at dinner again?” he correctly guessed in an unusual burst of astuteness.
I nodded, choking up.
“Are you going to tell your mom?”
I looked up. “Wow, way to make me feel better,” I sniffled, even though I had no idea how to answer him.
Was I going to tell my mom? It would just be wrong to hide it from her, but at the same time, it would destroy her. I was completely trapped.
“There’s no use going into denial and running from it.” Roman’s tone was bitter. “Might as well face the facts and salvage what you can from the debris that’s left.”
I drew my knees up to my chest and stared at him. “Why are you being so nice all of a sudden?”
Roman’s head jerked up. “What—what do you mean?”
I couldn’t help but giggle a little at the deer-caught-in-headlights expression on his face. “You’re usually so nasty to me. Why are you being so nice now?”
He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “We called a truce, remember?” he muttered.
“That didn’t stop you from saying I looked like a shitty piece of modern art earlier.”
Roman shrugged. “Well, you did look like a shitty piece of modern art. I just thought I’d let you know before you went to homecoming and became a laughingstock.”
“Like that’s going to happen. I’m dating Parker now, remember? They wouldn’t dare,” I half-joked.
“Oh. Right. How could I have forgotten?” he said sourly.
I gave him a strange look. He was so weird sometimes. “Anyway, I’ve been worse than a laughingstock at school,” I added softly.
I didn’t know why I was being so vulnerable all of sudden, and in front of Roman Fiori, no less. I guess it was because tonight had just drained all of my energy, and I didn’t have enough left to put up my usual walls. Besides, he’d actually been pretty nice outside Masa.
Of course, I could also be a total idiot.
Roman stared at me, a rainbow of emotions flitting across his face before it finally settled on something that, had I not known better, I could’ve sworn was guilt.
We just looked at each other for several tense though not unnecessarily unpleasant seconds. A strange feeling had started to spread through my stomach until he broke eye contact and gestured at the food.
“You should eat. I don’t want you to faint before you get home.”
“I’m really not hungry.”
“Why do you have to be so difficult? Eat, or I’ll force-feed it to you,” Roman commanded gruffly, though it lacked his usual acidic edge.
“Ah, there’s the Roman I know and hate,” I quipped, though much more teasingly than usual.
I really was losing my mind.
“Eat!” he insisted.
When I did
n’t budge, he grabbed a forkful of pasta and held it threateningly up to my mouth. “You sure you want to try me?”
“Fine, fine!” I snatched the fork from him. “You’re so mean,” I whined, even as my taste buds hummed in pleasure.
Roman just smirked, his gorgeous violet eyes smug.
Whoa. What? When the heck did I start thinking his eyes were gorgeous? Actually, when did I start noticing the prick’s eyes, period?