by C. J. Wells
Feeling suddenly lightheaded, I turn to make my way back to the sofa.
“You were with Andrew,” his realization stops me in my tracks.
Oh, God.
My ambiguous exaggeration of the silly, meaningless kiss jolts through my hazed memory, and I brace myself to face him. “It wasn’t like I made it out to be,” I cringe at the image I portrayed at the club, my body wracking with an extra shiver at the realization that he didn’t believe me at that moment - he would never believe I would do that to him.
“You thought I was with Julia, so you ran to him?” The pain in his gaze almost breaks me. “To get back at me?”
“No! It meant nothing.”
“It means something to me,” his body jerks as though I’ve stabbed him with the need to remind me. “Jesus, Aby, what the hell?” he turns to pace the room.
“I haven’t heard from you in two weeks! What did you expect me to think? The photos, the lack of contact…Alex, you didn’t even try to call me.”
Guilt flinches in a ripple through his body before he replies, “I should have called. I was wrong not to, but I thought I was protecting you from all the shit I was dealing with.”
“Protecting me?” I snicker. “From what? You making a choice between Julia and me? You know what? You’re right, I wouldn’t want to deal with that shit with you.”
“I can’t believe you even thought there was a choice to be made, Aby! After everything we’ve been through, now there’s a question of trust? I’ve never once made you question my love for you.”
“You mean, up until the day you left me on the curb?” I question, seething despite his flinch of anger or pain - possibly both.
“Ironic, I know exactly how that feels,” he pauses to take a calming breath. “The difference is, I came back.”
“You’re right, you did come back. However, I remember very clearly how you weren’t able to confirm whether you did, or didn’t still love Julia.”
“Fuck, Aby. I didn’t know what I was saying that day…I could barely think straight. I was emotionally battered. And do you think I couldn’t see the hurt in your eyes? I was trying so hard not to pull you down with me. I was trying to protect you,” he searches my eyes. “Clearly, I failed, and for that I’m sorry,” he looks down, running his fingers through his hair. “My natural instinct was to protect…was yours to hurt when you went to Andrew?” his gaze rages a war between anger and pain.
“It wasn’t like that. It just happened. It was a kiss, just a stupid silly kiss...” my words trail off as I witness the pained twist in his gaze at the hands of the visual I’m unintentionally painting.
He can’t even look at me, his jaw clenching, his eyes closing on an intake of breath. “You have no fucking idea the hold you have on me. The last thing I ever thought, with all the shit that I was dealing with, was that you wouldn’t be there at the end.”
Oh my God. How did this get so twisted? “Alex, I…”
“I have to get out of here before I lose it,” he turns to leave.
“Alex,” I call, chasing after him. He doesn’t turn to face me when I reach the door. “Please, try to understand, I thought we were over. I was hurting…there was alcohol involved,” I mumble the latter, not sure this is the best time to include my current, identical state. “I don’t know what else to say. It was a mistake. I thought…” I trail off. What did he expect me to think? “You left me, Alex…”
“You were always mine, Aby,” he spins on his heals, shaking his head. “A short break in time to deal with my shit doesn’t constitute leaving you.”
“A break? This isn’t a Goddamn sitcom. I thought I’d lost you!” I scream, my defenses taking over.
“Are you taking the piss right now?” he stares at me, the darkened blue hue of his irises permeating the anger in his eyes.
Having no idea what to say to that, I decide to hold my punches, folding my arms at my chest - undoubtedly pouting at the entire turn of events at the loose hand of lingering inebriation. My head is spinning. “How did all of this happen?” my thoughts come out on a whisper.
“Perception is everything right, Aby? You seem to like throwing that back in my face. And, since you’re so good at seeing the real picture,” his sarcasm is biting, “…allow me to enlighten you,” he continues through his clenched jaw. “Those sweet nothings that I whispered to Julia were my avid warnings that if she ever comes within five feet of you or I in the future, I’ll sue her ass faster than she can fucking blink.”
“Alex...” his name slips out on a quiet, shocked murmur, my arms falling in defeat to my sides.
Grabbing my nape, he bends to my ear, “The irony is brilliant don’t you think? If only I had known how little it would take for you to run to another man faster than I can fucking blink,” he adds on a whisper, before walking out the door.
Fear twists into defensive anger, and I grab the closing door to yell, “Perception my ass! You-You were an ass to presume and assume.”
He spins around at his car to face me in question, his jaw clenching.
“Two weeks without a word, Alex? Maybe you shouldn’t preach about something you so easily take for granted yourself,” I slam the door quickly, leaning against it, sliding to the floor.
“NEW BEGINNINGS ARE often disguised as painful endings.”
“What?”
“Oh, shit. Wrong quote. What do you want from me? I’m drunk, woman,” Stacey, fumbles with her phone, searching for this quote she swears will make me feel better. “What is the point of pinning the damn thing, if I can’t fucking find it when I need it! Ugh!” She tosses her phone down on the bed.
“How hard can it be?” I sit up to grab it. “You have so much shit in here. How many Pinterest Boards can one person have?”
“As many as I want. Oh! I have a quote for you, right off the top of my head! ‘Stupid is as stupid does’,” she shoves my cross-legged knee with her foot.
“Ha ha. What does that even mean, anyway? Wait…Are you referring to me, or Alex?”
“I’m thinking you’re both wearing the same shoe, pumpkin. And if the shoe, fits,” she shrugs.
“I thought you were looking for a quote to make me feel better?”
“The truth hurts, pookie, but it’s good for you. Besides, add that to the tequila you just threw up, and you’ll be feeling better any time now,” she flashes a playful smirk. “Unless you start crying again. Please don’t,” she pleads playfully, “Or at least wash the rest of your mascara off first. You’re starting to look like a Marilyn Manson video.”
“You suck,” I throw a pillow at her.
“Yes, and very well,” she winks. “And on that note, did you happen to stub your camel toe on his dick before the shit hit the fan?”
I grimace, throwing her glaring daggers. The thought of how easily and close we came to losing ourselves in our familiar tropical storm of passion jabs instantly between my legs - right before ricocheting up for a stab to my heart.
Rolling her eyes, she shakes her head, “I just don’t understand why you told him about Andrew.”
“It wasn’t me,” I scowl. “It was our friend, tequila, remember?”
“Riiiigggt…Whatever, Abs. You wanted to hurt him the way he hurt you.”
“The way I thought he hurt me,” I correct her, feeling the well of tears threaten to build once more.
“Yeah, that too,” she purses her lips.
“Why are you here, again?” I tease sardonically, attempting to waylay another cry-fest.
“Besides the fact that I’m getting married in less than two days?” her eyes bug out dramatically for effect. “Because you can’t live without me, my little tulip,” she blows me a kiss.
“Well,” I sigh, lying down beside her, “I guess I’m going to have to learn to.” I turn my head towards her, and we’re practically nose-to-nose.
“Why on earth would that mean you have to live without me?” she takes my hand, and for a moment we’re like kids again.
“You!” I twist onto my side, plunging an accusing finger in her face, “You told Alex where we were. That’s how he ended up at the club!”
“Get that thing outta my face,” she swats my hand away. “You’re damn right I did. He wouldn’t have asked where you were if he didn’t want to know - and I, for one, was more than curious as to why.”
“Well, you could have at least warned me,” I pout, turning onto my back, crossing my arms.
“How was I supposed to know he would fly over there faster than Superman? I thought I’d have a chance to tell you when you came back from dancing. I have to say, Abs, he looked pretty hot when he arrived looking for you. God, he looked like…”
“I know what he looked like!” I grab the pillow behind my head and plough her with it - right in the face.
Grabbing hers, she hits me back. “Don’t start something you can’t finish, cookie. Do I need to remind you of all the pillow fights you’ve lost?”
“No,” I grumble, flinging my pillow behind my head, resuming my cross-armed pouting. “You only win because your boobs are like balloon armor. It’s like trying to win a fight in a bouncy castle.”
“Jealously is a sick disease. Feel better, bitch,” she bounces on top of me, crushing me with her oversized cantaloupes, winking as she pushes up to sit on the side of the bed. “So, did you happen to get a chance to discuss my wedding in between your stupid ass bickering - as in will he be attending as your date?”
“Oh, yeah,” I roll my eyes. “It was the most prominent topic of discussion. Ouch!” I yelp when she flicks my boob. “Seriously?”
“Did that hurt? Well, how do you think you’re going to feel if he shows up at the wedding - on his own?”
“Maybe he won’t.”
“And, maybe he will. He received his own invitation from Thomas, Aby…and he is in town. Just sayin’.”
“It doesn’t matter how I’ll feel. It’s your special day. I’m not about to let my issues cast a shadow on that,” I smile, gladly allowing my feelings of true happiness for my best friend to wash over my pitiful state. “Besides, I’ll be too busy trying to keep you from running away from the best thing that’s ever happened to you.”
“Oh, running won’t be an issue, sweet cheeks, there’s nothing I want more in this world than to marry Thomas. However,” she purses her lips, “…some Vicodin might help.”
“YOU DO REALIZE that if I had known we would have to walk somewhere to get coffee this morning, I would have stayed at Thomas’s,” Stacey mutters, turning her head to get the attention of my gaze. “He has this great new invention at his place, it’s called a coffee machine.”
“The fresh air and exercise is good for you.”
“Oh, honey, I get plenty of exercise,” she winks. “And fresh air my ass - it’s cold as fuck. Did you see it? I just farted the cutest little snowflake,” she nudges me midstride, rolling her eyes.
“Shut up,” I playfully shove her. “You didn’t have to come, you know. I would have gladly gone myself, and would have brought your coffee back to you - despite the fact that you wouldn’t deserve it.”
She gasps dramatically, “I’m highly insulted. I’m getting married tomorrow - it’s both the most wonderful and most terrifying event of my life - I soooo would have deserved it.”
“You’re so dramatic,” I roll my eyes, laughing half-heartedly.
Reaching the flat, she turns me to face her, offering a loving, though slightly patronizing, head tilt. “Me thinks you’re misplacing pent up frustration, love. Alex is the one you want to…Oh, hello,” Stacey - no longer looking at, or talking to me - steps towards what’s pulled her attention.
Turning, my breath hitches in an uncomfortable lump at the sight of Andrew, locking up and turning from his door.
“I’m Stacey Stevenson,” she’s already in his face, “…and you must be the Andrew Davies I’ve heard so much about.”
Ugh.
Andrew shakes her jabbed-out hand with a slightly uncomfortable smile. It’s certainly not the wide, brilliant smile he usually dons, and when his eyes meet mine, I’m instantly assailed with why. Shit.
We haven’t seen each other since the ‘kiss’. And though I dreaded the next run-in a little myself, deep down I was hoping that it would be as though it never happened.
“The Stacey Stevenson I’ve heard so much about,” he finally replies with a wink, and for a moment I think I see my fun, carefree friend again - but just for a moment. Double Shit. Oh, yeah…he’s uncomfortable. He’s never uncomfortable - it’s Andrew, for shit sake. This entire situation sucks balls. No. It sucks donkey dicks. “It’s very nice to meet you, Stacey,” he adds, his gaze skirting my way for another dose of awkward vibrations.
Pursing my lips, I attempt to ride the uncomfortable wave, noting the eerie silence of it threatening to drown all three of us at once. “Stacey is getting married tomorrow,” I blurt the obvious, my pitch high and absolutely edged with the impending shriek of swallowing a mouthful of water.
“Yes, that’s right,” Andrew jumps in, nodding off the tight line of his lips. “Congratulations, Stacey.”
“Ummm…thank you,” she replies, her gaze flickering between Andrew and I repeatedly in the seconds of silence. “We actually celebrated my bachelorette last night. Lot’s of fun, dancing and tequila - we were drunk as whores. That was two nights in a row for you, wasn’t it, Abs?” she adds, winning herself an inconspicuous pinch of the back of her arm from me.
“Yes,” I manage through my clenched jaw, glaring at her through a grimaced smile, “It was fun watching Stacey offer up her little black book to the next willing slut of the centur…”
“Drink up, Abs,” she cuts me off with a smile, directing her teasing attention to Andrew, “I had to drag her out for coffee - her double hangover lollipop is triple dipped in grumpy this morning.”
“I’m not grumpy,” I assure Andrew, shaking my head with a smile as though I have to explain myself. What the hell is wrong with me? Oh, right, this sucks donkey ass, and my best friend is an added teasing pain in its big fat cheeks. “We have a lot to do, though, Stace. Maybe we should head inside and get started on that list.” Number one being slap my best friend in the head for making an awkward situation even worse with her so not funny shenanigans.
“Well, actually,” her tone is familiarly conspiratorial, “…I do have to run inside and call my future hubby,” she turns quickly, opening the door. “You two can catch up.”
“Ahh…”
“It was super to finally meet you, Andrew,” Stacey winks, dismissing my attempt to dispute her wicked plan to leave us alone.
“You too,” he replies.
She flashes an over-wide smile, her gaze dancing in devilish delight, before rushing inside, closing the door quickly. Damn her.
“I should really head in too,” I begin after painful, torturing seconds of silence. “I have a lot to do before the wedding,” I add with a forced smile, turning away to reach for the doorknob.
“Aby, wait…”
My lips purse in a thin line as I close my eyes against the dreaded pull of his request. Sneaking a breath of composure, I spin on my heels to face him.
“We can’t keep avoiding each other, can we?”
“Are we avoiding each other?” I retort, cautiously gauging how he truly feels about the whole thing.
He doesn’t answer right away, allowing the panic to build within me. Just great. Lose a boyfriend and a friend. I look down to avoid letting him see it in my eyes, not wanting him to misconstrue my feelings. As much as it saddens me that my friendship with Andrew has taken a slippery turn, it pales in comparison to what losing Alex is doing to me.
The thought of him imagining what I did with Andrew tears through me. Alex has to know that it was nothing. It meant nothing. And the first step is to make sure both Andrew and I are clear on that as well. No more pussy-footing around the unavoidable.
His broad, white-toothy grin flashes a signal of welcome relief, and I smile as well, staying quiet to let him go first.
“It was a mistake,” he begins. “That’s all. Let’s just chalk it up to a…rather awkward test of friendship. The key word being friendship, yeah?”
“Absolutely,” I smile, more than relieved. I just want to forget that entire night ever happened - well, that’s not exactly possible right now where Alex is concerned, but it’s a more than welcome start on this end. And I’m jumping on the bandwagon with a serious giddy-up distraction, “Speaking of friendship,” I can’t keep the glimmer of plotting from flashing across my happily relaxed face, “…my good friend, Emily…”
“Uh oh,” he laughs. “Are you about to set me up?”
“Only because I believe it’s a good set up. Trust me.”
“I do,” his smile is genuine.
“Good.”
“Are we good?”
“We’re good,” I mentally make a check off the bottom of my shit-storm list.
“Are you good?”
A loaded question. My insides scream no, but I can’t ignore the sudden pull of my heart telling me that I can be. One simple phrase floats through my mind, echoing through every pore…Fight for him. And that’s exactly what I intend to do. “You know what,” I finally answer with a smile, “I think I will be.”
FIGHT FOR HIM…You’re damn right I will.
There’s just one problem.
I’m T-minus twenty-four hours away from my best friend’s wedding. A wedding that has been less than two weeks in the making. Where, exactly, can I fit in this epiphany? I scour over the items on the to-do list, the shit unchecked like a kick in the teeth.
