by Jessica Roe
I shrug, because I don't know how to explain that. “Didn't happen.” There's a silent yet on the end of that and we both hear it.
Her arms are folded across her chest now, and it takes everything I have not to stare at the way it pushes her tits up, because I can tell she's getting pissed. “So we're just bringing our dates back here now? You could've warned me or something – I'd have made sure I was out of your way.”
It's not just her – I'm starting to get angry too. Not even at her, just at our situation. At the guilt pooling around me, dragging me down. At the confusion that's completely owned me ever since that day in the bar with Nathan. At the lust for her that I just can't shake, despite everything. At the way I still can't stop thinking about her every minute of every day. “What am I supposed to do?” I yell, much louder than I should. “I'm just trying to get back to normal, Ivy!”
“Really? 'Cause from here it seems like all you want to do is hurt me!” She shakes her head, pulling her long hair back and wrapping it around her fist – something she's always subconsciously done when she's stressed out. I don't blame her for thinking that – I'd probably be thinking the same thing if it was her who'd brought a guy back here. Hell, I'd probably have reacted even worse. Just the idea of her dating another guy makes me so damned angry and ain't that just disgustingly hypocritical. “God!” she exclaims. “Do you even know how much I hate the way I sound right now? Like some spurned ex-girlfriend or something!” For some reason when she stills, it frightens me more than anything. Something settles behind her eyes as she come to a conclusion. I don't want her coming to any conclusions, not right now when she's so pissed. “This isn't working, Nash.”
I go cold. My nostrils flare as I glare at her.
Edging towards the door, Keila holds her hands up in the air. “So clearly I've stumbled into some crazy relationship drama here. I'm just gonna go.”
I don't bother telling her to stay. Mostly because I don't want her to. Bringing her back here was an asshole idea and I never should have gone through with it.
Trying not to be a complete dick, I give her a twenty for cab fare and call down to the security guard in the lobby and ask him to wait with her until the cab arrives, but then I shut the door in her face so I end up looking like a jerk anyway. I got a feeling this is going to bite me in the ass in the office on Monday, but I can't even think about that right now.
“What's not working?” I demand, turning back to Ivy when we're finally alone. She's leaning against the living room wall, her arms still folded across her chest like she's subconsciously trying to protect herself.
I'm afraid. It's probably pussy as shit to admit it, but I'm so fucking afraid right now. Even though we're not screaming at each other or throwing things or ranting and raving, this is the biggest fight we've ever had. That's saying something, because the pair of us have never been afraid of getting into it with each other over the years.
“This.” One arm still wrapped around her stomach, she waves a hand between us. “Us. Me living here. None of it. We were so stupid to think things would go back to normal. So naive. We weren't thinking clearly through all the. . .lust or whatever, but we should have known this would happen.”
“You're not leaving!” I tell her hotly, stepping forward.
“We both know I can't stay here, Nash. It's too hard.”
“Then tell me what to do!” I shout, gripping the back of the sofa with my fists. I'm so tense I feel like I could crush the thing in my hands. “Tell me what to do to make things better with us. I hate this, Ivy!”
“So do I.” A lone tear trickles down her cheek. I want to wipe it away, to pull her into my arms and comfort her and tell her that I'll make all her troubles go away, but how can I do that when I'm the one who caused her pain? “I think we just need. . .space.”
Bowing my head down, I shake it. “No. I don't need space from you. You don't need space from me. We can figure this shit out, Ivy. Together.”
“I need to sleep,” is all she says sadly. She doesn't give me a chance to reply, a chance to fight for us, before she turns to go back to her room.
Minutes go by. Long, silent minutes. I stand there, gripping the edge of that sofa, feeling like I'm going to be sick all over it. “FUCK!” I holler, spinning around and kicking a kitchen chair so hard it splinters.
It doesn't make me feel better. Not even a little bit.
+++
Ivy really does move out after that, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.
When I get home from work on Monday evening, her things are already gone. Her bedroom is cleared out, the bathroom free of all her girly shit, the crap she always left laying around in the kitchen and the living room gone like it was never there in the first place. Like she was never there in the first place. I never thought I'd miss her mess but I do. Already I do.
When I see the emptiness left in her wake, my stomach hollows. It feels like somebody scraped out my insides with a fork and fed them to a pack of rabid wolves right in front of me. There's just this big, empty space in my chest now, and she's gone and it's never going to fill back in.
I'm empty.
I stand in her room for the longest time, and when I don't think I can stand any longer I slide down her bedroom wall and sit on the floor. It still smells like her in here, she couldn't get rid of that at least.
For hours I sit with my legs splayed out in front of me as the room grows steadily darker.
Some time later, God only knows how long, I hear a key scratching in the lock. I almost get excited, thinking it might be Ivy coming home to me, but it can't be. She left her key on the kitchen table alongside a note that simply said I'm sorry.
It doesn't take Nathan long to find me. He flicks on the light, and I have to shield my eyes from the bright glow for a minute before I get used to it.
“Yo, buddy,” he greets, his voice forcefully cheery. He seems completely unsurprised to find me here in Ivy's bedroom. Sliding down next to me, he places a six pack of beer between us and eyes the pillow on my lap. “What's that then?”
“It's Ivy's,” I tell him monotonously, not bothering to look over at him. “Stole it a week ago. It's better than mine.” We both know that's not the real reason I took it. I took it because it smelled like her and I missed her fucking smell. She must have noticed it was gone, but she never said a word and she didn't ask for it back.
“Right.” Nathan nods, like that's completely normal and rational behavior. Leaning over, he gives it a whiff. “Doesn't smell like her anymore.”
“I know.”
“So you're just sat here, sniffing at a pillow that smells like you?”
“Pretty much.”
“Right,” he repeats, snapping the top off a beer and handing it to me. “Better drink this then.” And this right here is why he's still one of my best buddies, even though he can be a raging dick sometimes. He always knows what to do, when to shut up and when to just drink. He's awesome at just being my friend when I need him.
“You helped her move out,” I accuse, still not looking his way. I figured it out before he even came by, and then it was confirmed when he didn't seem at all surprised to see Ivy's things missing. I'm not mad, though. Just numb.
Thumping his head back against the wall, he sighs and taps his lips with the neck of his bottle. “Yeah, I did,” he replies. I'm grateful that he doesn't bother to deny it. “Sorry, man. You know I love the both of you. I just. . .I didn't know what to do. She called me and I couldn't say no. She needed out, you gotta understand that.”
“I'm not angry,” I assure him, shrugging. “Not at you, anyway. For once.”
“At her?”
“No.”
“Yourself?”
I don't reply. I really don't need to.
“I hate to say it,” he says, shaking his head and sipping his beer. “But I saw this coming, dude.”
“I should've just left her alone in the first place.”
“Could you have, though?
”
He has a point. “I just. . .couldn't stay away from her.”
Reaching up, he slaps me on the shoulder. And then we drink. For the rest of the night we just sit on our rapidly numbing asses and drink.
Chapter 18
Ivy
“Thanks for helping me out with this,” I say to Blair as she gets to work.
“Are you kidding?” She peers through the camera for a moment before pulling back and adjusting something. . .technical looking. “You're paying me to take photos. There's no downside here. Thank you.”
“And thank me,” puts in Ibbie, Blair's best friend, while I straighten out her dress. “Since I'm modeling these dresses and I'm not getting paid.”
“Please,” Blair scoffs. “You practically begged for this. You love attention.”
“True. Also I had to do something to distract me from Walt.”
“Reid's Walt?” Jemma, my other model, asks. “I didn't know anything was going on between you guys.”
Ibbie huffs. “It's so annoying! He keeps texting me stupid things just to piss me off, so I was all, leave me alone you big tattooed jerk, then he was like, devil face/angry face emoji. I can't believe Reid gave him my number, by the way. Gonna have to kill him for that. Sorry, Jem.”
Jemma shrugs. “Life's life.”
“So anyway,” Ibbie continues. “I was like, screw you, dead face emoji, and then the jerk sends me an okay finger with a pointy finger emoji next to it and we all know what that means!”
“That he wants to finger you?” Dahlia, Jemma's college room mate and my final model, guesses.
“Oh.” Ibbie pauses. “Is that what that means? I was wondering because I actually didn't know. No wonder he seemed confused when I sent him a turd emoji. We've got some serious emoji tennis going on.”
“I think it sounds like he likes you,” I tell her with a grin.
“Trust me, Walt does not like me. Guys like him do not like girls like me.”
“Ivy could be right,” Jemma muses. “Why else would he have asked Reid for your number?”
“Because he likes to torture me? The last time we all went out together he told the guy I was flirting with that I had herpes. HERPES!”
Blair snorts with laughter, then smiles innocently when Ibbie glares at her. “Sounds like some old school playground flirting if you ask me.”
Finally satisfied with Ibbie's dress, I step back and let Blair get to work. There's not much space in the little studio I rented out for the day, but Blair likes the light in here and I'm good with trusting her opinion.
When I moved out of Nash's place a month ago I needed something to distract me from falling apart. I gave myself one night to binge on ice cream and beer – I got to the point where I was dousing the ice cream with the beer, I won't lie – and then I threw myself into designing. Once I started, I found that I couldn't stop. I'd missed it so much since being fired from Heikki, more than I'd even realized, and getting back into it was everything I'd needed.
Eventually I quit my job with Dr. Ormand. That felt really freaking good. After having lived rent free with Nash I'd gathered enough savings to live off for about six months, so I'd decided that if I was going to make a go of this, it might as well be now.
It's exciting. It's terrifying. It's exhilarating, exhausting and mindbogglingly nerve racking. It's the best thing I've ever done.
And as for Nash. . .I've almost gotten used to this constant aching pit that resides in my chest now from missing him so much. I've almost stopped dreaming about the way he kissed me with so much passion it took my breath away. I've almost forgotten what his body felt like sliding against mine. I've almost stopped longing for the safety of his arms.
Almost.
And now Blair is photographing my models – Jemma, Ibbie and Dahlia – in my new designs for the website I hired someone to create.
A couple of hours later we pack up the clothes and equipment, satisfied with the work. Blair is awesome at what she does – she knows just how to capture things to get their best angle. Jemma and Dahlia have to get back to campus and Ibbie has a date with a fellow actor, so Blair and I are alone when we go back to her place for dinner.
“Where's Silver?” I ask, sitting down on one of the swivel chairs in her kitchen.
“Hanging out with one of the teachers from school,” she tells me, poking her head in the fridge and sliding out a dish. Unwrapping the tinfoil, she gives it a sniff. “Sweet. Our neighbor made lasagna again. She's this super cute little old Italian lady who thinks we don't eat enough so she keeps bringing us food by. You want some?”
“Hells yeah. Lasagna is the food of Gods.”
“So true.” Slipping the dish in the microwave, she grabs a couple of water bottles from the fridge and hands one over before sitting opposite me across the kitchen island.
“So how is he?” I question, picking at the label on the bottle to avoid looking at her. My stomach squirms just like it does every time Nash is brought up, yet I can't seem to stop myself.
Blair doesn't need to ask who I'm talking about. Though I haven't told anyone the reason I moved out and I know Nash wouldn't have either, our friends seemed to have figured it out pretty well by themselves. “Nash is good. Misses you though. I mean, he doesn't say it, but he definitely does. He gets this look on his face whenever anyone mentions your name, like the sound of it is stabbing him right through the heart. He doesn't even like to talk about you, kind of like Nathan and that girl, Ophelia. Nash. . .” She hesitates, and I glance up to find her biting her lip, like she's unsure of whether or not she should continue. I'm not sure I want her to, because her words are just destroying me here, but I'm a glutton for punishment.
“Nash what?”
“Nash has been seeing Bambi,” she informs me reluctantly. “I wasn't sure if I should say anything, but I figured you would be better knowing so if you, you know, bumped into them together or something. . .”
I appreciate her honesty, but I'm not prepared for the hot, shooting pain that completely guts me.
“But I'm pretty sure he's only doing it because he misses you,” she continues.
It's sweet of her to say, but I don't believe it for a second. Being with Bambi, it's all Nash wanted, after all. “It's okay,” I say. “I knew it was gonna happen eventually. I just. . .I wish I didn't. . .you know?”
She does. Despite being enviously happy with Silver right now, I know they both struggled with their feelings back at the beginning. “Can't help who we fall for,” she declares quietly. “Trust me – I know. Though I wouldn't take back a minute of it.”
I almost say me neither, but I'm not sure that's true. The time Nash and I spent together was incredible, but would I take it all back if it meant things could go back to the way they were before?
I don't have an answer for that.
“I liked you and Nash together,” Blair comments, then she pulls a face. “Okay, now I sound like Jemma. But seriously, I did. I do. You're the only one able to withstand that big head of his.”
“Probably 'cause mine's just as big,” I joke.
She grins as the microwave beeps.
We're halfway through the most delicious lasagna I have ever put inside my mouth – there are some definite food orgasms going on – when Silver arrives home, still in his gym gear. Immediately he seeks Blair out, wrapping her up in his arms from behind.
“Ew! Get off!” she screeches, trying to push him away. “You're all sweaty and gross, you big freak!”
Laughing, he tightens his hold on her and lifts her right off the stool so her feet are dangling above the ground. “But you love when I'm all sweaty and gross!”
“Nuh uh, you stink!” She's giggling though and not struggling to get away that hard, so I don't think she really minds. “What were you guys even doing?”
“Playing basketball. I whipped his ass, baby.” Dropping her to the ground, he spins her around and smiles sweetly down at her. He kisses her quickly before actually noticing I'
m even here. “Yo. Whattup?”
I accept his fist bump. “Whattup? What are you, sixteen?”
“Hey, don't be jealous of how cool I am.”
Blair and I both snort.
+++
I hang out with the two of them for the rest of the evening, and for the first time in a while I feel normal again. I feel lighter. It's good. It's awesome.
At some point Silver convinces Blair to run to the store, and while she's gone he shows me a picture of the engagement ring he's already picked out for her. It's a platinum band with a split shoulder and a pear shaped diamond, beautiful in its simplicity and perfect for Blair because I have a feeling she's not a flashy kind of girl.
“You think she'll like it?” he asks, cracking his knuckles nervously while I study it. “There are others, obviously. Bigger ones, fancier ones, but this one just felt. . .”
“Right?” I guess, and he nods in relief.
“Yeah. I saw it and I knew that I. . .I don't know. I just knew.”
“It's her,” I assure him. “Totally her.”
“Yeah, that's what I thought.” He slaps my shoulder affectionately. “I'm glad you're back, Ives – I need a girl to tell me this stuff. I thought about asking Jemma or Ibbie, but neither of them can keep a secret for shit.”
I smile, and for the first time in a month it's actually genuine.
+++
“Oh my God,” I hiss to myself sometime after the photo shoot. The photos have been up on the website for a short while and the business they've brought in has already been incredible. I'm barely able to keep up with it. “OhmyGodohmyGodohmyGod.”
Blinking rapidly like I can't even control my stupid face, I stand up from my desk and stride towards my apartment window, resting my hands on the glass as I look out.
My new place is pretty decent – though nowhere near as nice as Nash's apartment. It's small and the windows don't let in much light and it's right above Main Street so it can get a little loud, but it's mine for now and I like it. Also there are no gorgeous guys for whom I have confusing feelings for walking around shirtless, so that's an obvious bonus.
