by Layla Hagen
He's the first to show a sign of weakness. Or maybe it's strength. Courage, even. Because admitting my longing seems like the hardest thing to do.
"I miss you," he says and moves one hand on my waist. Even through the fabric of my black dress, his touch has the power to set me ablaze. "Let's start over. Today. Tonight. There's a charity event I was invited to. I wasn't planning on going, but we could go together."
"You know as well as I do it will end as soon as it starts," I say weakly, wishing I could find a way not to feel his hot breath against my neck anymore. Or at least not respond the way that I do, with a light tremor and a drumming heart.
"It won't. We deserve a chance, Serena. A real one. Come with me tonight."
I'm so close to saying yes. It would be so easy. So tempting. My whole body begs me to say yes. My mind almost decides on saying out loud the word that would surely shatter my heart in no time.
And then my salvation comes, in the form of laughter.
Not mine. Someone else's. A high-pitched laughter, resembling a lark's screech. I can hear it even through the concrete wall and wooden door.
"Please don't read anything into this," James pleads, now putting his other hand on my waist as well. "Natalie owns part of this company. She does come here from time to time."
I leap from his arms just as the door opens and Natalie walks in, her dark brown hair falling in waves, wearing a ridiculously short white dress that reveals almost every inch of her long, perfectly tan legs. The last thing on her mind seems to be checking on her company's state. Good. She reminds me why I must never allow myself to be weak again.
When she notices me, the corners of her mouth instantly lift in a practiced smile that matches the hypocrisy in her tone.
"Serena, how good to see you again. How is your friend keeping up? She looked devastated when she came here."
I take a few seconds to try and make sense of her words. When I still can't come up with a satisfactory explanation, I ask, fighting to keep my voice even, "You mean Jess?"
"Yes. Poor thing was so desperate."
"What are you talking about?" I say blankly. "Why desperate?"
Her eyes light up with maliciousness. "For money, of course. James, darling, tell me you didn't forget to pay her debt. It obviously meant a lot to that girl, insignificant as the sum might be."
I swirl to James, who watches Natalie, enraged, the vein in his temple twitching. But his rage is no match to mine.
"Jess asked you for money?" I ask through gritted teeth.
"Yes," he says, watching Natalie, his eyes squinted. "I thought I told you—"
I do not find out whatever he told her, because the door opens again and a girl that looks my age comes in. She wears a black suit and a nervous expression that tells me it was her CV James was skimming through.
"Hi," she says in a small voice. "I was told this is where my interview is."
I don't go right inside my apartment building when I get out of the cab. I linger in front of the entrance for a few seconds, trying to convince myself that verbally abusing Jess won't do anyone any good. But to be honest, if the two hours I spent wandering around San Jose in an attempt to shake off my anger were fruitless, a few more seconds hanging out here have no chance. I had stormed out of the office before James managed to introduce himself to that girl. But not before Natalie had managed to humiliate me again, by repeating how insignificant the sum was, and that neither Jess nor I should worry about having to pay it back. There have been very few times when I've been furious with Jess. I don't remember ever being this furious with her. Not when she made out with Ace, my first crush. Not even when she read my diary, which consisted of delirious letters I wrote to a long-gone Kate.
I drag myself up the stairs, and when I open the door to our apartment, I find Jess crouched over her laptop, her bandaged leg up on the couch, her messy hair bundled up in a bun. For some reason her pathetic appearance makes me even more furious.
She looks up at me with concern. "You look terrible. Your interview didn't go too well?"
"My interview went just fine," I hiss. "You know what didn't? My trip to that godforsaken bar."
She lowers her gaze back to her laptop with a slight frown. "What were you doing there? I was under the impression you weren't a big fan of the place."
"Don't play stupid, Jess," I cry, unable to hold my voice down. "You know what I was doing there. Trying to sort out the mess you created. I went to give that creep the check."
"I don't remember asking you to deliver anything," Jess says in a dangerously calm voice. "I don't remember asking you to sort out anything, for that matter."
"No, the numerous phone calls from the bar owner, which I had to take because you couldn't be bothered, did."
"Maybe it's time you stop trying to sort everything out every time. I'm a big girl. I can handle my own stuff."
"You did a fantastic job until now," I spit.
Silence.
"Why did you ask James, of all people, for money? What were you thinking?"
"I was thinking that I had a problem and I needed to solve it. And I did."
"The problem was already solved, Jess," I say, exasperated. "By Parker."
She sets her laptop aside and puts her hands together in her lap, watching me like she did when we were in high school when she was about to tell me that she wanted to skip a class and I had to cover up for her. "I didn't want him to get involved."
"What? Why?"
"Because he's a jerk, Serena. I don't know how you can stand him."
"I'm sorry, have you met Parker? He's nothing but kind and polite."
"To you maybe," she splutters. "To me he's a prick."
I stare at her, wondering whether her accident has caused some serious brain damage. But as she takes her laptop back, immersing herself in it, I remember that there is another side of Parker. He can be judgmental, yes. But he keeps those thoughts to himself. He's never not been polite even to Natalie, despite his opinion of her. I snort. If there's one person who could exasperate Parker to the point that he would abandon his gentlemanly manners, it's Jess. I knew they had a falling-out, but I didn't know it was this serious.
"If you didn't want him to pay you should have said so and we would have come up with something else, not let that moron from the bar blindside me like that. It would've saved me a very humiliating scene with James and Natalie."
"You went to see James?" Jess asks incredulously.
"I wouldn't have if you'd bothered to tell me anything in advance."
"You are seriously blaming this on me? Christ, wake up, Serena. You couldn't wait for an excuse to see him."
"That's not true."
She shakes her head. "Stop lying to yourself." Her voice is softer. "It's okay to feel like this."
No it's not. Nothing can be okay or even sane about the vivid dreams that I am ashamed to recall, which star James and me.
The doorbell rings.
"Are you expecting someone?" I ask.
"Nope."
I wrack my brain whether I've ordered anything online, but it's far too late for a delivery anyway. I open the door to a vaguely familiar middle-aged man wearing white Bermuda shorts and a blue shirt. He holds a package under his arm. One second later I realize it's Daniel, James's concierge. I didn't recognize him right away because I've never seen him without his uniform.
"Good evening, Ms. McLewis." He hands me the package. "This is for you."
"What is it?" I ask sharply.
"Mr. Cohen asked me to deliver it. I'm afraid I don't know what is inside. I will leave you to find out," he says, and it's obvious he can't wait to get back to what I assume is a work-free evening.
"Don't just stand there, open it," Jess urges from behind me.
I turn around and throw the package in her direction. She catches it in midair and starts ripping off the silver paper before I manage to close the door.
A dress falls out of it. A gorgeous dress. Made of red chiffon, with a
slightly wavy skirt and a tight bodice. It's short, but not ridiculously so. The label confirms my suspicions that the dress doesn't merely look expensive. It is expensive. Very. It's a Valentino.
"I can't believe this," I say, anger building inside me again.
"He must want you back badly," she grins.
"And he thinks this is how he'll get me? One expensive dress and I'll be at his feet?"
"Oh no, dear, where he wants you to be is in his bed."
"And that's exactly what you think I should do, don't you?"
She shrugs. "You already know my opinion on this."
I do. And I'm glad that she refrains from telling me yet again what a mistake she thinks my leaving him was. She crouches to pick up the fallen silver paper. "There is a note here."
The beam on her face when she hands me the tiny card fuels my anger like nothing else. I lower my eyes to the card. You look stunning in red. I hope to see you tonight.
And see me he will. Because I decide on the spot to go.
Just not with him.
I grab my phone from my bag and call someone I called one too many times in the past few weeks. Parker answers after the first ring.
"Does your offer to accompany you to the event still stand?" I ask, staring at a stupefied Jess.
"Absolutely," he says in a cheerful tone. "I'll pick you up at seven."
Jess, whose faced turned almost as red as my dress, furiously gestures that she won't let Parker through the door.
"Nah, just give me the address. I'll take a cab."
"Wow," Parker says, holding the door of the cab open. "You look fantastic."
"Thanks. You too. A suit and tie really… suits you." I smile. He also looks more like James than is healthy for me, but I don't say that out loud.
I slide outside the cab, trying to resist the urge to put my palms on my calves to keep the dress from lifting when the slightest breeze blows. I know it won't lift high enough for anyone to actually see anything they shouldn't, but I still feel a little uncomfortable. The bright red isn't helping me, either. The cab driver kept glancing at me in the rearview mirror the entire journey. The restaurant looks exactly how I imagined the venue for a charity event to look. Elegant, imposing, with rich floral arrangements decorating each of the six entrances. I wonder if the place is big enough for James and me not to meet each other. No, I know we will meet. My heart beats a tad faster than I wish, and warns me that I'm pushing it, that I should turn around and take off now.
Parker offers me his arm. I take it and we start walking toward one of the entrances.
As I see my reflection in the glass doors, I can't help thinking how much I look like Kate when she went to prom. She wore a red dress, too. It was her favorite color. One of the few things we had in common. Her dress wasn't as fancy as this, and definitely not as expensive. It was longer than mine, but Kate cut a leg split into it that went all the way up to her thigh just before she left for the prom so our parents wouldn't see. She wanted to be sexy for what she called her boyfriend, an unstable boy who was into drugs just as heavily as she was and had a tendency toward being violent. Especially with Kate. But she called that side of their relationship interesting. Said it kept things from getting monotonous.
I shake my head, remembering that when I first started dating Michael, I was convinced that Kate would never have approved of him. Too boring for her standards. With a pang, I realize she would have probably approved of James.
"How did things at the office go?" Parker asks.
So he didn't speak to James. Excellent. I was counting on that. I bite my lip. "Jess went to him. She asked him for help."
"What?" Parker bursts. "Why? She knew I was already on it."
The briskness in his tone makes me think Jess might not have been out of line earlier. Still, I can't imagine Parker ever behaving like a jerk.
"I suggest you ask her," I say, fighting to hide the amusement in my voice as we enter the building.
A bubbly redhead awaits us on the other side, and, by the disappointed look she gives my bare shoulders, I'm guessing her job is to take coats. In this heat there isn't much for her to do. I smile apologetically and turn my gaze to the room. There are cocktail tables everywhere and small groups with men and women dressed in formal attire around each one. I can see what James meant about a fresh start. Between my red dress and the fancy location, this seems like a replay of our first real encounter at the ball in his parents' house. There is only one difference: I am not here to sleep with him tonight. Quite the contrary. I hold my breath as I look from table to table. I don't spot James anywhere.
"Let's just head straight to the dining room, cocktails will be over in about ten minutes anyway," Parker says. A wisp of annoyance still lingers in his voice.
"Sure. Listen, don't be mad at Jess, she has her own… special way of dealing with things." I keep my eyes on the floor as we enter the actual restaurant, for fear I might finally find James. "Why don't you come over for dinner sometime next week? As a thank-you gift for wanting to help us out with the whole thing. But Jess will cook, unless you want to get closely acquainted with the taste of burned food."
He chuckles, but then the smile freezes on his face. His eyes widen as he looks at someone behind me. I don't need to turn around to know who it is.
"James, I thought you said you wouldn't come," Parker says.
Slowly, very slowly, I turn around to face James. I expected him to be angry, or at least surprised. But his expression is completely unreadable. This only makes me even more nervous. I fold my arms over my chest, balling my palms to keep my fingers from pulling at my dress, or doing anything else that might show what a complete basket case I am.
"I changed my mind," James replies. His tone is even. Glacial. Infuriating. "Funny Serena didn't tell you. After all, I asked her a few hours ago to come here with me."
And now I do sense anger in the air. But it's not coming from James. Next to me, Parker stiffens. "Shall we sit?" he asks coldly.
I risk a glance at Parker as we walk to one of the tables. My stomach drops. Everything about his expression, walk, and posture emanates anger. I want to apologize to him, tell him how awful I am for using him like this. But I doubt it would do anything other than make him even angrier right now. So I ask myself, as I often do when I am around James… what was I thinking? Parker doesn't deserve this. The frostiness between us as he pulls out my chair for me raises the hair at the nape of my neck. To my dismay, James sits on the other side of the round table. I wanted him to see me with Parker, but I didn't expect to have to face him the entire evening. I'm not prepared for this. Not that he's looking at me. As the chairs around the table—twelve of them—start filling in, James greets them one by one, and it's clear he knows most of them. Parker introduces me to everyone politely after doing his own greetings. He doesn't utter one word to me.
I roll the napkin on my lap and then proceed to closely inspect the carvings on my glass. James sits directly opposite me. The only unoccupied chair at the table is the one next to him. There is no sign of chagrin on his face as he chats with the older man next to him whose name I already forgot. No sign that he's aware of my presence at all. I strain my ears to hear what his neighbor is saying. I don't catch anything for a few minutes, then the old man motions to the empty seat. James listens carefully to the man's next words, then leans back in his seat. A smirk that makes my stomach squirm contours on James's face as he motions the waiter to pour him white wine.
"She's just running late," James says, raising his voice. Just a notch. Enough for his words to reach me. "She'll arrive any minute."
And arrive she does. Less than a minute later. Natalie. I knew it would be her, but it still stings like hell. Natalie looks as breathtaking as ever, in a simple, knee-length black dress and sky-high heels. She greets everyone at the table with a nonchalance that makes it clear she knows all of them. Of course she does. She's part of this world. Her gaze falls on me just as she kisses James on the cheeks.
I clasp a fork in my right hand and stick it in the green soufflé in front of me. But I don't look away from them. I deserve this. This is what happens when I don't think things through and act impulsively.
Recklessly.
Something I've done a tad too often since I met James.
Like Parker, Natalie seems to realize the sole reason James asked her to come here is to make me jealous. But unlike Parker, she doesn't seem to mind. She flashes a satisfied smile when James whispers something in her ear and I have no choice but to lower my gaze, for fear I will make a complete fool of myself rushing out of the room. I can still hear her sickening, lark-like giggles though.
I force the corners of my mouth to lift in a smile when the lady next to me compliments me on my dress. The evening passes with course after course of exquisite food and copious glasses of wine amid discussions ranging from which charitable cause the next event should focus on to world politics. Except for the charitable part, I find myself quite at ease talking to them. Parker doesn't as much as look at me the entire time. I keep hoping he will see the show James and Natalie put on as punishment enough and forgive me sooner. I force myself not to stare at James and Natalie, but utterly fail. Whenever he isn't engaged in a hotheaded conversation with anyone else at the table, all his attention is on Natalie. Like now. He leans in to her as she whispers something in his ear. James chuckles and Natalie blushes violently at his reply.
Someone on the other side of the room taps the microphone then launches into a speech, and everyone focuses their attention in that direction.
Everyone except James. He puts one arm over Natalie's shoulders, and pulls her closer to him, running his fingers playfully on her neck and cheek. She lavishes in his attention, interlacing her fingers with his. I excuse myself, under the pretense that I need to touch up and run outside just as she leans her head on his arm.
