The Best Laid Plans

by Mataya, Tamara

  The dance floor was crowded again by the time she found herself on it, dancing to the DJ’s musical offerings. The day had turned out surprisingly well, better than any dream. A truly easy camaraderie formed between everyone, like school had been an ordeal for them all that they’d managed to get through together, despite cliques from then. It made Jayne wish high school started after you’d gone through puberty so everyone could chill and just get along.

  But this getting along ten years later was okay by her too.

  A few songs later, the dance number bled into a slower Whitney Houston number, I Learned From The Best. Jayne had always loved the song, felt it one of Whitney’s most underrated numbers, but it was a bit slow to dance to by herself. She’d moved to the edge of the dance floor to get away from the too-loud speakers, but even fairly alone she felt weird dancing to a slow song by herself. She may as well go back to the table and hang out for a while. The results of the votes would be read soon for Most Successful, and Most Improved. She’d voted for Sarah in both cases, and it had felt good.

  A warm hand brushed across her lower back and moved to caress her hip. She tingled into the strangely familiar touch for a second. The man moved closer, pressed lightly against her back, embraced her from behind and began swaying them to the beat. Her body responded before she could think to not lean into him. It felt too damned nice. That was a bit forward of him, and while she and Malcolm weren’t technically exclusive, she didn’t feel right dancing that closely with someone else, no matter how her body reacted to him.

  The monogamous reaction wasn’t like her at all, but there it was, and it felt strangely right. She gently but quickly pulled herself from him and turned to give a smile to let him down lightly. “Sorry, but I’m seeing someo … ” Her voice died in happy surprise.

  “I know.” Malcolm smiled down at her.

  ***

  She grabbed him in a huge hug and let him sway her to the music again. There were no words for how good it felt to have her in his arms.

  “How did you find me? I’m so glad to see you! It’s been an insane night.”

  He squeezed her, too aware of people watching them. They’d both made quite a splash at the reunion – he’d heard people praising her image, but more so her acumen in business, impressed with her advice. As for him, he’d been mobbed as soon as he stepped off stage, surrounded by friendly well-wishers bathing him in compliments. Bobby had even bought him a drink.

  He should have waited until they were alone somewhere, taken her outside to talk, but she’d looked so happy. He’d loved seeing everyone watching her, admiring her at the table, then the dance floor. It made him fill with pride, and watching her dance had been so great. She was so sexy he couldn’t help himself; he’d always been drawn to her. Her cheek pressed into his name tag as she nuzzled closer, and he tensed.

  “Your shirt is stiff.” She ran a hand up his chest, then pulled back to look at it. He watched the realizations enter her mind one at a time.

  It wasn’t his shirt. It was a name tag.

  An alum name tag, not a plus one that the spouses wore.

  Her gaze flew to his in shock, and his heart sank. Her feet stilled at the careful look he felt in his eyes.

  She peered closer in the darkness to read the name written on his tag.

  Dylan Black.

  She took a step away from him. “What—but … Dylan?”

  “Yes,” he said quietly.

  She jerked stiffly away from his touch when he reached for her. His shoulders slumped and he nodded. He didn’t deserve to speak another word to her. She was too good for him, had always been too good for him.

  So he did the last thing he wanted to do, something he should have done ages ago.

  He turned and walked out of the gym as the song died.

  She slammed through the exit door. This hallway wasn’t decorated for the reunion, as everyone used the other entrance. It was darker, and Malcolm had already turned the corner so she had to rush to catch up with him. They were by the trophy case when she finally closed in on him.

  “Malcolm. You don’t just get to walk away from me like this!” She grabbed his shoulder and he turned around, but stared at the floor. He looked so beat down, and she didn’t understand why. She didn’t understand any of this.

  “What the hell is going on?” Her eyes flicked from his name tag to his face and back to his name tag. “Who are you?”

  “I’ve only ever been myself with you.”

  “Obviously not, Dylan.” She crossed her arms to stop the awful feeling of being exposed. It didn’t help; arms were useless armor when the arrow of betrayal had already pierced her heart.

  “I—”

  “This isn’t just a stunt for fun, like you found out I’d be here, and decided to come, but because I hadn’t vetted you, you pretended to be someone who hadn’t shown up, and you took their name tag instead?” She almost wanted that to be the truth, but recognized how ridiculous it sounded as the words left her mouth.

  He shook his head.

  “You were a student here? For real?”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t remember seeing you at graduation. I’d remember someone who looked like you.”

  “I looked a lot different then.”

  “Why would … ” A mildly horrifying thought occurred to her. “Did you know me when we … did you know we’d been here together?”

  He looked like he wanted to run away. “Yes.”

  “And why wouldn’t you tell me that we went to school together? It wouldn’t have been a big deal, unless you were hiding something.”

  His guilty expression said it all.

  “Well, at least you seem ashamed of it.”

  “I am!”

  “So you knew you were lying and that was fine with you. It’s so fucking creepy! Did you get off on it? Are you proud? Because I had no idea that we’d ever met.”

  “No, I’m not proud of it!”

  “What exactly are you ashamed for? This is your one chance to tell me everything. One chance.” She should be storming away from him, but found she wanted there to be a logical, forgivable explanation.

  “I saw you and you didn’t even recognize me.”

  “So? Most people would walk up and introduce themselves, not … whatever the hell came next.”

  “Revenge.”

  She shuddered at the word. Revenge? For what? He’d actually wanted to hurt her. She seriously felt like she might throw up. “Why?”

  He slumped into the wall, leaning against it as if for support, traced the lines in between the concrete blocks. “For the things that happened to me in high school. Things that happened because of you.”

  “What the hell do you mean? I never did anything to anyone!” She had been mercilessly picked on, how dare he make something like this up to justify doing what he’d done?

  He looked everywhere but at her. She wanted to shake him and get the story out all at once. “The tenth grade. There was a day in the band room. Someone threw your backpack in, and there was a scrawny kid playing a guitar. He played you a song, Angel, and you walked out together.”

  She half-remembered what he was talking about, but the memory was a partly finished watercolor; the details were blurred and hazy. “And? I’m sorry! But I’m not going to lie and pretend that I remember doing whatever I did that hurt you so much!” How bad could it have been? Had she said something mean about his song, and he’d held onto it for all these years? Was he so petty?

  His voice lowered further. “And you said you thought it was lame that I’d written a song about the head cheerleader. Her boyfriend, one of the football players, happened to overhear you say it. Before you left, you told him I was in love with his girlfriend. They pulled me into a classroom, and … That began a series of attacks that ended up with me being pulled from school, and finishing by correspondence for my own safety. It’s why you don’t remember seeing me at grad. I wasn’t there.”

  Her bonfire of rage
dampened to a smolder. She did remember the bit about the song, because at the time it had annoyed her that someone else had been fooled by another of the bitchy, stupid cheerleaders, but she still couldn’t recall the face of the musician. The young Malcolm. Despite her anger, the thought of someone hurting him affected her. Especially, if what he was saying was true, since her words had been a large part of him being hurt. “Attacks?”

  “Mostly just beatings. Broken teeth, black eyes, broken nose. Sprained finger.” He finally looked at her. “The one thing I openly lied to you about … That scar on my back wasn’t from playing hockey.” His voice was raw and he sounded younger, his gaze seemed to turn back to that day. “One day a friend lured me to his house. The team waited for me there, and … they beat me up for a while. When that got old, they held me down and cut me with a skate.”

  Her stomach turned. He wasn’t going for sympathy, he only recounted events, but she felt nauseated at what kids could do to each other. At what they’d done to him. She remembered hearing things about Dylan in school, how he’d been beaten up, and people laughed at him. But she’d thought it was just kids roughhousing, not serious injuries like the scar she’d seen on his back. Honestly, she hadn’t thought about him much in school – she hadn’t thought about anyone else’s plight. She’d been too busy trying to survive her emotional torment to think about anyone else.

  And it was different knowing it was her Malcolm who had suffered at their hands. “But that wasn’t my fault!”

  “I know that! I know. At first, I didn’t care. After what you’d done to me in school, I went into things in a horrible way. You approached me that night at the bar, and I just went with it, not telling you.”

  “For revenge.” Her spine stiffened. There was no her Malcolm.

  “Yes.” His jaw clenched. “I couldn’t be more ashamed, but I can’t regret it.”

  “Well that is just fucking charming.” She spun to walk away, had to get away. She’d been right about men, he was just another asshole. She’d been such an idiot. Lisa Tristina had no advice on what to do in this situation. She only helped get the guy. Jayne wished she’d never learned how. It always ended in disaster. Mal-Dylan or whoever the fuck he was had just validated every ugly thing she’d ever thought about men.

  Malcolm rushed in front of her and blocked her with his body without touching her. She stopped walking. “Get out of my way.”

  “I don’t regret it because none of this would have happened, we wouldn’t have found each other if things hadn’t happened the way they did. I can’t regret something that ended up being so right, and beautiful. I can’t ever regret us, Jayne!”

  He moved a cautious hand toward her. She slapped it away. “I don’t even know you! You call yourself something different—”

  “So do you,” he blandly pointed out.

  “Oh, big deal, I changed the spelling of my name. You developed a whole new persona and lied about who you really are.”

  “No. I’ve always been myself with you. Everything between us is real, you have to know that! I just didn’t mention that we’d gone to school together.”

  “You went into this to, what? Hurt me?”

  “Does it matter at this point? I don’t feel the same way, I’d never—”

  “What was your plan?” Her voice chilled her throat on the way out.

  His eyes closed. “I was going to seduce you. Get you to fall in love with me. And then break your heart.”

  She laughed then, because it was that, or curl up and die of embarrassment that she’d fallen for it, bought that he’d been right for her. That he’d actually succeeded. “Well, congratulations. Does it feel good, getting what you wanted?”

  “No! I never wanted any of this. Not, okay, I went into this with awful intentions, but the plan changed as I got to know you! My feelings changed nearly from the start. But I didn’t know what to say, how to tell you.”

  “You should have tried.”

  “Because that would have gone over well. You’d have run away so fast.”

  “Maybe not. But now we’ll never know.” She had been right all along. All men were alike, just waiting to screw her or screw her over. Or both, in that order.

  “It’s so easy for you to just switch off your feelings isn’t it?” Agitated, he ran his hands through his hair. “If it hadn’t been this, you’d have found a reason to break it off with me. Why can’t you just let yourself experience love? Maybe the beginning sucked, but what we have is real! It’s the ending that matters, not the beginning. Please, just let me in and accept that it’s real and right in front of you.”

  “The beginning is what matters most of all, Malcolm. Don’t try to turn this around. I’ve been loved plenty of times. I’ve loved. It’s never worked out. And no wonder. You’re all the same.”

  He shook his head, eyes blazing. “You have sex, Jayne. And you are great at it. But sex isn’t intimacy, and it sure as hell isn’t love.”

  “What are you saying?” And how had they gotten on this topic?

  “Your bed is warm, but when we met – again – your heart was cold. How did you live for so long while being completely dead inside?”

  She felt like she’d been slapped with the truth, and wanted to run away, but couldn’t budge an inch. “What does that even mean?”

  “Personal experience. I know you. You’re fine hooking up with people, but the second someone tries to take it to another level, to forge a real connection with you, you shut down.”

  His words slammed around inside her chest which felt hollower by the second.

  “I never shut down! I’m not scared of anything!” The denial felt hot in her mouth, but it was his expression that burned her.

  “You only really talk to me when it’s through a phone, Jayne, when you don’t have to look me in the eyes when we talk, and you can hang up on me anytime you want.”

  “I open up and talk in person too!”

  His face pinched like her denial caused him physical pain. “No, you don’t. We have incredible sex, and then you shut down. But outside the bedroom? You basically had a panic attack when I brought up wanting to spend more time together that didn’t involve sex. You’d have made a rope out of the bed sheets and rappelled out the window if I’d said what I wanted to say.”

  God, it was true. “And what was that?” He was drowning her in truth. She couldn’t speak above a hoarse whisper. “What did you really want to say?”

  “That I wanted more.” He stepped closer to her. “It’s not just your body I’m interested in. It’s that girl I talk to on the phone. The one who lets me in. I want her in the flesh. I want all of you. That I wanted, I want something exclusive. That I want you to be my girlfriend. Maybe more, if you’ll let me in.”

  His beautiful words quietly spoken almost crumbled her anger. His pleading, genuine eyes almost convinced her. Almost. “You’re dreaming! I mean, how sad is it that you still cling to the horrors of high school all these years later, Malcolm? Or should I say, Dylan.” His flinch registered, but she couldn’t stop the words from coming. “How am I, how is anyone supposed to be with someone who is living in the past, unable to let go?” Even as she said it, her hypocrisy made her blush. Hadn’t she come tonight with the sole purpose of showing everyone up? But the residue of her insecurities made her unable to admit that she wanted him back just as much. It was better to provoke him so they didn’t talk about her intimacy issues anymore.

  “I’ve learned a lot about myself in the past few weeks, but more so in the past hour. It’s not the past I haven’t let go of, Jayne. And I won’t let you push me away like you’re trying very hard to do right now.”

  His eyes burned her with their intensity. With their sincerity. God, she didn’t want to push him away – she knew he was right. But the beginning mattered the most. What kind of a foundation was that for a relationship? Revenge?

  She stepped back. “Unfortunately for you, the choice isn’t yours to make. Goodbye.”

  She
walked back into the gym half hoping he’d stop her, relieved when he didn’t.

  It wasn’t until the door shut behind her that Malcolm realized that he’d been wrong. The beginning was what mattered.

  Maybe she’d gone back to the reunion to hang out for a while. Maybe she was just getting her purse and saying goodbyes. Either way, he needed to act quickly.

  He ran up the steps to the stage, and walked across it. Claire talked into a microphone to the now mostly seated audience, but she stopped when Malcolm strapped on his guitar, turned on the amp, strode across the stage toward her.

  “Dylan?”

  “Sorry to interrupt, Claire, but I just have to say something. Mind if I borrow … ?” She handed him the mic and whispered, “Go get her.”

  “How do you—”

  “It’s always about a girl.” She grinned and stepped back, relinquishing the spotlight.

  He couldn’t see Jayne. “Is Jane Griffin still here?”

  Murmurs and activity near the left rear of the gym answered his question. Squinting against the light, he made out her figure, and someone at her table called, “She’s here!”

  He couldn’t speak yet; he didn’t know what to say. So, he started playing The Reason, by Hoobastank. The feeling in the room was electric. Heads were turned to him, turned to Jayne to gauge her reaction to the lyrics. He couldn’t see her expression from there, but he poured his heart into the song, meaning every word, every note.

  The applause was thunderous when the music ended, but all he cared about was Jayne. Unstrapping the guitar, and locking it back in the case, he began speaking, not daring to look at her. He felt so exposed on the stage with everyone staring, so he focused on his guitar, and focused on the words in his heart.

  “We’ve come a long way from the people we used to be. Some think that it’s the ending that’s important, some think the beginning overshadows it all. Maybe it’s the stuff in the middle. I don’t care what it is, as long as you’re there with me for the journey, but I understand why you can’t get over the beginning.” He stood with his back to the audience, propped his case against his hip. “But you’re wrong about the beginning, Jayne. We started way before you think we did. Our true beginning was on a day in elementary school that you don’t even remember. That day you burrowed deep into my heart and never left.” The crowd murmured. “Our true beginning was pure, and beautiful, and still just as real as anything we’ve experienced together since then. Good or bad, you’ve never known the impact your words and actions have had over my life. I wouldn’t be the same person I am today if you hadn’t been in my life. I’m far from perfect.”