Love Wasted

by Shirl Rickman

  My answer needs to be calculated because she’s looking for a weak point in my apparently vague description of my night. Do I tell her I almost kissed Cass? Do I tell her it was different this time? That is wasn’t just to patronize and annoy her but something else I’m not willing to evaluate?

  “Really?” Nope, that’s not gonna do it. She’s going to destroy me with a response like that. “I—”

  “Jesus, Pax, what did you do? No wait, don’t tell me.” She doesn’t sound particularly happy to be talking to me.

  “Lane, I—” I begin to say, but again she interrupts me.

  Releasing a long sigh, she says, “What is going on? Don’t fuck up. This is Cass. I don’t think I need to say more to you. This. Is. Cass. And that’s all I’m going to say on the subject.”

  “I know.” It’s the only thing I can think of to say. She doesn’t want me to say more anyway.

  I can hear the unwilling smile on her face through her voice. “Yeah, I know you do, I just hope that’s enough.” We don’t speak for a moment then she finally says, “Bye Pax. Love you.”

  “I love you too.”

  I let her hang up first. Her call didn’t help; it only made the situation worse because everything I feel is at war. I need to get out of here. I need time to prepare for the battle.

  Walking to my door, I peer out and see no sign of Cass—she must have finally given up. I quickly sneak through the living room and out the door. Avoidance is always best until you can find a way to deal, and I have no idea how I’m going to deal with this.

  When I make it down to the street, I release a breath I’ve been holding for what seems like hours.

  I walk on the sidewalk, trying to decide the best way to sneak in and out until I know what to do or until I’m over it. It shouldn’t take too long. Maybe a way to get over it is a night out with Matt. It’s midafternoon, but there’s no reason we can’t start early.

  Pulling my phone from my pocket, I pull up Matt’s number and tap it. “Dude, are you up for a little day drinking and some food?” Food sounds good. Drinking sounds great. Thinking doesn’t seem like a very good idea at all. “Yep, meet you at the same bar as last night in twenty.”

  Hanging up the phone, I realize this is the only way I’m going to stop thinking. Thinking right now is dangerous, so I’m not going to do it. Instead, I’m going to drown the thoughts of Cass and me away, even if I regret it tomorrow.

  Present

  It’s been nearly two weeks since the almost kiss at midnight, the moment between Pax and me that, for once, wasn’t a patronizing moment to get under my skin. It wasn’t about control. It was something else, and I stopped him because it scared me—but what if I was wrong? What if it was nothing?

  Since that night, we haven’t spoken more than a few hellos. He’s almost always gone when I wake in the morning and never comes home before I go to bed. So, when I walk in the door just after five o’clock to find him sitting at the table with his laptop, it’s a surprise.

  I walk farther into the room and I stop, staring at him. Unease fills my chest.

  When he looks up, he has a smile on his face that I haven’t seen in a while. “Hey, Cass, how was your day?” His voice sounds so calm, and the question is so normal. It doesn’t at all sound like a question a person giving someone the silent treatment would ask.

  Tilting my head to the side, I try to figure out his game. “Uh, good. And yours?”

  “Pretty good. I got a lot of work done today, so that’s always a good thing.” Pax sounds nonchalant, normal, like he doesn’t have a care in the world, like we haven’t avoided each other for the last two weeks.

  He keeps doing whatever he was doing when I walked in, as if I’m not in the room staring at him, watching him with an intense curiosity, waiting for more. He doesn’t even look up.

  I can’t hold back any longer. “Are we really going to do this?” I’m not going to pretend everything is fine between us. I’ve done that for years, and I’m not going to back down this time.

  Dropping his pen, Pax keeps his head down and doesn’t say a word. I wait, and still nothing.

  “Dammit, Paxton, look at me. Talk to me,” I demand, yet he still doesn’t move. It’s like he’s frozen in place, not even breathing. Dropping my things to the floor, I stomp over to where he’s sitting and slam my hand down on the table. “Don’t do this!”

  Abruptly, he pushes the chair back, his eyes flashing to mine. I take a startled step backward. His gaze is hard. He has a look in his eyes I’ve never seen directed at me—at others maybe, but never me. He’s angry, and he’s fighting for control.

  “I’m not doing anything,” he growls. “You made it clear you don’t want anything from me, so dammit, don’t you dare act like this is about me.” It’s not only his eyes that have a hardness to them; his voice is sharp too. Gone is the friendly greeting from a moment ago, replaced by frustration.

  He’s not about to turn this on me; I’m not going to let him. I didn’t start this, he did, and I deserve to know why.

  “I did not start this, Paxton Luke, you did, and I deserve more than the silent treatment for two weeks only to come home to you acting as if we’ve been warm and chummy.” I take a step toward him instinctively.

  He laughs. He actually fucking laughs.

  “Who says chummy?” He laughs even harder. It’s like a game. Everything is always a game between us.

  “Dammit, stop trying to avoid this conversation. Admit it, you’ve been avoiding me since New Year’s Eve.” I take another step in his direction, leaving less space between us.

  “Fine, maybe I have been, but I’m not now,” he admits, still with a hardness to his voice, a lack of emotion.

  Shaking my head, I think about laughing, but I really don’t feel like it. “Well, that’s nice for you, but I want to talk. I want us to talk about that night. I want to explain.” I keep my voice calm even though I feel like I’m about to fall off the edge of a cliff.

  The hardness shows a little of itself in his eyes again. “What is there to talk about? I think you made it pretty clear how you felt that night, and I’m just trying to remember that you’re Cass, my sister’s best friend. Cassandra Porter, the girl next door—the girl whose parents are best friends with mine, the Cass I spent my entire youth trying to protect, the Cass who was at every holiday or vacation for most of my life, because all that means something. I’m trying to remember everything I should so I can forget the one thing I shouldn’t think, the one thing that means nothing.” He sounds like he’s out of breath when he steps toward me. We’re now toe to toe, and I realize I’m breathing hard too.

  The last words to leave his mouth are my breaking point, and that old hatred washes over me like a tidal wave. It’s so unexpected, although it’s happened to me before, on another day, in what feels like another lifetime. “Don’t you dare say that!” I shout, and without thinking, I put my hands on his chest and try to shove him with all the anger and hurt inside of me. He’s too fast, too strong, and he grabs both of my wrists, holding them against his chest. I try fighting him for my freedom, but he doesn’t let go. He just holds them.

  Then we’re back there all over again, back to when the countdown started, and we’re holding each other in an intense gaze, a war between desire and fear. His head lowers, and I go up on my tiptoes. Our mouths touch lightly and we don’t move; we only press our lips together in tenderness. Just when we both decide to relinquish a little control, the doorbell rings. We freeze, our bodies still united by the brief connection of our lips. The air that was once heavy around us begins to dissipate with every chime of the bell.

  Then we hear his voice—the person who isn’t really between us, but is there still.

  Pax lets go of my arms and takes a step back. The hurt and anger have returned. The doorbell rings again. “I think you better get that.” He grimaces, then adds, “Never mind, I’m on my way out, so I’ll be more than happy to let him in.”

  “Paxton, I
…”

  He grabs his coat and shakes his head. “No, Cass.”

  I don’t move as I watch him walk away from me, open the door, and greet a surprised Richard, “Hey Dick, she’s all yours.” Paxton’s voice is full of tension. I hear it, and it’s like a knife to the heart.

  I stare at him until the door is closed and Richard is left staring at me with a confused look on his face.

  “What the hell was that all about?” Richard begins walking toward me. I shake my head a little and place a small smile on my face.

  “Oh, he was annoyed at me because I…I yelled at him for forgetting to pick up more coffee and creamer. You know how I need my coffee in the morning. Anyway, I overreacted a little and was a bitch about it,” I lie. Changing the subject, I ask, “What are you doing here?”

  Shrugging, Richard gives me a hug and I hug him back, my mind still on Paxton. “I thought I’d stop by and see if you wanted to have dinner.”

  “Oh, umm, sure—sure, just let me get changed. I only just walked in the door a few minutes ago.” I don’t wait for a response, I just leave him in the living room while I go change my clothes.

  When I close the door to my room behind me, I lean up against it, sliding to the floor with my hands over my heart. I’m afraid if I let go, all the hurt and sadness will pour out until my heart is broken beyond repair.

  Present

  I know this key goes into that teeny tiny hole, I just can’t seem to get it to hold still. I grunt and groan with my tongue out, doing my best to concentrate. After who knows how long, I get the key into the door and open it, stumbling in.

  Straightening up, I pull the key out and push the door shut.

  It closes with a loud thud. “Ssssssh.” I place my finger over my mouth, shushing the door so we don’t wake Cass up. Surprisingly, I don’t find this strange at all. Turning ungracefully, I make my way into the kitchen. Good lord, I’m starving. Surely there’s something in here I can eat.

  When I called Matt up to go out, he was only mildly concerned that I’ve asked him to meet for drinks three times in the last two weeks. It’s just that there are too many questions I’m not sure I can answer, and I find becoming numb is the best solution at this point. It’s not usually my thing because I never want to lose my inhibitions. Everyone knows I don’t like being out of control. It just seems like the only thing I can control lately is whether I drink and numb my mind or not, and I choose the mind-numbing action any time things get too hard.

  Matt told me I could stay with him when I vaguely referred to the fact that Cass and I aren’t getting along very well. He basically told me he isn’t surprised, and I declined to say I didn’t want to let her win. He just rolled his eyes and left the offer on the table.

  I don’t want to stay with Matt. I want to stay where I am and make it work until she moves back into her apartment.

  With my head in the fridge, I begin pulling things out to examine then decide leftover pizza is the best option.

  When I turn around with a slice of pizza sticking out of my mouth and a bottle of water in hand, I find Cass standing in the doorway of the kitchen, hands on her hips, looking a little peeved.

  “Why are you up so late?” My voice is muffled by the pizza hanging from my mouth. “Want some pizza?” I grin as my eyes move up her long, lean legs to her tiny heather gray sleep shorts, and they don’t stop there when I realize she’s wearing a matching, body-hugging tank top. Her boobs…I remember what those perfectly round globes look like without anything covering them and I instantly get hard. Drunk and hard are never a good combination.

  She doesn’t look amused at all. In fact, she looks like she might chop my head off at any moment. “What in the hell, Pax? Are you drunk?”

  “Maybe. What’s it to you?” Sarcasm drips from each word.

  “Don’t be an ass.” Her voice sounds like music even when she’s annoyed, and I try to ignore what it makes me feel.

  “I wouldn’t dream of it.” I take another bite of my pizza slice. With a full mouth, I shoo her away. “Go back to bed and leave me alone.”

  “You are drunk, and you’re definitely acting like a dick.” She is pissed now.

  Her words only make me feel worse, which in turn makes me act like an even bigger asshole.

  “Fine, I’m an asshole, and you’re Miss Perfect.” My voice is condescending. Stumbling past Cass, I walk into the living room. “I’ll go to bed so you’ll stop haunting me.”

  She follows behind me. “You mean hounding you?”

  I shake my head side to side. Man, my head is heavy. “Nope, I mean haunting me. You’re my Cass—no, not my Cass, Dick’s Cass, Laney’s Cass, everyone else’s Cass but mine. You just can’t leave me alone. It’s annoying as shit because I don’t want you.” I hiccup. Great. I hate fucking hiccups. Pointing at her, I slur, “I. Don’t. Want. You.”

  “You’re an asshole.” I can hear the hurt in her tone, but I don’t allow myself to feel it. “Sleep it off, Pax.”

  I salute her then turn for my room and stagger through my doorway before falling on the bed. I turn over on my back, thankful there’s no spinning.

  Without thinking, I call Laney. Let’s be real, I haven’t thought about one thing I’ve said or done within the last twenty minutes, probably longer. I haven’t thought clearly since I walked into this fucking apartment and that goddamn party two months ago, so why start now?

  “Laney…Laney, it’s me, Paxton Luke.” I start laughing because I just said my full name to my own sister. My sister knows my name, so I didn’t need to say it. I laugh some more. When I get myself together, I continue to leave a message. “I didn’t remember, Laney. I’m not sure why or how, but I stopped remembering who I am, who she is. I just forgot. I think I’ve messed up. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to take back wanting to kiss her, and-and I mean kiss her for real. I didn’t mean the mistletoe kiss ten years ago. Nope, it’s nothing like that. I don’t know what its like, but I know you’re going to be mad because I forgot. I forgot she’s your best friend. I forgot she’s Cass Porter, the next-door neighbor. I forgot.”

  The voicemail beeps, indicating it’s ending the recording. I lay the phone down and close my eyes.

  “I forgot,” I say out loud to no one in particular.

  My phone suddenly rings, so I tap the screen to answer it.

  “Helllllo,” I say into the phone.

  “Pax, is everything all right?” Laney’s worried voice echoes through the phone. “I accidentally erased your message before I could listen to it.”

  “Laney! I forgot, Laney,” I shout into the phone.

  “Pax, are you drunk?” Her voice loses the worried sound, and now she just sounds amused.

  “Maybe. Why does everyone keep asking me that?” I turn to my side and everything spins. “Whoa.” I quickly return to lying on my back.

  She laughs. “Don’t you have someone better to drunk dial than your little sister—who, by the way, happens to be in a time zone where it’s currently three in the morning. I think you better go to sleep. Night, Pax. From now on, only call me when you’re sober and after stupid o’clock in the morning when people are actually awake.” She hangs up.

  I drop the phone beside me.

  When I close my eyes, I’m thankful for the alcohol flowing through my system and its powers to erase Cass from my mind, even if it’s only for a little while.

  Present

  I spent most of today trying to get yesterday out of my mind. I tried working on my manuscript, but I couldn’t keep my eyes open because I slept like shit. Eventually, I took a nap, because I couldn’t seem to concentrate on what I needed to, let alone stay awake. Paxton was the only thing on my mind. Even as I move around the kitchen, he’s all I can think about.

  He was gone before I even got up this morning, so I guess we’re going back to avoiding one another. Maybe it’s easier. This way I can figure out what I’m feeling about my life…Richard…him. It’s always frustrating because I don’
t have time for any of this with work piling up.

  The timer on the oven sounds, so I bend over and pull the lasagna out then set it on the hot pad laid out on the marble countertop. The smell of melting cheese and oregano fills the air, and my stomach growls in approval and hunger.

  “That smells amazing,” a voice compliments from behind me.

  When I whip around, Paxton is standing in the doorway, leaning against the doorjamb. His arms are across his chest, a sheepish grin on his face.

  “Thank you,” I respond, unsure if it’s safe to speak after our encounter last night—not to mention, I find myself reluctant to be friendly when he’s been such a jackass to me.

  He unfolds his arm and steps farther into the kitchen. “Look, Cass, I’m really sorry, about yesterday and last night and New Year’s and every other time I’ve been an ass.” He smiles, and my heart opens a little. “I can’t explain why I’ve been acting the way I have, the hot and cold, the mixed signals, whatever. Let’s just forget about all that and go back to our first night here in the apartment together when we were actually getting along. Can we do that?”

  It’s my turn to cross my arms over my chest. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t hurt a little that he wants to forget because…well, just because. I guess I can put it behind me—I’ve spent years burying feelings for Paxton Luke, so why should doing it now be any different? Rolling my eyes, I jab, “You’re giving me whiplash.”

  He laughs as I turn and pull a couple of plates down. I dish out a helping for each of us.

  “Did I mention this smells delicious?” He’s grinning when I look over at him.

  “You don’t get to do that,” I say, exasperated by his expectation that I’ll forgive him so easily.

  He takes a step closer, and he smells of a woodsy sort of freshness, clean. My heart speeds up a little.

  “I don’t get to do what?” he asks sincerely.