Living Out Loud

by Staci Hart

  The kiss was fine, sweet even, if not a little sterile. But the admission in my sinking heart was that there were no fireworks, no marching band, no parting of the heavens or a hallelujah chorus. And, by more normal expectations, there was no spark, no instinctive recognition or undeniable bond between us.

  Maybe I’d read too many romance novels to expect anything less than to have my breath stolen and my heart singing promises of forever.

  When he pulled away, he smiled that indulgent smile of his, and I smiled back, hoping I looked reassuring as I nestled into his side.

  I’d expected magic, and I’d gotten mediocre.

  I shouldn’t have been disappointed, but I was.

  It had to be due to my complete lack of experience. I had probably been the worst kiss of his life. That was the only explanation because the date was perfect. The company and conversation was perfect. If the kiss really had been lackluster—I was already trying to rewrite history in my mind—it had to be on me and my lack of practice.

  I smiled to myself, hoping practice would make that perfect, too.

  “So, if you’ve never been kissed, is it safe to assume you’ve never had a boyfriend either?” he asked, his thumb shifting back and forth on my arm.

  “I haven’t,” I admitted. “No one’s caught my attention before.”

  “I’m the first for that too? It’s dangerous how good that makes me feel.”

  I nestled a little closer, smiling up at the stars.

  “Think you might want a boyfriend?” The words were cautious, maybe even a little nervous.

  “Are you asking me to go steady?” I teased.

  A little chuckle escaped him. “I know it’s corny, but the truth is, I really like you, Annie. I don’t want to see anyone else, and I hope you don’t either. On top of the possibility that I could get addicted to checking off your firsts.”

  When I leaned away and looked into his eyes, his smile dazzling and his warm hand finding my cheek, there was nothing I could say but yes. And he kissed the word away until it was gone.

  13

  Take What You Can Get

  Greg

  Two tickets to the ballet were in the process of burning a hole in my pocket.

  Rose had handed them over with a smug smile this morning, and into my back pocket they went along with a healthy helping of that trap that called itself hope.

  I’d convinced myself that Will was temporary—a traffic cone, not a cement barrier. He’d declared himself before I was able to, but it was still early enough that I could take another shot.

  I tried not to think about what would happen if she committed. Because as much as I hated Will, if he was who she wanted, I wouldn’t stand in her way. He was a punk and an asshole, but if I tried to prove it to Annie, it would be me who was the asshole, not him.

  My greatest hope was that it wouldn’t be an issue. I’d take her out, show her what we could be together, and hope she would choose me.

  When Annie walked into work with that smile on her face and her arms filled with a giant pink pastry box, that hope multiplied in size by at least five.

  “Hey,” she said cheerily as she approached, setting the box on the surface of the bar. “Gotcha something.”

  “And it’s not even my birthday.”

  She laughed and hopped up onto a stool where she began pulling off her yellow coat and pink gloves. “Go on; open it.”

  I spun the box around and flipped the lid open. Inside were two-dozen donuts, stacked at an angle in matching pairs so they could all fit. Little flags on toothpicks noted the names of a dozen donut shops in Annie’s handwriting.

  She giggled, bouncing in her seat. “I hated that I couldn’t go with you yesterday, and I thought, What better way to thank you for such a thoughtful gift? So I forced my poor driver to haul me all over Manhattan this morning, and I got two donuts from each place, one for each of us.” She held up her hands and shook them like tambourines. “Ta-da!”

  I couldn’t help but laugh—not only at the sheer joy on her face, but at the jazz hands and kindness and sweetness that only Annie could possess.

  “This is…” I said as I assessed the spread, my confidence flying. “This is pretty great, Annie. Thank you.”

  “No, thank you for bringing me the map.” She leaned on the bar and looked into the box, wetting her lips. “Where should we start? I have to say, Lekker smelled the best. I got these blueberry-lemon things with cream-cheese frosting. These.” She pointed. “We’ve got to go back there. It’s just right around the corner.”

  My smile wouldn’t quit. “Funny, that was the first thing I thought when I noticed it on the map.”

  “Did you? Well, it must be fate. We’ve gotta start there.” Annie picked them both up, extending one to me. “Cheers!”

  She tapped hers to mine, and we each took a bite.

  It melted in my mouth, and a moan rumbled up my throat. “Oh God.”

  Annie’s eyes closed. “Is this what heaven is like?”

  “It has to be close.” I took another bite and shook my head. “I can’t believe you did this.”

  “I really wanted to surprise you, and I felt like scum when I left here yesterday.”

  Guilt washed over me. “I’m sorry, Annie. I should have texted you to make plans instead of showing up here and putting you on the spot.”

  “Oh, it’s okay. Really. I’ve never had a social calendar before, so having overlapping plans is a new thing for me.” She beamed as she took a bite.

  I grabbed a couple of glasses and set them on the bar, filling them with ice and water as I asked a question I didn’t want to know the answer to, “So, how’d it go yesterday?”

  Annie was so happy, it looked like sunshine was shooting out of her eyeballs. “Oh, he took me on a picnic in the park. It was gorgeous; there was this big, pretty plaid and a basket and tiny cakes and everything, and he had all these fancy cheeses I’d never even heard of. And then he hired a carriage to drive us around the park. I crossed so many things off my list and went through two packs of film! Check it out.” She reached into her bag and rummaged.

  I tried to smile, setting her glass in front of her. “Well, you named two firsts—picnic and carriage ride. What else?”

  Her cheeks flushed prettily, and she smiled with her lips together, her eyes on her hands as she arranged tiny Polaroids on the bar next to the donut box. “First kiss, and he asked me to be his girlfriend, can you believe it?”

  My heart seized painfully in my chest, and almost every muscle in my body involuntarily flinched.

  My first thought: That Motherfucker.

  And then: Going steady? What is he? In junior high?

  With the grand finale of: I’m going to fucking kill him.

  Annie finally looked up, her face shifting, watching me like I might erupt like a volcano. She wasn’t far off.

  “I…I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I shouldn’t have brought it up. I know you don’t like him.”

  “That’s a massive understatement, Annie.” The low rumbling in my throat was almost a growl.

  “But tell me there’s a way for you to be civil. I don’t need for you to be friends, but you’re my friend, Greg. I don’t want to lose you because I’m with him. And I don’t want to lose him because I care about you. Please, don’t be mad.”

  “I’m not mad at you,” I snapped. “It’s just that I…” Wish you were mine.

  Confusion passed across her face, then some recognition, followed by a succession of stunned blinks. “Greg…do you…do you like me? Like, more than friends?”

  If only I could tell her the truth. But nothing would come from that admission other than me losing Annie for good. And with her looking at me like she was, there was no way to dodge her. I had to answer, and it had to be clear.

  So, I huffed with a shake of my head and lied to salvage whatever I could from the wreckage.

  “Of course not, Annie. I’m just worried about you. I care about you.”


  The relief on her face was accompanied by a hot twist of pain in my chest. “I care about you too, Greg. You’re my friend. And the thought of upsetting you upsets me.” She shook her head and glanced down at her hands.

  I had no idea what to say.

  In a handful of minutes, the game had changed on me once again, sparked by that word.

  Boyfriend.

  Which meant she considered herself his girlfriend.

  Which meant she had made a commitment, one I couldn’t question. Because questioning that would put her in the most unfair of positions. I wouldn’t only be forcing her to make a decision that could jeopardize our friendship, but I’d be asking her to betray a promise she’d made to another man.

  Will Fucking Bailey.

  My anger fired up like a goddamn steam engine at the thought of him. I hated to lose her, but to lose her to someone like Will was unbearable. He’d taken her on an idyllic, cheeseball Hollywood date, and he’d kissed her—her first kiss. Of course he’d kissed her. I would have kissed her too, if I’d had a real chance.

  But she didn’t want me.

  She wanted him. She’d promised him. And there was nothing I could do about it.

  So I reached into my back pocket and pulled out the ballet tickets, my plan singed to ashes under the smoldering remains of my hope.

  “Annie, let me tell you something.” I waited until she looked up and met my eyes before continuing, “All I want is for you to be happy, and you are. I saw it on your face when you walked in, and I see it when you talk about him. And if you’re happy, I’m happy.” I handed the tickets over. “I have these tickets to the ballet…you should go with Will.”

  Annie took the tickets with eyes as bright as Christmas morning, running the pad of her finger over the title. “Romeo and Juliet?”

  I offered another weak smile. “Rose’s best friend is with the New York City Ballet.”

  She looked confused. “Well, thank you. But…why do you have them? Were they for you and me?”

  “You said you’d never been to a Broadway show, and this isn’t a musical, but it’s actually on Broadway.”

  “You didn’t answer me.”

  I watched her for a moment. “Yeah, but you should go with your boyfriend.”

  Her face shifted; the corners of her lips slipped down as her brows gently came together, and her eyes, which were already so big and shining, somehow grew in both size and depth. “What do you mean? Do you not want to go with me anymore? Are you…are you mad at me?”

  “No,” I said as sick sadness wound through my guts and up into my chest, squeezing my heart until it stung. “No, I’m not mad at you, Annie.” The words were soft and serious.

  “Tell me what happened with Will.” She searched my face, her sadness blooming. “He…he told me about your sister, and I—”

  My jaw clamped shut. “What did he tell you?” I asked through my teeth. “Because he’s a liar, Annie.”

  “Only his side. I’ve wanted to talk to you for days, but I’ve barely seen you to ask to hear yours. Please, tell me.”

  I drew a long breath and chose my words very carefully. “He dated my sister in high school.”

  She nodded, encouraging me to continue. I didn’t want to. But I did.

  “He’s the master of saying all the right things at exactly the right time, and the longer it went on, the clearer it became that he didn’t care about her at all. He’s selfish and entitled, they fought constantly. And she accepted that behavior because she loved him. She broke up with him at a party, and there were rumors, rumors that had started with Will, all because he didn’t get his way.”

  Her eyes widened, but she didn’t speak.

  “I know you don’t know my sister, but I do. She loved him desperately, and he ruined her, made her life hell until she left for college. And I know this is just high school drama, but people like Will don’t change. Someone who would treat another with so little respect or regard doesn’t just grow up. It’s a dark part of them that doesn’t go away.” I sighed. “There are two versions of him—the one who wants something and the one who didn’t get what he wants. So, please—just promise me you’ll be careful.”

  “I promise.” Her eyes shone with understanding. “If one of my sisters were hurt in any way, in any context, I would be unforgiving.”

  “I know. And that’s why he and I can’t ever be friends.”

  She reached for my hand, her fingers warm and soft around mine, her face wholeheartedly sincere. “Thank you for telling me how you feel and the other side of what happened. I…I hate that this happened between you, and I hate that I’m caught in the middle. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, but I feel like I’m supposed to choose.”

  Do it. Choose me. But I couldn’t do that to her. I couldn’t do it to myself.

  My throat clicked when I swallowed. “I won’t make you choose, Annie.”

  Annie looked down at our fingers. “You’re my friend, and I care about you. I don’t want to give you up any more than I want to give him up; your friendship is just as important to me as being with Will is. But I want to see this ballet with you.”

  When she met my eyes again, her face was so ardent, so open, so absolutely beautiful in its honesty that I only gazed at her with my heart aching.

  “Will you come with me?”

  The word no had no place in my heart, not when it came to her. “Are you sure Will will be okay with it?”

  “If he’s not, then we’ll have a bigger problem.”

  The possibility of bigger problems with Will had its own appeal.

  Could I do it? Could I be her friend? Could I put my feelings aside and take what I could get?

  If the alternative was no Annie at all, there was only one thing to say.

  “Anything you want, Annie.”

  She brightened up again, eyes full of sunshine and spring grass, and I sighed, knowing what a magnificent mistake the whole thing was.

  But with her happy, it was hard to care.

  I didn’t see Annie much of the rest of the day, although we did eat enough of those donuts to almost make ourselves sick. There were only three left by the time her shift was ending, which was impressive by anyone’s standards.

  As the time approached for her to leave, I found myself dreading it, wishing I had an excuse to get her to stay or get her to leave with me. It was relief I felt, a respite from the wanting, from the words that had hung between us since she’d walked through the door on Will’s arm. For an afternoon, things were like they used to be. Before him.

  Just before Annie was off, a girl walked in and headed to the bar. She almost made it onto the stool when Annie pounced on her with a hug.

  The girl laughed and hugged her back, and when Annie pulled away, she turned to me with her cheeks high and smiling.

  “Greg, this is my big sister, Elle.”

  “Nice to finally meet you,” she said with a smile and extended her hand, which I took.

  “You too. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  She blushed, and I saw the resemblance. Elle was a little darker than Annie, but her skin was colored like peaches and cream, like Annie’s, though Elle’s had more color. Their lips were shaped the same, but Elle’s eyes were hazel, colored with bursts of green and brown and gold.

  “I’ll just be a few minutes, okay?” Annie assured her. “Have a drink. Greg makes excellent drinks.”

  She laughed. “How would you know? I know you haven’t crossed that one off the list.”

  Annie shrugged. “People talk. Be right back!” she said before bounding off.

  I smirked and set a coaster in front of her. “So, what’ll it be? Alabama Slammer? Jägerbomb? Shot of tequila?”

  Elle chuckled. “How about a cup of coffee?”

  “Coming right up.” I turned my back to pour her one.

  “I’m glad to finally meet you,” she said from behind me. “Annie’s told me so much about you. She’s had more fun with you over the last few week
s than she has in years.”

  When I turned to face her, she was smiling sweetly, hands folded on the bar in front of her.

  “It’s been my pleasure. Really. She’s something else,” I said as I set her coffee mug in front of her and reached under the bar for a sugar caddie. “Need cream?”

  “No, thanks.” She pulled a couple of sugar packets out and shook them. “I know she’s told you about Daddy and everything. And I want you to know that your friendship really does mean everything to her. Getting her this job, helping her with her list—it’s brought her back in a way that’s made all of our lives better. So, thank you.”

  It was that word again, the one that hung over me in big block letters—friend.

  “Like I said, the pleasure’s mine. She has a way of changing the people around her without even trying, doesn’t she?”

  “She does. It’s something we can always count on. The sky is blue, the grass is green, and Annie will make you feel every possible emotion, sometimes in the span of an hour.”

  A gentle laugh burst out of me at the truth of it. “It’s maddening and wonderful,” I said, too honest for my own good. “So, Annie said you work at Nouvelle magazine?”

  Elle nodded, a spark of excitement in her eyes. “Very recently, and just as a secretary, but yes.”

  “It’s got to be crazy, working at a magazine of that size.”

  “It is, but I love it. The phone is always ringing, and the calendar is always pulled up and blocked off by the hour, sometimes by the quarter hour. Ward has to schedule lunch, the gym, even calls to his mother,” she said on a laugh. “Maybe because she forces me to put them on his calendar. I don’t know that he’d call her otherwise.”

  “None of that sounds as exciting as you make it sound,” I teased.

  “Trust me, I know. I love when things are orderly and neat and organized. Annie says I’m OCD, but it’s not like I have to flip the light off and on thirteen times or wash my hands seven times in a row. I just like order. And even numbers.”

  I chuckled. “So, Ward is your boss?”

  Another flush, this one deeper. “I really should call him Mr. Ferrars, but…well, we’re friends. He’s a friend of the family, which is how I even got the job. God knows I’m not qualified.”