by Lacey Black
Love me the way I love him.
* * *
My pulse hammers in my throat as I walk down the corridor. I want to glance over my shoulder at the wooden door across the hall, but keep my focus straight ahead. My movements are almost sluggish as I stick my key in the knob and give it a twist. Sighing deeply and allowing my eyes to close briefly, the quiet of the hallway surrounds me, choking what little life remains.
I’m not sure which hurts more: the fact that he abided by my wishes and left me alone, or the fact that he didn’t.
Stepping inside, I gently close and lock my door. There’s no movement, barely any noise from within my space except the ticking of the clock and the sporadic drip from the kitchen sink. Dropping my bag on the floor beside the door, I step further into my kitchen, and that’s when I see it: a potted deep purple orchid.
My favorite.
Stepping up to the flowering plant, I can’t help but bend down and inhale deeply. It’s so fragrant and exotic, and brings an instant smile to my face.
He remembered.
A big part of me wants to run across the hall, throw my arms around him, and vow to forgive him for everything he’s ever done and probably will do in the future. But I keep myself rooted in place. My grandpa’s right. I need to spend some time alone, thinking about what I want from our relationship and where I see it heading. I need to make sure I know what I want with my life first, then I can take the next step; hopefully, with Levi. Next up would be speaking to him and hearing him out.
It’s an easy enough plan; let’s just see if I can hold to it.
Retrieving my bag, I head to my bedroom to unpack and start a load of laundry. Stepping into my bedroom, I’m shocked and amazed by the sight. My bedroom is covered in roses. Vases everywhere. On my dresser, on my nightstands, against the walls. The bedspread and floor are covered in dark red petals.
With wobbly legs, I walk over to my pillow where a rectangular envelope sits, perched up by a single red rose. My hands shake as I pull the small postcard-sized card from within. It’s hard to read, but not because of his horrible chicken scratch handwriting. No, it’s difficult to see through the tears clouding my eyes.
My sweetest Abby,
There’s a rose here for every time I’ve thought of you since last night. A petal for every minute my heart beat for only you. Take the time you need, but know that I am thinking of you, my arms ready to hold you, my lips ready to kiss you, my heart ready to be given to you.
I’m yours.
Always have been. Always will be.
Levi
I burst into tears once more, those big body-shaking sobs that turn even the hardest woman into a little girl.
I’m so confused and angry and sad and happy. How can a man who played a lowdown dirty trick on his best friend write such sweet words that melt my heart until it’s a puddle at my feet?
Because he’s not that kinda man, stupid.
I know that, in my heart of hearts, Levi didn’t mean to hurt me. He couldn’t. Not the man who cried with me when I broke my arm in seventh grade, helped pull the rocks from my knees when I wrecked my bike at ten years old, and beat the shit out of Joel Harper for calling me a nerd senior year of high school.
My Levi isn’t cruel and wouldn’t do the things my head is accusing him of. There’s more to the story; there has to be. Fate isn’t harsh enough to make me fall in love with my best friend only for him to be the monster he has always protected me from.
With a new sense of purpose, I’m determined to find out why he lied to me. Heading into my office, I fire up my computer. It takes way too long. My anxiety is high as I bounce both legs in anticipation and impatience. As soon as the home screen is up, I log on to PerfectDate.com and reactivate my account. Everything is basically as I left it (of course it is, no one could contact you, dummy).
I find my message thread with SimpleMan easily, mostly because it’s one of the only ones there. The final message I sent, accompanied by the photo, stares back at me from the screen.
AngelEyes: I never expected that the one person to hurt me this badly would be you.
Typing a new response, I click send before I can talk myself out of it.
AngelEyes: I don’t know why you did what you did, but I want to know. No, I need to know. I don’t believe you did it to hurt me, even though that’s where my mind originally went. That’s on me, and for that, I’m sorry.
The message bubbles don’t appear, but I guess they wouldn’t if he is at work. I wait a few more minutes, but still don’t get a reply. And I’m sure he’s not trolling the dating site, especially after I deactivated my page the moment I ousted him via the dating website.
Or could he be?
No. No, Abby, don’t go there. He wouldn’t have bought your sister out of roses if he was still manwhoring his way through Jupiter Bay and the western half of Virginia.
Deciding to shut down my computer without checking email, I grab my phone and download the app. Why I never did this before is beyond me? I’ve never really been big on using my cell phone for anything other than calling and texting. I don’t have game apps or social media on my phone that I obsess over all day long, so it’s not like my first thought was to download the PerfectDate.com app and turn on the notifications.
Yes! Turn on the notifications!
When it’s all set up (and I check my messages four different times just to make sure I didn’t miss anything), my stomach growls angrily, reminding me that I haven’t eaten much today at all. Grandma made breakfast, but I chose to drink an extra cup of coffee instead of having French toast with fresh maple syrup. Yeah, that hurt. It’s usually my fave, but with my guts all distorted like a game of Twister, I didn’t have much of an appetite.
Opening my fridge, I’m reminded once again of the man who lives across the hall. There’s not much inside the refrigerator that could constitute food, but what I do find warms my heart. Homemade mac and cheese with three kinds of cheese.
Another of my favorites.
Smiling, I take the clear plastic container from the fridge and head towards the microwave, sniffing the ooey, gooey cheesy goodness as I go. After sixty seconds, I stir the spiral noodles (because spiral noodles are way better than boring ol’ elbow macaroni noodles), and stick it back in for another minute. When the timer sounds, the perfect comfort food is ready.
Instead of eating at my table, I take the bowl, a bottle of water, and the bag of fresh cornbread muffins I found on the counter (thanks, Levi) into the living room and get cozy on the couch. It’s a quiet evening with nothing on TV, but even if I had found something worth watching, I’m not sure it would have held my attention.
A door closing in the hallway has me jumping off the couch. I wonder if it’s Levi? I mean, I suppose it could be my neighbor, Linkin, but I usually don’t hear his door as notably as I do Levi’s. Of course, it could be me just wanting it to be Levi.
Sighing, I return to my seat and take a deep breath. If it is him, I don’t need to storm the castle like some crazy ex-girlfriend, you know? We have a lot of issues to work out before I just fly across the hall and climb him like a tree. Jump him like a pro basketball player. Ride him like a cowboy. You get my point, right?
Now do you see why I’m so confused? I hate him, I want him. I push him away, then want to be wrapped in his arms.
But the thing is, I don’t hate him. Not even a little. What I feel is so completely the opposite of hate, that I can’t picture my life without him.
So it’s time to get my shit together, figure out if I can trust him with my heart, and lay it on the line.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Levi
I know she’s home.
I saw light filtering through her curtains when I pulled into the parking lot, and it took every ounce of strength I had not to run across the hall and beg her to speak to me. Did she like my flowers? My note? Did I help repair even the slightest bit of damage I’ve caused? Probably not, but I’m determined to
put in the time and the work necessary to prove to her that she can trust me again. The alternative is unthinkable.
After a quick shower, where I jack off again to more dirty images of my best friend, I head to the kitchen for dinner. It was another busy evening for the fire department and doesn’t look to be slowing down anytime soon. My stomach growls, as it has a few times today, but I’ve been too worked up to eat. After delivering the homemade mac and cheese to Abby’s fridge earlier this afternoon, the fire call came in for an out of control residential burn just on the edge of town. It might have only taken a short period of time to get it under control, but I ended up staying back at the station, working out and cleaning up some of the equipment.
It’s not like I was super anxious to come home and stare at my fucking walls and surround myself in misery, ya know?
But now that I know she’s home, I wonder what she’s doing. Did she eat the dish I left her? What did she think about the flowers I spend an embarrassingly high amount of money on?
Do you know how much crow I had to eat when I called Payton for help? First off, she didn’t even want to take my call. I believe her exact words where, “I hope you fall into a tub of honey, naked, and then step on a beehive.”
Ouch.
But I was persistent, even though I kinda wanted to cower beneath the coffee table as she spewed big sister venom through the phone line at me, like missiles in an active warzone. (I’ll totally deny that if you ever tell.) One thing’s for certain, these sisters stick together. I feel sorry for the next sorry sucker that crosses one of them.
It took me basically confessing to her what I shared with Lexi early this morning for her to agree to help me. Fortunately, for me, but not so fortunate for my wallet, one of her distributers arrived this morning at the time of my call. That’s how I was able to secure an obscenely crazy amount of red roses and one planted orchid. (Her favorite.) And being the stellar big sister Payton is, she didn’t even charge me a delivery fee for running eighteen dozen red roses over to her sister’s place.
That’s because she charged me full retail price.
But I don’t care. It’s only money, and showing Abby that I’m serious when it comes to working towards her forgiveness is the ultimate goal.
That, and getting her back into my arms and my bed.
Fuck, my bed misses her.
My laptop sits on the coffee table, taunting me as it has for nearly twenty-four hours now. With the remote in my hand, I kick my feet up on the table, one of the Lethal Weapon movies on TV. The movement, again, causes the computer to wake, lighting up my home screen. I should probably deactivate my account on that fucking dating site. I mean it’s not like I plan to find someone to take on the perfect date. Nope. The only woman I want to date is across the hall sticking needles into her Levi-shaped voodoo doll.
With the computer in hand, I bring up the scene of the crime, my guitar profile picture filling the screen. My favorite instrument appears to be weeping in the picture, probably realizing he’ll never be cradled against her sweet body while she gently strums its strings. I know my cock is weeping at the thought.
I’m just about to click on the settings to deactivate when a message notification pops up. I’ve ignored every request received since I set up the profile, so why would now be any different. I guess curiosity really did kill the cat.
My heart literally stops beating in my chest when I see the message. AngelEyes. Click. Click. Motherfuckin’ click!
AngelEyes: I don’t know why you did what you did, but I want to know. No, I need to know. I don’t believe you did it to hurt me, even though that’s where my mind originally went. That’s on me, and for that, I’m sorry.
SimpleMan: You have nothing to apologize for. Nothing. This is on me. I guess the only way to explain it is to start at the beginning. When I saw you signing up for this dating site, I guess I became jealous. No, that’s not true. I was fucking crazy with jealousy. The thought of you dating someone made me mad with possessiveness. Why? Because you haven’t been the only one fighting feelings for the other for a while. I wasn’t kidding when I said I hadn’t slept with anyone for a year. Every woman I saw was you. Everywhere I went, I saw your face. So I signed up for that site under the guise of keeping an eye on you. I should have come clean from the beginning, that first time we talked, but I didn’t. I don’t know why. I can only guess it was because I was enjoying talking to you more than I already was. So I kept it up. It was never to hurt you. Ever. Just knowing that I’m the asshole that put those tears in your eyes is crushing me. When you asked at the restaurant yesterday about it, my initial thought was to just deny. I knew you’d be pissed that I was SimpleMan and had been all along. I realized instantly that my lie was hurtful and wrong, so I had planned to confess last night when we got home. But then the fire call happened, and everything spiraled out of fucking control so fast from there. All I can say is I’m sorry. Hurting you was never my intention. I hope someday you can forgive me. I promise to work for your forgiveness every day for the rest of my life.
I click send without rereading the message, feeling the slightest bit of relief that I finally told her a few of the things I’ve wanted to say. I just hope my apology isn’t too late.
A few moments later, I see bubbles. Fuckin’ bubbles!!
AngelEyes: All lies are hurtful to some degree. That’s why you’re not supposed to tell them, especially to the person you consider your best friend.
SimpleMan: You’re absolutely right. So fucking right, Abs. I wish I could go back and do everything over again. I wouldn’t have lied. Hell, I probably wouldn’t have signed up for the stupid site.
AngelEyes: Me too. I wish I knew where to go from here.
SimpleMan: Why don’t we start over? Not the friendship, but everything else.
AngelEyes: Start over?
SimpleMan: Hey, AngelEyes. My name is Levi. I’m an EMT and fireman and a complete bonehead sometimes. My best friend would probably tell you I’m a bonehead most of the time, but that’s OK. She’s right. Yes, a girl. My best friend is the best fucking person I know. She’s smart and sexy and sweet and forgiving. So fucking forgiving.
AngelEyes: *blushing* A girl best friend, huh? Funny, I have a boy best friend.
SimpleMan: I bet he’s the luckiest bastard in the world because you’re in his life.
AngelEyes: Quite possibly. *winky face*
SimpleMan: Tell me about your day.
AngelEyes: I’ll be honest, it didn’t start off so great, but it’s starting to look up.
SimpleMan: Mine either. To be blunt, I messed up with my girl. I’m working on making it right.
AngelEyes: That’s very noble of you. I’m sure she appreciates it.
SimpleMan: I hope so. And that’s why I have to be honest with you now. I’m not looking to hook up or go on the perfect date with anyone but her. But I like you, Angel, and I’d love to be your friend.
AngelEyes: Since we’re being honest, I kinda have a big thing for my best friend too. I’ve tried to fight it, but he’s persistent and, well, he’s pretty amazing. So I’m only looking for a friend too.
I admit. This is the part where I fist pump victoriously in the air. My smile is so big it hurts, and my heart swells more than my chest cavity has room for.
SimpleMan: Excellent. I think we’ll make great friends, Angel.
And then we spend the next three hours, until I had to go to work, chatting and talking as if we didn’t know a single thing, yet knew everything at the same time. It was one of the best Friday nights of my life.
* * *
Saturday morning.
SimpleMan: Just got off work. I’m going to sleep and then text my girl. I haven’t talked to her since I was a dumbass on Thursday.
AngelEyes: You should definitely text her. I bet she misses you, even though you were a dumbass.
* * *
Saturday night.
SimpleMan: I texted my girl. It felt fucking amazing that she replied bac
k right away.
AngelEyes: I bet she couldn’t wait to hear from you. Even if she was angry and hurt, you can forgive those you care most for.
* * *
Sunday morning.
SimpleMan: I’m headed to the beach today to hang out with my friend Tucker. He’s probably gonna want to know why I was such a douche to my girl. I’ll tell him, of course, which will ensure that a year’s worth of pussy-whipped comments will ensue. I can’t wait.
AngelEyes: He sounds charming. Enjoy your teasing. #SorryNotSorry
* * *
Sunday afternoon.
AngelEyes: I spent the afternoon at my sister Jaime’s house. While her boyfriend Ryan was away golfing, we searched the entire house for a hidden engagement ring that we’re certain she’s going to get soon. There may have been tequila involved.
SimpleMan: *big cheesy grin* Tequila and sister shenanigans. What a great combination! Did you find it?
AngelEyes: Nope. But we did find the bottom of the bottle. I’m so sleepy. *yawning emoji*
SimpleMan: Nap, Angel. I’ll talk to you later.
* * *
Sunday night.
SimpleMan: How was the nap?
AngelEyes: Amazing until I rolled over and a thorn stuck in my hip.
SimpleMan: ??? Explain. Where exactly were you napping? The jungle?
AngelEyes: My bed. But I have this embarrassingly amazing display of roses all over my room, and well, I kinda have been sleeping with some of them. They smell so good and remind me of my friend when he’s not here.
SimpleMan: Lucky fucking flowers. I bet your friend wishes he was curled against you instead of thorny roses.
AngelEyes: That makes two of us, Simple.
* * *
Monday night.
AngelEyes: Work sucked. Since I took last Friday off, I was way behind. I had to put in extra hours to catch up.
SimpleMan: I’m sorry to hear that. I wish you’d let me help you. I know the proper uses for there, they’re, their!
