by Shey Stahl
No one called me anymore unless it was Jared. And for no other reason but the fact that he couldn’t text for shit so he called.
And he was sitting next to me, so it clearly wasn’t him.
Taking the phone from him, I was curious as to who was calling me. “Hello?”
There was a distant hum on the other line before a raspy voice asked, “Is this Tallan?”
“Yes… ”
Another long pause before, “It’s Silas.”
“Silas who?”
He chuckled, damn near offended. “Cade… I’m sure you remember, yes?”
Silas Cade?
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
Immediately I stood and tried to move myself into a more private part of our small apartment. Wasn’t really possible so I huddled in the corner between the cabinets and the fridge like a child sticking their nose in the corner.
If it wouldn’t have been so inappropriate, I would have squealed knowing who was on the other line.
Silas Cade. Silas fucking Cade.
And then I would have called the person a liar. Which I was about to. Because there should be no reason he would call me. Unless hell had frozen over. And it hadn’t. I would have known such things.
“No way,” I finally told him. “Is this some sort of April Fool’s shit someone’s playing on me?”
He laughed. “Are you calling me a liar?”
See?
“Yes. Because the Silas Cade I know is all over the radio these days and wouldn’t be calling his high school fuckbuddy he hasn’t spoken to in over five years.”
You see, I knew one Silas Cade and he was the boy—who at sixteen—owned my fucking heart.
He also ripped it out when he left two years later to follow his dreams of having a music career.
“Oh come on.” He drawled out slowly. “You were more than a fuckbuddy, honey.”
I didn’t say anything to that. I wasn’t sure what to say at that point. I was dumbfounded he was even calling me.
“I know it’s been a while but I’m gonna be on tour in Seattle in six weeks. You still live there?”
“Yeah… ”
“Would you want to meet up after the concert? I can get you a backstage pass.”
Seriously? Like… seriously?
Without thinking, I answered. “Sure.”
“Really?”
“I could change my mind.”
He laughed, the soft sound ringing through the line. Without realizing it, I felt the smile tugging at the corners of my lips.
Jerk still had managed to get a reaction out of me.
And he always had such a beautiful laugh.
“Okay, so I’ll be in touch then.” Silas sighed, as if he forgot to say something important. “The concert is May eighteenth at the Key Arena.”
“Okay.” Thinking about it now, it was crazy that Silas, a kid I grew up with, was playing at venues like that. And even harder to believe that I owned every song he released.
“Bye, Tallan.” His hoarse voice resonated through the phone, so perfect and rough when he said my name. The way the sound rolled off his tongue made me want to beg him to say it again. Or moan it. That’d be good too.
Don’t say bye. Just stay here on the phone with me forever.
“Bye.”
What the hell just happened?
When I set the phone down, I wasn’t sure what to think about what just happened.
As shitty as it was, Silas still owned my heart and I’d do anything to be with him again.
Anything.
Despite knowing it wouldn’t go anywhere.
I’d like to think I’d gotten wiser at twenty-two years old but it was, after all, Silas Cade and if I had just one night to show him a good time, it could potentially bring him back, right?
“Who was it?” Jared asked, drawing me from my thoughts back to reality.
I gave Jared a look, one he knew well. “You remember Silas, right?”
“You mean the virgin stealer who broke your heart and is now a famous rock star?” He pointed to the radio. “The guy singing that song? That guy?”
I nodded, listening to the sexy rhythm strumming through the radio. “Yes. That guy.”
“Nope.” His eyes snapped back at the television trying to find that show Naked and Alone. “Can’t recall who that is, actually.”
“Well,” I sat down next to him on the couch, “the one and only Silas Cade, love of my life is coming back into town and wants to meet up with me… ME!” An inner grin, hell, a fucking outer grin, lit up my entire face as I told Jared my news.
“Yeah, that sounds about right. Because there’s not any other groupies available in Seattle that night?” There was a look passing over his face that reeked of disapproval. He knew what this was and wasn’t sugarcoating it for me. He never did. “A one night booty call at his old stomping grounds… yeah, this has life-long commitment written all over it.”
“Shut up, Jared. Don’t rain on my Silas Cade parade.”
Rolling my eyes, I set the phone on the table in front of us, trying to calm my breathing a little. It’d been so long since I heard from him I wasn’t sure how to react.
Well, my mind didn’t know how to react but my body, just hearing that melt-your-panties-right-off–your-body-voice of his, had its own mind and was doing all sorts of funny things to me in that moment. My body flushed, my nerves soared and I just sat there staring straight ahead wondering if that had really just happened.
Oh. My. God. My body!
It wasn’t in the same shape as it was five years ago. Twenty pounds heavier and this God of Rock was expecting to see the old Tallan with the smoking body.
He’d be expecting the girl he left. The one with the long lean legs and flat stomach.
Definitely not this girl with the little tummy roll and the flabby legs.
We won’t talk about the arms and ass just yet.
Six weeks… six weeks to get back into the condition that Silas remembered.
Panic was starting to set in right in front of Jared. There was no way in hell I was going to freak out in front of him. I didn’t need his sidelong glances of judgment raining down on me.
Six weeks, I can do this. Challenge. Fucking. Accepted.
So while I had the idea that I was going to look the same, I decided to sneak into my bedroom when Jared turned the TV to the History Channel.
Apparently he couldn’t find Naked and Alone. Guess he was going to content watching Ice Road Truckers instead.
I had met Silas when I was only thirteen. We were the same age, even shared a birthday. Over summer break when we were going from the seventh to the eighth grade, we formed a friendship over Pearl Jam. When school and life were too much, music became our one thing we always went back to. Silas played the guitar and sang but never gave it much thought until I pushed him a little. He had an unbelievable talent and it was evident early on it he wanted a career in music, he would have it.
Eventually him and his friends formed a band. They played all around Seattle in any bar that would let them in. They say it only takes one hit to get you noticed and that was true for Silas. After he left for New York, four months later, his first single, the one he said he wrote for me, “Never Knew” was on the Billboard 100.
Was I depressed when he left?
Well for one, he claimed the song was about me. Fuck yeah I was depressed.
I was there for him through everything. The band drama, his occasional mix up with drugs, his parents splitting up, his sister dying, all of it.
And what did he offer me?
A fucking phone call.
I thought I would never move on. And given the chance, I was going to get my answer.
Going to that concert could potentially give me that opportunity, right?
Digging through my closet and the box that hadn’t been opened since I moved into this apartment, I found my old jeans from high school.
Pushing aside magazines and year books, I held them up and knew da
mn well those babies weren’t getting over these thighs. But I tried anyway.
Even laying down on the bed wasn’t getting them on. Butter and oil probably wouldn’t have done me much good either.
I wasn’t exactly sure how—maybe because I stopped breathing for a whole minute—I got the jeans on.
Only then I had to get up.
Another story all together.
It wasn’t lost on me that this was the shit funniest home videos were made of, I just knew it.
What was worse?
Me attempting to stand up with the tightest jeans on that I’d somehow managed to get myself into. All I needed was Jared to walk in on me at any moment during this state of extreme duress I was under. I wouldn’t have been able to tell him not to come in if he knocked because breathing was optional.
If I breathed I was sure the button would have flown off and broke the window.
When I did shimmy my way to a standing position, then I had to actually walk by bending my knees. I should have taken them off but I needed confirmation on this look though so I decided to face my fears.
With a good amount of effort, I did the zombie walk out to the living room to get Jared’s opinion.
Worst. Mistake. Ever.
Jared eyed the jeans, his smile nearly making his eyes squint closed as he held in what I knew was going to be the biggest fucking belly laugh known to man. “What are those, spandex or jeans?”
“My old jeans from high school.” It hurt to speak because speaking required breathing and I only got to pick one.
“Why do you still have jeans from your senior year in high school?”
“I don’t know. Why do you have old porn from college in your closet?”
He leveled me a serious look. “You can’t just throw porn out. It never ages or deteriorates… or gets too big to fit… in jeans.”
“Fuck you, Jared.” I tried to relax my posture but the button was trying to poke a hole in my belly button. Smoothing my hand down my stomach and now muffin top, I sucked in a breath. “Seriously, how do these look?”
I must have looked uncomfortable. Hell, I was uncomfortable. It was like someone was squeezing my gut like an anaconda squeezes the last breath out of its prey.
“Tallan, I hate to be honest but as your friend, and a guy, and someone who feels as much pain seeing you wear those jeans as you are obviously in… those are way too tight. Can you even breathe?”
“No,” I gasped as I unzipped them feeling a little lightheaded due to lack of oxygen yet mostly relieved. “I can’t breathe.”
When I unzipped them I felt a little relief. But it wasn’t enough. I had to get them off all the way. The problem was, they weren’t coming off without assistance at that point. I got them on, just barely but getting them off would be damn near impossible.
Jared must have sensed the panic because he looked over at me and set his beer on the end table. “What’s wrong?”
“I can’t get them off.”
“You got them on… ”
“Doesn’t matter.” I shook my head, nearing tears. How fucking embarrassing. “You should call 911. They’re not coming off.”
I was quite possible the most claustrophobic person on the planet. And these jeans were making me feel like I was enclosed in a tomb of denim. The shit was getting real and I wasn’t discounting hyperventilating at this point.
When they wouldn’t come off after five minutes of my frantic tugging, Jared began to laugh. I’d lost all sense of stability and reached for the scissors in the drawer.
That was when Jared panicked. “Whoa!” He held up his hands in a calming manner, his palms raised as if he was going to try negotiating with me. “Put the scissors down.”
“I can’t take it any longer!” I held them up in the air. “I’m doing it!”
He stood from his place on the couch. “Here, let me do it then. You’ll cut your leg off with as spastic as you are right now.” And then he motioned for the couch. “Try it this way. You sit on the couch and I’ll pull.”
“I can’t sit.”
“Well, okay,” he reached for the waistband and smiled, his chest pressed against mine. “You know, this isn’t the first time I’ve taken your pants off.” He teased, trying to lighten the situation.
“Jared?”
“Yes.”
“I’m still holding the scissors.”
“Got it.”
He pulled once more, tugged and pushed. They weren’t budging.
I was sure they were permanently a part of me. They had somehow merged with the epidermis of my skin to create this exoskeleton that would protect me from future cellulite because, let’s face it, I couldn’t breathe wearing these jeans so eating was completely out of the question. At least I’d lose some weight.
Unfortunately, I would forever be wearing Big Star jeans that were three sizes too small.
Jared stood once more, sweating and pushing his hair from his sticky forehead. “Okay, maybe we should cut them off.”
I sighed. “Finally some reasoning.”
Jared was hesitant with the scissors. Rightfully so, I guess. He was cutting jeans off someone. I had no idea how it happened so quick in the ER when they cut clothing away but I guaranteed you it wasn’t slicing and dicing jeans as tight as these were. Jared could barely get the scissors between the fabric and my skin.
It took him ten minutes before they were off because he acted as if he was a blind man threading a needle.
“And now your pants are off.” Standing, he smiled when the fabric fell away and finally I could breathe.
“Thank you.” I sighed, because finally I could inhale and exhale and then grabbed at my burning stomach. “Jesus. That hurt.”
“Should I do your shirt too?” He squeezed the scissors in his hand. “It looks tight.”
“Shut the fuck up.” I smacked him with my elbow as I walked back to my room.
“Nice panties!” He yelled after me, chuckling to himself as he sat back down on the couch.
