by Messe, Ellie
Running my tongue over my teeth, the hole in my chest smarts. I love the girl, but she doesn’t love me back, if Jo had her heart rung through the ringer as I did, I’m sure she’d look miserable too.
“Drop it. I’m going to check with the stage manager and make sure everything’s set up. You need to start getting ready.”
“Logan.”
Turning one more time, I face her with a sigh, “What?”
“Talk to her; you may not know all the facts.”
If it wasn’t for the fact Jo doesn’t have a Facebook and that she and Devina never exchanged phone numbers, I’d think they were communicating. “You know something I don’t?”
“Just that…" Running her hand through her hair, she sighs, twisting on the stool to better face me, "If you wait too long, you might lose her forever.”
“I already have.”
CHAPTER FORTY
Lying in bed, I watch the minutes tick by on my laptop as the saddest songs YouTube has to offer play through the speakers when my phone goes off in quick succession. Pulling my still vibrating phone off the bedside table, I scan over Amy’s messages;
CROTCHSNIFFER: FWD: I, in no way, condone this kind of behavior from adults. With that being said, if my brother’s going to act like a child, then I see no reason to feel guilty treating him as such. This is where she can find him.
CROTCHSNIFFER: FWD: [ATTACHED ADDRESS]
CROTCHSNIFFER: FWD: His plans have changed, he’s no longer returning home before his flight. I’ve sent Caleb to collect her. The event has already started, if she leaves immediately, she might be able to catch him before he goes.
CROTCHSNIFFER: GET YOUR ASS READY- NOW!
CROTCHSNIFFER: NOW!
CROTCHSNIFFER: YOUR LACK OF REPLY BETTER BE BECAUSE YOU’RE GETTING READY!
ME: What the hell am I supposed to do? Show up, unannounced and force him to talk to me?
CROTCH SNIFFER: YES! That’s exactly what you do! Find his sister; she’ll help. GO!
Oh man, what the hell am I doing? Climbing out of bed, I hear the buzzer go off. Running through my apartment, I press the intercom, “Yes?”
“I’ve been sent to collect you.”
“Fuck, that was fast. Alright, I’m coming.” Granting him access into the building, I run back to my bedroom, hearing him tell me he’s sending the elevator up through the speaker.
Looking down, I cringe at my blue sweater and spandex shorts. Oh well. Scooping my boots off the floor, I rummage through my drawer for a pair of socks. Grabbing the first thing I see, I rush back out grabbing my keys off the counter as I pass.
This is by far the stupidest thing I’ve ever done. Padding down the hall, I enter the elevator in my bare feet.
ME: Jesus! How long ago did she text you? Caleb’s already here!
CROTCHSNIFFER: I was with a customer, I sent them the second I read them. Are you going?
ME: I’m in the elevator.
CROTCHSNIFFER: OMG! THIS IS SO ROMANTIC!! It’s like the perfect ending to your very own romance movie!
ME: IF he talks to me.
Shoving my foot into the first sock on, I groan. I grabbed a pair of black thigh highs from last year’s Halloween costume. This is already turning out to be a disaster.
The elevator opens, just as I’m pulling the zipper up on my boot.
“Miss Devina.” Caleb nods, walking in front of me to open the door.
“What the hell am I doing, Caleb?”
“You can figure that out in the car, this way.”
We walk down the street, finding the black car parked crooked against the sidewalk. Car horns sound as they have to pull into the other lane to pass it.
“Don’t worry about my door,” I tell him, grabbing the handle. “I got it.”
He goes without argument, both of us falling into the vehicle.
What the fuck am I doing?
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
We made the hour and a half drive in forty-five minutes thanks to Caleb’s speeding. Thanks to his knowledge of the event, I know that everyone will be outside, his family’s table is near the stage.
I still have no idea what the hell I’m going to do or what I’m going to say. I don’t know if he’ll give me the time of day, even having Joanna in my corner doesn’t help my nerves. It’s not her who I’m trying to convince.
“Good Luck.”
“Thanks, Caleb.”
Walking up the cloth walkway, I find myself horrified. Everyone is seated under extravagant white tents, dressed in tuxedos and ball gowns. This was the event we were supposed to be attending together, the night I met Joanna, I was fitted for one of these gowns, and here I am looking like a cheap hooker.
“I can’t do this,” I tell Caleb, rushing back to the car. “I look like a prostitute someone left in their limo. I can’t go out there like this.”
“You aren’t one of those women,” He nods in the direction of the event, “That’s what Mr. Devitt liked the most about you. You are unashamedly yourself. Don’t be afraid to shine, remember the sun doesn’t care if it blinds you.”
“Did you just make that up?” I asked, shocked by his little pep talk.
He shakes his head, with a smile, “My wife posted that on her Instagram this morning, it seemed fitting. Now, be brave.”
“What if he won’t talk to me?”
“He will.”
“But what if he doesn’t? Then I’ll end up embarrassing myself in front of all those people. I mean, have you seen how many people are here? There’s like a thousand of them.”
“And not one of them knows who you are. I can take you home, or you can do what you came here to do.”
“If your wife messed up, like really, really, really messed up and you thought she didn’t love you back, what would you do if she showed up here?”
“I would expect a grand gesture, something to prove she was worth my time.”
“Like what?”
“I couldn’t tell you; you’ll know what to do.”
I read books, I’ve lived vicariously through thousands of lives, surely I can think of something.
I nod my head, “I can figure it out.”
Nervously approaching the party, I’m stopped by a man in a tuxedo at a podium, “This is a closed event, ma’am.”
“I’m a guest.”
He eyes me incredulously, making his disappointment in my attire well know. “Name?”
“Devina Anderson, I’m attending with Logan Devitt.”
His gaze shoots to mine in shock before he rights himself. Searching a list his pen stops abruptly, leaning forward, I catch sight of my name.
“Do you have I.D?”
“Oh,” Crap. “No, I didn’t know I needed any. Mr. Devitt’s driver brought me; he can verify who I am if you need.”
“Were you informed this was a black tie event?”
“Joanna has my gown.” I feel my cheeks pink with the lie.
“Be sure to change immediately.”
“Thank you.” Slipping past him, I keep to the dimly lit areas, my eyes searching for a familiar face.
Making it all the way to the stage stairs, I still haven't caught sight of Logan or Joanna. Pulling out my phone, I send a quick text to Amy,
ME: I can’t find Logan or Joanna.
CROTCHSNIFFER: Where are you?
ME: Next to the stage.
CROTCHSNIFFER: So get on the stage.
ME: Not funny! I’m freaking out! I’m dressed like a slob and sticking out like a sore thumb.
CROTCHSNIFFER: I’m serious, Dee. Get up on the stage, he’ll see you.
ME: And run in the opposite direction from embarrassment.
CROTCHSNIFFER: Stop being a pussy. You’re whining and chickening out. Get your ass on that stage and give him one hell of an apology. We’ve all seen the end of this movie. You make this epic speech about how you love him, and he’ll sweep you off your feet.
ME: This isn’t a movie.
CROTCHSNIFFER: OM
G. JUST. DO. IT. It’ll work.
The next text is a GIF of Shia Labeouf.
I can do this.
I’m determined to do this; I can do this.
My feet fall on each step as I slowly climb up to the stage. He poured his heart out to me; I can do the same, I can do it, I can do it.
My ratty combat boots sink into the carpeted surface as if I weigh three times my weight. Lights blind me with their heated rays as I reach the podium.
The wood is warm under my hands, a speaker aimed at my face. I can do this. My gaze lifts and I watch as thousands of people start to notice me. I can do this. Just like in the movies, it’ll work, I can do this.
Raising to my full height, I look over the crowd hoping to meet his eyes, the lights beaming down on me throw a sheet of white haze making it hard to tell one face apart from another. No matter, I got this.
Leaning forward, I clear my throat into the microphone. This will work. This will be epic.
“Logan Devitt.” My voice rings out across the event, loud, clear, and oh, God, what have I done.
Everyone’s staring at me in my oversized sweater, thigh highs, and raggedy boots while they’re dressed like royalty in floor-length gowns and tuxedos.
The knot in my chest grows too heavy, falling to my stomach with a weighted splash causing bile to rise in my throat and panic to race through my veins. I don’t got this, not even a little bit.
“Um..your, uh, your car’s about to be towed.” I cringe at my pathetic attempt at a love speech, pulling away from the podium.
Just as I turn to quickly to run off the stage, I hear his smoky voice crack through the speakers surrounding me.
“What the hell are you wearing?”
I laugh, forcing myself not to cry. Blinking the tears back, I shield my eyes from the glare of the overhead light, trying to find him in the crowd, “I left my ‘Fuck the Haters’ hoodie at home, I had to improvise.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Where are you?” Silence falls as I look around, everyone sits staring at me. Through the thousands of faces I see, none belong to the one person I want to see the most, “Logan?” ‘
“To my understanding, this was a black-tie event; even Bill Cosby hung up the sweaters once in a while.”
“This wasn’t exactly-”
“You’re going to need to talk into the microphone if you want to be heard.” His voice interrupts.
My knees shake with nervous energy as I bring my face closer to the microphone, all while my eyes search for him, “I was saying this visit wasn’t exactly planned.”
“No kidding. Is there a reason you decided to crash my parent’s anniversary event?”
I cringe, “I’m very sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Devitt. I, uh, need to talk to your son.”
Oh, this isn’t like the movies at all. I can’t recall a single one where the heroine puked all over the stage from embarrassment.
“So talk.”
“I think it would be more respectful to your parents if we took this somewhere not so…” Dramatic? Awkward? Humiliating? “Public.”
“I don’t know about the crowd, but I’m quite enjoying this little show.”
A few chuckles interrupt the silence; it takes everything I have not to call them suck-ups. My heart is going to pound right out of my ears, and they’re all laughing.
“Please, can we like, not do this here?”
“What was your plan, Devina? You had to have some sort of intention when you marched up here, and I know it has nothing to do with my car. So, what is it?”
“I wanted to get your attention.”
“That’s it?”
Gnawing on my lip, I glance at the crowd hoping they’d lose interest. No such luck, we have everyone’s undivided attention. “I wanted to talk to you.”
“So talk, but make it quick. I’m sure your boyfriend will be expecting your return, and we have a party to resume.”
“You know, you’re a real asshole sometimes. If you would have picked up your phone, just once, you would have known I told Cole to leave minutes after you walked out.”
“If that’s all you have to say, I’ll get someone to call you a cab.”
Throwing my hands out in defeat, the tears I promised to swallow start to pour from my eyes, “You know what? If anyone should be up here apologizing, it’s you. You dumped everything on me at once and didn’t even give me a chance to talk. If you had just waited, you would have heard me tell him that I was in love with you. It’s you, Logan, it’s always been you, and I’m sorry that I didn’t see that before. You don’t have to love me back, but you can’t remove yourself completely from my life. It’s hard enough to lose your best friend, but losing the person you love at the same time is sure to kill me.”
Movement catches my eyes, through the screen of unshed tears I see him emerge from the shadows of the stage. He’s in a tuxedo looking every bit as beautiful as when he’s lounging in a pair of jeans or making coffee in his boxers.
"I’m stupid, and I’m selfish.” I tell him, “I know I don’t deserve anything from you, but I’m asking for it anyway because I love you, Logan.”
I hiccup, watching him come towards me. I can’t slow the stream of heartbreak as it cascades in rivers down my cheeks. Closing my eyes, I beg for this to be real, there’s a high probability that I’ve passed out from embarrassment, and this is all a hallucination.
The all too familiar sporty scent invades my senses as my face is lifted, I don’t have time to open my eyes before his lips crash into mine. His mouth is greedy, taking everything I came here to say and so much more.
My fingers clasp around his wrist, keeping him close while his thumbs brush the tears away. His lips molding against mine, he’s my triangle hole, and I fit perfectly.
“That was single-handedly the most awkward display of love I’ve ever seen.” He says pulling away, the corner of his mouth rising into a devastatingly sexy half smile, “But damn it all if it wasn’t the best thing I’ve ever heard.”
I smile through the tears that his thumbs continue to brush away. Squeezing his wrists tighter, I sniff back my emotion, “I love you, please don’t walk away again.”
“Sweetheart,” He smiles sadly, “I’ll never walk away from you again.”
“Promise?”
“Yeah, Duck. I promise.”
EPILOGUE:
“If any of you kiss my girl on the mouth, you’ll be shitting out teeth for the next week.”
“Oh come off it.” Joanna scolds at the same time Amy says, “You said that last year.”
I smile, watching him draw his tumbler of bourbon to his lips. He gives me a wink, the gold band on his finger reflecting the overhead light. We’re in the same club we came to for my twenty-eighth birthday when Logan and I were nothing more than friends. The first time we kissed, the first night we ever spent together, the night that our hearts decided to love each other and no one else.
“Happy Dirty Thirty!” Amy squeals, pulling me from my thoughts. Clinking her glass against mine, she kisses me square on the mouth.
“Hey now!” Logan protests with a smile, arms opened wide.
“I had her first you know.” She says, placing one manicured hand against her hip, “You’re lucky I let her marry you.”
“Like you had any say.” He teases, pulling away from the bar as people slap sloppy kisses against my cheek.
“It’s true. Plus, don’t forget you have me to thank for you guys meeting each other in the first place. I was the one who dragged her to that bar. And I was the one who got you guys back together.”
“Hey!” This time it’s Joanna protesting, taking the same offensive pose her brother just held. “I was the one who told her where he was, and I was the one who got Caleb to pick her up. If anyone deserves thanks, it’s me.”
Playfully rolling my eyes, I drape my arms loosely around Logan’s neck, careful not to spill my drink on him. “Happy Birthday, Duck.”
I smile broadly,
pulling his mouth to mine.
His kiss promises me years of happiness and love. It promises a happily ever after with the man of my dreams.
I have him; I have everything, and I know it.
My name is Devina Marshal, and I fell in love with the man who taught me the art of dating.
“What the hell?” I stare at the computer screen before twisting in my chair, jumping when I see Logan leaning against my office door in nothing but a pair of boxers, phone in hand. “What are you doing?”
“Adding.” He nods to my screen, “You’re still unbearably boring.”
Shoving his ribs, I laugh, “Shut up, go write your own book.”
“I can’t. My favorite story’s already been told.” He says, claiming my mouse.
I watch him scroll through my novel, stopping when he gets to the morning after my twenty-eighth birthday, “Here we go.”
Reading over the words, I notice they aren’t mine. “You added your perspective?” I gawk at him.
Nodding, he kisses my cheek, “Now you know.” He whispers.
“Know what?” My voice turns husky as his hand slides up my bare thigh, his face painfully close to mine.
“That I loved you first.”
PLAYLIST
Let me love you - ATC, Alex Goot, & KHS Cover
Dusk til Dawn - Zayn Ft. Sia
Come back home – Callum Scott
Eavesdrop - Civil Wars
Edited to-
Ruelle – On the other side
Ruelle- Monsters
AcknowledgementS
To my amazing sister, Nae Nae,
For your endless encouragement and willingness to talk with me through the story and allowing me to freak out when I thought I’d never make it to the deadline, and having faith that I would all along. Love you cuntface.
My wonderful husband, for helping me with final edits, sleeping on the couch so I could write and giving me the idea of calling someone every name BUT theirs. You’re an inspiration that continues to shine through these stories.