by Tess Harper
Yeah, pretty sure the neighbors hate us.
I stumbled into the bathroom and turned the shower. I closed my eyes and tried to recall more of last night, but all I could remember was my dream. And, as was so often the case, he was in it.
I tipped up my head. The water was so hot it almost burned my face. I didn’t move, though. I let it run over my scalp, cheeks and neck, trying to purify my thoughts and wash away his face in my mind.
It didn’t work.
I didn’t understand how so much could change in one weekend, or how one night could mean so much. In my world, love took time. Nathan and I had been friends before we were lovers. When we first started dating it was awkward, but at the same time comfortable, because I was with someone I loved so deeply and who loved me back just as much.
It wasn’t like that with Jack.
I didn’t know anything about him, except that he was intense and assertive and dangerously attractive. He was used to getting what he wanted. And even though I ran away, a part of him remained with me. I closed my eyes and I saw him, looking at me with devastating honesty and intimacy, begging me to stay.
Maybe, like Sophie said, it was just because I hadn’t had that many relationships. I mean, before Nathan, I’d never been with anyone seriously.
I felt guilty for leaving Jack, sure, but guilt wasn’t what pulled me towards him. And even if a part of me longed for that wealthy, perfect world, it wasn’t like I needed obscene amounts of riches to be happy. And I knew, in my heart, that no one—not even Nathan—had touched me so fundamentally.
I rinsed out my conditioner, trying to keep my mind from obsessing over what could or didn’t happen with Jack, but it was impossible. It was like that boy branded me. Even if no one else could see it, I knew it was there. I felt it, burning into my skin hotter than the scalding water.
I got out of the shower and dried off. Sophie had laid out my clothes the night before on the chair next to my dresser. I was happy she did this for me even though her taste was a little risqué. The flaming pink bra wasn’t really something I’d pick for my first day at my new job, but then again I was so drunk last night that I probably would have demanded Sophie’s Slave Leia costume, and this morning my headache pounded so much that I would’ve snatched the first thing in my closet, which happened to be my ripped and faded crew championship t-shirt from 2005.
Damn I’m getting old.
I groaned and dressed quickly. First stop this morning? Coffee. Thank God I had the foresight to set my alarm twenty minutes early. Then again, that might have been Sophie too.
My eyes drifted to my dresser.
It was still there.
Well, of course it was. It’s not like I’d moved it, much to Sophie’s dismay.
You made your choice, Em. It’s over. Don’t wallow in self-pity and what might-have-been.
I walked to the dresser and put my hands on the cedar jewelry box my grandma gave me when I was ten.
Em, if it makes you feel any better, you did what I would have done. Maybe not in the same way, of course, but I wouldn’t have stayed for whatever tragedy would have come next.
I shut my eyes. It didn’t make me feel better.
Look, Em, that boy was probably hurting, and maybe he deserved more from someone but that someone probably wasn’t you. You can’t heal the world, especially at the expense of your own sanity.
I knew it wasn’t my job to fix him. I knew I probably wouldn’t have been able to fix him, especially when I was trying to get over my own demons. I just wasn’t ready. I knew it, so why did it feel so much like an excuse?
I opened my bedroom door, grabbed two of Sophie’s mini bran muffins and crept out. I wouldn’t think about what was inside that jewelry box.
I probably should have given the ring back with the letter. Girls were supposed to do that when they broke the engagement, and I hadn’t even broken it because I’d never accepted. But then I remembered it was only 35 cents and wasn’t the sort of thing he’d ever give to another girl.
Sophie thought I was crazy. It was a child’s trinket—the kind of thing a kid looses fifteen minutes after getting it. I could throw the thing away and no one would know.
Except me.
It might have been stupid. He might have been crazy. But I was crazy too, because I saw myself in him. I saw how much it meant. I saw his passion.
And that was something I would never, under any circumstances, toss aside as if it were nothing.
***
I adjusted my backpack as I got off the T. I had twenty minutes before my first period class in Laurel Art Center two blocks away. That extra time would not be used in vain. I scanned the scene until my eyes locked onto their target.
Coffee.
I booked it across the square to the coffee shop. Warm air wafted around me when I pushed through the door. Thank goodness there was no line. My day was finally looking up.
“Hello. What can I get for you today?” a young girl with a full sleeve of tattoos, bleached blonde spiky hair and heavy eyeliner on greeted me.
“Can I get a double tall Americano?”
“Yes, and can I get your name?”
My keys jingled as I fished for my wallet. “Emily.”
“Emily.” A low, seductive, and very male voice from behind me echoed.
My head whipped around.
Tall and incredibly handsome. Scratch that—that was an understatement. He was one of the most beautiful men I’d ever seen. He wore slacks and a suit jacket. A dark blue tie accented his starched white collar. His green eyes had just the slightest hint of yellow around his pupils, making them look like a sunflower in a spring pasture.
My jaw fell. No freakin way. “Holy shit! Peter?” A huge smile broke out over my face as I leaned forward to give him an enormous hug. “It’s been ages?”
“I know, right?” He returned my hug with a squeeze.
Peter smelled good. He felt good, too. Warm, fuzzy feelings and memories of midnight ice cream runs, popcorn and sappy movies, and streaking across the lawn at school filled my mind. I locked my hands behind his broad shoulders. “I’ve miss your hugs,” I whispered into his shirt.
I heard a cough from behind.
And then I realized I’d just mauled one of my best friends from college in the middle of the coffee shop.
And I still hadn’t let go.
I stepped back, hoping to god my face wasn’t as pink as it felt, and allowed the other customer to order.
I glanced up at Peter. The look he gave me was different than the one he’d given me just moments earlier. It was assessing. Almost…almost…
Oh shit! Why did I have to leap into his arms? This was suddenly so awkward and it totally should not have been. “So, what are you doing here?” I began. “I thought you were in New York at med school.”
He smiled back. “I was. Have you been stalking me Vaughn?”
“No, I mean, um, oh shit.” I started to pink. God Emily, you are such a stalker. You can’t admit you have been Facebook stalking him. “No, I just ran into Mike a couple weeks ago and he told me you were in Manhattan.”
“Oh, Mike. And you believed him?”
My smile tightened. Mike loved being in the know, but he had a tendency to not actually know as much as he thought he did about the things he talked about.
Peter laughed. “Actually, I was in New York at Columbia, but I transferred to Harvard ‘cause I decided to change fields from neurology to cardiology. I want to be a surgeon.”
“Oh, great. Welcome to Boston.”
He smiled. “I’ve been here for a little while. I didn’t expect to see you back for a while. Weren’t you in Louisiana or something?”
A sharp pang pierced my heart. Peter didn’t know about me and Nathan yet. I steadied my breath. Why was it that anytime anyone brought him up I felt as though my vision were blurring and the ground beneath my feet was crumbling? “Nathan and I…” I began, taking another deep breath.
Peter’s eyes w
idened with sympathy. “Oh God, Em. I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
I shook my head, shutting my eyes. “It’s fine. It’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing. You two were together for a long time.”
I cringed.
“And, oh God, I feel like such an asshole for bringing that up.”
I took a deep breath. “Look, it just wasn’t meant to be. I guess saying I’m over it would obviously be a lie, but I’m moving on.” And, for the first time in forever, I’m Being true to myself, and learning how fulfilling and important such a thing is. “I’ve got a TA position at the University. I signed on for a couple years while completing my Masters.”
Peter eyed me thoughtfully. “Masters in Art History?”
“Yep.”
He smiled, slowly, as if he were truly looking at me for the first time. “That’s what you always said you wanted to do, right?”
“Yeah, it was. Is. And I actually have my first class today.”
“Well, congratulations. You’re strong, Em. It isn’t easy to pick yourself up after life hits you hard like that, and you’re following your dreams.”
I felt myself smile like an idiot. Damn, this guy’s praise could really go to a girl’s head!
Just then, the woman at the pick up counter yelled out, “Pumpkin spice latte with extra whip and sprinkles.”
Peter’s eyes flashed. “Well, that’s me.”
“What? That’s such a chick drink.”
He picks up his drink and gives me a sinfully decadent smile. “A real man can admit he likes pumpkin spice lattes.”
The blonde at the counter eyes him up and down. “Damn straight he can.”
She turns and gives me the stink eye. “And here’s yours, Emily. It will be $4.85.”
I handed her a five. “Keep it.” I understood Peter envy all too well. I still remember when he dated Gwen our first term of college. Sure, I’d only known him for maybe one week and she and he had been friends for about a year, but still! If Nathan hadn’t made his move in October, I would have come home twenty pounds heavier and Sophie would have been jealous that someone else’s cookies had gotten me fat.
“Hey, I have to go. I have a shift starting at the hospital at 8:30.”
I looked at my watch. It was only…wait a second, only ten minutes till eight? “Oh, shit! Me too! I mean, at the university, not the hospital. They wouldn’t want me there.” Tripping over everything as I stared at you longingly.
Alright, they might not want me there, but not nearly as much as Peter wouldn’t have wanted me there. This was getting pathetic. I needed to get a hold of myself.
“Well, Peter, it was great seeing you.” Probably won’t see you again for a while, but then again, any length of time would feel like too long. You are so kind. So thoughtful.
So beautiful.
Just then, I realized I was staring at Peter with twinkle vision and the lady at the counter was still glaring. She could totally see the stars in my eyes, which meant that Peter also…
Oh God Emily, snap out of it!
“Um…sorry. Still haven’t sated my caffeine fix yet,” I mumbled as I started towards the door.
“Yeah. We should really catch up sometime. Maybe grab a bite to eat.”
Huh? I stopped. Turned. Was Peter still talking to me?
“Wait a second.” Peter grabs a pen from his pocket and jots something down on a napkin. “Here.”
“What’s this?” I ask as he hands it to me.
“My number. Call me so we can get together sometime.” He nodded his head and raised his Pumpkin Spice Latte as if toasting me. “It was good to see you, Vaughn.” With that, he walked out.
I stood there a few more moments. What the hell just happened? I’d made a fool of myself in front of one of my oldest friends. Hell, I’d been turned on by one of my oldest friends and was having trouble thinking straight.
I glance down at my coffee and notice my watch.
Fuck! I didn’t have time to philosophize about what might have been and what could potentially happen! I was going to be late.
***
I played with Peter’s number as I walked through the door. The sweet, flirty, hopeful part of me wanted to keep it in my pocket like talisman. The psychotic, stalker part wanted to frame it above my bed.
And then there was the part of me that wanted to strangle the psychotic stalker and kick the sweet, flirty, and hopelessly romantic girl in her ass. A lot had happened since I’d ended my four-year romance with Nathan. I’d lost my place in life when I turned down that once-in-a-lifetime internship in New York and followed him to Louisiana. Right before I left, he’d said things had been over for a long time—that I’d come to secretly hate him—and as much as I hated to admit it, those words had some truth in them. Still, I didn’t hate him nearly as much as I hated myself.
I forced myself to remove my hand from my pocket. If I continued playing with Peter’s number, I might tear it.
Peter was one of my dearest friends from college. He was successful, determined, and he knew himself. And…he was way hotter than any guy had any right to be. The last thing either of us needed was a girl trying to force something to happen before she was ready. I couldn’t expect a mature, nurturing, supportive relationship until I was all those things myself.
I should take things slow. I probably shouldn’t even try to date him. Maybe I should wait two weeks before I called.
Maybe I was a freaking idiot.
When had I turned into such a man-hater? By refusing to allow romance back into my life, I was being just as ridiculous as I’d been when I’d planned my entire life around romance. I needed to stop analyzing every single little thing. It was just a date, maybe. It was an opportunity for fun. I was overreacting. He wanted to catch up. It wasn’t like Peter got down on one knee and asked me to marry him like that psychotic, romantic, sexy-as-hell but totally-unhinged-and-not-someone-I-should-even-think-about-or-could-even-think-about-because-I’d-run-away-and-he’d-never-want-to-see-me-again.
And that was a good thing.
I completely believed that.
I mean, it wasn’t like I thought about him every single night before I fell asleep. It wasn’t like I even wanted to see him again. And if I did what would I even do? Nothing. And that’s all that little affair was. Nothing.
I gripped my coffee cup so hard that some spilled out over my hand, scalding me. Shit. I needed to get myself under control. And the best way to do that? Institute a no boys rule. And I totally would. After I caught up with Peter. Because it wasn’t like we were going to jump each other’s bones. He wanted to hang out and catch up. And sure, maybe there was something brewing between us, but more likely I was just overly sensitive and imagining things. Wasn’t it always Peter back in college who’d rub my back and tell me to just relax and not take things too seriously when I got overwhelmed? And he’d buy us both Peppermint lattes when I had a problem, and we’d sip them and laugh until everything just felt perfect, and…
Alright, I totally wasn’t imagining things, was I? There was something between us. Something that had never been fully realized because it just wasn’t time yet.
Shit.
My hand squeezed my drink as a part of me realized this wasn’t good at all. I was on the rebound from breaking up with my first boyfriend that I’d adored for four years, and on the rebound from my one-night stand rebound that had somehow turned into something I didn’t even dare give a name to. I was crazy. I mean, I was thinking of myself as a series of contradictory parts instead of a whole. Friends didn’t let friends date crazy, fragmented chicks on the rebound. If I was a friend, I wouldn’t let Peter date me.
A part of me felt really depressed when I realized this.
And then a part of me looked down at my wristwatch and realized I was already five minutes late for my first class.
Shit!
I darted forward. I should have looked first. Really should have looked first. I was sort of a teacher an
d was supposed to be a serious graduate student. People like me weren’t late for class, and we didn’t run around blindly, but that’s what I did and I paid the price.
My hip slammed into something in front of me.
Oh God. Did I just run over a kid? I cried out as my palms hit the grass.
“I’m so sorry!” I yelled as I scrambled to my feet. “I didn’t see you. I—”
I stopped when I realized I was apologizing to a trash can.
Someone behind me called out some snotty remark I couldn’t quite hear. My face burned. I’d just made a fool of myself in front of everyone. Luckily none of my students were out here because class had already started.