Tryst

by Alex Rosa

  I swing open the door, and his warm smile washes over me like a summer rain. I take in a deep breath as I meet his even warmer stare.

  “Pretty suits you, Skye. I can tell you that right now,” he flirts.

  I rake a hand through my loose curls as I examine his fitted navy button-up and slacks. Rich looks dashing. He extends his hand to me, and I’m confused, but humor him as I place my hand in his. He leans into it, and brings my hand to his lips, kissing it.

  “Rich, you’re a ham.”

  “This is a date, isn’t it?”

  I purse my lips into a smile as I watch him stand up, not letting go of my hand. I can hear my inner self battling the sort of commitment involved with agreeing to this, and also with the fact that I said this was a date.

  “Yes, this is a date.” I nod, and it feels more forced than fluid.

  Rich looks about ready to burst.

  “Good. Are you ready to go?”

  I grab for my purse on the wall and bite my lip. He tugs me forward as I shut the door behind me.

  “I’m going to treat you right tonight.”

  “You always treat me right.”

  “No, I don’t. Tonight it’s all about you.”

  I wrinkle my nose, uncomfortable with his words. “How about it’s about us instead?”

  He opens the passenger side door to his silver Ford Mustang and I slip inside, finding that Rich smells wonderful as I scoot past him. The crisp musk burns through my nose and has my mind detouring to Blake. Although he doesn’t smell the same, the masculine scent has me missing Blake’s touch.

  I watch the car door shut, glad that it will give me two seconds to collect myself and push Blake out of my mind. But I wonder if Blake’s date means as much to him as Rich means to me, and I realize I don’t like that thought, either.

  Get a grip, Skyler.

  ***

  After passing off the car to the valet, I give my name to the host at the front and we stroll through the entrance to the club.

  “Must be nice having your brother in the business, huh?” Rich asks in an almost mocking, but mildly impressed tone.

  I peer down, finding it funny that I didn’t realize we were already holding hands. It feels good to have someone openly dote on me, and I know instantly that I am the most selfish I have ever been.

  I tug him inside. The club is just as I remember it, dark and mysterious, with romantic lighting in dark corners. My instincts tell me to head to where we were before, and sure enough, I’m right. The first thing I see is Vanessa’s strawberry blonde hair whip back as she joins in laughter with the people seated at her table.

  As I step up to the table, I notice that Josh has his arm draped over Vanessa. She seems to be comfortable with it as they both share a joke.

  “Hey, everyone!” I say, gathering the attention of the few other people. Blake isn’t in sight.

  “Look what we have here,” I joke at Vanessa and Josh. She winks and smiles a cheesy grin, shrugging. She doesn’t let anything go, either, as she points to my hand linked with Rich’s.

  “It’s a date.” I shrug. The meaning is as shaky now as it was when Rich picked me up.

  “Really?” she squeaks, raising a brow.

  Rich leans forward. “You do realize I’m standing right here, right?”

  I turn to face him, and he’s glowing.

  “Oops,” I joke.

  His eyes skim over my features. “Dance with me.”

  “Not yet!” a voice shouts from behind me. “We gotta get some drinks into this girl to loosen her up, and also because it looks like I’m now the only single lady.”

  When I turn around, I spot Jennifer. She’s carrying a tray of shots, filled with amber liquid that smells of cinnamon.

  “We’re still single!” Vanessa and I say in unison.

  Jennifer places the tray on our table as she rolls her eyes. “Riiiighhht.”

  She makes it a point to shoot me a glare before scooting into the booth. I know what she’s thinking, but I don’t know how to defend my behavior. She never was a Rich fan.

  That shot seems more tempting than ever.

  I follow suit as everyone grabs for the shots, clinking them. The warm burn down my throat offers a sense of comfort, and I swivel around to see Rich smiling. The dummy. But his smirk reminds me of an all-too-familiar one.

  I turn to my brother.

  “Where’s Blake?” I ask.

  He shrugs. “He’s fashionably late as usual. He said he was picking up his date and he’d be right over. Should be here any minute.”

  My stomach knots into a painful bow. I brush it off like I don’t care with a quick roll of my shoulders.

  “Leave it to Blake to be late to his own party,” I say.

  I lean over the table and grab for two shots, catching both Vanessa and Jennifer staring.

  “What?” I ask for only them to hear, though I know it’s difficult with the crowd, and Rich waiting behind me.

  Both Jennifer and Vanessa exchange a knowing look. Jennifer turns to me, her eyes watching me skeptically,

  “Are you feeling okay, Skye?”

  I rise, standing straight. “I’m fine.”

  “Are you sure?” Vanessa asks, and I dart my eyes between my friends.

  “Yeah, I’m positive,” I hiss. “Why are you asking?”

  I worry Jennifer can see right through me, and I wonder what the hell I’m giving away.

  “You weren’t at practice last night.”

  My shoulders tense as my face pales.

  “Practice?” I stutter.

  “Didn’t you see the team calendar, or were you too busy?” Jennifer asks, a hum curling through the end of her question, oozing suspicion

  “Too busy doing what?” I know my pitchy tone is even more incriminating.

  “I don’t know, Skye. You tell me.” Her smile widens into a grin.

  Jennifer points a red nail at me. “Skyler, we’re having this conversation sooner or later. I know something’s up.”

  I nod instead of speaking. Although I had intended a shot for Rich and me, I down one and then the other, seeking some sort of solace at the bottom of the glasses.

  The burn is fiery and quick. I dip into a different realm as the sounds of approving laughter come from all around me. Rich, who watches with endearing interest, and my friends, who now have confirmation that I’m hiding something. Shit.

  “You ready for that dance?” I ask Rich.

  “I thought you’d never ask. From what I remember, I have some making up to do in the dance department.”

  I don’t hide my eye-rolling as I allow Rich to pull me to the dance floor, and his hands come to my hips, bringing me closer to him. With my arms draped around Rich’s neck, we dance. I try to focus, but my mind is somewhere else entirely.

  Through a gap in the crowd, someone catches my eye.

  Blake.

  Apparently I’m attuned to his presence; it’s as if his glittering green eyes, just like a cat’s, catch my attention even across the room. My chest constricts, and I know I’m entering the danger zone. After our day of kisses, cuddles, and sweet chitchat, I know my heart is more invested. I know I’m in for it with that single glance, especially since standing here with Rich teeters on boring. This was a terrible idea.

  Blake’s smile is tight. I don’t have control over the muscles in my face as I stand stoic, fearful of my feelings as I sway in Rich’s arms, staring at the boy whose mere half-smile has my blood igniting like a wick of dynamite in my veins.

  I break eye contact, picking sides between the battle of my mind and body. I pull away from Rich.

  “Let’s head back to the table.”

  I tug him back toward my friends. He wraps his arms around my waist from behind. Bringing me close, he places a kiss on top of my head.

  We stumble up to the table. I feel Rich’s reaction before I see them, his body going rigid next to me.

  Blake is staring at me, but I’m not staring at him. He
ather locks her vile stare onto mine while the room begins to spin. My core burns with seething anger and betrayal. I shoot a glance at Blake, whose bemused expression makes me angrier. I blink a few times, wondering at what point I entered the twilight zone. Surely this isn’t happening. How could he think this wouldn’t upset me, too? I’m so angry with Blake that, for once, the way he feels becomes insignificant. I see his eyes flit over my face, trying to figure out why I’m so upset.

  I turn to face Rich.

  “Rich, are—?”

  “I’m so sorry, Skye. I didn’t know she’d be here.”

  “I know you didn’t.”

  “I fucking hate that guy!” He has no shame in saying that loud enough for Blake to hear.

  I stroke Rich’s strong jaw, and don’t care that we’re still standing in front of our table. Most of our friends are too distracted with one another amid the darkness and loud music. The only stares we seem to be holding are Heather’s and Blake’s.

  “Let’s just take a seat and pretend we don’t give a shit.”

  He chuckles, nodding his head as he does. “I can’t believe this is happening. The nerve of that guy! I just argued with Heather two days ago about not wanting to see her, and now this. Do you think that’s the best idea?”

  “I think we should show those two that we don’t care at all.”

  At least I believe those words. If Blake wants to play this shitty game, then game on. My childish reaction may not be my best approach, but fueled by anger and alcohol, I don’t care.

  “Okay,” Rich says, and takes in a deep breath. “Are you sure you don’t want me to take you somewhere else?”

  “You know how I feel about Heather, and I sure as hell think Blake is an asshole right now. Unfortunately, we’re here because of him. For now, I’d like to pretend that neither of them have control over how I feel anymore.”

  Rich knits his eyebrows in pained understanding. I worry he might look too much into my reaction toward Blake, and instead hope he attributes this to his life-ruining ex.

  I scoot inside the booth, and unfortunately, I’m sitting right next to Blake, who still has his arm around the one girl I can’t stand. I make it a point to not touch my body to his. I don’t face him, but tempting me, he leans in close, his warmth and smell familiar.

  “Hi,” he whispers.

  I choose not to respond, and I notice Rich has made the smart decision of trying to flag down a waiter for a drink.

  Blake tries again, “Did I do something wrong?”

  While Rich is still distracted, I turn to Blake, and unfortunately, Heather is right next to him, eavesdropping. It only amplifies my anger.

  “I’m pissed off at you!”

  He leans in closer, knowing the wretched girl behind him is listening. “How is that possible? Why are you pissed?”

  I can’t and don’t care to hold back my seething anger.

  This I don’t have to hide.

  I point at Heather, and she has the audacity to hiss.

  I speak low enough for only him to hear. “Because of that thing you brought.”

  His mouth curves upward and I’m tempted to smack the smirk right off his beautiful face.

  “Because I brought a date?”

  I roll my eyes. “Don’t be full of yourself. No, it’s not because of that!”

  I’m not ready for this conversation and I turn away from him, finding his arrogance too overbearing for me to handle. Shocking me, he tugs at my arm, forcing me to turn around and face him again.

  “You’re not going to tell me why? I did something stupid, didn’t I? Is this because of Rich?” His whisper is so low now that it’s almost impossible to hear.

  I guffaw. “No!” I shout, and then regain my composure, going back to leaning in and whispering to him. “This is about me. I know your goal was to piss off Rich; well, mission accomplished. But you should have taken a moment to figure out how it might have affected me.” I have to pause to heave in a breath. “I can’t talk about this, Blake. Just . . . just leave me alone.”

  He looks baffled, revealing stunned, wide eyes, but at least he has the decency to look apologetic as he watches me turn way. The alcohol, although fueling my honest outburst, has my emotions erratic, and I don’t want anything to do with Blake right, not for a while.

  “Skyler, I . . .”

  I hear Blake’s trying words behind me, but even he can’t seem to remedy the situation as his words trail off. I mean, what’s there to say?

  Annoying me further, all I can hear behind me is Heather’s voice. “What was that about?”

  Blake’s response is brusque. “Nothing. Forget about it.”

  Blake has resumed the nonchalant position of his arm draped around Heather, which only has her shooting me a mocking grin.

  “Skyler?”

  I turn around and see that Rich is in the process of putting down his already half-finished drink.

  “Are you okay?” he continues.

  I know the answer is no.

  “I’ll be fine. I just, I . . .”

  He reaches for my hand on the table and gives it a reassuring squeeze to match his smile. “It’s gonna be okay. This is such a mess.”

  I nod my agreement, realizing that at one time Rich did cause the butterflies in my gut to flutter, but right now isn’t one of those times. I don’t want to be touched. I pull my hand free from his.

  I open my mouth to speak, but I’m interrupted.

  “Richard?”

  The high-pitched squeak has me cringing, and I catch Rich’s eye before he acknowledges that horrid woman.

  “I hate that she’s here,” he quips.

  I let out a sigh. “Ya know, I think I need a minute. You better answer her before Armageddon ensues.”

  “Are you sure? I can go with you to get some fresh air.”

  I shake my head. “I have to go to the bathroom anyway and freshen up.”

  It’s a lie, but I need some space. Space away from all of these characters in the dark comedy that is my life. I just want to be alone.

  I slip out of the booth, ready to shoot a glare at the two individuals next to me, but to my dismay, Blake has managed to slip out the other side without me noticing. It brings my anger back to the forefront as I scowl at Heather, who apparently needs Rich’s full attention since she’s been ditched. I can’t believe I’m even allowing Heather and Rich to exchange words, but I guess it means I don’t really care.

  I try to hold back my shoulder slump as I skip off across the club with no real goal in sight. I don’t know where the bathroom is, but I don’t have much interest in finding it. So instead, I wander, biding my time until common sense tells me to go back.

  To my delight, I find a door to the outside. It leads to the smoking area, but the idea of being outside the confines of the building seems appealing. I lean against the brass railing outside, seeking some sense of solace among the nicotine-driven folk.

  My skin still feels like fire, the anger and alcohol sizzling over the surface of my entire body.

  I want to be okay. I want to let this evening be about Blake and his promising career. And dammit, I just want to be happy! I know I’m not innocent here. I brought Rich and it was wrong, at least I can admit that, but why did Blake have to go so far as to bring Heather?

  As if I beckoned him, Blake appears in the doorway, and I can’t help my immediate scowl. He seems on a mission, his steps nearly frantic as they approach me, and I’m instantly ready and on the offensive.

  “Blake, just for tonight, leave me alone!”

  I mean every single word. I feel betrayed and never want to tell him why, but I don’t have a problem with showing my fury.

  “We need to go home.” He doesn’t watch the careful furrowing of my brows at his presumptuous words because he’s too busy turning to the petite redhead next to me to ask for a cigarette. She’s only all too willing to hand it over to him once she locks eyes with that model-worthy stare.

  He’s quick
to bum a light as well and soon pulls deeply on the cancer stick. His nerves flicker behind the forest color of his eyes, while his perfect mouth tenses with deep lines of stress.

  “I just got here. Why would I leave?”

  “Just trust me.”

  I let out a mocking laugh. “That’s funny. You’re funny.” I wag a finger at him. I’m sure the alcohol is giving me confidence that will only get me into trouble.

  He exhales in a huff. “I bring a girl out with me, and now I lose all your trust? What the hell?”

  I don’t know why my emotions are so volatile when it comes to Blake, but his misunderstanding of the situation makes me want to cry. Without asking my permission, my eyes water.

  “Fuck you, Blake! The world does not revolve around who you bring to parties.”

  Panicked by my tears, he flicks the barely smoked cigarette into the distance.

  “You’re crying?” he asks, unsure what my reaction means. He steps closer to me, too close. His proximity is more intoxicating than the booze, and to my dismay, he places a hand on either side of my arms. His touch gives me an immediate sense of relief, but my stubborn self shrugs off his touch. I need to keep my wits somehow.

  “I’m not crying.” I sniff and wipe the corner of each eye, making sure drops don’t fall as I heave in a breath.

  “I’m making you cry?”

  I bow my head, trying to conceal my face. “I told you, I’m not crying, but if I were, the answer would be yes.” I sniff one more time, knowing that my reaction is beyond childish.

  He tries again, placing his strong, reassuring hands on my upper arms. “We have to talk, but right now, I need to get you out of here.”

  I try to shrug him off again, but his grip tightens. “Is this because I brought Rich? Now who’s the jealous one?” I sneer, trying to elicit anything but his confusion or misplaced pity.

  “Skyler, we need to leave right now, do you hear me?”

  Why does his calm tone infuriate me?

  “You’re not the boss of me, Blake. You don’t own me! Why the hell do you think you have the right to make us go?”

  I’m gathering stares from the people around us now.

  “I care about you, you know.”

  I don’t know if I truly believe he means that as I lift up my head to encounter his piercing stare. Although they’re not bright and luminous like normal, his eyes are a dark color, hinting that something is wrong.