Love Bites

by Rachel K. Burke

  “I thought you had lunch with your mom last week,” she said slowly. I could tell she was trying to sound normal, but there was an underlying accusatory tone in her voice.

  Shit. Shit shit shit shit.

  “I did,” I said quickly. “But we didn’t talk about the house. And other than that, I haven’t really talked to them much.”

  She nodded as she moved toward the cashier, as if she was pretending to believe me.

  But I could tell by the look on her face she didn’t believe it for a second.

  Los Angeles, CA

  May 2009

  I returned to work the following Monday. You’d think I had risen from the dead by the way Vincent was acting. He seemed to have long forgotten about our night at the Penthouse. Instead, it seemed like his infatuation for me had become ten times stronger. He brought me surprise lunches, found every excuse in the world to stop by my desk, and watched me with the same flirtatious expression I’d once adored. He even called me into his office to check on me, saying I’d seemed a little down lately.

  Yeah. That was one way of putting it.

  I could only assume this new attitude was due to the fact that, at the moment, I was very vulnerable. Not vulnerable enough to sleep with a married man, but pretty damn close. At this point, I was grateful to anyone who was nice to me, simply because I felt like if they knew the person I really was, they wouldn’t be. And Vincent wasn’t stupid. I was certain he’d had several successful seductions by preying on young women who felt very much like I did at the moment.

  Fortunately, Vincent’s new attitude was laid to rest the minute a bouquet of red roses was delivered to me that Thursday. From David, of course.

  The whole situation was absurd. I had spent years searching for one guy who would love me, and now I had two.

  They were just the wrong guys.

  Even the disappointed look in Vincent’s eyes once he noticed the flowers couldn’t invoke any satisfaction in me at this point. I was numb. And it wasn’t just Renee’s absence that was really wearing on me, it was more the loathing I had for myself. I had caused a situation that could’ve been easily avoided had I possessed an ounce of self-love and self-discipline. And no matter how many times I went over it, I couldn’t understand.

  How could I say no to a married man, but give in to Renee’s boyfriend? How could I be loyal to a complete stranger over my best friend?

  After a week of repeated, non-stop questions, I found my answer.

  Friday afternoon, just as I was gearing up for another depressing weekend alone, I crossed through the Sphinx lobby and found David waiting for me. He was sprawled out on a large leather chair, shoulders slumped, looking completely lost. Cheryl shot me a look that said, “He’s not leaving until you go with him.” And because I knew that was the truth, I agreed to have dinner with him at the Main Street Grill, the same restaurant where we’d dined previously. Only this time, it seemed far less appealing.

  Main Street was a popular happy-hour spot, as it was conveniently located near all the high-rise business buildings in the Playa Del Rey area. It had a backyard barbecue kind of theme with picnic-style tables, in-house brewed beers, and appetizer selections that mainly consisted of oversized pretzels, wings, and cheese fries.

  Despite the TGIF bliss surrounding me, I felt like I’d had the life sucked out of me. Much like I’d felt all week. It was hard to concentrate on David’s words. I could see him trying, I could feel him trying, but I was dead inside.

  He reiterated his feelings for me, over and over again. He sympathized with me. He asked me fair questions. What if Renee never spoke to me again? Could I be with him then? Or would I think of her every time I looked at him?

  They were all reasonable questions, but I couldn’t answer any of them. Because all I could think about was the thought of Renee never speaking to me again. A thought I couldn’t fathom.

  David’s eyes became more and more desperate with each unanswered question, searching for something inside of me, anything to validate that what we’d had was real. But all I could do was pick apart the pretzel on my plate and tell him I didn’t know. It wasn’t the answer he was looking for, but it was the only answer I could give.

  Because truthfully, I didn’t know.

  I didn’t know if Renee and I would ever be friends again. And I didn’t know if I’d ever be able to look at him without seeing her.

  After David and I left the restaurant, he walked me through the parking lot in silence. He stopped when we reached my car, watching me with those crazy brown eyes that had once haunted me. Then he folded his arms around me and held me.

  It was the longest, most intimate, hug I’d ever experienced. I held him tight, feeling the love between us, the emotions. I didn’t want to let go.

  When we finally pulled away from each other, he brought my left hand to his lips and kissed it gently, looking at me in a way that made my heart ache. A sad, desperate, longing look. A goodbye look.

  “I won’t bother you anymore,” he said. “But please think about what I said.”

  I nodded, hopped into my car, and waited for him to pull away before bursting into tears.

  I cried the entire way home. Conveniently, the next song on my iPod playlist was “Love Bites” by Def Leppard. I cranked up the volume to one of the sappiest songs of the eighties and cried. I cried all the way through Playa Del Rey, through Marina Del Rey, through Venice, through Santa Monica, until I arrived at my apartment in West LA.

  And as soon as I walked through the door, it hit me.

  I had been torturing myself, wondering how I could have betrayed Renee, and why I couldn’t have just said no to David.

  The answer was so fucking simple.

  I was in love with him.

  I was hopelessly, desperately, painfully in love with someone I couldn’t stay away from.

  Why else would I voluntarily hurt my best friend? Sure, I knew the golden rule: never go near any man your best friend has been involved with. But I had always believed that we don’t choose love, love chooses us. We can’t control who we fall in love with. I couldn’t just flip a switch and stop the pain throbbing in my heart.

  I didn’t know what was worse, betraying my best friend or walking away from something that felt so real, and wondering if I’d ever feel that way about anyone again.

  I lay down on my couch and sobbed. The memories that David and I had created in such a short amount of time flooded my mind. I had never opened myself up so completely to anyone. But there was something about him that was so contented, familiar even, like I could be myself with him. And he loved me. All of me.

  At that moment, there was a knock at the door. My heart leaped. I raced to the door with tears streaming down my face, knowing exactly who was waiting on the other side.

  Before I could even open it completely, his arms were around me, his lips brushing light kisses against my forehead.

  “I love you,” I said, burying my face in his chest to hide my tears. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

  “I know,” he said, running his fingers through my hair. “I know.”

  And from that moment on, I was his. Completely. There was nothing I could do to fight it anymore. He had full control over me.

  It was exhilarating. It was confusing.

  And it was downright terrifying.

  Chapter 14

  I decided to take up meditation. Not because I had a spiritual breakthrough or anything, I was just running out of options and thought the local bookstore might be a good place for some insight.

  After perusing the bookshelves for something that would help me piece my life back together, I came across a book called My Kick-Ass Life, which focused on how to use your positive energy in order to attract good things into your life. My first thought was that it sounded like a bunch of bologna, but considering the hole I’d dug for myself, I figured I had nothing to lose. I had to start somewhere.

  I spent the rest of the afternoon curled up on my couc
h (or rather, my parents’ couch, but according to the book, negative thoughts were the ultimate no-no), with my new life guide. The first chapter explained how our thoughts created our reality, and by mentally focusing on the things we wanted, we could ultimately attract these things into our lives. On the flipside, it also explained how negative thoughts and feelings could prevent us from gaining the things we want, and instead, those thoughts would attract more negative things into our lives, because that’s what we’re focusing on.

  Well, then. Clearly, I had a lot to learn.

  Instead of diving right into chapter two, I took a breather, grabbed a notebook and a pen, and began compiling a list of all the positive things I wanted to attract into my life. Because, in order to attract these things, I first had to figure out what they were.

  What I want:

  Love

  I frowned and crossed that one off. I wasn’t ready for that shit yet.

  What I want (right now):

  A job

  An apartment (which will happen after achieving number one)

  That seemed like a good start.

  I then lay back on the couch, closed my eyes, and pictured myself landing the position of my dreams. Which, at the moment, was the fashion job I’d been obsessing over. According to the book, I had to believe that I could achieve the goal in order to make it happen.

  I can land this job. I deserve this job. I love fashion. I am experienced in marketing. I am passionate about photography. I am perfect for this job.

  My positive manifestations were interrupted by the sound of my cell ringing. I grabbed it from the coffee table and noticed an unfamiliar number on the display. I looked up at the ceiling and vowed that, if this was the fashion company calling me for an interview, I would meditate all day, every day, for the rest of my life.

  “Hello?” I answered.

  “Hello, may I speak with Justine please?” a male voice asked.

  “This is Justine,” I said eagerly, sitting upright.

  “Hey, Justine. It’s Walter Keller.”

  I can honestly say this was the first time I was ever disappointed by a phone call from a man who looked like Walter Keller.

  “Hi Walter,” I said, trying to hide my disappointment and failing miserably.

  “Uh oh. Sounds like you’re still waiting for a certain someone to call.”

  “Why does everyone say that?” I threw myself backward on the couch. “I was actually hoping you were one of the companies I sent my résumé to.”

  “Whatever you say.” I could picture him smiling on the other end. The little-boy smile. “Well, the reason I’m calling is because I have a few people who are interested in the apartment you liked, but since you’re a friend of Renee’s, I wanted to check in with you first.”

  Oh, if only. If only I had my dream fashion-marketing-photography job… If only I had my spacious-modern-glass-shower apartment…

  Sigh. Apparently chapter two was going on tonight’s reading list too.

  Los Angeles, CA

  July 2009

  Two months after Renee left, David and I moved in together. I know, I know. It was a stupid decision. But when it comes to love, there are no stupid decisions. Only impulsive ones that seem to make sense at the time. Which later turn out to be those “life lessons” you always hear about, AKA the things you would never, ever make the mistake of doing again.

  Basically, it boiled down to four deciding factors:

  1. I couldn’t afford the rent alone.

  2. The thought of living with a stranger was petrifying.

  3. Renee hadn’t returned any of my phone calls in the past two months, thus I took this as a final termination of our friendship.

  4. I was so pathetically in love with David that I would’ve agreed to anything that increased our time together.

  Sadly, over the past two months, we had become one of “those” couples. You know the type. The “no, you hang up first” couples. The “no, I love you more” couples. The couples that, when forced apart, spend every second whispering into their cell phones or giggling at their text messages or anxiously typing away on their instant messenger with a perma-grin glued to their faces.

  So, naturally, when David came up with the brilliant plan that I should move in with him, I agreed.

  At first, it was bliss. Granted, I missed Renee like crazy and still felt terrible about what I’d done, but David had me so brainwashed that we were these crazy cosmic soul mates that after a while, it was like he had replaced Renee. He had become my other half. My whole life. My everything.

  “What if you had said no?” he’d always ask, every time I mentioned Renee. “What if you’d walked away from me? You’d still be thinking about me. Every time you were out with some guy, you’d be wishing he was me. And wondering if you’d ever meet someone you feel that way about. Is that what you want?”

  I knew it wasn’t. And I knew he was right. It was exactly why I’d done what I did. I was scared to death of living the rest of my life wondering if David was the one that got away, and resenting Renee for it, who didn’t even want him in the first place.

  And the more he said it, the more I believed it.

  Everything started out perfectly. We redecorated his apartment and camped out like newlyweds, cooking dinner every weeknight, curling up with Rocky Road popcorn and movies on Friday nights, having breakfast in bed on Sundays. And when we weren’t together, we were texting, calling, and emailing each other, counting down the hours until we’d be together again.

  It was unhealthy. It was nerve-wracking. It was downright insane.

  And yet, I’d never felt so alive in my life.

  What I didn’t realize was that when two people dive into a relationship head-first, eventually, someone has to come up for air.

  Los Angeles, CA

  May 2010

  It had been almost a year since David and I moved in together when things slowly began to shift. I didn’t even see it coming. Everything just unraveled and spiraled downhill so fast that before I knew it, it was like I was plummeting downstream without knowing how I got there in the first place.

  Human emotions are funny that way. We’re like magnets, and the more one person pulls away, the more the other clings to them. Which is a tactful way of describing the demise of my relationship.

  It all started on a Sunday. The universal couple day. Saturdays were typically spent running errands, but Sundays were always our day. We’d spend the morning in bed, have breakfast, shower, and then watch David’s sport of choice on the giant living-room flat-screen. Sometimes his friends would stop over and sometimes it was just the two of us. Then we’d order pizza and spend the rest of the night watching movies and maximizing our time together before the evil work week forced us apart yet again.

  This particular Sunday was different. Instead of our typical morning sex/breakfast/sports routine, David informed me that he was going to meet his friends at an Irish bar on Wilshire to watch the game. With no extended invitation to yours truly.

  It was at that moment, as soon as the door closed behind him, that I realized what deep shit I was in.

  I had absolutely no idea what to do with myself.

  What had happened to me? I used to be a person with friends! Hobbies! Goals! Now I felt like some sort of lost puppy, sadly eyeing the door until my master came back to give me attention.

  In the span of a year, I had lost myself completely.

  I tried to think of what I used to do in my spare time. Before David. Sure, Renee and I had spent a lot of that time together, but I still had my own life. I just couldn’t seem to grasp sight of it anymore.

  I tried to watch TV, but I found myself wishing that David was there to watch it with me. I went shopping, but found myself tempted to text David to see if he needed anything. I thought about how much I used to love photography, but now this trivial little hobby seemed silly compared to my big, serious relationship.

  That was the beginning of the end. The more depen
dent I became on David, the more he pulled away. And the more he pulled away, the tighter I clung to him.

  Pretty soon, sports Sunday with the guys became a weekly event. Our daily communications became less frequent. I could see it in his eyes when he looked at me – there was something missing. That crazed look of wanting was gone. I wasn’t exciting to him anymore. He looked tired. Bored.

  And instead of trying to make new friends, find new hobbies, do anything that involved not waiting around the house like a dog, I didn’t. Instead, I watched his every move like the certified stalker I’d become, waiting for the axe to fall.

  Which, naturally, it did.

  David came home from work one night, sat down on the couch, and very calmly suggested that maybe I should move out.

  I knew it was coming. I mean, who doesn’t? No matter how much you try to convince yourself otherwise, you always know the truth.

  But hearing it out loud made it real.

  Of course, the first thing I thought of was Renee. This was why everyone said to never choose a guy over your friends. Who was I kidding? Did I actually think I could beat the odds?

  And I had so many questions for him. What happened to us being meant for each other? What happened to the couple that couldn’t make it through a whole day without each other? How could he throw that away?

  “It’s just… different now,” he mumbled, running his hands through his smooth, brown hair. “You’ve changed.” He looked at me like he was seeing me through different eyes. “When I first met you, you had such an… edge. You were funny and sarcastic and a little bit jaded from dating, but I loved that about you. And you were so excited about your job and your major and graduating and…” His voice trailed off. “It’s just not the same.”

  “How?” My heart was pounding. I could feel tears rolling down my cheeks and I couldn’t stop them. Everything inside of me was pulling towards him, much like the first night we’d slept together, but this time it was different. I felt desperate. Out of control. I wanted to cling to him like a koala bear and beg him not to leave me. I wanted to convince him that I could change.