Sunday

by Kaia Bennett

  “Well, you lost Luca. I don’t want you anymore, and nothing you say or do is going to change that. This is the very last time I’ll tell you. Don’t call me. If you see me walking down the street, pretend you don’t even know who I am. Because if you don’t,” she whispered, her voice low and menacing, “what Flynn did to your face will be absolutely nothing compared to what I do to you. And if you think I’m playing, just try me.”

  He snorted and headed out the door, pausing for just a second as he passed over the threshold. She wondered for a moment if he was going to try to apologize. But he didn’t, perhaps knowing that at this point apologies held no weight with her. He stepped out into sun, never turning around as she closed the door behind him.

  Gia exhaled deeply, a shocked and triumphant smile spreading her lips. She did it. She completely cut ties, had said everything that had been swimming within her. Luca was no longer dead weight dragging her down, pulling her back towards a past she didn’t want to be a part of anymore. The silly girl that was willing to forgive anything had finally been purged. She could move on.

  Well, almost.

  She still had to deal with the fact that Flynn would be there during her Psych final. She had no intention of talking to him, but she knew that just being in his presence would be a trial. But she knew she could get through it. She was stronger, wiser, and ready to put the heartache of this crazy year behind her.

  One ex down. One more to go.

  ***

  It was Friday and Gia was sitting in her usual seat, staring down at a question she had read for the fourth time. She knew the answer; she had to. But she couldn’t concentrate. She still had eight more questions and an essay to go when her body tensed and her mind went completely blank. He was walking down the steps, walking past her desk, walking to the front of the class to set his test in front of the professor.

  She heard a muffled “Have a great summer,” from the professor, and then his deep voice. All he said was “You too,” but the words vibrated through the air, slivered over her ears like a kiss. Her whole body shook as she realized this was the first time she’d heard his voice in weeks. It would be the last time she heard it in this life.

  She watched his long legs, just his legs, as they carried him to the door. She winced as she noticed a slight halt to his steps: a limp. The door opened with a creak that sounded too loud in a classroom filled only with the sound of rustling paper and the scrape of pencil lead.

  She couldn’t help it. She followed the trail of his light blue jeans, up his white t-shirt. Through the glass opening of the door, their eyes met, locked. It seemed to take her forever to tear her gaze away, but she did. She finally looked away and let that be the end. She finished her test, wondering for the first time in her life if she had failed an exam. Well, maybe not failed; at worst she’d gotten a ‘C’, but still, it might as well be a failing grade in comparison to her usual, exemplary ones.

  She gathered up her things and headed for the exit, the weight on her chest heavier, but her mind clearer. At least now she knew there would be no reason for them to see each other, to meet randomly or awkwardly. She pushed open the door, covering her eyes with her hand against the glare of the sun as she stepped outside. She was headed down the steps when a voice to her right shocked her.

  “Gia—”

  “Holy shit!”

  She turned sharply to her right, seeing Flynn leaning against the railing where he had been waiting for the last half hour for her to finish her exam. She’d been in the middle of taking a step down the stairs, but she misjudged her landing and stumbled, just barely catching herself on the railing. But before she could fall his arms were around her, lifting her easily onto steady ground.

  For a moment they were frozen, his arms gripping her high on her waist, her hands grasping his forearm and the sleeve of his t-shirt. There was only the sound of her startled breathing as it steadied, and the feel of his breath against her hair. She closed her eyes against the feel of him pressed warm and solid against her back, wanting so badly to lean into him.

  Flynn hadn’t meant to scare her, and he was paying for it. He was right about being sore after his fight with Luca. The beating he’d taken from being slammed to the ground had really fucked up his back and right hip. It hurt to walk, hurt to sit. Shit, it hurt to be alive right now. But when she stumbled forwards as she tripped on the steps the only thing his body could think was “Catch her.” That’s what he did, but fuck if it didn’t hurt.

  Still, what hurt more was the fact that in a moment he was going to have to let her go. He had already held onto her for longer than necessary, but he didn’t care. She felt so good in his arms, so right. It was as if she belonged there, and his body had been craving her presence. He didn’t want to, but he knew when she stiffened and stood straighter that he should release her.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, tilting his head down so that he could look at her.

  “Fine,” she answered tightly, twisting firmly out of his grip.

  His breath had been against her temple, and the last thing she wanted to do was shiver against him.

  “What do you want?”

  It was like she couldn’t wait to get away from him. Her reaction made him swallow, the words stalling in his throat. “I—”

  “Oh my God…your face…”

  Gia stared up at Flynn, getting a good look at him for the first time in weeks. He was wearing a black beanie over those shaggy blond curls, making his battered face take center stage. His right eyebrow had one of those butterfly bandages to keep a cut closed peeking out from under the black fabric. The greenish purple bruise snaking down over his cheekbone hinted at the healing it had done, and the healing it still had to do. His lip was red and slightly swollen and he licked it often, as if tonguing it would make it heal faster, or perhaps he was trying to stretch out his jaw because there was a nice big bruise there too, not to be outdone by the one on the left side of his nose.

  Just how bad had this fight gotten if this is what he looked like one week later? Her eyes flitted over his face, abandoning the cold stare she had reserved for him for just a moment. She wanted to touch him, to feel with her own hands that he was okay and her fingers flexed with that need. But she clenched in tightly on herself instead. He didn’t deserve her sympathy, she reminded herself.

  Flynn’s eyes flickered over hers for a moment. She had to know about the fight already, Luca would have made sure of it. And honestly, Luca looked a hell of lot worse than he did. So why was she so surprised? Was it because it was him that was all beaten up that she cared?

  “Yeah…about that—”

  “I already know what happened,” she said cutting him off in a clipped tone. “Rosie told me.”

  “Rosie, huh?” he asked, his voice laced with sarcasm. He could only imagine what the little harpy said about him.

  “Yeah. She overheard everything that happened before the fight. She told me what Luca said.”

  Flynn’s mouth fell open in utter shock, his eyes blinking at least three times before he gathered up the ability to process his thoughts.

  Really, Rosie had always been such a nice girl.

  “So…so, then you two,” he swallowed. “That means you two aren’t back together,” he said, hoping his assumption was right.

  She fixed her bottomless-pit-of-loathing gaze on him, pausing for a torturous three seconds. Making him squirm, if only just enough for her to see.

  “No. We never were and we never will be. But then, I already told you that in the first place.”

  He sighed, trying not to press his lips too tightly together as he frowned. So all that shit Luca had been talking was for show. He wanted to kick himself. He wanted to go find Luca and start a fatal round three. And though he knew he wouldn’t, knew that his pride couldn’t let him, he wanted to apologize for doubting her.

  “Yeah, I know. It was just the things he said—”

  “Were all cruel and all bullshit. I have to say, I was really
shocked when I found out someone I cared about could be so hurtful. But I guess we can just chalk it up to my shitty taste in men,” she said venomously.

  Flynn’s head actually reared back his eyes widening as he took in her face and the powerful sting of her words. It wasn’t so much that she looked angry. She seemed bored, tired, as if she was ready for this conversation to be over with before it even began. It didn’t make it easy for him to keep talking. He had already gone against his original plan to just walk to his car and let it all go. And now he was quickly finding it hard to tell her all the things he’d been wanting to since the moment said it was over.

  And it was all because of that face.

  He expected anger, fear, or sadness. He expected hatred. What he was looking at now was a mirror image of himself. This was the face of a girl turned cold and impassive, and it hurt more than it would if she just spit in his face and told him to never speak to her again. It hurt far worse. While he was struggling to find the words, to beat down the impulse to be angry at her for his own loss of control, she released a droll sigh and spoke.

  “Look, can you tell me what you want so I can go? I’ve got better things to do than talk to you.”

  She felt a smile curve her lips at the look of shock attacking his bruised features. The look quickly vanished from his handsome face, and though it wasn’t nearly enough for her battered ego, it was a start. It was a tiny inkling of the shock that must have been written on her face the night he broke her heart. Moments like these would take the place of all the beautiful things about him that still haunted her.

  He realized in that moment that dancing around the truth wasn’t going to get him anywhere. He had hurt her, and she wasn’t going to let him forget. His face drained of all the pretense of meeting on civil terms. His eyes weren’t cold, or hurt. They were just blank.

  “Gia…look, about all the things that I said—”

  She snorted, and waved her hand for him to stop talking.

  “Look, you don’t need to waste any half-assed apologies on me, sweetheart. I’m more than okay with the way things are. And from what I hear you’ve already started playing the field again. It’s good to see we’ve both moved on.

  “Now,” she said, enunciating every syllable with crystal clarity, “what do you want?”

  I want you back.

  I want you to love me again.

  His mind screamed it. His body shook with the weight of the words. But they didn’t leave his mouth.

  Flynn could feel himself getting sick and angry. It was going against every natural inclination in his body not to say something sarcastic and equally cutting. And the desire to beg and put himself out there was almost oppressive. But neither one of those options would get him what he wanted. What did he expect her to do, sigh with relief and come running back into his arms? No, she was done with him, as well she should be.

  “You left some stuff at my place and I wanted to make sure I returned it to you.”

  Gia, blinked, the expressionless mask slipping the tiniest bit. That was the reason he had come? To tell her to come pick up her shit? Was he serious?

  “Is that all?” she asked, and she wondered if he could hear the disappointment in her voice.

  He cleared his throat and nodded.

  “Yeah, that’s all,” he lied.

  He’d been doing that more and more lately to cope with the feelings he had for her. Lying. It wasn’t doing the trick.

  “I can give you a ride so you can pick it up, since I’m done with finals. What’s your schedule like for the rest of the day?”

  Her smile was slow and wide as she scoffed, “I’m not getting in a car with you.”

  She filed away the hurt in his eyes for later, even as she felt her chest clench against that look.

  “I’ll go and pick it up tomorrow when I’m done packing up my stuff. When are you going to be there to let me in?”

  She couldn’t believe this was her. It hurt to see him, the ache she’d tried to patch up ripping at the seams. But there was also a twisted sense of pride, a sick satisfaction at hearing herself sound so strong and biting. She didn’t care if her words stung, if they shocked him or made her sound like a bitch. It was kind of exhilarating, and it made her wonder it this was what it felt like to be him twenty-four hours a day.

  He couldn’t help but close his eyes against the sting of her words, swallowing hard. It was like a completely different girl. Unaffected and unwilling to even let him finish a sentence. It wasn’t like he was long-winded to begin with. And hearing her talk about packing up her things to move out of her campus apartment was another reminder of how this was all too little too late. He reached into his pocket and pulled the spare key he’d made for her off his key chain. He held it out to her, making sure that his fingers touched only the very edge.

  Gia was having the most depressing type of déjà vu. The promise he’d made not to touch her again all those weeks ago was being replicated here in this simple gesture. He would give her his key again, for the last time, so that she could collect her things when he wasn’t there. No goodbyes. No opportunity to rekindle what he had so brutally snuffed out. Just some forgotten trinkets to retrieve and a handful of moments she would will herself to forget.

  But her mind kept wrapping itself around that key. Something about seeing it in his possession sparked sadness in her.

  He didn’t need two copies to let himself in to his own apartment. Why had he kept it on him? Did he know that she would refuse to ride with him? Or had it kept it because it had been hers, something to remind him of her? Suddenly her last words to him pummeled her senses. She caught his eyes, caught them staring deeply into hers, making her feel exposed, naked. All the cold stares and snide comments in the world couldn’t hide the pain of knowing that she still loved him, and that he knew it; and she would never know if he had felt even an inkling of that for her.

  “I’ll leave it on the coffee table when I leave,” she said, snatching the key and turning on her heels. Her body felt heavy, pushing uphill against the feel of her mixed emotions. The farther away she walked, the more it hurt, the tighter her chest constricted.

  But she wouldn’t stop. This time she wasn’t the naïve girl looking for another chance to be close to him. It’s what she told herself instead of the truth. She was trying to escape, and she’d succeeded. But a part of her wished that she hadn’t.

  Flynn was at a loss for words or movement. That hadn’t gone the way he pictured it. Not at all. If it was going to be like this he could have just brought her things with him and handed them off. He had hoped that maybe, just maybe they could have talked on the way like they had last time, and…

  Whatever. It didn’t matter. They weren’t going to work out anyway. There had been a whole bunch of reasons why. So why was he having trouble remembering them as she walked farther and farther away? There really was nothing left to say, no reason for them to continue pretending they could make a pretty picture out of the mess they left behind.

  He said a silent goodbye, feeling like a coward as he finally forced one foot in front of the other.

  CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

  Gia unlocked Flynn’s apartment and stepped in, almost tiptoeing before she realized how silly she was being.

  It was quiet and still, just like all of those early Sunday mornings when she would come in and wait for him to get off work. She would turn the TV on then, or the stereo, so that she wouldn’t sink into quiet that permeated until he got there. She was almost tempted to do that now, because the silence made her that much sadder. The sound of her sandaled footsteps on the hardwood floor, the swish of her dress around her thighs, the jingle of her keys in her left hand; it was all so loud and invasive, reminding her of why she had come and why she would leave.

  Sitting on the kitchen table was a shopping bag with the few things she had left over the weeks that she had inhabited his space. It was tied neatly, sitting in the middle of the table like a mockery of a present. Sitting wh
ere all of this heartache had begun.

  She closed her eyes over the memories rushing to the surface. She could see her self pressed against him that first time, the way his kiss had invaded her senses and his fingers had invaded her body. She had hated him then, almost as much as she wanted to now. And then he had made his way further inside of her, making her trust him and need him. She had been so naïve and inviting. And this is what she was left with, a bag of miscellaneous things and an ache buried too deep to mend.

  Without thinking she ran her fingertips over the grain of that table, placing the heat of her palm flat on the cool surface. She bit down on her bottom lip and realized that she didn’t want to leave. She wished that she could go and curl up on his couch again and wait for him to come home. She wished she could slip into the cool sheets waiting on his bed and lay against him again. If she had known it would be like this she would have tried to remember more. She would have committed every inch of his skin to her memory, tried to capture his smile and his laugh. She would have done so many things.

  She wiped the tears that were starting to fall quickly, banishing them and the weakness that would overcome her if she let it. She slid the bag across the table, her fingers digging into the knot and pulling it open. Inside were a few trinkets tied to the memories they made. A pair of earrings left on the dresser after a night out with friends. A T-shirt that was supposed to be a change of clothes, but that was forgotten in favor of a lazy afternoon spent naked in bed. The cell phone charger she had been looking for everywhere. And some little red box that she’d never seen before.

  A little red box with a note attached.

  Her heart stuttered in her chest as her eyes processed this new item hidden amongst the old. It had been underneath the others, as if it wasn’t meant to be discovered until she was already long gone and driving home. Her fingers shook slightly as she lifted the note, just a little scrap of paper folded neatly in half. She opened it, her eyes drinking in the sharp succinct scrawl that belonged to those beautiful fingers. Her eyes didn’t quite process the meaning of the words, so she lifted the box from the bag, tugging on the cap until it popped open.