Now and Again

by Jennifer Ellision

  Her hair fell loose over her face, and into her eyes. Her fingers intertwined delicately with Sean's and Cole felt an undeserved stab of annoyance. She barely even let him or Nikki hug her anymore and here she was with Sean, easy as you please.

  This was Em's new hobby— one of her many techniques of avoidance. During the day, she worked as many shifts at the campus coffee shop as possible. She ran herself ragged on a strict workout regiment at the gym, though Cole had tried— successfully once or twice— to convince her to switch to running outdoors. He thought it would be good for her to get out from behind walls. She returned dripping with sweat and telling him that he only liked it for the people-watching benefit.

  She spent her time ensconced in the library, in class, in the gym, in her room. Wherever she could hide.

  But at night, she pulled her hair from her ponytail to fall in wavy layers around her face. She strapped on a pair of the heels she'd rarely bothered with a year ago. Cole and Nikki had gone with her to Patsy's the first few times last year, but they'd grown tired of watching her pound shots back and grind against guys on the dance floor.

  Especially, for Cole, after she basically told him he fell in the same category as the rest of them.

  What she did was her business, but that didn't mean he could turn off the undeniable jealousy he felt watching her with someone else.

  And one night, she'd brought Sean home. Nikki's eyes had gone instantly to Cole. Em and Sean had stumbled through the door, attached at the mouth. Em giggled into the kiss, paying them no mind as she fumbled with the knob and disappeared into her bedroom.

  He did then as he did now, switching the television off.

  Alicia looked up at him questioningly. "Not into it?"

  "Nah, just a little cramped on the couch. Is it all right if we finish watching in my room?" A wary look entered her eyes. "I swear not to try anything— unless you want to try something." She smirked as he waggled his eyebrows, standing up and swatting him playfully on the way to his room.

  His mouth tightened as his eyes flicked to Em's door. He wasn't cramped. But, Nikki's room made a nice barrier between his room and Em's. He knew from experience how sound from Em's room flowed into the living room. And this wasn't really something he wanted to hear.

  Alicia left later that night, after they'd had a good laugh over some of the terrible translations in the subtitled movie they'd watched. And the next morning, Cole walked out into the kitchen, still yawning and hair disheveled. He stopped short at the sight in front of him.

  Sean was in his kitchen. Eating his leftover Chinese food.

  "Oh, sorry," Sean said, pausing in mid-bite to indicate the carton. "Is this yours?"

  Sean, Cole thought with great feeling as he snatched the carton away, sucks.

  ∞

  "Sean is great," Em said later with great enthusiasm. "There aren't any strings with him. No attachments, no complications. Simple. You know?"

  "Uh-huh," Cole said. Her comments were just a little too pointed and his ire started to rise. To distract himself, he picked up the remote and jabbed at the power button, turning on the TV to drown her out.

  "I just don't have time for any relationship crap." Em raised her voice to talk over the show, waving her hands around. "I want to graduate and get out of here."

  "It's not so bad here," Nikki said, shooting Cole a furtive look from where she sat, Ron's arm around her.

  Cole tried to push a feeling of surprised alarm down. Em wanted to leave? Pushing him away was one thing, but leaving him, Nikki, and her mother behind? That was extreme.

  "It's not that it's bad, exactly," Em said. She stabbed at her lo mein with a determined expression, spearing a bit of chicken. All these years, and all their dinners, and she still hadn't mastered the art of chopsticks. "I just feel like I'm stuck. I need to get away from everything and do my own thing. Maybe in New York. Or Boston, or California. I want to start my life already."

  Cole clenched his jaw. Every place she named was either an entire day's drive or a hefty plane ticket. They wouldn't even be able to visit her easily. Which he guessed was what she wanted.

  "You could do that here. With all of us," Ron said, also eyeing Cole nervously. Looked like he wasn't fooling anyone after all.

  Em shook her head. "I want a fresh start. Somewhere no one knows me, where they don't expect anything from me. Where I can just get away from everything."

  She scooped the last of her take-out into her mouth and stood. "I feel like I gained about ten pounds after that." She yanked at the waistline of her sweatpants and straightened her tank top. Her plate and chopsticks clattered together. She pointed to Cole's bowl. "You done with that?"

  "Yeah," he said shortly, on a swell of anger. "I'm done." He shoved it towards her. The ceramic bowl slid across the coffee table and crashed, shattering on the ground. A stray noodle lay limply on the floor.

  Em's lips parted in bewilderment. "Um… okay?" They firmed as she shot him a glare. "What the hell, Cole?" She yanked her napkin from her dishes and stooped to wipe at the oily mess, balancing her own dirty dishes against her hip.

  "It's fine," he said as she piled the shards onto her plate. "I'll get it. Leave it."

  Nikki and Ron exchanged a loaded glance and quietly excused themselves. The door to Nikki's bedroom clicked shut softly, as though it were afraid anything louder might be misconstrued as offensive.

  The sound barely registered with Cole. His eyes were hard on the top of Em's bowed head. The living room light glinted off of her hair, picking up on the reddish strands. Under different circumstances, he might have paused to admire the effect, the contrast of her ponytail as it fell over her shoulder to lay against her top. Right now, it only added fuel to the fire.

  She hit him with an annoyed look. "Spill it. What's wrong with you?" Her ponytail swished from side to side with each agitated step she took into the kitchen and scraped her plate clean into the trash before moving to the trash.

  Spill it? He'd spill something, all right. The emotions toward Em that he'd been bottling came to a sudden head. Cole couldn't tell if the rushing sound he heard was the sink's faucet or the blood surging to his head in anger. "What's wrong with me?"

  He smacked his hands down on the bar overlooking the sink and locked eyes with her. She froze like a deer in the headlights, taken aback by the dam breaking in front of her.

  "Are you fucking serious?" he asked, incredulous. "You're talking about starting your life, going where no one knows you, leaving everyone behind. How are your friends supposed to take that? Am I just supposed to brush off the fact that I don't mean a damn thing to you? I've just been a filler friend, someone to hang out with until you can get the hell out of here?"

  Something in her eyes shifted, like grains of sand on the beach. She turned to put some leftovers in the fridge. "Don't be ridiculous."

  "You've pushed away every freaking person that you could since—"

  "Shut. Up." She cut him off with warning in her voice, pulling the pantry door open with such force that it nearly came off the track. What she was looking for, he didn't know. He had a feeling that she was staring into it simply so she didn't have to look at him.

  "You push away everyone," he continued relentlessly. No more shutting up. He'd kept quiet long enough. "Me, Ron, your mom—you and Nikki aren't even as close as you used to be."

  "She's had Ron."

  "And who have you had, Em?"

  "Well, I thought I had you," she snapped. She marched out of the room, refusing to look at him. "Pardon my presumption."

  "You're so full of shit. You know you have me. I just don't have you. You have Paul. You have Sean."

  She whirled in the hallway outside her room. "And what—you're mad that I didn't fuck you too? That was your decision. It didn't have to mean anything."

  "What if I wanted it to mean something?"

  "You make things so fucking complicated. Excuse me for thinking that consensual sex between two friends would be okay! Next
time, I'll just call someone else, all right?"

  "Next time, just don't call me. I'm done fighting with you over your obvious daddy issues!" he bellowed back.

  He regretted the words the instant they left his mouth. But they hung in the air and he couldn't take them back.

  Em drew back as if he'd struck her.

  "Fuck you, Cole," she said softly. Her eyes had lightened, a fine frost over them like the first ice of winter. He kept his eyes on her. She walked into her room. "Fuck you."

  The wind from the door was cold when it slammed in his face.

  TWENTY

  EM

  ∞ Now ∞

  I'm not sure which is worse— Cole ignoring me, or his attention and willingness to pretend that everything between us is peachy. He drops the subject of my 'jumpiness' to tease me off and on through the rest of the flight, make small comments about whatever we're watching in-flight, and as we touch down in Vegas, he grins when my hand darts to his in a moment of instinct during the bumpy landing. There's relief in his eyes at the contact though.

  Maybe he takes it as proof of what I told Nikki. Maybe it is.

  But I'm not quite ready to admit that that's what it means yet. I zoom over to the shelter of Nikki and the other bridesmaids after I deplane and could kiss the high heavens when I find out that Nikki's contracted two limousines to take us to the hotel in style. One for Ron and his guys and one for us.

  My laugh as I clink champagne glasses with the rest of the girls is air; as light as I feel while safely ensconced in the limo.

  Cole seems lighter too. Happier, like his patience has returned as he waits for something. Something that's mine to give. But he doesn't pursue me or push, so I follow Nikki after we check in, my eyes lingering on him in the lobby as the guys wait for their rooms.

  I'm surprised when Nikki, bouncing on the heels of her feet, tells us that the plan tonight doesn't involve the hotel's casino. Not the craps table, not blackjack, not even a few nickel slots. Joey's room becomes our readying station and Nikki unveils a dress so festooned with sequins that, back home, it would only have been appropriate on New Year's.

  The dress I've brought isn't anything nearly as flashy— just a little black number that clings in all the right places. I set the look off with some sparkly chandelier earrings and let Joey—who's still used to this evening ritual of eyeliner and smoky eyes—do my make-up before strapping myself into heels as high as anything I'd worn in college.

  When the guys show up, my heart swan dives into my stomach at the sight of Cole. He looks intent on me when the door opens, but I brazen my way through, handing him a drink.

  Maybe I'm not okay. Maybe we're not. But maybe I can be. It takes an effort, but I meet his eyes, gravitating toward him already.

  Ron holds his cup in the air, toasting us all with a grin. "Get ready for the night of your life."

  ∞

  Instead of casinos, Nikki and Ron have a night of night clubs and drinking planned. Celebration. Dancing. Music. Fun. I completely support fun. Fun is easy, fun I can do.

  And the fire between me and Cole is banked for now. We all had a few drinks before we left the hotel and I'm relaxed enough to hang back against the bar with him as everyone else moves to the dance floor. I feel pleasantly twirly, but Nikki's three sheets to the wind already and I nudge Cole, grinning as I point her out. "Look at Nikki."

  The bride-to-be has abandoned all pretense of dignity, grinding against her future husband and her eyes have a glassy, unfocused sheen as she tosses back yet another shot.

  "Should we do something?" Cole mutters in amusement and leans against the wall. "Maybe stop her?"

  The sequins on her dress flash as she climbs atop a barstool. "I'm the bride!" she shouts, plucking a drink out of a nearby stranger's hand and downing it in a single gulp.

  "Oh, God, it's Drunk Nikki." I'm not sure if I'm amused or horrified. "I haven't seen her since… senior year, maybe?"

  "Not if her Facebook pictures from her trip to visit you in San Francisco were any indication."

  This wipes the smile from my face. "I wasn't going to mention San Francisco," I say quietly. "I know how you must have felt—"

  "When you left?"

  I swallow and search his eyes. We'd been laughing just a second ago, but now, I can't find any sort of emotion in their depths. That blank look is back. I trace the edge of my martini glass as a laughing Ron tugs Nikki off the chair and back down to him.

  "Have Drunk Nikki and Drunk Ron ever met?" Cole supplies me with an escape to the conversation, changing the subject to eye the amorous couple speculatively.

  Nikki mouths what look to be some pretty obscene ideas into Ron's ear, whose mouth is hanging open. I seize the life raft with relief. Even if we both know very well that Drunk Nikki and Drunk Ron met on more than one occasion in college.

  "If not, I'd say they're about to be acquainted," I say, playing along. Nikki runs her tongue along Ron's earlobe. "Intimately."

  Cole puts his drink down. "Truth or Dare," he says suddenly.

  My immediate response takes us both by surprise. "Dare," I say.

  "Oookay," Cole draws out, blinking back his shock. He recovers nicely. "You know who else haven't hung out in a while? Drunk Em and Drunk Cole. Our best friend is getting married. What do you say we celebrate, too? It's not like we've got to take care of her like we did back in the early years."

  I eye my glass in consideration. Why not? I'm already tipsy and besides, I like hanging out with Cole again. I like getting responsibly drunk. And no one here is driving.

  "Cheers," I say, my mouth pressing into a determined line. I salute him with my drink and swallow it in one go. He hurries to follow my lead and I break from my glass, coughing at the burn in my throat. "That's awful," I sputter, wincing. "Did we really used to do this almost every night?"

  He laughs, a loud throaty laugh that leaves me feeling warmed from the inside out.

  Or maybe that's the effect of the vodka I just tossed back. You never know.

  "We did," he says. The alcohol hasn't hit his system yet and he's just leaning against the bar, his spine as liquid and languid as a cat's.

  "I miss—"

  "I miss you," he interrupts me, repeating something he's already told me since we crashed back into each other's lives.

  "I was going to say 'I miss those days.'" I bite my lip. My tolerance isn't what it used to be. I'm already more candid than usual. Next thing you know, I'm going to call him Connors or suggest a game of Ring of Fire.

  Cole isn't thrown off-course by this in the slightest. He shakes his head immediately. "You do not."

  I roll my eyes at him. "Yes, I do."

  "You miss waking up in sweaty sheets, feeling like your eyes are crusted shut, and like your head may implode?" He recounts a pretty dead-on description of one of my hangovers with an arched eyebrow and signals the bartender for two new drinks.

  "Well. No," I admit, and continue over his laughter. "But I miss that whole carefree thing," I protest as he hands me a screwdriver. The ice in the glass clinks against the side. "You know? Nothing to worry about aside from the occasional paper, test, or class."

  "How's that so different from life now? Everyone has the occasional stressor, sure, but you can still make time for fun."

  I scoff at him, waggling my neck in an exaggerated imitation of him. "'How's that so different,"' I mock. "I worry about falling behind, unfairly imposing on my mom. I worry that I'm hiding behind walls too thick for people to cut through."

  "You've always put up walls, though."

  "Yeah, but I never wanted anyone to get through them before!"

  I've shocked him again. His eyes shoot wide.

  I look away, cheeks heating. He sees me. Hears me. Hears what I can't quite say right now. "How is it so different?" I repeat, this time more softly. "Only every way possible." Annoyed with my inability to properly express myself, I plunk my drink down on the bar. Orange juice and vodka splash over the side of the glass
and onto my dress. "Crap."

  Cole grabs a cocktail napkin from the bar. "Here. Let me."

  "No, that's really—"

  "Christ, Em, just relax, will you?" He rubs gently at the stain.

  I stare, eyes locked on his bowed head as his rubbing grows more determined. "That stain's not going anywhere without some water or club soda or something," I feel compelled to tell him. "Or at least some stain remover." A finger goes to my lips. My hand drops and I begin babbling nervously, twisting cold fingers together, words bubbling out of my mouth in an effort not to let other thoughts out.

  I'm sorry.

  For all of it.

  I'm not sure about going back to San Francisco.

  I think I'd miss you too much.

  "Sometimes I think those stain removers really just spread it around. And they give it this super funky smell too. When I have the time to wait on stains, I really like to just—"

  "Em?" Cole lifts his head and sets the napkin aside.

  "Yeah?"

  "Shut up."

  "Right." I clear my throat nervously.

  Cole puffs out his breath. "I've been wanting to talk to you since that night, you know."

  My gaze drops to my glass. I focus single-mindedly on the ice in my cup—drowning in a sea of orange. "You could have," I mumble. Which night does he mean? The fight? Or the night after the Scarlet Shooters show? Somewhere in my mind, I hear the echo of my own breathless laughter, feel the bristle of Cole's hair between my fingers, the bounce of the mattress as I settle onto it filled with anticipation, his warm mouth dotting kisses along my stomach.

  I'm brought abruptly back to the present when he snorts. "Like hell I could have talked to you. You ran for the hills and avoided the crap out of me. When I did see you, all I got was a cold shoulder. You only spoke to me when I talked to you first. And then we had that fight and you didn't talk to me at all."