by I. A. Dice
My eyes travelled down, lingering on the three inches of exposed skin of her thighs, then further down, across the floor and onto the back wall. Drawings and canvases were tucked by the staircase, and some were scattered on the breakfast bar in the kitchen.
I swallowed hard, looking away from the largest canvas that stood next to the main entrance. It stood as tall as Nadia, and her alter ego—the girl in a white dress she used to portray her own struggles—sat on a tiled floor in the corner of some room. Barefoot, she held her knees close to her chin, hands clasped on her head, hair covering most of her face, but not enough to hide a black eye and make-up smudged by tears. Adrian’s presence was made clear by a large, long shadow on the floor.
“Why are you here?” Naida asked pressing her lips together to spread the lipstick.
Not one glance my way. Instead, she went about putting long, silver earrings in, then struggled with the clasp of her necklace, too proud to ask for help. My breathing hitched when I pushed off the wall and stood behind her. The nape of her neck was on display, making it damn near impossible not to kiss the tender flesh. I glanced into the mirror and caught her watching me, her features pinched, but eyes full of want.
“Why are you here?” She spun around, stepping back. “Was my moving out of Nick’s not enough of a clue that I don’t want to see you?”
She drew her lip between her teeth, then let go as if remembering she just applied the provoking lipstick. Her lips were the most alluring feature of her face. Eyes were amazing too, but the lips… Fucking perfect… Red and juicy like cherries in July. Every single time those lips were on my body flashed before my eyes.
A couple of loose strands of hair fell out from the messy updo she probably spent an hour working on to make it look so effortless. Instinct took over. I reached to tuck them behind her ear, but she arched back, and my fingers brushed thin air.
That stung. Hell, it was agony like putting salt on open wounds. It was the first time she refused to let me touch her.
“Why? What did I do?”
She shook her head as if chasing away unwanted thoughts.
“Nothing. I’m just not where you are, Thomas. You moved on, and that’s good, but I haven’t. I can’t because you’re here all the time. I can’t be friends with you. Not yet.”
She glanced back into the mirror, checking over her outfit so she wouldn’t have to look at me. That stung too.
“What did you think was going to happen? You thought I’d wait? You chose him. You knew what you were doing.”
“And you think because I chose to help him, I didn’t care about you, right?” She crossed her hands over her chest. “Think again. Why are you here? What do you want from me?”
My jaw clenched painfully. I didn’t know what I wanted anymore. She was messing with my head, acting as if she was happy for me, but she was avoiding me regardless. Then, there was Chase. What the hell was he doing in the picture if she still had feelings for me?
“I know what I don’t want,” I said. “I don’t want you seeing Chase.”
She cocked an eyebrow. “Why?”
Good question. I should’ve come up with something that didn’t make me look like the biggest asshole, but hey… I was one.
“Just because you don’t mind seeing me with Chrissy, doesn’t mean I don’t mind seeing you with Chase. I don’t want you to get hurt, and once he starts sleeping around with his groupies, you will.”
“I know Chrissy’s good for you, but believe me, I don’t enjoy seeing you together. You think it doesn’t hurt?”
The atmosphere changed from calm and intimate to uncomfortable. My muscles tightened, preparing for battle.
“You sure don’t let it show.”
An incredulous scoff left her lips. “Because it’s easier that way! I don’t want you to feel guilty in any way. I try to be happy for you, but it hurts like no bruise.” Her tone turned to anger. “It’s worse than broken ribs and split lips, worse than realising I lost you in vain because Adrian is beyond saving!” She yelled, pushing me away with both hands. “Does that knowledge help you somehow? It sure doesn’t help me.”
I caught her wrists, and drew her to me, acting on the intense need to calm her down. It was a reflex, something I didn’t have to think about. Action, reaction. Her body pressed against mine. The scent of her perfumes intensified. The urge to seal her lips skyrocketed.
“It helps. At least I know you’re not made of stone. You care.”
“Of course, I care!” she yelled, wriggling out of my grip. “I love you, and I can’t stop.”
One sentence brought me down to my knees. Just like when I saw her for the first time, my heart forgot it was there to beat. Everything lost its significance the meaning of her words registered with me.
“You love me?” I uttered, my blood hot.
She never said those words to me. No one did. No one apart from my parents and Maya.
“I’m sorry.” Her cheeks turned a faint shade of pink. “I shouldn’t have said that, but… You have no idea how hard it is to let you get on with your life when all I want to do is fight for you.”
I grasped the last remaining argument, my resolutions vanishing.
“You didn’t need to fight, Nadia. You had me, but you let me go.”
With that, I turned around and left, slamming the door behind me. I wanted to forgive her; I wanted us to start over, but people were vicious creatures. If they did it once, they were going to do it again.
I couldn’t lose her again. It almost fucking killed me the first time around. I wouldn’t get back up if she left again.
We had our time. Now we had to recover, forget, and choose a different path. I was walking mine, relying on the signs provided by the rational part of my personality, but I didn’t like where I was heading.
The engine of my car sprung to life. I turned right at the end of the one-way street. Three hundred yards later I had thirty strategies and excuses at the ready to see Nadia tomorrow, the next day and all other days after that.
The memory of the last time I thought we weren’t going to move past a certain point flashed before my eyes, and I found the answer to the riddle from Nadia’s drawing.
Bury it underground, cover it with a stone and I’ll dig the bones out anyway. What am I?
A memory.
Once we were outside, I was all over her.
In my head, that is.
Nadia sat on the bench and closed her eyes, inhaling a mouthful of smoke. “May I ask why you’re staring?”
“Why did you leave?”
She tried to stifle a laugh but didn’t do a good job of it. “Why? You wanted to cuddle? I was exhausted.”
A satisfied smirk crossed my lips, but Nadia shot me down.
“Not thanks to you though, so lose the grin.”
“Next time–”
“There will be no next time.”
It took me a moment to understand what she said. I didn’t want to let the meaning of her words in. I thought she was kidding, but the look on her face was far from amusement.
What the actual fuck?
Exactly. What the actual fuck was I trying to achieve? Was I trying to make us both miserable for the rest of our lives?
Good job. It was working.
“You have no idea how hard it is to let you get on with your life when all I want to do is fight for you.”
I made a U-turn in the middle of the road.
You win, baby doll.
CHAPTER 17
NADIA
I don’t love you
The clock ticking slowly on the wall was the only thing I could focus on after Thomas closed the door behind him.
Tick, tock. Tick, tock.
The apartment was cold and silent despite the music playing from the speaker in the living room. I sat on the floor for what seemed like eternity but was in fact ten minutes, holding onto my side, breathing in and out on the count of four.
I lost Thomas the moment I boarded the plane
to New York, but hope was a curious thing. It lingered at the back of the mind and filled the heart regardless of how obvious it was that there was no place for hope. A knock on the door forced me to get a grip. I pulled the door open, and the smile on Chase’s lips faded.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, stepping inside the apartment.
He was Thomas’s opposite in every way. Starting with a slim build and long hair, through to the careless attitude and casual sense of style. An oversized white jersey that looked more adequate for a stroll on the beach than an evening outing and a pair of black, ripped jeans were his choice for tonight. He wore his hair tied back in a low bun, and simple black studs were in his ears.
I leaned forward, nesting my cheek on his chest, careful not to mark the white fabric with red lipstick.
“Thomas,” I said. “He was here just now… We’re really over.”
Chase hugged me; his tall frame was unfamiliar but comforting. The friendship that formed in twenty-four hours was honest. Maybe it was because we were stuck in the same boat, each lusting after someone we couldn’t have.
“Come on. I’ve got an idea.”
He laced our fingers, pulling me behind him, rushing down the flight of stairs and didn’t stop until we reached his car.
“Wait.” I put my hand on the door handle when he took a seat behind the wheel. “I left my bag upstairs.”
Chase turned the key, a mischievous grin taking half of his face. “Leave it. It’s my treat tonight.”
He was a cautious driver—watched the speed limits and stopped on all amber lights even though there was enough time to cross the junction.
“I heard that you like to dance,” he said minutes later, when he parked the car in the city centre. “I know just the place. Charles is out with Caroline, and Ethan is there with Sarah, too.”
“Are you sure you don’t mind seeing Caroline with your brother?” We exited the car, and Chase immediately took my hand again.
“I have a feeling it won’t be half as bad if you’re there.”
A bouncer stood outside the main entrance, holding a queue of people waiting behind red, retractable tape. He took one look at Chase and waved us over.
“Alright, mate? Night off, is it?”
They clasped hands and bumped shoulders like the oldest of friends.
“Yeah, all good. You?”
“Same old.” The bouncer sized me up. “Who’s the birdy?”
“Back off, Jason.” Chase pushed him away jokingly. “This is Nadia. She’s my boss’s sister.”
Jason laughed, holding the door open. The club Nick chose for my coming home party was far more appealing than this one. It was a cross between a dance club and a night club. Half-naked women danced on platforms, entertaining the crowds of sexually frustrated guys. Most of the floor space was deemed a dancefloor with a large, round bar in the middle. A small DJ station was tucked in at the back of the room in between two pillars which held the balcony. A few small tables were scattered around here and there, but the only chairs in sight were those in the VIP section upstairs.
The smell of stale beer made me cringe. I scooted closer to Chase, who smelled like mint and lemons. With our fingers still interlocked, we walked over to the bar and downed two shots of tequila after spending ten minutes in line waiting to be served.
The place was bursting at its seams, the enormous dancefloor packed with sweaty guys and writhing girls. I spotted Charles in one of the VIP lodges, but we didn’t bother going up there first. Chase pushed me into the crowd, then drew me close, dancing to The Hills by The Weekend.
“Relax,” he said.
He spun me around, resting one hand on my sternum. The oversized jersey wrapped around my sides, and the soothing, strangely satisfying smell of his cologne intensified. I had no urge to run. No trace of unease crossed my mind.
I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath, my delight almost palpable. Whatever the reason, be it the help offered by Thomas, therapy, or medication, I was glad that Chase’s touch didn’t alarm me. It was a tangible proof I was getting better.
My hips swayed in sync with his. The song was too intimate for a club and too intimate to dance to with Chase, but he behaved.
“You can sing; you can dance; you’re beautiful… Why aren’t you signed with Nick’s label?” he asked five songs later when we headed back to the bar for another shot.
“It was never something I wanted to do. A lot of people can sing on key, Chase, but it’s not just about that, is it? It’s about the strength of the voice, the unique vibe, the ability to convey emotions. I can’t do that with my voice, but give me a pencil, and I’ll show you emotions you can’t even name.”
The bartender pushed four shots our way, and Chase handed him a twenty. “That you can. The drawings in the hallway at your apartment are amazing. They’re sad, raw and disturbing, but the emotions drip from every stroke. It’s quite unnerving if I’m honest.”
I laughed, urging him to drink.
“My past is disturbing, and that’s what I’ve been sketching lately—memories and feelings that hold me hostage.” We slammed the last two shots at the back of our throats, placing the glasses on the counter, bottoms up. “Enough with the heavy,” I said, hearing the first notes of the remixed version of Roses by SAINt JHN. “I like this song.”
Chase smiled, the dimple making an appearance. He caught my hand and led me back to the dance floor, bouncing on his feet along with everyone else. He watched me laugh, sing and twirl around him, letting loose. His eyes shone with happiness; his hands found mine whenever I let go. The song slowed for a few seconds, and Chase made a show of resting his forehead on mine, ghosting his fingers over my cheeks.
“A smile suits you,” he said when the song faded into another one.
We headed back to the bar three songs later. Chase ordered a whole bottle of Tequila, pointing toward the balcony.
“Come on. We’ll have a few shots with the rest of the party.”
He took my hand, steering me toward the spiral, metal staircase, while filling me in on Charles’s utter lack of common sense when it came to drinking and the amusing situations he got himself into whenever he had too much alcohol.
“One time, some idiot, equally drunk, convinced him to get buddy tattoos… of unicorns. He’s got it on his ankle.”
My chuckle ran short when we emerged on the balcony. The VIP section was to the right, and the moment we turned, I stopped in my tracks. Thomas occupied the seat beside Charles, his coat casually sprawled over the back of the chair.
Chase was already by the table, shaking hands with Ethan, but I couldn’t force my feet to move forward. I thought Thomas understood I needed time, but apparently, he didn’t.
Either that, or he wanted me to suffer.
Our eyes locked, deepening my disappointment. I had no money for a taxi back, but I would rather walk home than take a seat. Chrissy was probably on her way, ready to showcase her positivity and shower Thomas with sweet kisses.
I spun around, my heels clicking on the metal steps. Vibrations of bass amplified the impression of the floor shaking beneath me when I marched straight down the middle of the dancefloor, my mind nothing short of a swarm of angered wasps. The exit loomed in the distance. People stepped in my way, forcing me to walk around them.
Five fingers dug into my arm. Thomas pulled me back, slamming me against his broad, firm chest. The smell of his body engulfed my senses. I basked in the calmness he evoked: the familiarity of his touch, the smell of his cologne, shower gel and whatever he used to style his hair.
I gritted my teeth, stepping away and spinning around. “Why did you come here? Don’t you dare tell me it’s a coincidence! You’re not making this easier, Thomas. I told you that I need space.”
He took one step, pressed his forehead to mine and weaved his hand in my hair, swaying to the rhythm, and urging me to do the same.
“Don’t run,” he muttered, repeating the same words he said all those months ago. �
��I won’t do anything you won’t let me.”
A tingling sensation started in the pit of my stomach, while the lustful gaze of his cinnamon eyes sparked a flame in my core.
“What do you want from me?” I asked, careful not allow hope to burst through the metal door of the small jail that I locked it in.
Thomas’s eyes shone with a sort of glint—the same one I saw the night we agreed that we were more than just friends with benefits. My heart rate accelerated when hope fled its prison. The beat dropped, but this time I anticipated Thomas’s move. He pressed my back flush to his chest, one hand on my collarbone, the other flat against my stomach.
“Close your eyes.” His lips brushed against my ear. “And imagine we’re alone.”
A wave of goose bumps erupted on my skin; muscles in my stomach contracted when I spun back around. It was easier to read him when I could see him.
“In my head, we’re always alone.” My voice was calm, hiding that inside I was an emotional wreck. “The look on your face makes me want to stay… Lie to me.”
His gaze fell to my lips. “I don’t want you to stay.”
I knotted my fingers on the nape of his neck, my legs no longer moving, my heart no longer beating.
“Lie better.”
He cupped my face pressing an affectionate kiss to my forehead.
“I don’t love you, baby doll.”
Butterflies took off in my stomach; calmness seeped through the walls, bringing them down, leaving just open space—room for my lungs to breathe and room for regret and guilt to disperse.
I crashed my lips to his, parting them with the avidity of a bumblebee that spotted the first clover of the season. Thomas cupped my face and deepened the kiss, letting me savour what tasted like redemption.
“I’m sorry,” I breathed into his mouth. “I’m sorry, baby.”
He broke the kiss, resting his forehead on mine. “You apologised enough. Now say I won’t ever regret this. Say I won’t lose you.”
Instead of assuring him he had nothing to worry about, I explained in three simple words why he didn’t need to worry.
“I love you.”
He dug his fingertips into my cheekbones. “I want to hear you say that every day.”
