by Kat T. Masen
“I should probably go, my skin is so Alaskan that I’m worried I’ll prune into a ball of sunburn.”
“You could borrow my hat?”
I laugh. “I’ll pass. I may not be the next fashionista but that hat is awful.”
We all giggle, and with quick goodbyes, I make my way home.
Back at home, it didn’t take long for Joe, our resident drunk, to comment on my appearance or even Mrs. Jones from apartment 2B. She had a remedy for sunburn because her ex-husband was as pale as you could get them. I politely tell her that I may drop by later, slowly walking up the narrow stairwell towards our apartment. Even my bag on my shoulder begins to hurt.
As I turn the corner around the banister, I stand back in shock, staring at a body slumped against my door. The lighting is poor in the dark corridor and the closer I move, his face begins to take shape.
I take a deep breath, with fear and comfort.
“You’re here.”
I wasn’t sure how to react, we were just on the phone and he was there and I was here.
“Hello,” I croak.
He stands up, practically throwing himself at me and lifting me in his arms. Taking a step back, he’s quick to tell me he misses me, placing his lips onto mine. My mouth forces open, welcoming his familiar taste as he presses against me; hard and full of passion.
Pulling back, slightly, I look deeply into his eyes.
“I miss you too…” I smile, a little forced. “Liam.”
“Can we go in?”
I’m stuck in a daze, staring at him in complete shock. Though we just kissed, I’m without words—examining his profile and trying to allow this all to sink in.
He hasn’t changed much since I saw him over a month ago; hair grown slightly longer with drabby ends, yet still tied back away from his face. Most of the time he was dressed in overalls, so the white tee and jeans were new. I recall our conversation at the beach earlier, chuckling to myself at the sight of him dressed this way.
“Sorry, how rude of me.”
“Milly, wait…”
The palm of his hand grazes against my cheek, his lips meeting mine again, lingering with a soft suck of my bottom lip. Tearing away slowly, the angst builds up inside, my breathing hitched.
“C’mon, let me show you around mi casa.”
“Huh?”
“My place.” I chuckle, opening the door to Flynn sitting on the couch with some friends. It’s the first time I had seen these guys—possibly band members—lounging all over the apartment with bottles of beer emptied and sitting on the coffee table. Two of them had guitars in their arms, one singing a tune, and Flynn tapping his drumsticks against the table.
“Liam?” Flynn is equally surprised, standing up and grinning as he shakes Liam’s hand followed by that weird hug that men do. “Milly didn’t say you were coming into town.”
Liam grabs my hand, clutching it with pride. “Kinda surprised her. You know, when you miss your girl you just gotta do what you just gotta do.”
I’d never heard him refer to me as his girl, and I didn’t mind it. Both of them, in this room, felt like home. I could feel myself getting emotional; that homesick feeling that took over my life the first two weeks here—reappears.
The last two weeks were different though. I had been…distracted.
Flynn and Liam talk a little while longer, giving me the opportunity to slip into the bathroom and wash the sand off me. It required an outfit change; my choice nothing fancy. A coral-colored blouse that fell off my shoulders and some white shorts. Then, I realized how burned I was and that color did nothing to hide it. I ended up changing into something more subtle.
My hair—irritatingly long in this sticky heat—is whisked up into a bun and away from my face. I wore makeup most of the time but decided on some lip gloss since my face is bright pink and no amount of foundation could cover this.
Back in the living room, the boys are still chatting away. I motion silently for Liam to follow me to my room; a gesture he notices, quickly wrapping up the conversation. Luckily, Flynn is distracted by his bandmates, allowing us some privacy in my room.
“Nice digs you’ve got here.”
“Really?”
“Okay, no. It’s nothing like back home. It actually makes back home look like a palace. I think I interrupted a drug deal downstairs,” he tells me, worried.
“Oh Frank? Yeah, he likes to smoke weed.”
“Weed, huh?”
“Oh c’mon Liam, people do this kinda stuff back home. We were just oblivious to it. It’s more in your face here.” I sit down on the edge of my bed, gazing as he stands against my door. “So, you’re here.”
“I’m here.”
“But you hate flying.”
“You can’t really hate something you’ve never done. It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.”
“Well, you’re alive.” I smile, playing nervously with my bedspread. “That’s a start.”
“You’re burnt.”
“Really? I thought the tomato look was so in. I went to the beach today with Emerson and Charlie.”
“Charlie?”
“Emerson’s friend and lawyer. Remember, she was one of the women on the panel who interviewed me. Not the bitchy one.”
“Oh,” he breathes, almost a sigh of relief. “Charlie is a woman.”
I laugh, scrunching my face. “Yes, she is. Would it have been different if she wasn’t?”
He shuffles his feet uncomfortably. “I’m starving.”
“Me too. There’s this awesome Chinese restaurant around the corner. They make the fortune cookies themselves and I swear they print them out while they watch your every move.”
“Sound like a plan, but first…” He shuffles closer to me, standing in front, lowering his face so our noses touch. “Just one more kiss.”
I pull his shirt, bridging the gap between us. I missed his scent. The way his skin smelled like man sweat. How warm his lips felt against mine, and how my senses are heightened as he explores my body, hands moving into my blouse and against my breast.
In a desperate attempt to ignore this niggly feeling I couldn’t quite pinpoint, I clasp my hand on his belt buckle and welcome a quick ‘hello’ before heading out to dinner.
“Milly!” Flynn bangs loudly on the door, calling my name. “You wanna head out for something to eat?”
It was enough to kill the moment, the two of us pulling away with gentle laughs. I quickly fix my blouse as Liam adjusts his pants.
“Let’s go before he goes on a hunger rampage.”
We head into the living room, engaging in small chitchat with the band and inviting them out. They were keen, laughing like boys as we head out into the foyer in a group. I grab the keys and my cell off the table, following the boys outside. The second my foot is out the door, my body stops abruptly when my eyes meet Wesley’s.
Fuck.
I wasn’t one to be so vulgar with my vocabulary but this is definitely a fuck moment. I couldn’t breathe. My chest is so tight. I’m pretty certain it was going to cut off my airway and kill me right now.
He’s standing against the banister, arms folded, staring at me with savage eyes. The bandmates continue to make noise down the stairwell as Flynn hollers something crude before yelling my name.
“C’mon Mills, I’m fucking starving,” Flynn yells, bounding down the stairs, quickly looking at Wesley with confusion.
“Um, hold on. I’ll follow you there.”
Liam is waiting for me, watching the two of us back and forth. I wasn’t sure what to say. Okay, more like what the hell is happening?!
“Wesley, nice to see you.” My expression is professional, smile intact with a polite greeting.
“This is Liam. We’re all heading out to dinner. Everyone’s starving so I suggested the Chinese place around the corner. I tell you what, their Peking duck is mouthwatering…”
My nervous ramble slows down as Wesley’s expression doesn’t change, paralyzed with an
ger. He hasn’t moved an inch, nor said a word, standing eerily still in his designer ripped jeans, black tee and Adidas sneakers. I hated that he looked so hot.
Liam extends his hand, waiting patiently for Wesley, who shakes it moments later. “So, you’re a friend of Milly’s.”
“If you say so.”
“Okay, so we better head off…unless you want to join us?”
Wesley smirks, dismissing Liam’s respectful tone. “Sure, why not.”
It was the most awkward five-minute walk around the block. I spent most of the time staring at the pavement, occasionally engaging in idle chitchat and the moment I saw the place, I breathed a huge sigh of relief, slipping into the table and sitting beside Flynn. Then, I realized it meant Wesley and Liam would have to sit next to each other.
With much reluctance, I swap seats so that Liam is next to Flynn.
After a quick introduction between Flynn, the bandmates, and Wesley, we order food and throw ourselves into random conversations. Liam and Flynn talk about music and life back home while Wesley just sits in silence.
I lean forward, playing with my serviette and whispering into the dessert menu that I had purposely raised to cover my face. “You didn’t say you’d be back.”
“It’s amazing what you can come back to without warning.”
“Wesley,” I continue with a low voice, “let me explain, later.”
Mrs. Ling brings out the dishes; sizzling with steam coming off the plates. There’s the famous duck, egg rolls, classic orange chicken and something that looked rather questionable.
We each serve ourselves before Liam decides to open the conversation.
“How do you know each other?”
I’m quick to jump in, praying that Wesley doesn’t say anything about our encounters. “Work. Wesley and Emerson run a business so we only hang out for business stuff.”
The lie travels nicely, and dissolves into my talk about Emerson’s new line until Wesley opens his mouth.
“I wouldn’t say just business,” he mutters with a trace of sarcasm.
“Hey, now I know where I’ve seen you from. You played guitar with Hanlon Marx.” Flynn is oblivious to the back-and-forth tension going on, mouthful of duck and pointing his fork at Wesley.
“You play guitar?” I ask rather loudly. “How did I not know that?”
“I thought you said you only discuss business,” Liam voices with a jealous bite.
I backtrack through my words, anxiety building from this awkward meal setting. “Yes, Wesley is just in the media a fair bit and I read an article on Emerson and um…”
“Emerson and I were engaged,” Wesley adds with too much enjoyment. “A great woman.”
Wait…Emerson is a great woman. Yes she was but what the hell was that? I feel my blood begin to boil, a raging fire threatening to burn any of my sensibility.
“Engaged to Emerson. Your boss, Emerson?” Liam asks, confused.
“They were engaged but Wesley screwed up and now they’re not.” I dig into my chicken, trying to control my anger. “So, what did you need tonight anyway? We signed the contracts and there was nothing left to do.”
“Milana, you sound agitated. Did I say or do something?”
I turn to face him, composing my jealousy as he gazes back with an irritating grin.
“So Liam, are you Milana’s boyfriend?”
“Yes,” Liam answers, placing his arm around my chair, the same time I say ‘no.’ Liam diverts his attention to me. Shit, I didn’t know what overcame me. The panic. Blame the panic.
“Well, which one is it?” Wesley questions, leaning back and watching the two of us.
“We dated, back at home. Liam surprised me today. It seems it was the day of surprises.”
“You guys have been together forever, you’re practically married,” Flynn blurts out, again, oblivious to the sound of Wesley’s teeth practically grinding from rage. “So Liam, you moving out here?”
“Not my kinda place.”
“So, what is your kinda place? Hay, barn, cows greeting you in the morning while you milk them?” Wesley mocks, much to mine and Liam’s annoyance.
“Just don’t like this plastic lifestyle. Money-hungry creeps.”
“Money-hungry creeps?” Wesley laughs, arrogantly. “Driven, smart people—making a living.”
Liam throws his napkin onto the table. “Yeah, that and dumbass actors.”
“Okay, stop, the both of you. Who wants fortune cookies?” I wave Mrs. Ling over with desperation. She carries over a tray of cookies and the moment the tray is in front of me, my grabby hands crack one open hoping for a miracle.
Choose wisely. Your happiness depends on it.
I look over at Mrs. Ling. She purposely turns away, dusting a shelf and ignoring the fact that she had slipped that into mine. You don’t tamper with fortune, Mrs. Ling! I yell, internally.
“Let’s get outta here. Where you staying, man?” Flynn asks Liam.
“This place…not far from here.”
“Why don’t you just crash at our place?”
“Sure. Is that okay, Milly?”
This is getting worse by the second. There is rock, a pile of shit—then me. Why did Flynn have to suggest that in front of Wesley? How could my brother be that stupid?
“Um, I guess it’s fine. I mean, yes. Don’t waste money staying somewhere. I need to get some fresh air. Are we done?”
I don’t even wait for a response, exiting the restaurant, desperate to breathe and release my tight chest. I begin walking, my name being called but everything a blur while I walk as if on auto-pilot.
“Milly.” A tight grip holds me back. Liam forcefully holding on—determined to get an answer. “Who is he?”
“What?” I answer, distracted by a homeless man lying on the pavement.
“Wesley,” he says in a harsh tone, gritting his teeth. “Did you sleep with him?”
“No,” I defend myself, trying to explain without hurting him. “Liam, it’s not like that.”
“Fuck, Milly!” he yells, letting me go. His hands tuck into his jean pockets, and with anger fueled by jealousy, he paces back and forth with a heavy stomp. “I’m not fucking stupid! You barely call me anymore and when we talk, you’re distant. You’ve changed.”
“Of course I’m distant. It’s difficult for me to be here.”
“You’ve been here for just over a month! It doesn’t seem difficult. You’ve managed to make friends, even male ones. Just tell me, are we over?”
“Liam, we agreed when I came out here that our relationship would just see where it took us. No commitments.”
“So that’s how you justify fucking him?”
Liam accusing me of sleeping with Wesley awakened a beast inside of me. I didn’t betray him, at least, our time apart was agreed upon. He had no clue how lonely I was. No compassion when it came to me being away from Mom. His answer was to get married, pay for what I needed and keep me holed up in his parents’ basement.
I didn’t want that life.
And I didn’t want to continue holding onto something that didn’t feel right.
I loved him, but it wasn’t enough.
“I’m not fucking him!” I yell back, lowering my voice when a woman turns around. “Stop doing this. Stop putting pressure on me. You don’t know what it’s like to be alone. To be responsible for my brother who spends his time out doing god knows what. To have family and friends back home and be so alone. I miss it so much it hurts. So just stop—”
“I’m going.”
“Liam, please, I’m sorry.” My remorse kicks in—delayed, yet gut-wrenching at the same time. “Where are you going?”
“I shouldn’t have come. Tell Flynn I said bye. Good luck Milly.” Liam glances at me one more time, the skin around his eyes bunching up in a pained stare. “You want a bad boy. You’ve found your contender. Just don’t think that I’ll be waiting and ready to save you. Been there, done that.”
He finally walks away, leav
ing me alone on the street. I am at a loss of what to do. Begging the universe for some sort of sign. Do I run after him, tell him I’m sorry and try to mend what I so foolishly broke?
Or did the universe play its part—align the stars so Wesley and Liam would be at the same place, same time, forcing me to choose a hand?
Maybe Mrs. Ling was right.
I let him go, though it pains me. Forcing the bittersweet memories to fade away—if only for just this moment—and continue my journey, my purpose here, with one less person in my wings.
Flynn and Wesley are nowhere to be seen, so I head back to the apartment, flinging myself onto my bed. It starts with one silent tear, falling down my cheek as the salty liquid settles on my lips. But one tear becomes a stream. A constant flow of sadness for letting go of a man that did nothing wrong. He was your textbook prince charming.
But this just wasn’t the right time.
I fall asleep from the exhaustion, waking up in the dark to the sound of a car backfiring. It startles me, my heart pounding from the loud sound. I’m awake, at some god-awful hour, wishing the morning would come until the sound of heavy breathing distracts me.
My eyes open slowly—strained. Wesley is sitting on the armchair near the window. I pull myself up, rubbing my tired eyes. The same time it all comes back to me: the restaurant, Wesley and Liam’s arguing, the breakup afterwards.
“What are you doing here?” I croak.
“I think we need to talk,” he growls, abandoning the chair and standing over me beside the bed.
“I leave for two minutes and you’re here with another guy who happens to be your boyfriend?”
His anger morphs into a jealous rage; his fist meeting the wall with a ferocious punch. I leap off the bed, shocked at his sudden outburst. A minute ago he was staring at me, calm and eerily silent. Now I had a dent in the wall that my landlord will crucify me over.
“What did you do that for?” My high-pitched voice does nothing to hide my panic. “Do you know how much that will cost me! Of course not, you would have no concept of what it’s like to have nothing and work hard for every cent you own.”