by Sky Corgan
“This isn't working.” Caleb stands and begins to pace. “I'm going to have to do some real pushing with you two. Find some way to get you to spend more time together until he's forced to notice you.”
“You're not making me feel any better.” I just want to disappear into the sofa.
“How you feel right now is irrelevant. If you want this to work, we're both going to have to put some major work in.”
“You mean I should be at the gym every time he is?”
“No. It's not going to happen at the gym.” He stops, facing the balcony window. He stares outside in thought. “I need to get you guys somewhere that he's forced to pay attention to you.”
“Where would that be?”
“I don't know, but I'll figure it out.”
I'm still not feeling very hopeful. From how Caleb tells it, nothing I do is going to make Peter notice me. Changing my appearance wasn't enough. I'm going to have to become a completely different person. I don't know if I'm capable of doing that. I don't know who I'm supposed to become.
“Have you eaten yet?” he asks.
“Huh?” I glance up at him, stirring from my defeating thoughts.
“I just finished making a pot of chili. It's more than I can eat on my own.” His gaze drifts to a pot on the stove. Now that he mentions it, I did smell the food when I came in. I was just so hyped up about talking about Peter that I didn't think much of it.
“I'm good,” I tell him, just wanting to go home and cry. My stomach says otherwise, though, gurgling angrily at me for having skipped lunch so that I might look skinnier at the gym today.
“If you're worried about calories, I make my chili with ground turkey. Gotta cut that body fat percentage.” He gives me a warm smile.
Ground turkey is really low calorie. I could probably eat a lot of his chili and not have to worry about gaining weight, especially since I've only eaten breakfast today.
“Come on. I know you're hungry.” He walks to the kitchen and pulls two bowls from one of the cabinets.
I don't bother arguing. While his words earlier were harsh, I know he's really trying. He could just give up at any time if he wanted to, and right now I think I would be inclined to forgive him anyway. In truth, outside of trying to get me with Peter, which is happening by my request, he's been nothing but nice to me. Thinking about it now, he's the nicest enemy a girl could have.
The days pass with sad, repetitive boringness. Peter continues to ignore my existence beside his having to deal with me at work, and my morale continues to gradually decrease. I've heard nothing from Caleb about any new plan. When I see him and Peter together at the gym, he doesn't even come up to talk to me. It's like I've been completely forgotten, and that stings more than it should.
For as much as I hate myself for thinking it, it does feel like Caleb had somehow managed to become a friend again. While I see Becky more than I do him, I've enjoyed talking to him more. I feel relaxed in his presence, even when we're goading one another. The thought that I've annoyed him to the point that I've scared him off...
Eh, it doesn't matter. He's just an asshole anyway. I should learn from the past—that I'm better off without him in my life.
Saturday rolls around, and I'm fully prepared for a night of sitting at home watching movies. I only ate salad all day so that I could splurge on a little bit of Ben & Jerry's tonight. I haven't had it in so long. It's a pretty good sign that I'm depressed. I always struggle with my eating when I'm depressed, but I have it way more under control than I used to.
I put on my PJ's and grab the pint from the freezer and a spoon. I lick my lips as I sit on the sofa and start the romantic comedy that will surely have me in tears by the end because I feel like I'll never have what these fictitious people do.
I'm about a third of the way through the movie when there's a knock on the door. My heart skips a beat as I think that it might be Caleb. It has to be Caleb. Who else would come visit me?
The fact that I'm getting so excited about seeing him is kind of disturbing, but he's really all that I've got right now.
I crawl off of the couch and go open the door, my pint of ice cream cradled in my arm. I know I look like crap, but I don't really care.
Caleb is leaning against the door frame looking back towards his apartment. When he sees me standing there, he rakes me up and down with his gaze before settling on my face. “Get dressed,” he says before pushing himself away from the door.
“Why?” My expression twists in confusion.
“Because we're going out.”
“We are?” I quirk my head back.
He shows his phone to me. Facebook is up. It takes me a moment to realize that I'm looking at Peter's profile. “He just posted that he's at a bar. It's one that we both frequent, so it wouldn't be weird if I showed up with you.”
The wheels in my head start turning, and my heart beats faster as I put everything together. “You think he'll still be there when we get there.”
“If you hurry up. Put on something sexy but not too sexy. I need to get changed, too.” He turns and heads back to his apartment, and I quickly close the door, tossing the ice cream back into the freezer and running to my closet.
“Sexy but not too sexy,” I repeat to myself as I quickly rummage through my clothes.
I wish I had more time to decide. Briefly, I think of wearing one of the outfits that Caleb picked out for me, but Peter has already seen them both, and they're more appropriate for work than a bar. Instead, I settle on a knee length navy blue dress with long sleeves and white trim. I know that Caleb will bitch that it's too big for me—I bought it when I was two sizes larger—but it's the shortest dress that I own right now, so that has to count for something.
I flat iron my hair and half-ass my makeup, focusing mainly on my eyes. Time is of the essence. If I dawdle around too much, I will miss this opportunity, and who knows when or if it will come around again.
Once I'm done getting ready, I head over to Caleb's apartment. He answers the door looking dapper in a gray and white striped shirt that stretches across his broad chest and a pair of dark wash jeans.
He appraises my outfit and scoffs.
“What?” I glare at him.
“Doesn't matter. We don't have time for you to change.” Caleb grabs me by the arm and starts leading me to the elevator. “Peter is known to bar hop. If we don't get there in time, we might miss him.”
We climb into Caleb's truck and head to the bar. It's a swanky establishment on the rich side of town. As soon as we pull off of the highway, I already know I don't belong. Still, I'm going to see this through. What choice do I have right now?
“He's still here,” Caleb tells me when we pull into the parking lot. I wonder if his heart was beating as fiercely as mine with worry that we'd be too late. Probably not. This probably doesn't mean much to him.
It takes a few minutes for me to spot Peter's car in the valet area. We take a parking spot with the rest of the commoners and crawl out of Caleb's truck to head to the entrance.
He flanks my side, leaning in to speak to me, “Whatever you do, don't act like you did at the gym the other day.”
“How am I supposed to act?” I glance up at him.
“You know what, just don't speak at all until you've had a drink or two.”
“What?” My mouth opens in disbelief. “I don't want to drink in front of him.”
“Why not?”
“Because I'll probably make a fool of myself.” I frown, thinking of everything that could go wrong.
“No worse than you would if you were sober.” He reaches the bouncer and pulls out his ID.
I want to make a retort, but Caleb slips into the bar before I have a chance. Asshole. I stew over his rudeness until we're both inside and I spot Peter sitting at the bar alone. It seems like such a weird thing to do...drinking alone, but who am I to judge.
“Hey! Fancy seeing you here.” Caleb walks up to him, every word flowing from him as smoothly as if this w
asn't planned at all.
Peter turns to him, looking a bit surprised to see us together. “Hey. What are you guys up to?”
Caleb thumbs back to me. “Willow is new in town, so I wanted to show her all of the good spots.”
“Well, this is definitely one of the good ones.” Peter smiles at us before gesturing for us to take the seats next to him.
I'm so fucking excited to be spending the afternoon with him that I think I might die from happiness overload. He looks about five years younger in a letterman jacket and jeans. I swear, every time I see him, I fall in love with him a little more.
Caleb orders a Jack and Coke, and I follow suit, though I still don't feel too comfortable with the idea of drinking around Peter. I suppose that as long as I keep my mouth shut, nothing stupid will come out, so that's exactly what I do. Besides, I'm supposed to be feigning disinterest. That's the goal for tonight, I believe. I don't really remember the plan, I'm so frazzled from everything that's gone on so far.
“So, how's the dating life been going lately?” Caleb asks Peter. “Have you settled down with a girlfriend finally?”
The fact that I'm on the other side of Caleb keeps me out of the conversation, but at least I get to listen in. It's a strange question to start with, and it makes the butterflies in my stomach pause, waiting to lose their wings from an unfavorable answer.
“No girlfriend.” Peter takes a sip of his drink. It's amber-colored, so probably bourbon and coke as well. “I haven't really met anyone who's caught my eye in a while.”
A painful reminder that I'm not even on his radar.
“Are you coming to baseball practice on Thursday?” Peter asks Caleb.
Caleb screws his face. “I'm not sure yet. I might have a client that day.”
Peter lunges from his chair to grab Caleb around the neck and ruffle his hair. “You're such a slacker.”
It's a playful side of him that I've never seen before, and it makes me smile to see them joking around.
Peter lets go of him, and Caleb turns on his bar stool, glancing over at me. “You know who else loves playing sports? Willow over here. We should all get together and play sometime.”
I know I must look like a deer in the headlights. What in the fuck is he doing? I absolutely hate sports. Like...loathe them. All of them. I've never been on a sports team in my entire life.
“Oh really?” Peter replies, though he doesn't seem very interested.
Terrified that he's going to start questioning me about what sports I play, I decide to excuse myself to the bathroom. There's no way I can fake a conversation about something I know nothing about. And there are few things that I know less about than sports.
Damn you, Caleb. You took a perfectly good night and completely fucked it up with that one little bit of 'help.'
7
Caleb
Thank God, Willow isn't acting like an airhead. So far, so good. If she just follows my lead, everything will go perfectly. Hopefully, she sees what I'm doing, trying to find an excuse for them to hang out more. Meeting at the bar tonight looks like a fluke. I need to more purposefully get them together, and this is the best way. If she starts engaging in an activity that he likes, at the very least, they'll form a friendship. Then, if she's lucky, maybe something else will happen from there.
“You and Miss Stroop seem pretty close,” Peter comments, breaking me away from my thoughts.
“Ah, yeah.” I glance back towards the bathroom. “We went to high school together.”
“Oh really?”
“Yeah. I haven't seen her in about four years. Man, has she ever changed.” I take a swig from my drink. The alcohol is refreshing after a long week of work. This is just what the doctor ordered.
“What do you mean?” Peter twirls his glass in his hands, his eyes fixed on the liquid inside. I can't help but wonder how much he's had already. He doesn't look drunk. He rarely ever does, being one who holds his alcohol well.
“Well, for one, she used to be really fat.” I feel almost bad for saying it, but I doubt that Willow will ever tell Peter about her past, even if they get close.
He glances at me with interest. “Really now? You'd never be able to tell. How fat?”
“Like really fat.” I gesture with my hands to show him.
Peter's eyes flit behind me, and a sickening feeling balls in my stomach as I realize that Willow is standing there. “Caleb was just telling me that you lost a lot of weight. I told him that I can't imagine you ever being that big. You look really healthy now.”
I can't even bear to turn around and look at her. I don't want to see the hurt on her face...or the loathing. Already, it feels like her laser beam eyes are burning a hole in the back of my head. I have no idea how I'm going to explain this away.
Peter's phone rings and he steps away from us to take the call. I keep my chair pointed in the direction of his, even though it's now vacant. If I can just ignore Willow until he returns. Please, return soon.
He does, but only to tell us he has to leave.
“We'll hang out later. Try to get free for baseball practice.” Peter points at me before turning to Willow with a polite smile. “It was nice seeing you again.”
Then he walks away.
The dread in my stomach doubles as I realize that I'm going to have to deal with Willow a lot sooner than I had hoped. I down the rest of my drink, desperately wanting to order another but knowing that Willow will want to go home now that Peter is gone.
It takes all of my bravery to face Willow. Turning my head feels forced as I worry about what I'm going to see. She's definitely either going to be glaring at me or scowling or sulking with depression. Hopefully, she doesn't feel so badly that she wants to try to commit suicide again.
What I see when my eyes finally land on her face is unexpected. Willow is grinning from ear to ear, staring in the direction of the door. It takes her a moment to realize I'm looking at her, but when she does, she hops and squeals. I'm completely confused.
“I think your plan is working.” She stomps her feet in excitement, and half of the bar turns to look at her.
I'm so shocked I can't even form a sentence. I just sit there with my mouth agape.
Her eyes flit from me to the door again. “He doesn't see me as fat. He said I look healthy. He also said it was nice to see me. I don't think he's ever said that before. Oh my God, this is going so well.” She turns to the bar, practically leaning over it to get the bartender's attention. “Shots! We need shots over here to celebrate.”
I huff in amusement, finally settling into the twisted reality that I somehow magically did something right by telling Peter about her weight. I was certain I was going to have to weather a shit storm from her overhearing that conversation. Maybe everything will be okay after all.
Willow finishes her drink, we take out shots, and I decide that it's time for us to leave. With Peter gone, there's really no point in hanging around at the bar, especially when it quickly becomes apparent that all of our conversations are going to be focused on Willow's fantasy of her eventual life together with Peter. A hardcore dreamer, that girl is.
Thankfully, the conversation dies down once we climb into my truck.
We're about halfway home when Willow finally speaks again. “Why don't you have a girlfriend?”
The question catches me off guard. “What?” I glance over at her.
“I mean, you're practically perfect. You're handsome and kind. Why don't you have a girlfriend?” she asks again.
I sigh, thinking about my last girlfriend. I met Taylor in college. She was...one of the most beautiful girls I had ever seen. We were both fitness majors. She was smart and funny and athletic and completely unobtainable.
I chased her for an entire semester before she finally agreed to go on a date with me. And when we did start dating, I fell hard and fast. So hard that it blinded me to her commitment issues.
Most of our relationship was spent with me chasing her and her trying to get away. It wa
sn't that she didn't care about me, she just wasn't ready for the type of relationship I wanted. I was certain that we were so compatible that we'd eventually get married. But the more time I wanted to spend with her, the less she wanted to spend with me. Compatibility didn't matter when there was so much left in the world for her to discover, and she didn't want to be tied down to a single person.
I think that a large part of the problem was that she had a lot of friends and she didn't know how to manage them all on top of having a relationship. I was only a priority in the beginning, but as the relationship progressed, I got pushed in with the rest of the crowd. We still acted like a couple when we were together, but I quickly realized that I wasn't as important to her as I needed to be to be happy.
When I spoke to her about it, it always caused conflict. She had one foot out the door at all times, and she was stubborn as hell when it came to compromising. I'd give her an ultimatum and then end up eating it an hour later when she told me she'd rather walk away from the relationship.
After struggling for three years to keep her by my side, I finally let her go, hoping that she would realize what she was missing and come back to me. She never did. I'm not sure if she ever even cried after we broke up, but I did. I fell into a deep depression that lasted for three months, my heart a shattered mess. I felt used up and manipulated, even though I know she never intended to make me feel that way.
The relationship left a bitter taste in my mouth and a hole in my heart. It shook my trust of people and rattled the foundation of what I think a relationship should be. That was five months ago, and I'm still not over it. Still not ready to put my heart on the line again. If I tried to get into a relationship right now, I would just be cruel and resentful towards whoever I was with because of the pain I'm still feeling inside because of Taylor. It wouldn't be fair to the new girl.
I look over at Willow and try to hide the aching in my heart behind a forced smile. “I'm just...taking a break from dating for a while.”