Only With You

by Alexander, Monica

  He froze under my touch. “Nothing. I’m just tired. Let’s go to sleep.”

  I didn’t like the cool tone of his voice, and I suddenly wondered if he was mad at me. Had I taken things too far when I’d responded to his kiss? Had I been too aggressive, scared him?

  “Okay,” I said softly, wishing I could do something to make him feel better. He didn’t need to feel bad about kissing me, but I knew he did. “Goodnight.”

  “Night Syd.”

  Chapter Two

  Ryder

  I was an idiot. I’d kissed her. I’d kissed my best friend. I’d kissed Sydney, the girl I’d been painfully in love with for years. I’d kissed her, and although she’d sort of reacted in the moment and kissed me back, it was the look on her face when I pulled away that told me exactly how she was feeling. She hadn’t wanted me to kiss her.

  I should have known I wasn’t good enough for her. She dated rock stars and actors. She was gorgeous and talented. What would she ever want with a nerdy guy like me? She was so far out of my league we weren’t even in the same stratosphere.

  I wasn’t sure why I’d kissed her. It hadn’t been in my plans when I’d invited her over for dinner. I figured we’d hang out, spend time together like we used to. I never planned to act on the crush that had been eating away at me for so many years I couldn’t count then. But then, as her face was bathed in moonlight, and she looked so freaking beautiful wearing one of my fraternity t-shirts, I just thought, why not? And I took the chance I’d never let myself take before. And it backfired. And I was now the dumbass who’d kissed his best friend and made things awkward.

  It was all I could do to not start crying like a little girl on the spot, because a part of me – some part deep down that I’d always thought was nuts – actually thought I might have a chance, one day, to be with her. Especially when she’d started kissing me back, but apparently it wasn’t what she wanted.

  So I’d turned away, told her goodnight, when what I really wanted to tell her were all the things I’d do for her if we were together. I wouldn’t treat her like those jerks she always dated. I’d love her and take care of her. I wanted to make her happy, because as much as I knew her music did that to a point, I also knew it wasn’t enough. She was on the verge of falling apart. I wanted to be the guy to pick her up, show her she was worthy, that she was incredible, but it just wasn’t going to happen.

  I’d never wanted to be so close and so far from someone in my life. She was right behind me. I could hear her breathing, and it was killing me. As much as I wanted to turn around and look at her, watch her angelic face as she slept, I couldn’t torture myself like that. I loved this girl, and she loved me back, that much I knew, but she’d never love me as more than a friend. She’d never love me like I loved her.

  But damn, that kiss had been incredible. I’d kissed a decent amount of girls in the past few years, but none of those experiences had been like kissing Syd. Maybe it’s because I’d been waiting to do that for close to seven years, or maybe it was because it was just Sydney, and I was so in love with her I couldn’t see straight.

  When I knew she was finally asleep, I let a few tears leak out, knowing that it was the only time I’d let myself cry over her, and then I’d finally shut the door on this obsession I’d had for far too long. It was time to move on. I just needed to let her go already.

  The morning was awkward. I made pancakes, because it was what Sydney expected me to do. I’d made them for her countless times when we were kids, but she barely picked at them that morning. When I asked if they tasted okay, she smiled and told me they were great, but it was a sad smile. It made me wonder if she was thinking the same thing I was, that last night had changed things, and we could never change them back.

  I hated myself in that moment, and a part of me kind of hated her too.

  When she left, I hugged her goodbye knowing it very well might be the last time I ever saw her. I mean, who wanted to be friends with someone who had feelings for you that you couldn’t reciprocate? Especially with as fast as her world moved, I knew it would be easy for her to step back and let our friendship fade. It made me sad to think about that, but at the same time I thought maybe it was for the best. Maybe if I didn’t talk to her, I’d be able to finally get over her.

  Fortunately, she didn’t call me, so we didn’t have to have any awkward, ‘We kissed, but now I still feel obligated to be your friend’ conversation, that I’d been hoping to avoid. I knew I wouldn’t call her. I just couldn’t.

  Of course I didn’t factor in that talking to her wasn’t going to be the only issue in getting over my crush. When the girl you love is a super-famous pop star at the peak of her career and is kicking ass and taking names, well, you tend to see things about her from time to time. When I surfed the web there were articles about her, when I went grocery shopping she was on the cover of magazines, and hell even when I turned on the TV she was there – all the freaking time it seemed.

  Social media was the worst. I even blocked her on Facebook, but somehow things about her still got through to me from people I was friends with. Sydney hadn’t stayed friends with anyone else we’d gone to high school with, but since she’d become mega-famous, people who knew we were still close liked to share gossip with me when they saw it. Twitter and Instagram were worse because I couldn’t stop following her without her knowing, so for a while, I’d just stopped using social media altogether.

  By February I saw that she had a new boyfriend. Some pretty boy singer from one of those boy bands that were so manufactured and fake. He was preppy but tattooed at the same time, just the kind of guy I knew Sydney liked – a good mix of light and dark. I could never be that guy, and I’d always known that. It pissed me off that she was with him, but she looked happy in pictures, so I hoped he was at least treating her right. In the end, I did want her to be happy. I just wanted her to be happy with me.

  I told myself I wasn’t going to watch The Grammys since I knew she was opening the show, and I also knew she’d be going with her new boyfriend, holding his hand on the red carpet, sitting next to him in the audience, and since she was nominated for like six awards, they’d probably show her on-screen a bunch of times. Then I caved at the last minute and totally planned to watch the whole damn, painful show.

  Jake, my roommate at the frat house, walked into our room and stopped short when he saw what was on the TV. I was sitting in a beanbag chair on top of the carpeted platform we’d build that covered our sleeping caves, as I liked to call them, drinking a soda and munching on popcorn. Some country singer was being interviewed on the red carpet, and the actual show was starting in about a minute.

  “What the fuck are you watching?” Jake asked.

  “The Grammys,” I said morosely. “This is the red carpet portion.”

  Yup, I’d chicked all out and watched Sydney walk the red carpet, looking gorgeous in a long pink gown, her brown hair that I used to love to run my fingers through for hours sweeping behind her. She was so freaking beautiful it literally felt like my heart was being squeezed in a vice.

  “Dude, don’t do this to yourself,” Jake said, climbing up on the platform to sit behind me on the couch.

  “Why?” I asked, as I shoved a handful of popcorn in my mouth. The show was starting, and in a few seconds I’d see Sydney again. I was practically holding my breath.

  “Because she shot you down. It can’t be healthy to watch this shit, and oh, right, there she is. Bring on the pain.”

  “Shh,” I said, leaning forward as Syd pranced out on stage wearing a hot little outfit that showed off her long legs.

  She was tall and had the longest legs. I used to imagine them wrapped around me, her heels digging into my ass cheeks. It was one of my favorite fantasies that would never come true.

  “You’re such a fucking pussy,” Jake muttered, but I ignored him, my eyes glued to the TV as Sydney sang and danced and smiled, driving me absolutely nuts.

  But when the number was finished, I
smiled. She’d done awesome like I knew she would, dancing around on stage, singing, playing her guitar and captivating the audience with the title track off of her album, Bulletproof. Even those who weren’t fans of her music had to at least say she was a great entertainer. She put on a hell of a show.

  My hand inadvertently reached for my phone so I could text her and tell her how awesome she’d done like I always did after one of her performances, but I froze in mid-reach and pulled my hand back. I couldn’t do that. We weren’t friends anymore. We hadn’t talked in six weeks.

  I brought my hand back and raked it through my hair.

  “Just text her,” Jake said.

  Jake was the only person who knew the real story with Sydney and me. Most of my other frat brothers honestly thought I just had some unattainable crush on her, but Jake and I had been roommates freshman year, we’d rushed together, and we’d moved into the house together at the start of our sophomore year. He’d heard me on the phone with Syd more times than I could count in the past two years, but he also knew how I felt about her and how I’d been unceremoniously shot down on New Year’s Eve.

  Thankfully he exercised discretion with everyone but me. I didn’t care if he called me a pussy or a douchebag ten times a day as long as he didn’t publicize what I’d shared with him. It was private, but I’d needed to talk to someone, and he was the best friend I had.

  “No. I can’t,” I said, standing my ground.

  I saw Jake’s reflection in the Budweiser mirror that was mounted on the wall across from the couch. He was rolling his eyes at me, so I threw popcorn over my shoulder at him. He picked a few pieces up and chucked them at the back of my head.

  “Oh, and there she is again,” he said then. “Let the torture continue. Dude, you need to just get over her already.”

  I would if I could.

  I sighed as the show came back from a commercial break, and the cameras started to pan the audience. Sydney was there, back in the pink dress, her hair now in some fancy updo thingy, and the pretty boy singer guy was sitting next to her holding her hand. I glared at him. I hated him. I didn’t understand what she saw in him, why he was any better than me. Sure, he could sing and dance and was good-looking, but he didn’t know her like I did.

  Did he make her laugh? Did he know that when she was nervous, she munched on Twizzlers like it was her job? Did he know that in the tenth grade, after she was set to go on stage to perform at our school’s talent show that she ate so many Twizzlers before her performance that she actually threw up in a trash can backstage? No, probably not. Only I knew that stuff about her. But she’d chosen him so easily.

  “If it’s any consolation, I think her boyfriend is gay,” Jake said then, around a mouthful of popcorn he’d stolen.

  I laughed as the host started to introduce the first category of awards. It felt good to laugh since I’d been so tense for the past hour.

  “You’re probably right,” I said, but I didn’t mean it.

  I didn’t actually think Syd’s boyfriend was gay, but it was easier to say out loud than to admit how gut-wrenching it was to see her with him. I’d lived through seeing her with too many guys and getting upset each time because they were all so wrong for her and they treated her like shit. And I was pretty sure this one was barely eighteen, but at least he wasn’t in his thirties.

  Why couldn’t she just pick someone hot and funny and cool, like say, me? Yeah right. I knew that ship had sailed. Or rather I’d fallen off of that ship and into the ocean only to be left behind drifting aimlessly, waving my arms frantically, hoping someone might see me, until I either got so tired that I sunk to the bottom of the ocean and drowned or a giant great white shark came and ate me. Awesome.

  “I thought you wanted to get over her?” Jake asked.

  “I do. That’s the plan.”

  And it was so obviously not a plan that was working.

  Jake rolled his eyes again, because he knew I still had it so bad for Sydney Chase.

  “I have a better plan,” he said. “Trey and Alec have some of the Zetas out on the back deck. They’re playing beer pong, and there are Jell-O shots that one of the girls made. It’ll be much more fun than pining away after some chick that’s so far out of your league she’s in outer space.”

  I turned around and glared at him even though I knew he was right.

  “Fine,” I said, as I grabbed the remote and switched off the TV right as the camera panned to the audience and showed Sydney laughing at a joke the host had made that I hadn’t heard. She was falling into her boy band jerk, and he was laughing too. Tool.

  At that, I decided I’d had enough pain for one night and followed Jake outside. Maybe one of the Zetas could take my mind off of Syd for a least a while.

  Chapter Three

  Sydney

  “Syd,” my publicist Laurie said, pulling on my arm.

  I turned to face her, wondering if she’d called my name more than once. I’d been lost in thought, stirring my drink methodically as I watched the crowd at the party. People were getting drunk, but I couldn’t do that. I needed to keep up appearances. One or two drinks were socially acceptable, but more than that and I’d get talked to.

  “What’s up?”

  “Are you having a good time?”

  I shrugged. “Sure.”

  The high I’d gotten from performing and the buzz I’d carried throughout the night as they’d called my name and I’d gotten up on stage to accept two awards had worn off. In the moment it had been everything I’d imagined it would be, and even though they weren’t my first Grammys, the feeling that washed over me when I realized I’d won never faded. It was still as much of an emotional experience as the first time.

  That night I’d won Pop Album of the Year and Best Song from a Major Motion Picture for Only With You, the song I’d written for Shameless. It was an indie flick and writing a song for it had pulled me completely out of my comfort zone since my usual ballads and pop anthems wouldn’t have worked. I’d considered it a long shot that they’d even asked me to contribute to the soundtrack, but because I knew exactly what would work, I’d written something completely soulful just to show everyone that my range was wider than they’d ever thought.

  At the time, the song had been based on my friendship with Ryder, but now the more I thought about it, I knew it had been based on much deeper-rooted feelings that I’d probably had for him for a long time. I just hadn’t realized them then.

  I’d never told him I’d written the song about him, always fearing he’d think it was silly, although I knew he loved the song itself. Now if I told him it was about him he’d probably think it was just sad.

  Ryder. I sighed just thinking about him. We hadn’t talked in six weeks, not since I’d awkwardly left his parents’ house the morning after our perfect yet awful kiss, but I thought about him constantly.

  I missed him like crazy, and I wanted to call, but I was too embarrassed. I’d gone out on a limb when he’d kissed me, taking things further to see what might happen, and the look on his face when he’d pulled back – still so clear in my minds’ eye – tore me up on a regular basis. I wasn’t sure how we could go back to being friends after what had happened.

  He was obviously freaked out by the fact that I’d basically attacked him. Maybe he’d been venturing a safe ‘Let me see if there’s any way I might like girls by kissing my best friend’ kiss, and I’d completely taken things overboard and essentially scared him off. I didn’t want to be that girl. And the worst part was, being that girl had cost me the best friendship I’d ever had.

  It had been nice to let the feelings of loss that had been overpowering me lately fade away for a few hours, but now they were back. Although people had been congratulating me all night, and I was surrounded by people who supported me – my team, my band, other musicians I’d met over the years – Ryder wasn’t with me, in spirit or in person. And if there was one person I’d wanted to share this night with, it was him.

  In
the past I’d have called him on my way home and talked to him about the show, but I didn’t think I could do that anymore. A part of me wondered if he’d even watched it. I didn’t want to think about that prospect. It just made me sad. A lifelong friendship ruined in the span of three minutes. It just sucked.

  “You seem a little out of it,” Laurie said then. “And you’re ignoring Dillon. It doesn’t look good, especially since this is one of your first official appearances together as a couple.”

  Laurie gestured to the nice guy who was going to be my ‘boyfriend’ for the next few months. We’d been set up, because he was a member of a newer boy band called Westside that was trying to make a name for themselves, and what better way to do that than get them in front of the cameras. Dillon was the cutest of the four guys, and even though he had a girlfriend back home in Detroit, the band’s label didn’t want the fans to know that. So they’d attached him to me to make him more appealing – at least that’s what they told me.

  Laurie had begged me to do it, and since I hadn’t been in the mindset to date anyone for real, I figured, why not. A part of me sort of thought that it might help me seem more stable and help turn around some of the negative press surrounding my last few break-ups that had made me seem weak and emotional. I’d actually been photographed crying back in December after a particularly awful scene in which I’d witnessed Whit flirting with his new super-model girlfriend a few days after we’d broken up. That had been one of the many things in a chain of events that had sent me running to Ryder in the first place.

  Since a few months had passed and I hadn’t been seen with anyone, the press was saying I still was torn up over Whit. I wasn’t. I was torn up over Ryder, but I couldn’t do anything about that. I think Laurie felt that if I was dating someone new, someone young and cute and flirty, then it would help the press see that I was over Whit. That sounded great to me since I’d long ago gotten past what he’d done to me. And Dillon was a sweet guy. He was a little star struck, but he was so in awe about everything happening around him that it was kind of cute. And I felt bad for him. He loved his girlfriend, who he’d been with for two years, but the label was against any of the guys being tied down and unavailable.