by H. M. Ward
I take a small bow, giggling. Someone grabs hold of my arm tightly from behind and swings me around abruptly.
"Gina! You scared the shit out of me! Don't ever do that to me again!” Erin has completely lost it. She's bouncing between scolding me and making introductions at the same time. Her hands fly all over the place like a Muppet gone wild. “Hey, Phil, good to see ya. Gina, this is Phil. Phil, this is Gina. Gina, what the fuck were you thinking?"
She's so beside herself it's funny, and I begin to laugh. “I’m fine!”
"Stop laughing, bitch! I need a smoke. You and I are not done discussing this. Don't do that to me EVER again, you hear me?" She waves a finger in my face as I try to stop giggling, but I still have a hell of a rush.
Erin stomps away and crawls out the window, onto the fire escape.
Hot Guy, I mean Phil, glances at me and then back at the window where Erin disappeared. "Wow. You really pissed Erin off."
"Yeah, she can be a little overprotective sometimes. So, it's Phil, right?"
I extend my hand and he takes it, but instead of giving it an introductory shake, he gallantly brings my hand to his lips for a kiss. The gesture seems familiar yet so out of place in this setting.
"And you're Gina. It's nice to meet you." Phil looks toward the dance floor and nudges his head. "Want to dance?"
"Actually, I'd prefer to sit down. My legs are shaking like I’ve got squirrels for bones.” I laugh nervously. “Is that normal?"
Is that a normal question? No! What the hell, Gina? Who says things like that? As I mentally chastise myself, Phil takes my hand.
"Yeah, it's part of the adrenaline rush." He puts his hand on my lower back and escorts me to a nearby couch. He grabs two bottles of beer from the ice bucket on our way and hands me one. "You look like you need one of these."
"Thanks. Getting rid of squirrelly-legs is hard, but someone has to do it."
Phil has a funny expression on his face. Oh, fuck it. I screwed this meeting up. Now there’s no way I can take this hot man home and make him my mistress. Mister? That can’t be right. I take the bottle, uncap it, and take a swig. “What do you call a male mistress?”
Phil nearly chokes with laughter.
“I don’t know. A man? Are you considering getting one and not sure what to Google?”
I have my beer in my mouth and laugh so hard I spew. I start choking and he pats my back while Ricky shrieks at me from across the room.
“Stop spitting beer all over my vintage rug!” He runs off to get paper towels.
"So, how do you know Erin?" Phil sits sideways facing me, one hand on the backrest, the other nursing his beer. "I've been out of town for the past few months, but this is the first time I've seen you here." He looks me up and down and grins. "And, believe me, if you'd been here, I would have noticed you." His eyes sparkle flirtatiously, appreciative and full of flattery.
If he knows Erin, he probably knows her past, that she came from money. I don't want to give my social status away. I don’t want to make him uncomfortable or have him start acting fake around me just because my family is rich. I'm sick of the phonies like Anthony. That wound is still too fresh, and I don't care to repeat it.
"As of last week, I'm her new roommate. That's why you haven't seen me here before." That's all I offer. It's true, yet doesn't give anything away.
"I see. Well, from her reaction, I'd bet stage diving isn't your usual scene?"
"Hardly, but it felt great. Thanks for catching me. I like to eat pancakes but have no interest in being one." I smile at him as Ricky returns to spot clean the carpet.
“You keep your fluids to yourself! No stains on my couch either!”
Horrified, my jaw drops.
“What do you think we’re going to do?”
“I don’t know," he says throwing a roll of paper towels at me, "just clean it up when you’re done! That couch can’t be replaced either! It’s vintage 1940’s velvet!”
“Yeah, from your Grandma’s apartment," Erin yells from across the room. "Stop being a douche, Rick-rock, and come dance with me!” Ricky narrows his gaze on Erin. He excuses himself and a moment later, we hear her screech and giggle.
"So, did you like it?" Phil catches my eye again. "The diving part?"
I lean my head back on the backrest of the couch, looking up at the ceiling.
"That was so—awesome. It was a rush, fast and slow, crazy and sane all at the same time. I felt like I was falling through music with the way the bass is pounding. I'd do it again if I didn't think Erin would kill me afterward." I tilt my head to the side to look back at Phil. My cheeks are cramping up from the constant smiling. I want to feel this alive forever. Phil hums and taps his beer bottle with his finger.
"Have you ever tried skydiving before?"
My eyes go wide. Can this guy get any hotter? I sit up straight on the couch.
“Do you skydive?”
“Yep. So do a bunch of these guys." He gestures his beer bottle toward the room then takes a sip. "If you want to try it out, I can hook you up with a good instructor at the Drop Zone. Like, literally hook you up with him; would you be interested in a tandem freefall?”
Oh. My. God. I remember the rush I felt riding on the back of Pete’s bike, the same way I feel in a toss while swing dancing, and the same way I felt falling off the mezzanine. I wonder what jumping out of a plane would feel like, free falling from so high up.
“I'm very interested.”
‘Hello, my name is Gina and I’m an adrenaline junkie.’
GET THE HELL OFF MY RUG!
August 25th , 11:27 pm
Phil and I spend the next long while talking about skydiving and then move to stuff people usually talk about when they first meet: work, school, hobbies, travels. Phil is friendly, and our conversation flows easily.
“So the moment my masters in political science was done, I decided to backpack across Europe before starting my doctorate. I only just got back a couple days ago.” Sitting back in my seat, I can feel the tip of his thumb brush up against my shoulder, moving back and forth, and it sends shivers everywhere.
There’s no denying the little jolt of excitement his touch ignites within me. He’s hot, smart, and everyone here wants his attention. People are either staring at us or interrupting our conversation for a quick acknowledgment from Phil. Women are asking him to dance only for him to decline politely.
How did I end up with the hot guy at the party sitting next to and talking to me? When did I become that girl? Nobody has ever flirted with Regina Granz before, yet Phil is flirting with me and it feels oddly wonderful.
I'm contractually obligated to Pete, but it's not a romantic relationship by any means. It's a business merger that will keep us out of jail. I'm not doing anything wrong; besides, we're not officially engaged yet. Pete's making the most of his last bachelor days, so why can't I?
This morning's newspaper featured a huge article on Pete's philandering ways. It featured a huge picture of Pete, surrounded by a group of drop-dead gorgeous women. The article read:
NOW INTERVIEWING FOR POSITION OF MRS. PETE FERRO
Pete Ferro, heir to the multi-billion dollar Ferro family fortune, was spotted Friday night crashing a sorority party in New York City. After treating all the young women to unlimited champagne, a select few were chosen to attend a private party in Ferro’s private jet.
"It was like a fantasy," said NYU senior economics major Melanie Piper, of Washtenaw, Ohio. "Money was practically flowing from the onboard champagne fountain."
Sources close to the Ferro family speculate Ferro is currently under pressure to find a spouse. Others speculate he is just sowing his wild oats...
I couldn’t finish reading the article. My fingers kept drifting across the picture, over his face, his eyes, and his lips. His mouth was smiling, but his eyes looked detached, devoid of emotion, like an empty shell.
Seeing him with those girls made me want to tear the page out, rip it to shreds, and scream prof
anities, but, at the same time, something inside me ached for him.
In this set of pictures, he looked miserable.
"Am I boring you that much?" Phil’s hand squeezes my shoulder lightly, calling my attention back to our conversation.
"Sorry, no. Not at all. I guess I'm just coming down from the rush."
I shake thoughts of Pete out of my head. He's not going to ruin the next couple of months for me. Tonight has been perfect, and I won't let myself feel guilty for it. I have the attention of an attractive man who's not belittling me or pushing me away for someone better.
"Well," Phil stretches and slides his arm off the back of the couch, "I should get going anyway. I'm still on European time. If I don't get some sleep now, I'm going to crash in the car on the way home."
The disappointment takes me by surprise. My hot guy is leaving, and I want him to stay with me a bit longer. If I were Erin, I'd invite him up to my place for the night, but that's not me.
Phil pushes himself off the couch and holds out his hand to me. I take it, and he helps me up. He takes a step closer.
"It was really nice meeting you, Gina. Mind if I call you sometime? Maybe make good on my skydiving offer?"
My stomach does a few somersaults just being so close to him. One step closer and our bodies will be touching. A fluttering feeling blossoms inside me and I take his hand, lacing our fingers together.
This feels normal. Guy meets girl, guy and girl engage in friendly small talk, guy asks girl for her phone number, guy offers to push girl out of an aircraft in mid-flight.
Someone dancing behind me bumps into me roughly, and I go crashing into Phil with an unattractive oomph! He places both his hands on my hips to steady me and keeps me there, close to him. During the crash, my hands shoot up to hold onto his arms.
We both look at each other and laugh uncomfortably. Phil seems to feel just as awkward as me. He stares down at me, his fingers tighten over my hips as his gaze drops to my lips, and he finally breaks the silence.
“Gina? I want to kiss you right now, but I feel that I should ask you first. You have this untouchable vibe about you. Is that weird?”
Should I do this? My life isn’t normal, and, even though this feels right, and this feels normal, I know it’s not something within my reach.
Pete’s free to do what he wants when he wants, and I’ve been aching for that kind of freedom, even if temporary. Lots of people have casual relationships that don’t go anywhere, right? If two people feel a connection, it’s not wrong to indulge a little, as long as no one gets hurt. No promises are being made, and none will be broken.
A kiss means something to me, but I don't want to live with regrets of wasted opportunities. I promised myself I'd make every moment count. Besides, this could be my last chance at feeling close to someone. Once married to Pete, I'll be off the flirting market for good. I'm not going to be the cheating wife, even when I know he'll cheat on me. I’ll have no mister mistress.
I hold his arms tighter and rise on my toes, tilting my head slightly to the side as I bring my lips closer to his. Phil smiles and dips his head down slowly to kiss me.
It’s a soft kiss at first, very sweet. Phil brushes his lips against mine, and it feels nice. He lets go of my hips and cups my face with his hands and presses in a bit more firmly. The fluttering intensifies with the kiss and my arms glide up along his arms and wrap around his neck.
Music and the sound of people laughing and singing surround us. I’m taken by surprise when I feel his tongue stroke my lips, and I hesitate. Before I make a decision to let the kiss deepen, I feel a slap on my back and hear Ricky's voice.
“Glad to see you two getting along. Now, get the hell off my rug.”
The kiss breaks and I back up abruptly, my face flaming.
Ricky looks at us with a smirk. Have I mentioned that I hate PDA? Being caught kissing Phil sends my anxiety level soaring, and I need to get out of here.
I wipe my hand across my mouth as if the imprint of his kiss is glowing. Phil looks annoyed at Ricky for having interrupted us, but Ricky just keeps smirking proudly, snapping his suspenders against his chest and rocking on his heels.
I look at Ricky and murmur, “Asshat.”
“Don’t make me stuff paper towels down your shirt. As it is, you’re busting the seams open.”
I look down and realize that the knot is the only thing holding my retro shirt together. My lacy black bra is peeking out between lots of cleavage.
Score for cleavage!
Boo for showing everyone at once!
I don’t adjust my outfit. Instead, I blink and act like I’m normally half dressed and kissing random hot guys. Jenny rides again!
“So, it’s been great," I say backing up, "but I have to go. Ricky, great party, thanks. Keep that roll of paper towels to stuff your pants.”
“Bitch,” he says, laughing.
I don’t pause. “Phil, it was nice meeting you. You can get my number from Erin. If you want to, you know, call me or whatever. But you don’t have to do it. If you don’t want to. I mean, if you have someone else that you might want to do, do that. With her. Or don’t.” I laugh nervously and twist my hands together. I told him to do someone and call me. “Yeah, that about sums it up.”
Ricky barely contains his laughter.
Phil is smiling like I’m cute. He extends a hand in my direction and opens his mouth to speak, but I bolt from the loft, closing the door behind me. Behind the closed door, I hear Ricky explode with giggles.
I lean against the wall in the hallway and smile. Despite the last few moments of complete and total mortification, the evening was incredible. My phone buzzes from my back pocket. I pull it out and look at the screen.
Of course I want to call you, Gina.
-Phil
I close my eyes and press the phone to my chest while the fingers of my other hand brush up against my lips, remembering the kiss we just shared.
FRIENDS
August 25th , 11:52 pm
Back in reality, I stand just outside Ricky’s door for a while staring at my girls, wondering what it would be like if they seemed this huge all the time. Looking at the shirt I make a mental note—check the button situation on vintage clothing before diving off a stage. Every single one popped. No wonder why all the guys were grinning at me. I synch up my knot to cover my bra, but now my midriff is showing, a lot.
I hear rapid footfalls echo through the cold, empty hall. The footsteps slow down and stop.
"Gina? Is that you?"
His voice startles me. Not because I was expecting to be alone, but because I wasn't expecting it to be him. Pete’s voice has a way of jolting my heart like a defibrillator.
When I open my eyes, I see the glory that is Pete Ferro. Except the normal smirk is missing, the typical spark illuminating those blue eyes is gone, and his shoulders slump like he’s carrying a mountain on his back. The cut on his cheek is healing, but there's still a faint line. No new bruises or gashes adorn his beautiful face. I hope he stops fighting. He has so much more to offer if he'd submit to being vulnerable for half a second. Instead, he speaks with his fists—which makes my stomach queasy.
Wait. Why am I worrying about him? I bet he acts like this when he’s having a bad hair day.
The voice in the back of my head scolds me, “You know him better than that. Say what you want, Gina, but at the end of the day it matters to you what happens to this man.”
I beat the emotional part of my brain back into whatever dark corner of my mind she crawled out from. The feeling that she’s right recedes with her. I push myself off the wall and take a couple of steps toward the man in front of me.
"Peter? What's wrong?" Okay, she’s not in a closet after all. I was going to say something mean, but my words changed when they hit my tongue. Fricken invisa-Gina and her empathy. She's going to get our heart ripped out.
“No, it won’t.”
I make a growly sound in the back of my throat while extending my
fingers at my sides, stretching them as far as they’ll go.
“Shut up already!”
Yeah, oops. I said that out loud.
“I didn’t speak yet." Pete’s brows draw together. "Are you okay?”
“I, yeah…” I pause and it finally hits me. "Wait. Are you here to take me away again?" A sour sense of dread swirls inside of me. I don't want my ass hauled off to Ferro mansion. I don't want to leave this place and my new life so soon.
"No, that's not why I stopped by." His gaze is downcast, staring at his boots. "I just thought I'd come over and spend some time with my... friend." Pete looks up with a sad smile on his face. He stares me up and down. "You look good, Gina."
I so desperately want to put a smile on his face that I do a little twirl, kicking up a foot behind me and pretending to primp hair that is still neatly tucked in my bandana.
"I've improved on the bunny slippers," I say lightly. "You like my new look?"
"Yes,” he hesitates. I drop my arms and the goofy look on my face slides away when he meets my gaze. “But it's more than that. When I came down those stairs, you looked... happy."
I close the distance between us and hook my elbow with his. I lead us toward the stairs, and we both sit down, side by side, on the steps.
"Thank you. I am happy. Hey, can you believe I did a 10-foot stage dive tonight?"
Pete turns his head slightly. He looks at me from the corner of his eyes and smirks, a small teasing glint wanting to light up.
"Did you trip on another rug while trying to seduce someone?"
"Jerk," I tease, slapping him on the arm, but glad to see a light in his eyes. "You're not supposed to mention that to me ever again. And no, it was intentional and unbelievable."
He takes my hand and stares at it, his finger playing with my now barren ring finger. His smile disappears. Something is eating away at him tonight, and I wish I knew how I could make it better.