by Staci Hart
My smile climbed on one side. “Yeah, she’ll be there.”
“Great. I’m sure that won’t be weird.”
“Ronnie said the same thing. Just don’t make it weird and it won’t be.”
“Ha.” She raised her glass. “Easy enough.”
I gave her what I hoped was a comforting smile. “It’ll be fine. Just as easy as Greg and I will have it.”
“So, not at all?” she joked.
“It’ll be fine, Rosie.”
It wasn’t something I called her much anymore, and it affected her, I could tell. She looked to the television, watching the logo of the cable company move across the screen so she wouldn’t have to look at me.
She nodded toward it. “So, is this it for tonight?”
No reason why I couldn’t keep the plan going where I could, so I made her an offer I knew she couldn’t refuse. “It’s looking that way. I was thinking about watching Better Off Dead.”
She beamed. “Classic John Cusack, and the best Savage Steve Holland movie, hands down. Two dollars!” she said with a laugh.
I pointed at nothing. “Go that way, really fast. If something gets in your way, turn.”
“I live my life by that quote.”
I chuckled. “So, you in?”
She turned to face the television and sank into the couch. “Definitely.”
I started the movie as Rose grabbed my comforter and pulled it over her, slinging part of it over me too. Before long, she sank into the dip between cushions, finding her way closer to me as we laughed, reciting the lines we knew. And by the time the credits rolled and we started Sixteen Candles, Greg was a distant memory, and Rose was mine, even if only for a hundred and twenty minutes at a time.
MAKE A WISH
Rose
ELLIE AND I STOOD AT the foot of my bed the night of Patrick’s birthday party, staring at the pile of clothes on my bed. Valentino hopped on the mattress, climbed on the pile, and sat on it like the fashionable bastard he was.
I looked over the pile. “Who knew dressing up for a date for your ex-boyfriend’s party would be so complicated?”
Ellie laughed. “Uh, pretty much everyone who ever thought about it.” She hung her hand on her hip. “I vote that one.” She pointed at a black dress that was far too short to be appropriate for a second date, or Patrick’s birthday.
“Fuck it. I’m going with the classics.” I picked up the cat, and he mewled lazily as I set him to the side so I could dig through the pile, slinging clothes over my shoulder. “Black jeans, white V-neck, leather jacket, hot pink heels. Bam. Done.”
“So, the first thing you tried on?”
“Is there really another way to do this?”
She shrugged. “Not that I know of.”
Valentino jumped down and rubbed against Ellie’s leg, and she picked him up, nuzzling into his neck. “Nervous?” she asked me.
I chewed my lip. “Does it show?”
“Only if I look at you.”
“Ugh. I don’t know what it is.”
“Well, you’re about to go on your first real date with a guy you like, except your ex will be there.”
My face fell. “Right. Probably not my best idea.”
“Too late now,” she sang, smiling.
“I mean, Greg is a good guy. He’s straightforward, says exactly what he thinks, which means he’s the opposite of Patrick. None of that unspoken words drama. Simple. Easy. That’s what I need. Something easy.”
She shrugged. “Sure, I guess. I mean, I like a little mystery sometimes, but that’s just me.” She kissed Valentino. “What time is it?”
I checked my phone and hissed a swear word. “Uh, late.”
Ellie rubbed her nose against the cat’s. “Come on, you sexy beast. Let’s go get fancy.”
I swear to God he winked at me over Ellie’s shoulder as she left the room.
I threw on my clothes in a whirl and headed into the bathroom to get the rest of me in order. Luckily, I had a foolproof five-minute rush makeup system, one that had been forged over years and years of being perpetually late.
I blew through the motions, leaving everything laying on the counter — foundation, nude eyeshadow, cat-eyes with gel liner, applied off muscle memory alone. Then mascara and the pink lipstick that was the exact same shade as my shoes. I threw on my silver chains, all at varying lengths and textures, finishing just as the doorbell rang.
I fluffed my hair in the mirror, thankful I’d fixed it before the whole dump-out-my-closet fiasco, trying to remember if I’d applied deodorant as I hurried to the door.
Greg smiled and kissed me on the cheek, taking a moment to look me over. I assessed him right back, and I liked what I saw. Black jeans and oxfords, black and white gingham button-down cuffed just above his elbows. It made me just want to stare at his forearms, muscular and covered in tattoos.
He even had great hair, dark and combed neatly with a hard part.
I was winning all over the place.
“You look amazing, Rose,” he said as he touched my arm.
I felt my cheeks flush. “Thanks. You clean up pretty nice, yourself.”
Ellie leaned out of the bathroom as she put in an earring. “Hey, Greg.”
“Nice to see you, Ellie.” He gave her a wave.
“I think we’re just about ready to go.” I picked up my clutch as Ellie walked in.
She looked like a disco ball again in a short, gold sequined dress and black heels. Her red hair was big, her lashes were long, and her lips soft pink. Her eyes were so huge, she didn’t even need liner. I think she’d look like a Japanese cartoon if she put any on. I made a mental note to convince her to do it, just because.
“Bombshell,” I sang in appreciation.
“Gotta use these hips for something.” She bumped me with said hip, but she was so short, it hit me in the upper thigh.
Greg extended his elbow, and I slipped a hand in the bend of his arm just as Ellie took his other arm. His smile was sweet and snarky. “Today must be my lucky day. I get not one, but two lovely ladies on my arm.”
Ellie looked around him, smiling. “And he’s charming. Good one, Rose. Got any friends, Greg?”
“One or two.”
I chuckled as we headed out the door. “I thought you were looking for one of the Tonic boys?”
She shrugged. “There’s plenty of me to go around.”
“What’s Tonic?” Greg asked as we walked down the hall and to the stairs.
“The tattoo parlor where Patrick works,” I answered.
“Ah. How do you know him?”
Ellie and I spoke at the same time.
“They used to date,” she said, just as I said, “He lives down the hall.”
I froze my face to give nothing away, even though I died a little inside. Ellie just kept talking, not even realizing I was mortified.
“They’ve lived down the hall from each other forever, but he’s actually living with us now, sorta. On account of his roommate and Rose’s roommate getting busy all the time.”
Greg, being the goddamn gentleman he was, took it all in stride, smiling at me in a way that told me it was fine, and he knew I was embarrassed, and that he was sorry for that. “Well, that sounds simple enough.”
Ellie laughed. “Yeah, right. Rose walked in on him getting out of the shower the other day and I thought she was going to have a stroke.”
I laughed, or at least tried to make a noise that sounded like a laugh, though it came out more like a cough and a cackle, or something awkward like that.
Greg let us both go and pushed open the door to our building. Ellie passed first, then me, as I wished I could sink into the floor and disappear. But Greg touched my arm and smiled, saying, “Too bad for him that she’s with me tonight.”
My heart fluttered as I stepped out, and he followed, giving me his arm once more. Ellie was on her own and didn’t seem to mind, just strutted down the sidewalk in that sparkly dress, nearly stopping traffic when we cross
ed the street. No less than four men and two chicks turned to get a good look at her walking away. She chatted the whole time, and I mercifully steered the conversation to LA, getting her going all the way to Habits.
Ellie was right. I picked a good one.
When we reached the bar, I was on top of the world, feeling hopeful. Very hopeful.
Until we stepped inside, and I saw Patrick. My very first thought, once I could think, was me wondering if I’d ever truly get over him.
Patrick stood in a pack of people, his friends — Joel, Shep, West, and Cooper — who were all laughing. But time stood still for a long moment as my eyes drank in every detail.
The line of his jaw was hard, yet somehow still smooth, his skin perfect, almost the only part of him that wasn’t covered in tattoos — the ink on his neck licked at his jaw like black flames. His nose somehow made his face look boyish, his face always shaven, his hair always neatly combed, but that was all underscored by the chaos of the art that covered his body, the hardness of him at odds with the soft.
But his eyes were the most striking thing of all. They were eyes constantly burning, always on fire, eyes that told you exactly what he felt. And when they found mine, my knees almost buckled.
I held on to Greg’s arm like a lifeline, looking away to search for Lily as I tried to regain some level of composure. It was my only defense against him — ignore, ignore, ignore.
Lily and Maggie sat at a high top, sipping their drinks. They waved as we stepped around the crowd there for Patrick, and I did my very best to pretend like he didn’t exist. Not yet, at least. Not until my heart quit hammering.
Lily stood and hugged me, blond hair in soft waves, her dress made of pink lace and flared, lips red and smiling. I swear, the ballerina thing was coded into her genetics.
“Hey,” she said, looking past me at Greg when she pulled away. She extended a hand. “Greg, right? It’s so nice to meet you. I’m Lily.”
“It’s a pleasure.” He smiled amiably and gave her hand a squeeze.
Maggie waved, her short, curly hair bobbing. “And I’m Maggie,” she said, her Mississippi drawl sweet and sugary.
“So,” I said as I turned to Greg, “welcome to Habits, our home away from home.”
Ellie stood at my side, blatantly shopping the guys, sizing them up. They didn’t seem to mind in the slightest — in fact, I could practically see the testosterone wafting off them.
West and Cooper turned to us, and we said our hellos. As we all shifted to greet one another, I ended up next to Patrick. So I did what I was supposed to do. What I wanted to do just as much as I didn’t.
I leaned in and gave him a hug, holding my breath so I wouldn’t breathe him in. “Happy birthday, Tricky.”
His hand slipped around my waist, bringing our bodies flush for a brief moment. “Thank you, Rose,” he said near my ear, though I could barely hear over the sound of my heart, like it was calling to him.
I pulled away, overwhelmed, avoiding eye contact as I remembered myself and looked for Greg behind me. I slipped my arm around his as if to say I was his, pretending I was unaffected, though I could feel both men watching me. I smiled under the weight of it all.
I realized then that I wasn’t as good at playing it cool as I thought I was. I also realized that bringing Greg here was a colossal mistake.
“Want a drink?” Greg asked, snapping me back to the moment.
I smiled my waitress smile that covered up my feelings like a mask, feeling like a fool. “Neat scotch, thanks.”
He smiled back, and I had a feeling his smile was as fake as my own. “Be right back.”
I stepped over to Lily again, keeping my back to Patrick. She nodded, smiling.
“He’s super cute, Rosie.”
Ellie set down her bag and took a seat next to Lily. “And nice, too.”
“Yeah, but I shouldn’t have brought him here. It’s about a kabillion times more awkward than I thought it would be.”
Maggie smirked. “It’s the first time you’ve really been with a guy in front of Patrick, plus Greg is meeting all of your friends, all of whom are friends with Patrick too. It’s a big deal.”
“I mean, Tricky met him last night.” It was the weakest defense ever.
Ellie made a face. “Sort of. And he wasn’t all smiles and handshakes.”
I chuffed. “No, more like switchblade eyes and bro nods.”
Maggie sighed and glanced behind me, presumably at Patrick. “It’s like watching a panther circle its supper. I don’t know how you don’t cave.”
“Sometimes I don’t either.”
Lily’s face got a little more serious. “Oh, God. Rosie, don’t look yet, but Veronica just walked in.”
I’d nearly forgotten about her with everything else spinning around my head. I moved around the table like I was going to talk to Ellie so I could catch a glimpse and immediately wished I hadn’t.
Veronica looked a lot like me, except with a badass supermodel upgrade. She was so gorgeous, she looked like she belonged in a comic book or something, all long legs and piercings, tattoos everywhere. She’d just approached Patrick — they were smiling, and she kissed him on the cheek.
I tried to swallow my feelings, but they stuck in my throat like a cork.
She was flanked by … Penny, I think was her name, with long hair the color of grass and bangs cut like a pinup girl. She was dressed like a pinup girl too, in high-waisted pants and a black, polka-dotted top with a sweetheart neckline and tiny buttons down the front. You’d think she’d look weird, having hair the color of a lime snow cone and all, but when coupled with her winged liner, piercings, tattoos, and deep red lips, she just looked like she belonged in a magazine too.
I felt about as fashionable as the K-Mart clearance rack.
Greg walked up with my drink, mercifully, giving me something to avert my eyes toward as well as eighty-proof liquor to calm my nerves. A large part of me was ready to bail. I looked up at him and smiled, trying to figure out the fastest way to get out of there. We could stay for a drink. Maybe go back to my place. Try to reset the weird.
I wondered if he felt it too. If I was reading his body language effectively, he definitely did.
West and Cooper pulled up next to their girls to chat with Greg, and I sipped my scotch, attempting to pay attention. I’d nearly finished my drink and was about to ask Greg if he wanted to get out of there when I felt a hand on my arm.
“Ah, Rose?”
Please, don’t be Veronica, I thought as I turned, standing so straight, I could have had a two-by-four up my ass.
It was totally Veronica.
She glanced behind me at everyone and sort of waved at everyone. We’d all met her a few times before Patrick brought her into the bar after he dumped me. The group was still, faces frozen in smiles. Maggie waved back, a small motion, the only one.
“Um, I’m sorry to interrupt, but do you have a second?”
I looked up at Greg with apologetic eyes, then back at her. “Ah, sure.”
I followed her away from the throng and toward the bar, feeling everyone’s eyes on us, especially Patrick’s. I swear, they burned hotter than everyone else’s, and I exhausted a large supply of my concentration trying to focus on her.
“Can I buy you a drink?” she asked over her shoulder.
Mine was empty, and even if I could refuse the olive branch, I needed another stiff drink. And soon. “Thanks,” I answered.
We stepped up to the bar, and Veronica leaned on the surface, waiting for Shelby to make her way down to us. I took the opportunity to look her over once more — her hair was black as midnight, lips a deep burgundy, dressed head to toe in black. She turned to me with those dark lips of hers smiling.
Fake-ass smile: activate.
“Listen,” she started tentatively, “I just wanted to tell you that I’m really sorry. For what happened with Tricky, and all,” she clarified. “I—”
Shelby walked up, and we shared a brief look befor
e she asked, “Hello, ladies. What’ll it be?”
“Makers and Coke, for me,” Veronica answered.
“Glenlivet, neat. Thanks, Shelb.”
“No problem.”
Veronica laid a twenty and a few singles on the bar and turned back to me as Shelby poured our drinks. “Rose, I want you to know that I had no idea what was going on between the two of you when he asked me to come here with him that night. If I’d known, I wouldn’t have agreed. In fact, I didn’t understand what was up until we left.”
Shelby brought our drinks by and picked up the cash.
“Keep the change,” Veronica said with a wave, and Shelby smiled and walked away. She picked up her drink. “You know, we left here that night, and I thought he’d been a little weird, but I wasn’t sure what was going on. Like, I knew you guys had dated, but I had no idea if it was serious or not, and I wasn’t sure when you’d broken up. You know how he is … he’s pretty private about … well, everything.”
“Yeah, I do know.” I picked up my scotch and took a sip.
“Anyway, when we left, he basically dumped me on the sidewalk. He told me a little about you two, apologized for bringing me into it. I could have punched him for the both of us, but instead, I bitched him out and left him standing outside the bar, hopefully feeling like a dick. I almost came back in here that night to talk to you, but you were here with your friends, and … I don’t know. I was embarrassed. I should have come back then, and I’m sorry for that too.”
I sighed, part of me wishing she was a bitch so I could hate her. But I couldn’t hate her. She’d been taken for just as much of a ride as I had. Sorta.
She turned to face me. “You don’t owe me anything, Rose. But I wanted to let you know.”
“Thank you, Veronica. Really,” I said, humbled. “You didn’t have to come to me, and you didn’t have to buy me this drink, but I appreciate it. All of it.”
“It’s the least I can do. Joel told me a little more about what kind of damage I caused, and I hate that I was a part of that.”
“Don’t let that get to you. I don’t blame you. I blame him.”
She chuckled. “I’m not gonna lie — I had a thing for him for a long, long time. But after that fiasco? You couldn’t pay me.”
