Fool for Love (Believe #2)

by Karen Ferry

  “That’s so depressing,” she huffs. I stop once more, blinking.

  “Come again?” I ask, thoroughly confused.

  She points at me. “First of all, let me ask you something. How old are you?”

  I grit my teeth, not expecting that. “Thirty-eight.”

  She nods and leans her head into her hand resting on the bar.

  “Okay, then. If you’re only thirty-eight – which is considered quite young in this day and age, mind you – I find it sad and, yes, depressing if you don’t stumble every once in a while; that you don’t surprise easily. Where is the fun in that?”

  I straighten my back, automatically going on the defensive. “Fun? I have fun.”

  She lifts an eyebrow, clearly not believing me.

  “I do,” I insist.

  “If you say so. Anyway, my point is that if you’re unable to keep an open mind, and if you always judge a book by its cover, so to speak, I find it sad. That’s all.”

  I grit my teeth harder, unwilling but unable to ignore her uncanny assessment of me.

  “I don’t judge people. I’m just saying that people are predictable. The world is not made up of rainbows and unicorns covered in glitter; in fact, it’s a cruel, heartless void. Sometimes, living just plain sucks.”

  She doesn’t seem to have a clever comeback to that one. After breaking our stare, she picks up the paper still lying between us – the offending ad about pole dancers covered in pink screaming at me – and folds it neatly.

  “Since you’re cooking, I’ll set the table,” she says, ending the subject firmly.

  I nod once before I continue preparing dinner. We spend the rest of the time in silence, but I catch her glancing at me as she sets the table every now and then. I wasn’t lying when I contradicted her statement about being scrawny. She’s just a bit too thin, in my opinion. Her tight jeans frame her pert ass, and I can see the beginning of a tattoo with some sort feathers on her left shoulder blade – but the rest is covered up by her purple top.

  Her words replay in my mind over and over again.

  While I know she doesn’t have a clue about my past, and the person I used to be, I feel uneasy. Her assessment struck a chord in me that I don’t understand.

  While I keep reminding myself that this girl is off-limits, I can’t help but wonder if I’ll be able to resist her for the next few months.

  I was lying when I told her that I’m not surprised by anything anymore. The more she speaks, the more I’m intrigued by her; she seems older than she is, but still innocent.

  If there’s one thing I have learned over the years, it’s to listen to my instincts when they begin to talk.

  This time, they’re not merely talking.

  They’re screaming.

  The question is, will I be able to follow them this time?

  I TRIED TO LIGHTEN the mood over dinner, talking about home and stuff.

  Somehow, though, Garrett had chosen to clam up on me completely. He was not being forthcoming when I asked him a question, and only answered in grunts or nods of his head, eating his dinner – which, naturally, was divine! I gave up in the end.

  I’d hoped that we could begin this weird arrangement as more than acquaintances, but it was pretty evident that wasn’t to be the case.

  After dinner, Garrett mumbled something about meeting some friends at a bar nearby and simply left without another word.

  So now I sit here on the couch, watching some mindless show, not paying the least bit of attention to it. My mind is consumed with thoughts about this strange man. I pride myself in being a good judge of character, yet maybe I’m wrong this time. I don’t understand myself, but that’s nothing new; what possessed me to be so philosophical earlier, practically telling him that I thought his life was depressing?

  Ugh…bad move, Suze.

  If Safiro wasn’t working tonight, I’d text him and ask him if it’d be alright to come over, but I know he’s probably going to get down and dirty with his new boy toy, too. I don’t want him to cancel his plans, and I don’t want to be a third wheel.

  What’s a girl to do when she finds herself all alone on a Sunday evening?

  She calls her BFF back home, of course.

  “Suzy!” Emma shouts as soon as I hear her pick up the phone.

  “Emma!” I yell back, laughing. “How are you?”

  “Oh, I’m fine, thanks. I’m at the shop right now, actually. Daniel is at a special lecture at university.”

  My heart warms when I hear the news.

  “So it’s going well now that you’ve taken over the shop?” I ask her as I settle back on the couch, getting more comfortable.

  “It is, yes. Much better than I thought it would,” Emma replies.

  “I told you you could do it. So did Daniel,” I tease her.

  She chuckles. “I know, I know. He reminds me constantly about how fabulous he is.”

  We laugh in unison, and I feel in a much better mood already. Since Emma met Daniel, she’s become a more light-hearted person, and I love seeing the transformation that’s occurred the past year.

  “Enough about me,” she says, breaking my sentimental thoughts. “How’re you enjoying The Big Apple? Found your Prince yet?”

  “Eeerm…No to the latter, and kind-of-yes to the first.”

  “Wait, what? Why only ‘kind-of-yes’?” Emma’s tone is worried now. “What’s happened?”

  I bite my lip, suddenly unsure if I should tell Emma about the strange development with my living arrangements, but then mentally slap myself.

  You don’t keep secrets from your BFF. Ever.

  “Well, the strangest thing happened this afternoon,” I start and then take a sip of my wine.

  “Tell me,” she urges as I hesitate.

  “The owner of the apartment came home three months early.”

  “What? Oh, gosh. Tell me more, please.”

  I continue to tell her everything that’s happened since Garrett got back, including him finding me in bed with Morgan. Once I’ve revealed the strange conversation I had with him while cooking dinner, I have butterflies fluttering madly around in my stomach. A-bloody-gain.

  Emma stays silent for a long time, and I wait impatiently for her to start speaking again.

  “Holy fuck,” she whispers.

  I snort. “Yeah, you could say that again.”

  “What kind of man forgets that his place is let out to someone?” Her outburst makes me sigh, and I lean my head back on the armrest, staring at the ceiling.

  “I have no idea. He’s turning out to be quite the enigma. I can’t get a handle on him at all.”

  “He’s not asked you to find another flat, has he?” she asks, clearly alarmed.

  I rush to reassure her. “Oh no, we’ve sorted that bit out, but still…it’s weird.”

  “In what way?” I can hear the puzzlement in her voice, and I sigh.

  “I don’t know, it just…is.”

  “Suzy, you’re not worried that he’ll try something with you, are you?”

  “Not at all. I feel strangely safe with him. I kind of wish he would, though.”

  “What?!” she shrieks. “But you just said he’s weird. I need more details, please.”

  “What kind of details?” I ask her, feeling slightly uneasy.

  “You know, like what he looks like, how old he is, stuff like that,” she adds. I can hear the frustration in her voice.

  “Oh…” That’s easy enough. “You know that Swedish model, Ben Dahlhaus?” I ask her. “Try to picture him with more muscle on him and about fifteen years older, and you’ve got my landlord.”

  “Not really, but let me just go online and search for a pic. What’s his name again?”

  “Garrett Thompson,” I whisper.

  “Hang on,” she says, and I wait once more.

  Emma remains quiet, and I drum my fingers on the armrest of the couch, getting more anxious by the second.

  “Oooh,” she finally whispers, making me c
huckle.

  “Wow – holy – I mean, wow,” she stutters.

  I smile.

  “Hey, you’re a married woman, you’re not allowed to drool over other men,” I tease her.

  “Daniel and I aren’t married yet,” she murmurs distractedly, but I certainly take notice.

  Wait…not married yet?

  Before I can ask her what she means by that, she continues.

  “Besides, just because I’m in a very happy, fulfilling relationship doesn’t prevent me from appreciating other men’s physical attributes.”

  “How very modern,” I reply, my voice dry.

  “Isn’t it just? But enough about that. What are you going to do?”

  “What can I do? My funds are dwindling rapidly, I need to find a job as soon as possible, and I refuse to come home early.”

  “Don’t you think your parents –?”

  “Please don’t finish that thought, Em,” I interrupt her. “I refuse to speak to them. You know that. I thought you understood?” I ask, my voice rising of its own accord.

  “I know,” she sighs. “I’m on your side, always and forever. You know that, right?”

  I rub my eyes, suddenly exhausted beyond belief.

  “I know,” I whisper. “I’ll think of something. Please don’t worry about me, Emma.”

  She hesitates, but I’m not backing down on this.

  Somehow, she must be able to detect my determination across the oceans separating us, because she merely says, “Please call me if you need anything, honey. Both Daniel and I are here for you.”

  “Thank you. I promise I will.”

  We stay silent for a while, both lost in thought, but then I notice the time on the TV.

  Groaning, I say, “I think it’s time I turn in, Emma. It’s getting a bit late here, and I need to get up bright and early in the morning. I have to do some job hunting.”

  “Okay, but text me tomorrow and let me know how things are going, please.”

  I nod. “I will. Say ‘hi’ to Daniel for me.”

  “Of course. It was great to hear your voice, Suzy. I hope you sleep well.”

  “Thank you. We’ll talk again soon. I love you,” I whisper, trying to swallow the lump in my throat.

  “I love you, too,” Emma whispers back. “Always and forever.”

  “Bye,” I croak out and quickly end the call.

  I allow myself to shed a few tears, because I miss my friend so much, but not for long. I turn off the TV and decide to let the lamp on the coffee table stay on so that Garrett won’t have to stumble his way through the darkness when he gets home. Then I find some extra blankets and pillows in the walk-in closet and place them on the pull-out.

  After I’ve prepared myself for the night – including putting on a nightie instead of sleeping in the nude like I usually do – I brush my teeth while staring intently at my reflection in the mirror above the sink. I don’t see the waif-like creature Garrett compared me to earlier. I only see a young, skinny, boring girl with black rings underneath her eyes staring back at me. One feature I like, though, is that my ash-blonde, wavy hair isn’t as short as it used to be but now ends just above my shoulders, and I run my fingers through the locks. It needs a good trimming soon.

  I’m lost…and I don’t know how to find my way back to the happy, confident person I was less than a year ago.

  Where are you, Suzy?

  Still unable to find an answer to this question, I rinse my mouth one last time and hit the lights. I walk slowly to my bed – Garrett’s bed – and slide beneath the blankets. I stare out the windows to my right, mesmerised as usual by the city lights. After some time has passed, I feel my eyelids grow heavier. Turning to lie on my stomach, I sigh as a pair of cold, brown eyes reveal themselves in my head, and I drift off to a restless sleep.

  A loud noise wakes me up, and I bolt upright in bed. A hand touches my arm, and I scream, scared out of my mind, kicking the blankets covering me up, ready to run like mad.

  “Shhh!” Garrett’s voice booms close to my ear. I freeze in place. Adrenaline courses through my veins, and I blink, trying to bring his face into focus. Finally, my eyes have become accustomed to the darkness, and I jump slightly when I see his inches away from mine.

  “Garrett, what the fuck?!” I curse at him. “You scared me half to death.”

  He guffaws, and I still as he sits down beside me, wobbling a bit.

  I sniff the air and frown. He reeks of whiskey, and sweat, and…some kind of perfume?

  “Are you drunk?!”

  “Oooh, yes. Yes, I am. It’s all your fault, Suzy-Q,” he drawls and lies down, his hard body pinning my legs so I can’t move.

  “Excuse me?”

  “See, I was fine in my own world, just plodding along, waiting to grow old and at last find some peace; but then you turned up.”

  I don’t like where this is headed, because this is too far out.

  “Garrett, you’re talking nonsense.” I try to move my legs, but I can’t get them free. “Listen, go to bed and sleep it off, yeah?”

  “There I was,” he muses, eyes now closed, “at my cousin’s place, ready to show a nice little submissive how to play, and I couldn’t…”

  What? A submissive? Fuck. TMI!

  I shake his arm, because I’ll be damned if this guy is going to ruin my beauty sleep.

  “I don’t want to hear more,” I scold him when he opens his eyes again.

  “You can imagine the absolute horror when my dick refused to pay attention, so I decided to get drunk instead.”

  “Enough, Garrett!” I shout, so pissed off. “Go. Away!”

  He blinks at me and frowns. “I thought women liked it when men opened up to them?” The bewildered look in his eyes makes me groan.

  “Well, yes, but only when you’re actually in a relationship, for crying out loud! I can’t believe you’re telling me this.”

  I slump back, feeling defeated and so tired.

  “Oh?” he asks me and shifts slightly on the bed. I manage to tug my right leg free from his body.

  “Uh, yeah. The last thing I want right now is to hear about how your cock failed to deliver,” I reply, my voice dripping with sarcasm. I try to change tactics and take a few deep breaths. Softening my voice, I go on. “Garrett, move, okay? I’ll help you get to bed, and then we’ll forget this ever happened.”

  “But…” He squints and looks around. “This is my bed.”

  I roll my eyes, wanting to cry from exhaustion.

  Trying to reason with drunk people while being sober is like talking with a two-year-old. You’ll never win.

  “Yes, I know, but you told me to sleep here while we live together, remember?”

  “That sounds very unlike me,” he mumbles and yawns loudly before staring intently at me.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” I ask him. I move back when he leans closer. I don’t feel threatened by him, but unease courses through me, nonetheless.

  I keep moving until my back comes into contact with the headboard, held captive by the predatory gleam in his gaze. My legs are free, but I can’t move. He stops mere inches away, and I hold my breath…The way his eyes roam my face, seeming to memorise my features, makes my stomach dip.

  Gently, his right hand lifts. While I can see the effects of the alcohol in his serious eyes, I still can’t move. As he lays his palm flat against my cheek, I feel a spark throughout my body, and my breath whooshes out of me. A burn lights up in my blood, and while I know that this is so very wrong, I’m locked in place…unable to do anything.

  His thumb traces my lips, his eyes following its path. He seems to be lost inside his head, not really present.

  “Who are you, Suzy-Q?” he mumbles, his breath fanning across my mouth.

  “I…I don’t know,” I answer truthfully. I don’t know if he can hear the sadness mingled with the confusion in those three words, because he doesn’t say more. His gaze drops to my lips, and there’s a grim set to his mouth.
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  “What are you doing to me?” he growls, and my heart rate picks up by the fierceness in his voice.

  “I’m not doing anything,” I whisper.

  “Yes, you are. You are making me feel,” he grits out. His thumb presses in on my jaw, holding on tighter; and though I should be scared, I’m not.

  “There’s nothing wrong with feelings.”

  “Yes!” he spits out, his face drawing even closer. “Feelings make you fall victim to a world of heartache. Feelings make you forget that you don’t deserve even an ounce of happiness.” His eyes lift to bore into mine, and I lift my hand to wrap it around his wrist.

  “They make you feel alive,” I whisper. “And there’s nothing wrong with that.”

  He inhales sharply, gritting his teeth now. My body is buzzing with the strange need he invokes in me.

  This is madness.

  This is wrong.

  But it is also so right.

  Abruptly, he releases me, shaking his head slowly, a sea of torment swirling in his eyes. It makes me want to reach out to him; but instead, I let go of this wrist and release a shaking breath.

  “Forgive me,” he mumbles. “I don’t know what came over me.” He sighs and stands up, and I watch as he stumbles to the couch in front of the big flat-screen TV.

  He lies down, not even bothering to remove his shoes, and, soon after, I hear faint snoring.

  Heart galloping like mad, I rub my lips gently back and forth. I can feel the flush in my cheeks, and a mild shaking begins in my body. My mind refuses to think too hard on what just happened, focusing on the electricity his touch awakened in me. This is the strangest night I’ve ever had.

  Carefully, I stand up from my bed and walk on my tiptoes towards him. Looking down at him, I frown. He doesn’t look that comfortable, but I don’t want to risk him waking up now that he’s finally asleep. Gently, I remove his shoes, and then take one of the blankets to cover him up.

  I stand back, and I don’t know how long I take in his sleeping form. Even unconscious, his features aren’t relaxed. His full lips draw my eyes, and I lick my own, wondering if he really would have kissed me if I’d kept quiet back on my bed.

  Then the thought of what he said in the beginning enters my mind.