by Zart, Lindy
Maggie, Jeff, and Anne kept the conversation going as he drove. He felt the heat of Maggie’s inquisitive eyes on the back of his head, but refused to meet her gaze in the rearview mirror. Maybe Anne hadn’t meant it like that. She said she loved Maggie too, and until a few minutes ago, she hadn’t known her. He was paranoid, that was all. Overthinking things. People didn’t say they loved each other that early into a relationship. Relationship. The word sounded vile, full of rules and expectations.
The restaurant, ‘Early Bird’, specialized in breakfast foods in uncommon, but amazing combinations. Locally owned and operated for over twenty years, it had been featured in countless magazines and won multiple prizes for its cuisine. Lance ate there at least every other week.
A blackbird with ‘Early Bird’ above it in red cursive lettering was plastered on the side of the pale yellow building, with another on top of the roof. The parking lot was full, which was to be expected on a Saturday night. The air was warm, but not overly humid, and the scents of fried food wafted from the building as they approached.
Hand interlocked with Anne’s, his eyes were on Maggie as they walked toward the door. Jeff walked on the other side of Maggie, shooting Lance irritated looks that he continually ignored. Lance wanted the date to be his and Maggie’s, and forget Jeff and Anne.
Maggie smiled when she caught him watching her, and Lance smiled back.
“I’ve never been here before,” she told him.
“I know.”
“Lance has brought me here a few times,” Anne said. “They have great food.”
“We’ll have to come again, on our own,” Jeff said to Maggie.
Maggie gave a noncommittal reply, which made Lance’s smile widen and Jeff’s frown deepen.
They were seated immediately in a corner booth of the loud, bustling establishment, the hostess blushing and stuttering over her words as she stared first at Lance, then at Maggie. Lance sat directly across from Maggie, with Anne next to him and Jeff across the table from her.
Not yet used to fame, even of a small degree, Maggie looked as nervous at the hostess as she continued to gawk. There was a smile on her face, but it was forced.
“You must be a fan of the show,” Lance said to the brunette, offering a wide grin as she redirected her attention to him.
“Oh my God! I thought it was you two! I mean, the reservation says Lance Denton, but, and then, here you are, and so, yeah, I love ‘Easier Said’! You two are amazing on it. I mean, I’ve watched everything you’ve ever been in, even the commercials, but . . . wow. My name’s Emily, by the way.” She blushed and pushed hair from her face, eyes on Lance.
“Thanks for being a fan, Emily,” he replied. “Maggie and I appreciate all our viewers.”
“Can I . . .” She stared at Maggie and then Lance, hesitating. “I’m not supposed to ask this, but can I get your autographs?”
“Sure,” he said, taking the pen and napkin presented.
Lance scrawled his name onto the napkin and pushed it across the table to Maggie. Her hand trembled as she gripped the pen, and he didn’t release it until she looked at him. Lance winked, and with a shaky laugh, Maggie took the pen and signed her name.
He stared at their names, liking how close they were, paired together like that. Lance Denton and Maggie Smiley. The hostess took the autographed napkin, gushed some more, and disappeared, saying their waitress would be over soon.
“You’re from Iowa, right, Maggie?” Anne asked, eyes sparkling with friendly interest.
Maggie smiled, taking a sip of water. “I am, yes. Are you from the area?”
“Oh, no, I’m from California, way across the country. I’m just staying with my aunt and uncle while I do some modeling work. I’m leaving in a few weeks.”
“Oh.” Maggie shot Lance a look, as if gauging his reaction to the imminent departure of his girlfriend.
He stared back, no expression on his face.
“I’ve been to California before. My grandparents live there,” Jeff said. His arm was around the back of the booth, hovering above Maggie’s shoulders.
“Really?” Anne cried excitedly. “What part?”
“Near San Francisco. I’m going to stay with them over Christmas this year.”
“No way! That’s where I’m from! We should totally get together when you’re there. I could be your tour guide, show you all the cool places.”
Jeff looked at Maggie, his face going red. “Oh. Yeah. Maybe.”
She tilted her head questioningly. “You should. It sounds fun,” Maggie told him reassuringly.
The color on his face deepened and he leaned toward her. He opened his mouth, paused, and then said in a low voice, “Well. It’s just that . . . do you . . . I mean . . . I was going to—”
“Maggie, isn’t there a ski trip planned over Christmas for the cast? Near where you live. Somewhere in Minnesota,” Lance said, effectively talking over and silencing Jeff. No way was Maggie getting on a plane and going out of state for two weeks with that guy.
He returned the glare Jeff aimed at him, only he was sure his was more poisonous.
“Um . . . yes. There is.” Maggie gave Lance a relieved look. “I’m going. Are you?”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” he murmured, eyes locked on her.
Maggie turned to Jeff. “You’re not going on the ski trip?”
“He’s not a cast member,” Lance stated, even though the three of them already knew it.
Jeff’s features went from irritated to deadly. “It’s for crew members too,” he said in a toneless voice.
Lance shrugged.
“But no,” he said to Maggie. “I promised my grandparents I’d visit them. I was going to ask you to come along, but it looks like you already have plans.”
Maggie blanched.
Lance sat back. It appeared he didn’t need to do anything—Jeff was well on his way to sabotaging things with Maggie without any help from him. They were on their first date, and he was asking her to go on vacation with him. Classic.
“I was hoping you’d come visit me over Christmas,” Anne said to Lance with a pretty pout on her face.
It was Jeff’s turn to smirk as Lance went still and silent. He didn’t answer Anne. Things were supposed to be simple between them—they dated while she was in Virginia, and then it was done when she left. They needed to have a talk, but at the restaurant was not the place.
Maggie, noticing the tension, drew Anne into conversation. She put the focus on Anne’s modeling career, a subject Anne was happy to talk about, excessively. Amidst the female chatter, Lance studied Jeff as they waited for the waitress. He was shorter and bulkier than Lance, with short brown hair and eyes. There was nothing about him that was better than Lance.
Safe came to mind. Jeff was safe. Safe was dull. He looked at Maggie as she chatted with Anne. Safe would not work for long with Maggie.
The food showed up. Lance frowned at Maggie as she pushed her meal around on her plate without eating much of it. Anne ate all of a salad, minus the dressing, and a roll, and acted like she overindulged. Well, for her, maybe she had.
Anne and Maggie continued to carry the conversation throughout the meal, and when the bill was paid—Maggie insisting she could pay for her own food instead of allowing Jeff—it was obvious the night was close to an end. From Jeff and Maggie’s expressions, bowling looked like it wouldn’t be happening. Good. Because Lance wanted to ditch Anne and Jeff and have Maggie all to himself.
“What now?” Anne wondered, trailing fingers up and down his arm.
“I’m, um, actually really tired,” Maggie said, not meeting anyone’s eyes. “I think I’ll pass on bowling, if that’s okay.”
“Me too,” Lance said happily. “Really tired.”
Leaning close, Anne pressed her small breasts against his arm and said, “Want to cuddle and take a nap?”
Lance stepped away. “Not tonight.” His tone was cooler than he planned, and when her face fell, he knew their needed discussio
n was not going to be fun.
“I’m ready to go home too,” Jeff said, staring at Maggie with anger and sadness on his face.
“Well, this was a great double date. We’ll have to do it again,” Lance said with a touch too much enthusiasm. “Shall we?”
The ride was quiet, and when he parked the Jeep outside of Anne’s relatives’ house, he got out at the same time as Anne. Guilt and purpose knifed his skin in short, methodical stabs as he walked her to the door. She was a sweet person. Sure, she was obsessive over her body image, but as a model, that was warranted. He knew she was going to cry. He hated it when they cried.
“Anne,” he began, and she burst into tears. Already? Lance briefly closed his eyes. “Anne,” he tried again.
“You’re breaking up with me,” she wailed, hands over her eyes.
Lying would be pointless, and cruel. Lance said evenly, “Yes.”
She dropped to her bottom on the cement steps and cried. “It’s because . . . I said . . . I love you, isn’t it?” Her voice was muffled, hair glowing silvery blond in the dark.
Lance sighed and sat down beside her, careful to not touch her. “That was part of it, yeah.” He clasped his hands and stared at the darkened Jeep. “When we started this, we agreed that it would end when you left.”
“That’s in t-three weeks!”
“Right. And you want me to visit you over Christmas,” he reminded her.
Anne dropped her hands, revealing smudged eyes and tear-stained cheeks. “Because I love you.”
“Anne, you don’t love me,” he told her, voice hardening.
Her lower lip quivered. “But I do.”
“You don’t know me well enough to love me.”
“Lance—” She reached for his face and he got to his feet.
“No.” The word was coldly delivered, and inarguable. Lance stared down at her. “You don’t love me. I don’t want you to, and I don’t love you. I’m sorry.”
He left her crying on the doorstep, feeling like an ass, but also relieved. No one spoke when he got inside, Jeff stiffly seated in the front. At the apartments, Jeff left without saying a word, tires squealing as the Cavalier raced from the parking lot.
“That was fun,” he said to Maggie.
Face expressionless, Maggie slapped him.
His cheek instantly stung, her handprint branded upon his skin. “What the hell was that for?” he demanded, staring into angry eyes.
“That was for Jeff, and Anne.”
“What are you talking about?” he demanded.
“Jeff doesn’t want to see me again,” Maggie supplied. “Because of you.”
“And that’s bad why?”
“He’s a nice guy.”
“Nice, and boring,” he agreed.
“And you broke up with Anne, all because she cares about you more than you do her.”
“So?”
“You’re an ass.” Mouth twisted with distaste, Maggie stomped away.
“Did I somehow, at some point, give you the impression that I wasn’t?” he called, striding after her.
Maggie headed toward the sand, kicking off her sandals and storming along the gritty path like each step she took was on Lance’s face. He chucked off his shoes and socks and went in pursuit. He felt like he spent a lot of his time chasing Maggie. Being a Saturday night, the beach was covered in people, and a live band played ‘Runnin’ Down a Dream’ as people danced. The song was much too appropriate—each time he reached her, she ran. When he fell behind, she walked.
She kept going, past the people, past the structures, until all that was around her was air, and sea. Out of breath and pulse thrumming, Lance caught up to her, but then he paused, not sure what to do or say. Her back was to him, arms crossed over her like a hug. She looked into the black and blue water, a bruise upon the earth, and went motionless. He wondered what she thought as she stared into the ocean.
And then he asked her.
It took her a long time to answer, and when she did, her voice was uneven and soft. “I used to be fat.”
He blinked at the unexpected words, taking a careful step closer.
“I wasn’t always fat, and my parents say I was never that, that I was chubby, like that’s better. When I was six, I went from skinny to overweight. My older sister, who’s always been thin, used to make fun of me, telling me I had enough rolls to start a bakery, calling me a cow and mooing when I was around. When I was eleven, I got taller, slimmed down, and was no longer fat. I still had curves—I think I always will.”
She didn’t speak again until Lance was beside her, looking out at the choppy waters with her, not wanting to breathe in case the sound of it would hide her words from his ears.
“I still see her, when I look in the mirror.” Maggie glanced at him, a slice of eyes that scalded his skin. “I still see that fat little girl. Then I came here, and I met you, and . . . I feel like I can’t be as unattractive as I think, not with how interested in me you seem to be, but then, the next second, I feel uglier than I ever have before. Because of you, and your games. You’re not good for me. You’re destructive and—and rude.”
He took a painful inhalation of air, unable to refute her words, but there was something about her he had to say. Lance moved for her hand but she shifted out of reach. “You’re not fat. You’re not unattractive. There’s nothing wrong with you. You shouldn’t base your worth on how you think others see you, not even me. Tell the world to screw off.”
She was silent for a long time, not looking at him, the pulse fluttering at the base of her neck. Maggie swallowed and said, “Tell you to screw off?”
Lance shrugged.
“Right.” She shook her head. “Everything I feel for you, or around you, is equal parts good and bad. I think I hate you at times. I want to stay away from you.”
“That might be hard, since we’re on the same television show and everything,” he mocked softly, eyes trained on the gray horizon.
“You terrify me.”
Lance looked at her. Maggie watched him, her face open in a way that made his insides clench and his body tense. He understood the confusing, conflicting emotions she had for him, because he had them as well. Denial and acceptance—he constantly fought between the two.
“I should terrify you,” he told her. “I use people. I don’t care about anyone more than I care about myself. I’ve never loved anyone, but I’ve told tons of girls I did. I break hearts, and it doesn’t bother me. I’ll break yours, if you let me.”
Maggie sucked in a sharp breath, eyes wide and bright on his face. They glowed in the dark like a lighthouse, beckoning him forth from the treachery of his own existence to the safety of hers.
“Maggie,” he ground out, fingers curling with the need to touch her.
She backed up a step, closer to the water.
Lance followed, feeling like a monster tracking its most prized victim. “Why do you keep fighting it?”
“Fighting what?” she whispered, lips barely moving.
“Me. This. You feel it too. You feel it when we kiss. You know there’s something between us. Everyone knows. Everyone sees it. Even Jeff saw it.” Lance took another step closer, and she took another back. “Staying away from you is driving me insane. I’m tired of it. I want you so much.”
“If we—if we get involved . . . it’ll end badly.”
“Yes.” He knew it would. He wanted to get lost in her anyway.
“I’ll get hurt.”
Lance inclined his head. “So will I.”
“You just broke up with your girlfriend,” she pointed out, frustration tightening her features. It was for him, and for her response to him.
“I did, and I don’t even care, because the whole time I was with her, I wanted to be with you.”
“Do you realize how bad that sounds?” she demanded, her voice high with incredulity. Maggie was in the water up to her ankles.
“Maggie. I don’t care,” he said slowly and clearly.
“I�
��ll just end up like her, like all the other girls you go through. Unwanted and discarded for someone new.”
Lance stared at her, his eyes drifting over her eyes, nose, and lips. She would never be like all the other girls. “I don’t think so, but I don’t know how things will end,” was the most honest answer he could give her.
“And you don’t care,” she whispered.
Lance stood there, unapologetic, as Maggie looked into his eyes, into his being, and saw him for what he was. It was humbling, knowing someone could see all the flaws in him, and not turn away.
“I tried. I tried to be your friend. I can’t. I can be more, and maybe nothing, but I can’t be that.” Lance inhaled raggedly, closing the distance between them. He touched her cheek, fingertips tingling at the feel of her soft skin. “You’re like the pretty flower my dirty hands should never touch.”
“But you’re going to anyway,” she said shakily.
Water moved around them, but they remained motionless. It was cool, and gently lapped against their legs. The moon silhouetted Maggie like sunshine and clouds at odds with one another. Lance faded to nothing as he looked into her expressive eyes, seeing his reflection. Seeing Maggie.
“Only if you let me.” Lance moved his hand to her lips, brushing his fingertips across them. They felt like silk, and he repressed a shudder. “But then you’re mine, and no one else’s.”
She didn’t say anything, but she didn’t move away, and when her eyes closed and her head fell back, exposing her neck to the moonlight, Lance knew her answer. He threaded his fingers through her hair, dislodging the ponytail holder to fall into the ocean, and brought his mouth to hers. Maggie’s eyes flew open, her hands gripped his forearms, and then she swayed toward him, falling into him as he fell into her.
Kissing Maggie was comparable to finding air, and losing it, just as quickly. He was full of life, he was without it. Her lips tasted like candy, her tongue like velvet, and she consumed him. All he wanted, all he knew, was her. Maggie was his. The thought made him tremble with fear, because if she was his, that meant she could be taken away. Lance kissed her harder, wanting to wipe out the doubts, and the need, but all kissing her did was make him want her more.
