My Darling Arrow

by A. Kent, Saffron

She takes it all.

  And for a second there it almost does get me going.

  Until I realize that’s all she ever does.

  She takes it but she doesn’t give it back.

  She doesn’t writhe under me, trying to fuck me back. She doesn’t fist my hair and pull at it. She doesn’t scratch me with her nails, goad me by breaking my rules.

  She doesn’t wear tiny little skirts or leave me sexy fucking notes.

  She doesn’t fan my aggression and provoke me into fucking her harder.

  Into reining her in.

  I look at Sarah, the perfect good girl, the girl I’ve been with for the last eight years, and I realize that… she’s a little too perfect. A little too boring.

  Kissing her feels boring too.

  The same song and dance that we’ve been doing for eight long years.

  “What do you think your new boyfriend would say to you kissing your old boyfriend? Or maybe you’ve done it so many times now to your old boyfriend – you know, going behind his back and all that – that you can’t tell the difference between right or wrong anymore.”

  Sarah draws back as if I’ve slapped her.

  Whatever.

  I step away from her, ready to leave and get the fuck out of this party, but again, she stops me. This time with her words.

  “This is not about Ben.”

  “But you’re still fucking him, aren’t you?”

  “Why, are you jealous?”

  I think about it and my answer automatically slips out, “Strangely, no.”

  Before I can analyze it, she says, “So what’s the problem? Why can’t you let this go?”

  “Maybe because you cheated on me and lied to me. That tends to piss people off.”

  Scoffing, she shakes her head. “Do you have any idea how big of a mistake you’re making right now?”

  “Why don’t you tell me?”

  She exhales sharply. “Why do you think we were together, A? Why do you think we got together in the first place? It’s because we matched in every way. I was ambitious and so were you. I was driven and so were you. We had this mutual attraction. You’re as handsome as I am beautiful. We were together because being with each other made sense. Being with each other was easy. It was convenient.”

  I look into her eyes, her golden eyes that I found so rare. So fascinating and original. Something to be prized.

  Something like perfection.

  But now, like her, they seem boring. They don’t tilt up at the corners. They don’t shine as much.

  So boring that a word comes out of my mouth in a flat, bored tone. “Convenient.”

  “Yes.” Sarah smiles in triumph. “It was convenient. Somehow fate or whatever put us in the same house. Our thoughts matched. Our goals matched. We both brought something to the table. Do you know how hard that is to find? This level of perfection between two people?

  “It’s hard, A. But we have it. All these people, these ordinary people, they run after love and all those stupid things. But we have something greater. It was never about love between us. We have our perfection. We have our ambitions. Our plans. We’re a team, you and me. We’re the power couple, don’t you see? I’m beautiful, educated, sophisticated; I look good on your arm. And you are my superstar athlete boyfriend. Why do you think I came up with the injury lie? Why do you think I appeased everyone while you were away? I didn’t want you to lose everything you’ve worked for. We have worked for. Remember all the plans we made? Going to college together. You going pro. You getting traded to the European League. God, we were going to live in England or Ireland. Spain. We were going to do so many things together.”

  We were.

  Going pro was always my dream.

  Playing for the European League was always my dream too because it was my father’s dream and my mother made sure that I saw it as well, when I closed my eyes.

  But then Sarah came along, and she seemed so similar to me that all my plans and dreams became hers. She let me focus on the game. She let me completely disappear into myself when I was obsessed with a strategy. She let me watch the game tapes over and over.

  She let me be.

  It just made sense.

  It was fucking convenient.

  “And we can still have that,” she continues, stepping closer and putting her hands on me again, on my rapidly heating body. “We can still be that couple, you and me. One mistake can’t wash away eight years of togetherness, A. It can’t. I won’t let it. We can’t be like other people and be bogged down with ordinary things. We’re special. We have worked too hard for it, you and me.”

  She’s right.

  We’re not ordinary, her and me.

  We’re perfect. We match.

  We are destined for greater things. That’s what I’ve been told ever since I was born. Greatness, perfection, being my father’s son.

  “You and me, huh,” I murmur and her eyes shine with a hard glint of her ambitions.

  “I know I hurt you with Ben. I know that but that wasn’t my intention at all.”

  “So what was your intention then?”

  “You were so involved in your game, the season, and I was new in town. I’d just started the new job. I was lonely. I didn’t have a lot of friends back then. You kept bringing him around and yeah, I slipped up. I admit that. But I didn’t want to distract you from the game because of something so inconsequential. I didn’t want you to lose your focus. That’s why I hid it for so long. I didn’t want to hurt you. I was going to stop anyway once we were married. You are more important to me than some second-class coach. He’s been on the team for four years, A, and he’s still the assistant coach, can you believe it? You rose to the top within a year. He’s got nothing on you. He’s got nothing on us.”

  I have to bark out a harsh laugh.

  I’ve been trying to keep it inside of me, this sharp piece of laughter, but it bursts out like a bullet. Like my body has been a loaded gun for so long and finally, finally the shot is fired.

  Because finally, I understand.

  Finally, things make sense.

  They make perfect sense.

  Convenience.

  That’s it. That’s what our relationship has been all about.

  We’ve been together because somehow our ambitions matched and everything came easy. We both brought something to the table – I was the popular jock and she was the good girl.

  I gave her the status she craved and she was the perfect girlfriend who stood by me through the years while I achieved my dreams. Who encouraged me and never distracted me from my main goal.

  My main focus – soccer.

  In fact, when I graduated a semester earlier than her and was drafted, I didn’t even think twice about leaving her behind. I was so fucking ecstatic about it. She was ecstatic about it.

  Things were falling into place for us.

  Our dreams were coming true.

  But when she cheated, all that convenience went away, didn’t it?

  All the plans were broken.

  Suddenly, all I could think about was her breaking my trust. All I could think about was her fucking my friend on our couch, in our bed, in hotel rooms. Her fucking him with my ring on her finger and me failing to figure it out.

  Suddenly, my perfect girlfriend became a distraction, a failure. My perfect relationship turned out to be a lie.

  I couldn’t focus on my training. I couldn’t focus on the game.

  And I couldn’t… win.

  Yeah.

  I lost a game, didn’t I?

  A week after I read those texts on Sarah’s phone and found out about her betrayal, we had a big game. I was so shocked, so shaken up and out of it, that I wasn’t at my one hundred percent. I missed a couple of goals and we lost.

  I haven’t forgotten that defeat, no. I remember it very clearly.

  But what I did forget is the fact that that’s when I hit Ben.

  That�
�s when my anger snapped and I broke the rule.

  The day after we lost the game.

  I hit him because I lost. Because they made me lose, Sarah and Ben and what they did. Because they distracted me from my one and only focus and because they stained my perfect relationship.

  Jesus fucking Christ.

  That’s why.

  That’s why I’ve been so angry. I’ve been so tormented and fucking tortured.

  Because I lost my focus. Because my relationship wasn’t as perfect as I thought it was. My girlfriend wasn’t as perfect as I thought she was.

  I’ve been angry because I failed to hold onto perfection. Not because I failed to hold onto my girlfriend of eight years.

  Isn’t it?

  It was never about love between us; she’s right.

  What we had was bigger than that.

  What we had was convenience and an innate need for perfection, and I’m only now realizing this.

  Eight years later.

  Eight years and I finally get it.

  Eight years and her jarring me out of my focus, to understand that it was always about being perfect in every aspect of my life.

  It was always about being The Blond Arrow.

  Even now I’m more broken up about the fact that I didn’t get to play out the season than the fact that I don’t get to live with her. I’m not even jealous, am I?

  No, I’m not.

  I don’t even miss her.

  In all this time that I’ve been angry over her betrayal, not once did I mourn the loss of her.

  I laugh again, and this time it’s more tired than sharp. More exhausted.

  Unclenching my fingers from around the bottle, I set it down on the table.

  “A?”

  For a second, I’d completely forgotten that she was here. I’d completely forgotten that she was waiting for me to speak and when I still don’t say anything, she grasps the lapels of my suit jacket – another reason why I hate going to these things, suit jackets.

  “Are you leaving? Did you hear anything that I said to you? We are –”

  I grab her wrists, her dainty feminine wrists that I can break very easily if I want to. But instead of it giving me a thrill like it used to, I find it… too convenient.

  Too easy.

  “I did. I heard every word.”

  “But –”

  “You said it was convenient and you’re right.” I clench my jaw, flexing my fingers around her hands. “Everything about us was convenient and easy. We match each other on every level and we should get back together.”

  She smiles.

  But her smile vanishes when I let go of her wrists and step back once again.

  Once and for all.

  “But look around you, Sarah. You’re surrounded by ambitious people. This whole team is ambitious. I hear Rodney, one of the half backs? Is a real up and comer. Not to mention, he’s single, and I overheard the guys saying that he likes brunettes. I think that’s pretty convenient, don’t you?”

  Her face ripples with anger, with shock. “What has gotten into you? Why are you behaving this way?”

  I chuckle humorlessly, feeling hollower, emptier than ever. “I believe the correct term is asshole.”

  She fists her hands at her sides. “So this is the end?”

  End. Yeah.

  End of an era.

  An eight year long chapter of my life.

  An eight year long relationship that never should’ve been and all I feel is relief.

  “I think so, yeah.” I jerk my chin at her then. “Good luck with Ben. Rodney. Whatever.”

  “And what are you going to do?” she asks with venom in her voice. “Find someone like me to love? Someone who doesn’t distract you from your precious game and your goals?”

  Love.

  Is that what she said? That I’d find someone to love?

  Something moves in my body. Something that eats up my short-lived relief. It’s not the usual shame, this thing. It’s not my skin crawling. It’s not even anger.

  It’s something else.

  Something more violent, more visceral.

  Something fundamental.

  Painful, even.

  Something that’s sitting on my chest, pressing down on my ribs.

  I clench my teeth and tighten my body against it before replying. “No. You cured me of that, actually. Because you just made me realize something about myself.”

  “What?” She folds her arms across her chest, the very picture of perfect outrage.

  “That a guy like me knows nothing about love.”

  A guy like me who measures his life with the goals he scores and the trophies he wins, who lives his life in the pursuit of perfection, who takes eight fucking years to realize the truth about his relationship, has no idea what love is.

  The Blond Arrow has no fucking clue what love is.

  The pain in my gut jacks up and I almost grab the railing to keep myself standing. I need to get out of here. I need to get away from her and I will, in a second.

  Because I remember something.

  Something that I want to say to her.

  “Oh, and one last thing.”

  She goes alert.

  “Your sister…” I pause and Sarah’s eyes turn malicious, leaving me to wonder if this is the first time she’s looked so ugly at the mention of her sister or has she always looked this way.

  I wish I knew.

  I wish I had noticed.

  “What about her?”

  “She’s a hell of a soccer player.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I don’t think I’ve seen her kind of talent in a long time. But she thinks that you don’t appreciate it. You think that she’s wasting her time.”

  “So?”

  “So I suggest you watch your mouth when you talk about your sister. Because if you don’t, then I’ll have to give you a lesson on what being an asshole really means. And trust me, I’d love to do that. I’d love to make you understand what’s gotten into me.”

  With that, I leave.

  My chest burns with the pain, with something that I have no clue about.

  I don’t know what it is. I don’t know how to curb it.

  All I know is that I can’t breathe. The whole world is closing in.

  I need to get out of here.

  I need to get out of this fucking city.

  I need to go the fuck back.

  Ever since he went away and left me with a note, I’ve been thinking about Sarah.

  A lot.

  She said she’d be waiting for him when he came back.

  Was she?

  I bet she was.

  She said that eight years’ worth of love is bigger than her one mistake. Honestly, I thought so too.

  Until I found out about her mistake. About what she did to him.

  To my Arrow.

  I know he’s not mine but still.

  Still, I’m so mad at her.

  I mean, I’m not in her position, okay? I don’t know what went through her mind when she did what she did, when she slept with Ben.

  But surely there was another way. A better way.

  A better way than lying to the man you love and making him think that he failed, making him beat himself up like this.

  So this past week I thought about it.

  About the mistake she made and how angry I got over that, and how I still struggle to understand it and I wish I could call her.

  I wish I could talk to her.

  Because even though I never understood their relationship – I admit that now after that disastrous Friday dinner – I do understand something about making mistakes.

  I’m in love with her ex-boyfriend.

  I fell in love with him the exact same time she did.

  Although I know now that I never would’ve done anything to hurt their relationship, it still wasn’t right.

  You don
’t do that to your own sister, and I’ll always be regretful of that.

  Not of my love for Arrow but what he was and still is to my sister.

  So maybe we should talk and figure things out.

  Maybe. I don’t know.

  I don’t know anything except that he’s gone and he might be getting back together with my sister.

  Which is great because everything will be right in his world.

  He won’t feel like a failure. All his anger will go away. He will be like the old Arrow, calm and collected, unruffled by anything around him.

  So why do I wanna cry?

  Why do I wanna dissolve in my sheets at night?

  Why do I wanna tell him to never ever change? To be like this forever.

  But that’s not all I want.

  I also wanna tell him.

  I wanna tell him that I love him, which is crazy. I went to great lengths to protect this secret. I was running away because of it.

  I don’t know what I hope to accomplish by telling him because we’re completely opposite of each other.

  He’s this great perfectionist who hates making mistakes and I’m anything but perfect. He has all these rules and I love breaking them. He’s a soccer superstar and up until recently, I hadn’t even played on an actual team. And even though I have this little dream of applying to the youth program for next summer, I’m still not a fit girlfriend for a celebrity athlete.

  Besides, for all I know, he’s back together with Sarah and if my sister makes him happy, then so be it.

  I’ll never stand in the way of his happiness.

  At least it’s Friday and I’m out with the girls at Ballad of the Bards, and I don’t have to think about all these things.

  Plus Miller has been particularly nasty to me all week so I really need a little break.

  I’m not dressed up or anything though. I have my regular clothes on, my cargo pants and a simple t-shirt with my chunky sweater over it.

  I’m not wearing any lipstick either.

  There’s no use wearing it if I can’t pout my lips at him and get punished for it.

  Oh and tonight I’ve chosen to not dance as well.

  So I’m sitting by the bar with Wyn, who has a sketchbook out, while Poe flirts with a guy at a nearby table and Callie is off somewhere.

  With Reed Jackson.

  He was already here when we all came in and since his dark eyes were pinned to the door, he spotted Callie right away. And since Callie already knew he was going to be here, she flirted with her bartender friend and danced with a few guys before disappearing.