by Pratt, Lulu
“Nothing’s wrong,” I replied, my tone betraying the unrest beneath my easy words. “Just a friend. I’ll just quickly reply.”
My father raised an eyebrow but said nothing. I composed a quick congratulatory text back, telling her how proud I was and inviting her out to drinks, and sent it off before I could think too hard about it.
I wanted to be excited for Chloe, I really did. I knew what a big opportunity a job at the Louvre would be for her or anyone, for that matter. If I really cared for her as much as I said I did, why did I resent this? She’d be perfect in Paris. Staying up late, drinking wine, eating fresh vegetables, reading by the river. She’d be… happy.
Maybe I was just pissed that everything seemed to be repeating. Just as we’d gotten close the last time, she’d pushed me away. It was like she kept slipping from my hands like loose stardust, destined to travel the world over and never land in one place — especially not in my arms.
A small part of me couldn’t help but think that this was my fault. I hadn’t been able to commit to her, so she was running away. As angry as I was, I couldn’t exactly blame her. If I was more of a man — and honored my word — then perhaps she’d still be here.
She hasn’t left yet, I reminded myself. And hey, maybe she wouldn’t get the job.
Oh, Jesus, now I was rooting against Chloe and her career aspirations. That wasn’t an improvement, and certainly didn’t make me a better man.
I crossed my elbows on the table and buried my face in them, needing a moment of darkness. Moments later, I felt a hand on my shoulder.
“Xavier,” my dad murmured, kneading my muscles with his hand that, even though it was now smaller than my own, always felt like a large bear paw. “Something’s clearly gotten you down.”
I mustered up all my energy and sat back upright, plastering a chipper smile across my face.
“Nothing’s wrong, Dad,” I said brightly. But he didn’t seem to be buying it, so I added, “And I was thinking about what you said earlier, about committing to Rebecca. I think you’re right — it’s time for me to double down on her. She’s obviously great, and I was just getting cold feet.”
“That’s the son I know,” my dad replied with a grin. “You two will be a great couple.”
A text appeared on my phone. This time with no ringer noise — I’d had the good sense to silence it.
Drinks at eight?
It was from Chloe.
Taking a deep breath, I replied in the affirmative. There was no harm in being friends, and friends congratulated each other on huge accomplishments like getting hired by the Louvre. I would be happy for her if it fucking killed me. And, on the bright side, I thought recklessly, it might.
My father and I finished our coffees and hugged goodbye going our separate ways — him to our family home in Manhattan, and I to a little hole in the wall in Brooklyn, to meet Chloe and company. We agreed to invite others, perhaps to take the pressure off meeting along. I invited Marc, who knew Chloe from the old days, and Chloe invited her friend and former co-worker Alexandra and her fiancé. Frankly, I assumed Marc was just looking for an excuse to go out drinking, but I was in no position to judge.
Sure enough, when I arrived, Marc had already set up shop in the back of the bar, in a corner so dark that all you could make out was the whites of his eyes. He had a beer in one hand and a shot of whiskey in the other.
“Hey, Marc, how ya doing?” I asked, taking the shot. “Thanks, this is gonna be mine.”
“Okay,” he griped, “but you owe me the next round.”
I rolled my eyes. “Marc, I always get the rounds.”
Grinning, he replied, “That’s true.”
I joined him at the ripped leather booth, sitting down opposite my friend and taking the shot of whiskey in a single gulp.
“You seem… thirsty,” Marc said pointedly, raising a questioning eyebrow. “Everything okay?”
“Of course. Always.”
“Right, but if it’s not, you’re my best friend, and I’m here to talk.”
I swallowed. Was this worth it? Maybe I could just tell him a little…
“Marc, what if I’m making all the wrong choices?”
His normally jubilant face grew suddenly intense. “What do you mean?”
“In life, in love — what if I’ve gone all wrong? Is it too late to turn back?”
“I don’t know,” he replied, growing quiet and looking away from me.
This subject must be too serious for him, I thought. He looked so uncomfortable. Better to keep it light with Marc. He was a good buddy and always tried to be a listener, but it wasn’t his strong suit.
I forced myself into higher spirits. “I’ll get the next round,” I said, scooting back out of the booth.
“I knew I could trust you,” he said with a wink, seemingly back to his normal fun-loving self.
I meandered to the bar, ready to peruse their beer menu before discovering that it was about three offerings long.
Grimacing, I said to the bartender, “I’ll take your nicest beer. And, uh, dare I ask for a Jägermeister?”
The tattooed man behind the bar laughed. “Better not.”
“A gin, then.”
“Got it.”
I laid a twenty on the table, only to hear a voice behind me say, “Your money’s no good here.”
I turned around, and there was Chloe, standing alongside Alexandra, her hand poised on her waist and her hip cocked out. She looks like an Old West sheriff, I decided, grinning to myself. So much attitude. She was wearing a simple white T-shirt atop a lacy black bra that peeked through the thin fabric, and a flowy skirt with boots. Even in this laid-back getup, she still managed to be the coolest girl in the restaurant. I didn’t have to look around to know that all the male customers’ attention had just gone straight to her.
Chloe smiled to me and slapped cash down on the bar, only for the bartender to immediately tell her, “Drinks on me, sweetcakes.”
Apparently Chloe saw me get up in arms at ‘sweetcakes,’ because she quickly leaned into my ear and giggled, “Let him comp the drinks, Xavier, bartenders always give me free shit. Gotta make the wage gap work for you, right?”
“Oh, fine,” I muttered back. “But if he does it again—”
“Yeah, yeah, heads will roll, we get it.” Chloe pulled back and gestured to Alexandra. “You have met before, right?”
“Nice to see you again, Alexandra. You wanna get some drinks and join us at the table in the back?”
Alexandra piped up, “I’m actually not drinking just now.” She put a hand on her stomach. “You know. Baby.”
Chloe quickly chimed in, “Yeah, and I’m staying dry for Alexandra’s sake.”
Alexandra slung her arm around Chloe, and I shrugged. “Fair enough. Mind if Marc and I still indulge?”
“You think I’d ever stop another person from drinking?” Chloe scoffed. “You don’t know me very well, Xavier.”
I laughed. “Sorry, my mistake. How could I ever take you for such a spoilsport?”
“I have no clue. I’m going to try to forget this grievous insult so that we can maintain our friendship.”
There was that word again — friendship. But I bit back my disappointment and led the ladies to the table.
Marc welcomed them with open arms and raised arms. “Girls! Hiya, how ya doing?”
“Great, Marc, nice to see you, it’s been years,” Chloe said. “This is my friend Alexandra.”
Marc and Alexandra shook hands, immediately at ease with one another. “You seem like you’ll get along well with my better half, Radolpho,” Alexandra laughed.
“Oh yeah? Is he also handsome and charming?” Marc joked back.
“Uh-huh, one hundred percent. I wouldn’t marry anyone who was less than totally swoon-worthy.”
Marc preened, flattered by the compliment. “Why, then I’m honored.”
Chloe had slid in next to me, and when I turned away from Marc’s and Alexandra’s repar
tee, I noticed that she was careful to keep several feet of distance between us. Well, I couldn’t take that personally. We’d been sleeping together, and I doubted she wanted the whole town to see the chemistry between us. Or at least, that’s how I justified it to myself. More likely, she was down with me, and couldn’t bear to be that close, dreading the reminder of our recent sordid past.
I flagged down the waitress. This mood called for another shot. I held up two fingers and tapped my shot glass, indicating that I wanted two more rounds.
As Alexandra and Marc chatted, Chloe asked me, friendly but subtle, “You sure you want two more shots?”
I gazed into her bright blue eyes, steady as ever. She was unflappable in the face of enormous change. If only I had a little bit of her tenacity.
“Yeah, I’m sure,” I muttered.
Chloe coughed, uncomfortable at my obvious annoyance.
“Oh look, here’s Radolpho now!” Alexandra announced, thankfully rescuing me from the tense moment with Chloe.
Alexandra’s partner waved from across the bar. He was, as Alexandra promised, handsome. Tall, with wavy light brown hair and a polo shirt.
“Hey,” he said, walking up to the table. “Pleasure to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too, I’m Xavier,” I said, sticking out a hand.
Marc nodded, and Chloe got up and gave him a hug. “Lovely to see you again. How are you finding New York?”
Radolpho smiled back. “Cold, but I am happy to be here.”
“Okay, okay, enough formalities,” Alexandra insisted. “Sit down, babe.”
Radolpho went to sit down, but Alexandra stopped him, saying, “Wait, give me a kiss first.”
He grinned and went in for a smooch. Their lips locked, and I swear everyone else at our table let out a tiny sigh. They kissed like it was simultaneously the first time they’d ever touched and like it might well be the last time. All that passion, for a casual peck? God, I envied them. They’d found each other, and now they were going to get married. I yearned to know what that was like.
You are getting married, I had to remind myself. It shouldn’t be that foreign of a concept, the being in love part.
Radolpho slid in, holding Alexandra’s hand as he joined us at the table. His large, lanky form forced Chloe to scoot much closer to me, so that our thighs were pressed up against one another. I watched her eyes dart to the connecting points, then up to my eyes, then quickly away, off to somewhere else in the bar.
Even as reluctant and confused as we both were by our touch, I don’t think either of us could deny that the chemistry was still there. Sure, maybe she was talking about running off to Paris. And yes, I was soon going to have an official fiancée — and for all intents and purposes, already had one. But chemistry doesn’t care about human affairs like jobs and marriages. It was raw, unbridled and unquenchable.
Just as I was thinking about sliding my hand onto Chloe’s slim, tight thigh with only a thin skirt covering its smooth outline, the waitress interrupted to drop the shots off at my table.
“Great, thanks,” I said hastily, pulling my hand away from Chloe. It was probably a better idea to drink than to spark any more of a flame between the two of us.
Marc watched in admiration as I downed the two shots in a flash. He turned to the waitress, saying, “Make it six more of those. Radolpho, you’ll join us?”
The woman didn’t even raise her eyebrows, just nodded and moved back to the bar.
Radolpho laughed loudly, the kind of throaty chuckle you’d associate with a football coach.
“I guess you were serious about celebrating Chloe’s potential new job.”
“That’s just the kind of friends we are,” Marc nearly shouted, slamming his beer down on the table. “We drink in the good times, we drink in the bad times.”
“Even if the girl you’re celebrating,” Chloe pointed out, “isn’t drinking at all?”
“That’s what makes us such givers,” Marc replied.
Much as I tried to pay attention to conversation at the table, I realized that my eyes kept wandering back to the movement between Alexandra and Radolpho. Even when they were engaging with the rest of us, it was clear that they were sharing thoughts and secrets between themselves. Only their fingertips touched, as if they knew how frustratingly powerful their connection was and didn’t want to brag. A lump of jealousy knotted in my throat, and no amount of wishing or reasoning seemed to be dissolving it.
Chloe moved her hair aside and as she did, a little wisp of it brushed against my cheek, sending her scent wafting through my nose.
Was every moment around her from here on out going to be one of excruciating pain? Because if so, I didn’t think I would be able to be friends with her. It was just… just too much.
Marc’s drinks arrived, and I’m sorry to say we three men settled into a night of hearty drinking.
It was the first time since college that I’d done anything as stupid as try to drown my sorrows in liquor, and the first time I’d ever drank because of a girl. I could feel myself being an idiot, but as Marc took drink after drink, I also knew I couldn’t stop. As long as Chloe was next to me, radiating such warmth and sexual energy, I had to dull my senses long enough to resist the pull of her pert breasts and curvaceous hips. I mean, her nipples were practically showing through her shirt. Had her tits gotten bigger? If I was gonna avoid trying to sleep with her tonight, then I needed some big help from Jack Daniels.
By ten, Marc was soused. I, for my part, was drunk but still standing. Marc looked like he might need a stretcher.
“And another thing,” he slurred, waving a glass in the air while the rest of us laughed. “I’m a daaaamn miiirr—”
Just like that, he leaned back against the seat and started to snore.
I sighed, trying to keep my own vision from spinning. “Okay, this has been fun, but I think I better get him home.”
“How are you gonna do that?” Chloe asked, skeptical as she looked at Marc’s inert form. “He can’t get on the subway.”
“I was thinking a helicopter,” I joked.
“We can drive him,” Radolpho volunteered. “Alexandra’s sober, obviously, and I brought my car.”
“Are you sure,” I began. “He’s my responsibility, you don’t have to—”
But Alexandra interrupted, “Of course we will. It’s good practice for taking care of a screaming baby, right? If he pees himself, we’ll just change his diaper.”
“Well… if you’re okay with it…”
“We are,” she finished. “In fact, I insist. Radolpho, sweetie, come on, help me get Marc up.”
Radolpho easily lifted Marc like a sack of potatoes from his seat, throwing an arm under his shoulders to help him stumble out of the bar.
“Jesus, he’s really done in,” Chloe noted. “When did he drink so much?”
Shit. Chloe and I were alone. I’d tried to avoid that very thing from happening, had attempted to put up a fight with Alexandra, but to no avail. If I were sober, I could’ve fought harder, but as it was… well, I was down for the count.
“We were celebrating,” I reminded Chloe. “You.”
She raised a glass of water she’d acquired. “Well, then, cheers to me.”
I clinked her glass to mine. “To you, Chloe.” I turned to face to her and made eye contact. “May you get everything you want in life.”
I thought I saw her cheek tighten. “And what do I want?”
“I’m asking myself the same thing.”
CHAPTER 31
Chloe
IT WAS NOT lost on me that, as Alexandra left the bar with Marc and Radolpho, she turned around to wink at me, as if to say, ‘You’re welcome for leaving you alone with Xavier.’
Had this been her plan all along? If so, it was downright evil. She should know that I was trying not to sleep with Xavier anymore! What was this, sabotage?
To that end, I got up and reseated myself opposite Xavier. The more physical distance between us, the
safer bet it was that I’d make it out of here without sleeping with him.
“Why’d you move?” he asked, in that just-a-little-too-loud voice of a drunk guy.
“So that I can see you better,” I lied.
“Hmmph, if you say so.” He took another swig of a beer. When had that showed up? I was just thinking that I should probably take it away when he continued, “Are you excited about the Louvre?”
“I don’t officially have the job yet.”
“Yeah, but you’re extremely brilliant, Chloe, and we both know you’re gonna get it.” I blushed bright red. “So, are you excited?”
“Obviously. I mean, it’s the Louvre, for chrissakes.”
“Pretty good place to propose to someone,” he said, calling back to our little inside joke. “Maybe with white horses and everything. What do you think?”
“You gotta go bigger than the white horses if you’re doing the Louvre,” I countered. “It’ll make the horses look like tiny ponies.”
“Good point. Maybe I could get a David Copperfield type to make it disappear.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Okay, smartass, and then what?”
“And then… and then I’d propose with a ring that had a tiny miniature of the Louvre,” he finished the drunken bravado.
“Hey, I like that. But I can do you one better. You should make all of France disappear.”
He chuckled and shot back, “Then who will make all the baguettes and berets? Cheese? Wine? We need France.”
We both dissolved into fits of laughter. For a second, it felt just like old times — back in the dorms watching B movies and eating takeout. This was as I’d remembered it — as easy as breathing.
But then Xavier grew quiet, and said, “Chloe, I’m going to miss you when you go.”
“If,” I corrected him at once, desperate to make the distinction. “If I go. Nothing’s certain yet.”
“Right,” he said morosely, not buying the story for one second. “I’m just trying to say, having you back in my life… it’s been good. No, it’s been great. I wish we could’ve made it work.”
