by Claire, Ava
"And I thought you agreed you'd never give him another chance after what you did to you," she said pointedly. "I mean, is it amnesia? Because I can still remember you almost putting all of your hard work in jeopardy, holed up in your dorm, refusing to get out of bed." Her voice was taut with anger as she rehashed the horrible fallout. "He broke your heart, Cassandra. He cheated on you because you didn't immediately agree to be his twisted sex slave!"
I bristled as the businessman at the table beside us tilted his head in our direction, ears perking with interest.
I took a deep breath, trying to remind myself that she was just trying to be a friend. "Alicia, I don't want to talk about this right now."
"Whatever." She took a long, overly loud slurp of her frozen latte and I tried to think of something, anything except for Chance.
I wanted to ask about her classes, but I knew it would just cycle back to how I was a weak, amnesiac idiot. I thought back to an email from Mom. She was finally going through cards and flowers and condolences. "So Mom wanted me to invite you and your mom over for dinner. As a thank you for everything you guys did with..." I took a swig of my coffee but it did nothing to dull the lash of pain in my chest. "To thank yall for helping with Dad's funeral."
The glaciers in her eyes melted instantly. "You're my best friend, Cass. You would have done the same for me."
I smiled. "Just to warn you, she's threatening to cook dinner."
Alicia bit her lip. "I'm sure it will, uh, be delicious." We both knew she was definitely being generous with that description. I inherited my culinary skills from mommy dearest, which meant it would be barely edible at best. "Mom and I could always bring something."
"That's probably best," I toyed with my napkin. "And I could make my infamous brownies."
She arched a golden brow. "You gonna remember the egg this time?"
"What?" I said feigning innocence. "They were supposed to be vegan."
"Uh huh." She finally cracked a full smile but when her eyes glanced past me, it dropped instantly.
"What is it?" I turned in my chair and I had to check myself to stop the grin from spreading across my face. It was Chance--clad in a deep blue button down shirt with the cuffs rolled back, revealing tan skin with a dusting of ebony hair. His dark locks were held back by a pair of Ray Bans and he was looking around like he was searching for someone. I open my mouth to call him over but stopped when he moved to a set arm chairs near the door. A bubbly looking blonde was quietly sipping her drink and flipping through a magazine. He sank into the chair opposite her, flashing a smile that was like a blow to the stomach.
I slowly turned back to face Alicia, my face hot with embarrassment. The rational part of me tried to tame the part that wanted to make a scene; claw her eyes out, smack him across the face, then key his car. It told me it wasn't what it looked like. To breathe. In and out. But the fact that Alicia was clearly fighting to keep her cool too only fanned the flames.
"He didn't waste any time, huh?"
I swallowed hard. "She could be just a friend."
"Right. Because he's such a stand up guy." She was sending me nonverbal cues: round 'what are you waiting for?' eyes and sitting on the edge of her seat like she was ready to spring into action. When I didn't budge, she got to the point. "Aren't you going to confront him?"
"I don't think that's a good idea."
"Well, I didn't think giving Doctor Asshole another chance was a good idea either." She didn't pull a single punch. "And surprise surprise! He's already up to no good."
I gave her a long, pleading look. "Now is not the time for I told you so Alicia." I grabbed my things, wanting to get out of there before I had a meltdown. I guess I really had grown. Three years ago, I would have totally gone Jerry Springer but now I was just exhausted. Expending that kind of energy on someone that didn't even bother to take his piece of tail somewhere other than my favorite coffee shop seemed pointless.
"What are you doing?" Alicia asked, watching me stand up and pivot in the opposite direction of Chance and the girl.
"I just wanna go," I sighed. "Can we just go?"
Alicia was flabbergasted, staring at me slack jawed, not moving an inch. But it was the quiet before the storm. When she stood up, I realized that she was taking matters in her own hands.
Before I could stop her, she stormed to where Chance sat. I could tell by the way his brow was furrowed that he was trying to remember how he knew her. When it dawned on him he stood up, extending his hand. As soon as Alicia ignored it and gestured at the blond looking around in confusion, I gathered my wits about me and walked towards them.
Chance eyeballed me and for a split second, I let him know that I knew exactly what was going on.
"Miss Woods,” he said, voice as sharp as a whip. “I was just telling your friend-"
"Miss Woods?" Alicia's volume rose to a level everyone on the block could hear. "After what you did to her, she's ‘Miss Woods’? You really are a dick, huh?"
Chancels nostrils flared. "I don't know who you think you're talking to-"
"Oh I know exactly who I'm talking to, Doctor Crawford," she said acidly.
I moved between them trying to diffuse the situation. "Alicia, let's go. Please."
"But he-"
"Is trying to meet with his advisee to discuss possible majors," Chance finished his voice taut with anger.
I gaped at him. He was her faculty advisor?
I steered Alicia back towards our table. Eyes regarded us with interest as we moved to the back exit.
Once we were back in the parking lot I let out a better laugh. "He was her advisor Alicia." I toyed with the keys in my pocket, the truth sinking in. "He wasn't cheating."
"Not today anyway," Alicia growled beside me. Even when I gave her a look she didn't back down. "I'm not going to apologize for having your back. It's clear you're still in love with him and it's blinding you."
She was wrong about that--my eyes were wide open. I thought I was beginning to get over the past and slowly letting him back in, but all it took was a pretty face for me to go back to that dark place. It only took a sliver of doubt for me to believe he was a liar and I wasn't enough.
"I know you're trying to help," I said softly, leaning against my hood. "But you can't do this."
"Look out for my friend?"
"Attack Chance because of what he did," I answered. "I'm trying to forgive him, Alicia."
"You can't be serious. What he did was unforgivable!"
"That's really not up to you."
"I guess you're right. I'll just have to pick up the pieces."
"Alicia-"
She let out a snort, gesturing behind me. "Prince Charming is on his way to do damage control and I'm on my way back to reality."
I watched her stomp toward her Cherokee, wishing that I could make her understand; that I could show her that he was trying to make up for the past. I wanted to help her see that I needed him now more than ever but her squealing tires confirmed what I already knew--it was going to be a hard sell.
I faced Chance, needing to do some damage control of my own. "I just want to-"
"This was a mistake wasn't it?"
He wasn’t waiting for any apologies and the harsh tone of his voice scared me into complete silence. He was furious.
"Answer me, Cassandra!"
"I'm sorry about Alicia," I said in a small voice. "She just remembers how it was when you left."
"And you just let her march over and embarrass me in front of a cafe full of people? In front of a student?" He let out a sigh of frustration. “I don’t have time to play these children’s games, Cassandra.”
"I didn't know what she was going to do," I lied. Badly.
"It's really not even about her, Cassandra. She's your best friend—of course she's protective," he said tersely. "I saw the look on your face when you walked over. You thought I was cheating."
I shook my head. "No, I-"
"And now you're lying to me." He let out a sound of
pure disgust. "I must have been stupid to think that we could start over. That you could ever really forgive me."
I grabbed his hand, not even caring that we were in public and anyone could see. "I'm trying, Chance. I'm really trying."
He snatched his hand away immediately. "You obviously want to be left alone. You've got it."
****
I was fifteen minutes early for British Lit. I didn’t get any sleep the night before, especially when I thought about everything going on between me and Chance. He all but saying he loved me; that pretending I was just a student was torture. And then there was coffee and drama with Alicia; shame that I couldn't just write off Chance for what he'd done, the terror that he'd played me, and then the sadness when I realized that he really was trying. ‘Was’ being the key word since he hadn't answered any of my calls or texts and then canceled his office hours before British Lit.
There was a bitter part of me that wondered why I was the one begging and pleading for him to talk to me when I had every right to be leery. It wasn't like I was gun shy without cause. But there was another part that was guilty because if I wasn't ready to give it another shot, he gave me an out. If I would always think the worst of him, I had to let him go.
But I couldn't.
He walked into class a minute before it was due to begin. He wore a faded black tee and a wrinkled blazer and jeans with a shadow of stubble but he still somehow looked like pure sex. He took off his shades and I saw his caramel eyes were as tired and bloodshot as mine and I took a measure of comfort at that he didn't sleep last night either.
He put down his stack of books, his weary gaze scanning the room. He settled on me and I smiled but there was no forgiveness—he just glared at me before turning to the white board. He wrote out 'First Impressions' in big angry letters and underlined it before he wheeled back to face the class.
"Austen was originally going to title Pride and Prejudice ‘First Impressions’," Chance said gruffly, tossing the dry erase marker on his desk with a thud. "Who can tell me what role first impressions play in Pride and Prejudice?"
A handful of arms shot in the air like vines and I grabbed my pen and jotted the date at the top of the paper. I guess he was phoning this class in because that question was so softball it was ridiculous.
"What do you think, Miss Woods?"
I glanced up in surprise, expecting him to keep up the whole ignoring my existence thing. "Excuse me?"
"How were first impressions relevant?" he said, crossing his arms.
I tapped my pen on my desk, my cheeks warm from all of my classmates staring at me. "Um, it was relevant because first impressions played a huge role in Elizabeth and Darcy's interactions." I swallowed. "And in their courtship." Good. A lackluster response for a lackluster question.
But he wasn't done. "How so?"
"Well because her first impression of him was that he was an arrogant, self-entitled prick and he thought she was criminally dull. With time, when they released their animosity and actually got to know each other they, found their first impressions couldn't be farther from the truth."
His eyes flitted around the room. "Who wants to expand on Miss Wood's elementary analysis?"
"Elementary?" I repeated incredulously.
"That's right," he said smugly. "Last I checked this was an upper level course which calls for more than a surface level analysis."
"Well maybe if you asked an upper level question, I'd give an upper level answer."
All the eyes shot back and forth between us, waiting for the next punch. The room was so quiet, so still that I thought I might have gone deaf until Chance nodded at a student in the front row. Her answer didn't sound all that different from mine, but he acted like it was the best thing since sliced bread.
I kept my head down for the rest of the class, me ignoring him for once, refusing to look at his face. He didn't call on me again.
I let out a sigh of relief when I heard the rustle that meant it was 11:20 and I could leave before I let him see that he got to me. I'd reined in the emotion bubbling beneath the surface, hoping that my face was as cold and unreadable as his was as he embarrassed me in front of everyone. But I couldn't help but hope that he'd look up and know that this was torture for me.
I stole a look at him, seated behind the desk, looking intently at the screen of his laptop. I took the smallest breath when I was front and center but the herd pulled me back in motion. The heartbeat was more than enough time for me to realize he didn't even look up and didn't call me to the side to apologize.
****
I burrowed into the cushion, spoon in hand. I was hoping something light with Reese Witherspoon would take my mind off the worst day ever, but I was starting to believe Sweet Home Alabama was a big mistake.
Her chemistry with her ex felt like dejavu, all tortured and heart wrenchingly passionate. Even though I’d seen it a million times before, I found myself screaming at the screen as she stormed away from him, off to pout instead of surrendering to a fact that was as clear as the button nose on her face.
“Just kiss him already,” I said in between bites of Chocolate Therapy. And she would--Reese would get her happily ever after. Mine got bulldozed three years ago and when there was a spark of hope, I snuffed it out.
I snatched up a throw pillow and groaned into the cushion. There was so much still simmering beneath the surface, but I felt like I was swimming against the tide, struggling to find something to hold on to, something to believe in, then drowning underneath the weight of what he’d done. Maybe he was right. Maybe we were just kidding ourselves, foolishly thinking we could move past something so heavy.
I clutched the pillow to my chest, watching the screen ruefully. Who was I kidding? Chance was the love of my life and I could never let him go and I didn’t want to.
Two solid knocks sounded at the door, cutting through my pity party. I paused the flick and put aside my pillow. It could only be one of two people--Mom or Alicia, armed with more reasons why Chance and I were a bad idea.
I hadn’t even noticed it was dark out but I could see the silver of the moon filtering in through the blinds. Since Mom turned into a pumpkin after dark, it had to be Alicia.
I unlatched the chain and grabbed the knob. “If you’re here to-”
“Apologize.” The voice was way too deep to be my best friend’s. I tightened my grip on the door knob, not sure if I wanted to pull it open—and wondering why I was pretending I wasn’t going to open it.
“I know you’re there, Cassandra.” His deep voice melted through the steel door, cocooning me in warmth. “Can we talk?”
I pulled the door open, standing solidly in his way. “That depends. Are you going to grill me about my ‘elementary observations’? That was pretty awesome.”
He held up a small paper bag. “I came with a peace offering.”
I crinkled my nose. “Booze?”
He opened the bag and pulled out a pint with the Coldstone logo on the front. “I got your favorite. Peanut Butter Cup Perfection with dark chocolate instead of milk, with extra peanut butter.”
I took it gingerly, stepping aside to let him in. “This will go well with Ben and Jerry’s.”
He clicked the door shut and regarded me slowly without saying a word.
I tugged at my ill fitting tee. "I know I look like crap." I just figured my outside should match my insides.
He glanced past me and took a few cautious steps, scanning my apartment. "You couldn't look like crap if you tried." He fingered one of the few droopy leaves left on a ficus I'd neglected then maneuvered around a leaning tower of dirty clothes. "Your apartment however..."
"It's not that bad," I said defensively.
"Babe, you're a stack of boxes away from Hoarders."
My heart clenched into a fist at the sound of him calling me babe. Neither of us had been big on pet names but every now and then, in between the sheets, in those quiet moments when we were worried or concerned, 'babe' or 'baby' would make an
appearance. It had been months since anyone had called me anything remotely romantic and even longer since it actually made me feel special.
"It's just a bit of clutter," I said, swallowing the emotion throbbing all over me. "If you came over here for some sort of intervention-"
"I didn't come over for an intervention. Or to argue," he added. "I came over here because I wanted to say how sorry I am."
"Well it certainly wasn't very adult of you," I said pointedly, his angry spiel from the coffee shop rushing back. "Especially not when I was bending over backward to talk to you and explain."
"I know," he said quietly. "I wasn't ready to talk. Not when I had so much going on in my head." He moved toward the couch like he was going to disassemble my fort of pillows and candy wrappers but thought better of it. He rolled back his shoulders, his golden eyes boring into me. "I was furious about the coffee shop. I thought I was just mad at you, hurt that you believed I could cheat after I told you how hard it was to be around you and not kiss you." He paused. "And not love you."
The last time that word was said out loud, panic made me want to run as far from him as humanely possible. But now, screeching desire coursed through me and I there was nowhere else I'd rather be.
"If I was a better man, a stronger man, I'd keep my distance," he continued, his voice filling the room. "With time, we'd both heal. We'd move on, find a love that was easy. Do it right this time."
"Right?" I repeated, taking a step toward him. "I did what I thought was the right thing. I hated your guts. I tried to move on. I dated. I....fucked." He raised an eyebrow at the word. "But I wouldn't let any of them in. I thought it was because you ripped my heart right out of my chest." I gripped the hem of my tee, fingering a hole. "But as soon as I saw you, I knew I never got over you. Right or wrong, you still had my heart."
"Cassandra..." The sound of my name on his tongue gave me chills. "I'll do anything to make this better." He stopped a few inches from me, heat and need radiating. "Just don't ask me to do the right thing. Don't tell me to leave."
