by Tia Siren
I ordered my drink and joined him in the chair that sat nearby.
“Have you changed your mind, yet?” he asked.
“I didn’t know I’d had a decision to make,” I replied.
“Do you want to go for another round?” he asked.
“Oh, that.”
I took a long sip of my coffee and tried to figure out a response.
“Chris, you’re an interesting man, but I can’t see myself with you.”
He tried to hide a downtrodden look with a smile. I caught a glimmer of sadness brush past his face.
“You’re not the kind of person I can just be ‘friends’ with,” he started, “you’re a great woman.”
I laughed.
“I didn’t even know we were friends already.”
He leaned back in his chair, returning to the cocky man that I’d started to know.
“I think we’re something better than that,” he said.
“Oh?”
“But, I think you’ll need to figure that one out,” he added.
He had his charms, and they were incredibly hard to deny. But, I didn’t really see a future with him. It was as though I was looking at a beautiful possibility that I knew wouldn’t last. He was too carefree; seeming to lack even a shred of dependability.
“I think we’re friends, Chris,” I said.
He looked disappointed as I said it. I barely even knew the guy, he just sort of fell into my lap; probably a little too literally.
“Well, would you like to at least go for a drive for a while? Maybe take your mind off school?” he said.
“I suppose,” I said, figuring I could use the distraction.
He pulled me out the door with him. I probably should have said no, I didn’t want to get his hopes up. But, I couldn’t help but say yes to such a simple request.
We drove for a while, talking about life and other random things that went along with it. I vented more than I thought I would, mostly about Brad. But, I think I spent more time trying to sum up my frustrations about graduation and my path in life.
I couldn’t tell if he was listening at times, but he always had something to add to the conversation. I started feeling a little guilty that I spent so much time rambling about my own problems.
“So, why did you call me out for coffee like this,” I asked.
“I’m nervous,” he replied.
“You, nervous? About what?” I asked, surprised.
“There were some talent scouts at the last game a couple of nights back. I heard they were watching me pretty intently. I worked my hardest, even running in a few plays on my own. Not to be a show-off, but I did want to give them a good show.”
“That’s great news!” I said.
“They’re supposed to be calling today. This could be my shot at going pro,” he said, his voice wavering just a tad.
I could see how much this meant for him; he wore it on his face as though it were a mask.
Then his phone started to ring. He calmly pulled the truck over and pulled it from his pocket. I only heard one side of the conversation. Mostly just ‘yeah’ and ‘uh huh’, but I could see the news wasn’t good.
His hands shook as he clicked off the conversation without a goodbye. Without a word, he returned to driving. I wanted to ask him what got him so worked up. He didn’t seem interested in talking.
“Do you want to talk about it,” I asked.
He slowed the truck down and pulled over to the side of the road. Once we stopped, he jerked the keys from the ignition and stepped out.
I followed along, hopping down to join him. We had stopped at what would normally be a sight to behold. But, while we both stared out at it, I was the only one enjoying it for the sights.
He hid his emotions as best he could, but it’s hard to hide depressing news.
“That was the coach. He got a call today,” Chris said.
“Yeah, what did they say,” I asked.
“The agents called, and they don’t like my attitude, whatever that means.”
“What did they say exactly,” I asked.
“They said I wasn’t a team player,” he replied, “among other things.”
“Well, maybe you can just work harder and working with your team, instead of trying to win all the games by yourself. You said it yourself; you don’t rely on them as much as you should.”
He sighed. It was a heavy, emotional sigh. I maneuvered in and gave him a hug. He looked at me, somehow wondering what I was doing, but accepting it all the same.
“Thanks,” he said.
“Don’t mention it,” I replied.
“Is this what you mean about having someone you can cozy up next to,” he asked.
I nodded.
“I wonder what else I’ve been missing,” he said.
We stood there, arms wrapped together, for what seemed like hours. I watched the clouds crawl overhead, and soaked in the autumn air.
It wasn’t until the sun began to creep over the horizon that we both planted ourselves back in the truck. Chris looked like he’d been drained, emotionally.
Once we were back in the truck, he started leaning towards me, begging for a kiss. I met his lips with my fingers.
“Don’t confuse a caring friend with a lover, Chris. Let’s just get back to town,” I said.
He let out another long sigh as he started the car. We pulled away and rumbled down the road in utter silence. Both of us were trapped inside our heads.
I wondered if I was handling everything the way I should be. I almost never thought of Brad while Chris and I were together, maybe that was a good thing. He was still a massive womanizer, though, and he hadn’t shown any sign of change in the slightest. I really didn’t want to get involved.
He dropped me off in front of my apartment again.
“Thanks for the ride,” I said.
“Lucy,” he said.
“What’s up,” I asked.
“Would you come to my next game, tomorrow night?” he requested.
“Or course, I’d be happy to cheer you on,” I said with a smile.
He smiled back at me as I shut the door. With that, he sped off down the road.
6.
“Something was left for you, Lucy,” Tiffany said.
At least, she was wearing pants, this time; I thought to myself.
She gestured towards a bundle of flowers that were laid out on the table. A card was tucked between a couple of them, which I promptly pulled free and examined.
‘To Lucy, in the hopes that she might be willing to forgive me. Love: Brad.”
They were quite nice; I always did have a thing for lilies.
I had spent so much time avoiding Brad, and I was finally starting to come to my senses. He did deserve a chance to explain himself. But, I had no intention to let him back into my life.
I grabbed my phone and dialed my old flame.
“Okay, Brad. Let’s meet up and talk. You deserve that much,” I said to him over the phone.
“You won’t regret this, Lucy. I’ll see you tomorrow night,” he said, hanging up the phone.
I paused after he ended the call. I forgot, during out small conversation, that I had already made plans for Friday night. I immediately called Brad back.
“Brad, I can’t do tomorrow night,” I said.
“Don’t you want to get together and hash this out, though? Wouldn’t sooner be better than later?”
“It would be, but I have plans for tomorrow night,” I said.
He scoffed over the phone.
“Then let’s get together in the early evening, you’ll still have your night free for your date, or whatever it is,” He replied.
“Fine,” I said.
I didn’t know what a terrible idea it was until I showed up the next evening. He wore his best clothes, and I had a feeling he thought this had the possibility of becoming a date.
I wore something simple but warm since I’d be at the game later. I wanted to be anywhere, but her
e, just the sight of his face was making my stomach churn.
“Hey Lucy,” he said.
I nodded my hello and sat down at the table. We had decided to meet at one of our old date night locations, which was a really bad idea. The nights we spent just sitting around drinking coffee, working on homework, and trying to avoid starvation; those memories all started flooding back, and I felt trapped.
“Can I start,” he said.
I nodded another yes.
“That girl didn’t mean anything to me,” he said.
“Then why were you sleeping with her,” I asked.
“I was having a moment of weakness. I’m only human, after all,” he said.
“Then as a human, you should learn to deal with the consequences,” I replied.
“Are you really going to play that ‘holier than thou’ card?” he asked, in a bit of rage.
“What are you trying to say, Brad,” I asked, calmly.
“You slept with that man-whore Chris the same night you ran off,” he said, “don’t say you didn’t. Do you know how that makes me feel? Watching the person, I love sleep with some guy that isn’t even interested in her at all?”
I laughed; it was almost unbearable to listen to.
“You really are something else,” I said, “you accuse me of sleeping around after you I catch you in the act. I’m amazed I stayed with you as long as I did. I even have a feeling that she wasn’t the first person you were sleeping with behind my back.”
He leaned over the table and stole a kiss. I went to push him away, but he pulled me in tightly. It took a second before I managed to pry his face off mine, and I knew then, and there this would be the last time I would see him.
I shot from my seat, narrowly avoiding his searching arms trying to get a hold of me again.
“Goodbye, Brad,” I said.
I started walking towards the exit but turned just before I did.
“I don’t regret it when I say that Chris is and always will be a better man than you because at least he knows what he is. He doesn’t slink around pretending to be something he isn’t.
“Don’t call me, because I won’t call you.”
I walked out of the restaurant, somehow feeling a sense of finality. It was the closure that I was lacking from our previous encounter. I wanted to go back in there and swear at him for another hour. I wanted to scream until my lungs belted fire. I wanted to do so many things that I knew would be bad for me. So, instead, I went to the game.
7.
Tiffany and I sat behind the team, just a few rows back. I hadn’t really gone to any sporting events this season. The games rarely held my interest for long.
Still, I wanted to cheer Chris on; he needed more cheerleaders in his corner. I knew what he was trying to achieve; he was just like me. He wanted to follow his dreams and become a pro player. I just wanted to find a dream to follow.
He turned back a few times during the game and made eye contact. His expression remained mostly jovial with his fellow players.
“He’s acting different,” Tiffany said.
“How so,” I asked.
“I haven’t seen him so talkative with his teammates. He’s usually a guy that keeps his head in the game until it’s over.”
She would know; she was probably one of his biggest fans.
“I wonder what’s gotten into him,” she asked.
Our team, led by Chris, crushed the other team. I cheered until I could barely speak.
The field started clearing out, Chris didn’t head to the lockers with the team. He waited on the bench, deep in thought.
I waited in the stands; Tiffany decided to head home for the night, and I told her I’d manage a way home myself, later. All that remained were a few staff members cleaning, me, and Chris.
I walked down to the field to join him, but he was pulled aside by the coach before I could catch up. I managed to just barely overhear their conversation.
“They were impressed tonight,” he said.
“Yeah? I thought I’d rely more on my team than try to win it by myself,” Chris replied.
“They’re still a little slow to decide, but they said that it looks promising. I’ll keep my ear to the ground for you,” the coach said.
“Thanks,” Chris said.
“Get out there and party, tonight. You earned this one,” the coach slapped him hard in the arm and walked off toward the locker room.
Chris snatched his helmet from the bench then looked over at me. He almost looked a little disgusted, but I couldn’t tell.
“Hey,” I said.
“Did you enjoy the game,” he asked.
“Yeah,” I said, “you looked really good, and it sounds like those scouts liked you a little better this week, too.”
“I’d be lying if I said I wasn't a little excited.”
I laughed and walked over to join him.
I wrapped my arms around him, giving him another big hug.
“Are you sure Brad won’t get jealous,” he asked.
“Why would Brad be jealous,” I questioned.
“I saw you guys at the restaurant earlier. I saw you guys making out.” Chris said.
I wanted to laugh but stifled it as best I could.
“Brad ambushed me with a kiss,” I said, “I wish I hadn’t even gone to meet up with him.”
“I was hoping that I’d get to talk to you before the game,” Chris said.
“What about,” I asked.
“I have started to see things in a much different light, since the other day. I’ve tried to do everything alone, and I had it handled until I met you.” He said.
“What are you trying to say,” I asked.
“I’m saying that my outlook has changed. I don’t want to sleep around with a bunch of girls; that part of me has died over the last week. I’ve had a lot of offers, believe me.”
I laughed at the idea of him turning down sex. He joined in and pulled me in for a hug.
“I want someone who’ll be there when I’m sad, someone who will cozy up with me and watch TV on a boring night. I think I just want someone I can go home to. And, I was hoping it would be you.”
I could feel tears begin to well up behind my eyes. He was baring his soul to me, and it was hard to deny him. I pressed my head to his chest and pulled him in tight.
“Would you like to go out on a date with me? It’ll be my first,” he asked.
I pulled myself away.
“Sure, but, this time, I get to take you to my favorite spot,” I replied.
He threw his arm around me and we walked off the field, together.
We had each other, and that was more than either of us needed.
*****
THE END
ROCKSTAR Romance – Bad Boy British Rockstar
There was a flash of light when Josh Bloodstone entered the room. It was the biggest gathering of journalists the hotel had ever seen. Josh stood at the door and raised his arms above his head. Flash after flash illuminated his face. He was surrounded by bodyguards and press officers from his record label.
''Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen,'' a man in a suit said. ''I'm Harry Jones from Brandy, Josh's label. Thank you for coming to the Hilton today. We are so proud of Josh and what he has done. He's the world's number one recording artist as we speak.'' More flashes, this time as Josh reached the stage. ''As you have been told you have half an hour to ask Josh what you want. Please refrain from asking anything about his personal life. Keep it about his music.''
The man stood aside, and Josh stood by the microphone. He looked strangely out of place in the luxury hotel. It was supposed to be a place where gray-suited business people met, not a place for a tattooed, pierced pop star.
''Right,'' Josh said. ''I ain't got all fucking day. So ask your filth.'' His manager, standing just off stage, cringed. No matter how he tried, he couldn't get Josh to stop swearing. Surely it couldn't be so hard to stop. But Harry Jones had been to Eton and Josh had been to some unmen
tionable state school in the back streets of Manchester.
''Josh, I'm Simon Hetherton from the Telegraph, can I....?''
''Wow even the posh bastards are here today. I must be doing something right.'' There was a chuckle in the room.
Simon continued. ''Josh, can I ask you what you think about what the Prime Minster said about you the other day?''
''You mean that tone deaf tosser who's fucking our country? He's a liar and a cheat, and he should be put in the Tower of London.''
''But what do you say to his specific words? In the House of Commons he called you the worst of British,'' Simon pressed.
''I'll tell you who the worst of British are. Those faggot politicians. They're bleeding us dry.'' Josh swept his hand through his bleached hair and adjusted one of the rings on his fingers. ''No, but seriously. I have sold over sixty million records, this year. Do you know how much tax I'm gonna pay? More than all those assholes put together, so don't give me no shit about being the worst of British.''
''Josh, I'm Richard Evans from the Rock and Roll Times....''
''You can fuck off straight away. You called me a prick in your article. What was it? Yes, that's right. The biggest prick on the planet. I'm not the biggest prick on the planet, I've got the biggest prick on the planet.'' People roared with laughter, and Richard Evans sat down defeated.
''Josh, I'm Jon Cookeridge from US Rolling Stone. Are you going to be touring the States soon?''
''At last, a proper fucking question. Yes, Jon we've got something in the planning. I think we'll be in the US in October and November. Is that right Tubby?'' Josh looked at Harry who nodded. ''Tubby will send you details Jon, okay?''
''Josh, it's Emma from the BBC....''
''Fuck me the BBC. I must be doing well. She's a bit of alright as well isn't she,'' Josh said pointing at Emma.
''Are you anti-women?'' Emma continued.
''Why do you ask that?''
''The way you talk about women, it seems disrespectful.''
''Oh does it, little Miss Perfect? Listen I love women, ain't nobody who loves more women that I do.'' The male members of the audience giggled. ''What would you girls do without me? You all wanna piece of me, admit it. Even Emma here. She's acting all prudish, but she wants it really. Look she's blushing, she really wants it.''