by Lexi Aurora
I went downstairs to help unload the truck, incapable of just sitting around while they did it all themselves. I was tired by the time we were finished, having carried countless boxes into the apartment, and by the time the movers left, I had sunken down onto my couch. It was suddenly quiet—much quieter than it had always been with my sister around. Suddenly, the silence felt almost uncomfortable. I looked around at the boxes on the floor, picking one up and unpacking the radio inside. I had just plugged it in when there was a knock on my door. I wiped my hands on my jeans and went to it, opening it up to see a stunning woman on the other side. She was tall and blonde, dressed inappropriately for the weather in a small, tight dress that accented her body, the length of her slim legs.
“Hi,” I said, smiling at her. She was just my type, the kind of girl I always went for.
“Hey,” she said, and already there was a flirtatious tone in her voice. “I saw you just moved in. I wanted to come introduce myself. My name is Amanda Springer.”
“Tyler Norton,” I said to her, taking her hand and shaking it. She held mine for a long moment, her eyes sparkling on mine. She was obvious good at this, flirting with men, getting her way no matter what.
“So since you’re new here, I thought that we could get to know each other,” she said. “I noticed that nobody else seems to live here? No roommate or girlfriend?”
“No, it’s just me,” I said to her. I recognized the tone of her voice and knew that she knew who I was. She looked to me to be a model, and I wasn’t surprised that she was flirting—it was something that happened often with some of the women who thought that it might give them a boost in their career, and getting involved with that wasn’t something that I was the least bit interested in.
“Would you like to come down to my apartment for a drink?” the woman asked, her voice a seductive purr. “We could get to know each other. I have a feeling we’d get along.”
“No, I uh—I’m actually having some friends over,” I said, trying to make my voice apologetic. I really didn’t want to spend any time with her; I was trying to stay away from women, not interested in doing my usual old thing. I had started to feel like I was getting too old to be some sort of playboy, and though I had no intention of settling down, I had thought it best to be on my own for a while.
“Great,” she said brightly, completely missing the dodge. “Hanging out in a group is always fun. What time, do you think? Maybe in a couple of hours?”
“Um,” I said awkwardly, not knowing what to say. I felt like I couldn’t exactly reject her flat-out without being rude, though I had no particular interest in spending any time with her. “Yeah. A couple of hours.”
“Great,” she said, then disappeared down the stairs. I stared after her, blown away by her boldness. From the way she looked, that expertly flirtatious look in her eye, I knew that she was used to getting her way. She probably didn’t even think that there was a chance I might have rejected her. I shook my head, exasperated, knowing those kinds of women—they were always bold, always got what they wanted with just a wink and a pretty smile.
I closed the door and went back into the living room, pulling out my phone to send a group text to some close friends. I was glad that I had decided to have them over—it would be nice to spend my first evening in the new apartment with people I enjoyed being around, even if Amanda had invited herself to crash the party.
My front door opened and I saw Trixie, my sister walk in, as usual not bothering to knock. Trixie was younger than me, only just twenty-four, and had all the energy in the world. She bounced right into the apartment and immediately gave herself a tour, walking through each room.
“You could have so many great parties in here,” she said. I shook my head.
“No more of your blow-outs. I’m keeping this place low-key. I’m getting too old for this.”
“You’re only thirty-one,” she pointed out. “That’s hardly old.”
“It’s time for me to chill out,” I said to her, going to the fridge and pulling out a beer for her. I opened it and handed it to her, watching in exasperation as she downed the whole thing in a few large gulps, then picked up another and popped the top off.
“You are nuts,” I said to her when the doorbell rang, and I went to it to see my friends Aaron and Roger on the other side. They both grinned at me, looking around when I invited them in.
“This place is huge,” Aaron said as he took a seat on the couch next to Roger. “No wonder you moved out. You starting a family we don’t know about?”
I snorted. “Not a chance.”
“You should settle down,” Trixie teased. “You’re getting old.”
I rolled my eyes at her, sitting across from my friends as she plopped down into a chair. It was a few moments later that Amanda arrived, showing up in an even smaller dress than she’d been wearing before. She gave me a seductive smile, presenting a bottle of champagne.
“Thought we could celebrate,” she said, winking at me. I smiled at her and invited her in, looking over her shoulder at my sister, who looked over Amanda with her eyebrow raised.
“Who is this?” Trixie asked, a judgmental tone in her voice. I shot her a look, warning her not to be rude. Trixie had a habit of showing exactly how she felt about someone and not hiding her disdain at all, something that, at times, didn’t go over well at parties. She was known to get in trouble with people sometimes, and I only hoped she would keep her mouth shut and behave with Amanda around.
“My name is Amanda,” the woman said, sitting down in the chair I had been sitting in. I went into the kitchen and poured several glasses of champagne, passing them out to each person. When Amanda noticed that I had moved to the couch she stood up, not so subtly moving closer to me. Trixie stifled a laugh and I shot her an annoyed look.
“So what do you do?” Amanda asked me, inevitably taking the seat next to me, her thigh touching my own. “If you don’t mind me asking.”
I grinned at her, having to force it. I knew very well that she knew exactly what I did and who I was.
“I’m the CEO of Les Chic,” I said. “The—”
“Oh, I know Les Chic,” she said, gushing, her hand fluttering to her chest as if she was surprised, as if she hadn’t known who I was all along. I didn’t exactly have a low-profile face. I had been featured in New York magazines as one of the top eligible bachelors in the city, something that my partner, Owen, had submitted me for as a joke. He hadn’t expected me to win, and since then I’d had a lot of women like Amanda at my doorstep, though it had thankfully died down some in the two years since the article had come out. “That’s you?”
I nodded. Her flirty look was getting to me, especially by the time I was on my third beer. She really was gorgeous—the type of woman I normally went for. Model beautiful. Only the best. I found myself staring at her with some kind of interest, and she responded by doing small things like touching me—a hand on my knee or my arm. I found myself lost in my usual habit of wanting to forget some of my troubles, knowing that for a few moments, a woman might satisfy my need to keep from being alone. It was directly against everything I had told myself at the beginning of the night, yet still I was tempted. A warm body that meant nothing to me was still a warm body, somebody to keep me company for at least a few hours.
I found myself falling into Amanda, and by the time Aaron and Roger left, I already knew what was going to happen. Amanda was leaning into me, staring at my lips, and though I was tired, I knew I was just drunk enough to take her to bed.
Chapter 2: Ali
I yawned, wrapping my coat around me and making my way quickly along the sidewalk to my apartment. It was two in the morning and I had just then left work. I had been up all night practicing some new recipes that I was going to serve to Constance Maybury, an important food critic and somebody who had the ability to destroy the career I had built and found success in.
I got back to the apartment and slipped inside, shivering, taking the elevator to my apartmen
t on the third floor. A new neighbor had moved in and there was noise coming from his place, loud music that seemed to not be at all muffled by the door’s thick barrier. I tried to ignore it and went to my door, digging in my purse for my keys. I didn’t find them there, so I checked my pockets, then cursed when I realized that I must have forgotten them at the restaurant. I sighed, rubbing my eyes, grumbling as I went down to my mailbox to get the spare key. I waited for the elevator, and when the door opened I saw one of my neighbors, Amanda, with her arms wrapped around the neck of a man. I got on, trying to avoid looking at them, annoyed at their display of affection. I heard her giggling, nuzzling his neck, and he was grinning with a smile that was infinitely charming. His eyes met mine over her shoulder and I saw how handsome he was, with sharp, high cheekbones and dark, wavy hair. His eyes were blue and there was a line of stubble on his jaw, a five o’clock shadow that made his bone structure look even more incredible. He winked at me and I quickly glanced away, blushing, hyperaware that I had been staring.
“Hey,” said the man. I didn’t say anything, but stared straight ahead.
“Hi,” said the girl after that, waving her hand in front of my face. “You live here, right?”
“Yes,” I said, gritting my teeth. I had met Amanda many times before, though she’d never even bothered to remember my name. She was the type of girl who thought she was better than me by default—she was model pretty and thin as a stick, probably a size two, tiny compared to my size sixteen body. “Hi, Amanda.”
“Hi,” she said again, giggling, looking back at the man I didn’t know.
The two started making out, their bodies pressed together, and I grimaced, praying that the elevator would get to the first floor soon. I was relieved when it did and I rushed off, leaving the couple behind, wanting to forget about them. It was annoying to see people all over each other.
I went to my locker and grabbed my spare key, hoping that the couple wasn’t still in the elevator. For all I knew, they were the type of people who thought it’d be thrilling to hook up in a public place. The last thing I needed or wanted was to see two beautiful people getting it on right in front of me. To my relief, the elevator was empty, and I was glad for the quiet as I rode upstairs. The music was still playing when I got up there, the loud talking filling the hallway. I knew for sure that I’d be able to hear it in my apartment, in my bedroom, but I also knew there was nothing I could do about it now. I didn’t have the energy to confront the new neighbors, so I unlocked my door and went inside, going straight to bed. Despite the noise, I fell asleep quickly.
Chapter 3: Tyler
I groaned the moment I opened my eyes, squeezing them shut against the bright light. My head was throbbing and my mouth was dry. I looked beside me to see that the bed was empty, and sighed in relief that I hadn’t slept with Amanda the night before. I had lost control and given into her, but in the end it seemed I had resisted her charms. I got out of bed, my whole body feeling achy as it usually did after a night of drinking. It was true that I felt like I was getting old—I could no longer party the way my sister could, with endless drinks and little to no sleep in between.
I went downstairs first thing, walking across the parking lot without a coat on despite the fact that it was freezing outside. The cold air felt good on my skin after last night, feeling overheated and warm with Amanda. It soothed my headache, too, and the movement of my legs helped wake me up so that by the time I reached the apartment’s gym I was ready for my workout. I spent a long time running on the treadmill, my legs pumping, mind going blank as I ran. No matter how stressful my job got, I could always turn to running to clear my head. I ignored the clock as I ran, and by the time I was finished, sweat was pouring down my body. I wrapped a towel around my neck and made my way shirtless back to the building, shivering in the cold.
I spent the rest of the morning lazing around, having decided not to go into work today. The hangover was bad enough, but moving had made me sore, and I wasn’t feeling up to dealing with the high-speed pressure of fashion week looming in front of us. I felt slightly guilty for not working, but I knew that my team was more than competent enough to handle it without me, so I didn’t feel too bad as I lazed on the couch, flipping through TV channels mindlessly as I nursed my headache.
My phone rang and I picked it up, hesitating for a moment when I saw that it was my mom. I had barely spoken to her in the past year—I’d called her on Mother’s Day and on her birthday, but otherwise I had stayed away from both of my parents. Still, I did miss my mom—we had always been close, and I knew that hearing her voice would be good for me. I picked up the phone.
“Hey, Mom,” I said to her. It had been so long since I’d talked to her that I found myself holding my breath, for some reason expecting her to yell or be angry with me. That wasn’t the type of person my mother was, but I felt guilty for being away from her for so long, though I had no reason to believe that she would be angry. It wasn’t my mother I had fought with—she was just a bystander, and innocent casualty in the fight between my father and I.
“Hi, sweetie,” she said, and I smiled at the warmth in her voice. It didn’t matter how long we’d gone without talking to each other; I had known that my mother wouldn’t feel awkward, but would be her usual sweet self. “How are you? Are you at work?”
“Took the day off,” I told her, not wanting to elaborate on the fact that I had a massive hangover and could barely bring myself to stand, let alone go into work. “I wasn’t really feeling well this morning.”
“Your sister says you had quite a night,” my mother said, and I winced, knowing that Trixie had told her everything. The two of them were very close, and Trixie spilled her guts to my mother no matter what the topic.
“We did,” I said. “It was a good time.”
“You need to stay away from those models,” my mother chided. She was always telling me that. She had since the beginning. My mother was convinced that all models were empty-headed bimbos, and no matter how many times I tried to tell her that most of the women I worked with were perfectly competent and bright, she never managed to believe me. I sighed.
“How are you?” I asked, changing the subject. The last thing I wanted was to be chided when I was already feeling slightly guilty about how far I had gone with Amanda. I vaguely remembered kissing her, touching her on the couch, but I couldn’t remember anything afterward. I hoped that I was right and she hadn’t spent the night—I knew from experience how awful it was to forget having sex entirely, and it wasn’t something that I ever wanted to experience again.
“I’m good,” she said. “I miss you. I want you to come home for Christmas.”
I swallowed. “I don’t know, Mom.”
“Tyler, please,” she said in a pleading voice that made guilt spread through my entire body, making me feel heavy and sad. “Your father—”
“He definitely doesn’t want me there. You remember what happened the last time I talked to him. We had a huge fight,” I said to her. “We almost—it didn’t go well. I don’t want to go through that again.”
She sighed heavily. “He just doesn’t understand why you left the company.”
“I know he feels betrayed,” I said in exasperation. It was a conversation that I’d had over and over with both Trixie and my mother, but it still didn’t change the fact that I was proud of my decision not to work for my father, to be independent and on my own. “But I wanted to do my own thing. I never wanted to work for Dad for the rest of my life and I never promised him that I would.”
“I know,” she said in a sad voice. “I tried to explain that to him, but he had his heart set on you taking over the business.”
“Trixie is interested in taking over the business. Why doesn’t he let her do it?”
My mother sighed again. “Your sister isn’t quite as responsible as you are.”
“She can be,” I said. “He just needs to give her a chance. She has some growing up to do, but she loves that company. He do
esn’t treat her right.”
“I know,” she repeated, then paused. “Will you come visit? We haven’t seen you in a year. Your father—I promise he won’t mind. He misses you too.”
“I don’t know,” I said to her honestly. “I don’t know if I can face him. We were yelling at each other last time. I miss him, but—”
“It won’t be like that again. I’ll talk to your father,” she promised quickly. “I’ll tell him he has to stay calm. You two should be able to talk this out. You were always able to before.”
That was true. I had been close with my father up to the point where I’d announced to him that I wanted to do something other than take over his advertising company. It was something that he had expected me to do since I was little, something that I had never had any interest in. For most of my life, I had been too afraid to tell my dad that my heart wasn’t in advertising, afraid to hurt his feelings, knowing that the fight was inevitable. But eventually, I’d had to do what was best for myself, and that was going into the fashion industry and building my own empire with Les Chic.
“Okay, Mom,” I said, not wanting to argue about it anymore. I would make my decision at a later time, when I was less hungover and ashamed of myself. “Talk to him. Ask him if he wants to see me. I’m not coming unless he says yes.”
“He will,” my mother said, sounding excited. The sound of her voice broke my heart, knowing there was a good chance that I wouldn’t be able to make it. Despite my success, I had never been good at confrontation, especially when it came to my family. Family had always been everything to me, which was a big reason why it had hurt so bad to have such a big fight with my father. “I know he will.”
