When I woke Thursday morning to twenty-three text messages and four more missed calls and two voicemails, I groaned at the thought of clearing them out, but my neurosis wouldn’t allow me to leave the little red bubbles on the corners of my apps on my cell screen.
Collier: You can’t avoid me forever.
Collier: Giselle, we need to talk.
Collier: It was just a kiss. Why won’t you answer?
Collier: Seriously, this is ridiculous.
Collier: Don’t make me show up at your house. I’m starting to feel like a stalker.
Collier: Dammit, Giselle. Answer the phone.
Each one after was more of the same, and I rolled my eyes in frustration. It was too early for this. Maybe I’d be able to figure out how to deal with my screwup in the next five miles, but I wasn’t going to be able to do it lying in bed. And I wasn’t going to try. With each message I read, and the subsequent voicemails I listened to, my motivation to do anything other than hide under the covers waned.
I found no more clarity in my run than I had in my bed. When I arrived home, sweaty and in need of a shower, I further impacted my day by breaking one of my perfectly manicured nails. My boss would be in the office, so switching polishes wasn’t a possibility, and I had no time to do it before work. It was shallow, and I knew anyone else would think it was stupid, but my imperfect fingers were just icing on the cake of my already blemished life. I was beyond frustrated with myself and my situation, and this just put me over the edge.
I had to respond to Collier, even if all I did was blow it off. Otherwise, I knew the onslaught of communication attempts would continue, and I couldn’t deal with it today…and maybe never.
Me: Sorry, West. Crashed early last night. We’ll talk soon.
His reply came through immediately, as though he’d had his phone in his hand at six in the morning, waiting for me to grace him with an answer.
Collier: When, Giselle?
Me: Soon.
The bubbles came up next to his name and then stopped. I watched as they started again and quit. But they didn’t come back, and another message never came through. I sighed with my reprieve before showering and facing another monotonous day at Stearns and Wilkes.
After work, I called Ronnie so she wouldn’t freak out. She’d heard about the escape the night before and laughed at my asinine behavior before making fun of me for twenty minutes. But once she knew I was still breathing, and I had promised to touch base with Beck and Roxie, I turned off my phone so messages wouldn’t be delivered and phone calls wouldn’t come through.
It dawned on me that might not have been the brightest idea when the pounding on my door started around eight that night. When I glanced out the second-story window, there sat Collier’s Porsche. God, I wanted to drive that car. But I refused to go downstairs to answer and hoped he’d give up sooner rather than later. My heart hurt knowing how close he was, and just opening up and letting him in could stop all of this once and for all, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I wasn’t ready to face the embarrassment or the flat-out rejection I’d receive. I stared out the window at his car, and when the racket on the door ceased, I watched as he rounded the red hood. With the driver’s side handle in his grasp, he glanced up, and I swear he saw me—looked me straight in the eyes. And I would bet money I saw the same pain in his features that reflected back at me when I looked in the mirror. My heart broke knowing I put that emotion on his face, and even more to think, he now felt the dismissal I had a week earlier.
I sighed heavily, and my shoulders slumped. This was why I never was able to make relationships work. I sucked at social interaction and clearly hurt someone I cared deeply for…but my pride was more important than soothing his soul.
Pride cometh before the fall, I just had no idea how soon the fall would take place or how hard I’d hit when I landed.
I struggled through the night not sleeping worth a shit, which made my run Friday morning even worse. My legs ached with every step, and each mile was slower than the last. I was late getting home and in the shower before work, but luckily, I would be alone in the office, so if I wasn’t there right at nine o’clock, no one would be the wiser. I grabbed my nail polish choice for the day, stuffed it into my new purse that didn’t bring me the happiness it should have, and took off out the door. At least I’d get to fix my fingers before the day was over, but that was about all I had to look forward to. Facing a weekend alone because I was unwilling to admit to my girlfriends what I’d done just didn’t appeal to me. But it didn’t make me so unhappy that I gave in, either. My stubborn streak was a mile wide.
There had been a flurry of activity when I first arrived at Stearns and Wilkes, but once I’d answered the calls, greeted the few people who stopped by to pick things up or drop them off, I was finally able to focus on my pitiful nails. I cut them all down to match the broken length, filed them, and buffed them until they were perfect, and then dug the OPI, “Pen & Pink,” from my bag.
When I tossed my purse back into the drawer, I managed to knock my bottle of water all over the desk and everything on it. I raced to the break room to grab a roll of paper towels, and just before I reached my destination, the phone rang. I swung into my boss’s office to answer it since mine was covered in liquid. I hurried to get the client off the other end, assuring him the paperwork he needed to pick up was ready and waiting. Pivoting on my heel to hang up the line, I caught a glimpse of Collier coming through the door.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
I ducked down out of sight and moved under my boss’s credenza. This was freaking fantastic. My work space was covered in water, and my nail polish sat in plain view. Huddled on the floor, I craned my neck to peer through the crack under the wood. All I could see were his feet moving around my chair. The adrenaline pumped through me, and my heartbeat echoed in my ears. The call rang at my desk and went unanswered.
The way our office was set up, each partner had their own glass door off a shared hallway, my desk sat in the entrance, and then there was another office behind mine and slightly off to the side for the partner. There were four on each side of the hall down the center and then a long walkway in the back that connected the offices with a supply room and break room for each set of four. Collier couldn’t see anyone else here and wouldn’t know the offices were joined in the back. When the phone rang again and wasn’t answered, he started moving around. Only able to see his feet, all I could do was speculate about what he was doing. That was until he called my name.
“Giselle?”
He waited for a response, likely anticipating my return to clean up the mess on my desk, but I didn’t offer one.
“Giselle, are you here?” His voice got closer as did his feet. He stood in the doorway to the office I currently used as my hideout. This was absurd.
A cell phone rang, and I realized it wasn’t mine. Then I heard West answer and start talking. I tried to keep my panting under control so he wouldn’t hear me, but whoever was on the other end of that call garnered his attention. He left while still talking. When I could no longer hear his conversation, I crawled out from under my boss’s desk, straightened my skirt and blouse, and walked out.
This day had gone from bad to worse, and it wasn’t over.
After work, I decided the safest place to go was Ronnie and Trish’s house. I didn’t tell them anything that had happened or that West had blown me up, but apparently, I didn’t have to. It seemed all my friends were conspiring against me. And while Ronnie hadn’t told anyone else that I’d kissed Collier, she hadn’t had to because Beck had filled them in on the broody mess Collier had been since Friday night, and that she knew how much he cared for me. They all seemed to conveniently stop by shortly after I had arrived, and Ronnie had spent an unusual amount of time on her phone since I’d walked through the door.
“What the hell, Ronnie? Is this like an intervention?”
“Hardly, I just sent for reinforcements.”
“For what? To stage a coup? Force me to
see Collier? What was your plan here?”
She folded her arms across her chest and under her boobs, a move she’d perfected over the years to get what she wanted from both sexes, but that shit didn’t work with me. I was immune to the power of her DDs.
“To show you how many people love you and have your back. And if you fall in this mess, just how much support you’ll have to catch you.”
I appreciated her sentiment and her concern, but I had to deal with this on my own terms. My posse couldn’t fix it for me. After much cajoling, Beck, Stella, Roma, Ronnie, Trish, Roxie, and Amy finally agreed to let me come to them when I needed it. And for right now, to stay out of it. We ended up with Chinese takeout scattered all over the kitchen, wine bottles empty on every counter, and laughter filling the air. Regardless of what happened with Collier, I loved these women, even if I hated that they butted in.
12
After a night with my girls, I felt better than I had in a week. I wasn’t any closer to a solution to my Collier issue, but at least I knew I wasn’t alone. I had seven women who loved me and wanted me to be happy. With that thought in mind, I’d gotten up and laced my tennis shoes to go out for my morning run. It was the best workout I’d had all week. I was finally back on my game and didn’t ache when I rounded the corner to my house.
The instant my eyes locked with his, I knew my time avoiding the situation had come to an end. I was stuck. There, on my front porch, sat a devastated-looking Collier. The sun had just started to rise, and it was far too early to deal with this, but the time had finally come that I could no longer avoid it. I slowed my approach, stunned that he’d waited for me, unsure of when I’d return. While walking up the driveway, I pulled the buds from my ears, and then sat down next to him on the steps. I forced my thoughts away from the way I looked and probably smelled to focus on him.
I sighed heavily and then said, “Hi.”
He didn’t look over at me when he echoed my sentiment, so I waited for him to speak. When nothing came, I finally asked what he was doing here.
“You didn’t give me much choice. I’ve tried to call, text, and came by your office, but you’re avoiding me. And I need to know what happened last weekend.”
“So you showed up at my house on a Saturday morning to force me to chat?”
“Pretty much.”
I nodded slowly but didn’t give him any answers.
“So?”
The time had come. I was about to lay it all on the line and had no idea what would come of my deception, but I figured one way or another, it would resolve itself by the time he got up.
“I kissed you, and you didn’t respond. What more do you need to know?”
“Why?”
“Why, what? Why did I kiss you?”
He turned his head and stared me straight in the eyes—beyond a surface-level glance. Something flashed in them, but I couldn’t read what it was. His face went blank, void of emotion. When he nodded, I just shrugged. Brilliant, Giselle—way to take the bull by the horns.
“Do you do that to a lot of men?” He was hurt. Disappointed in me.
“Truthfully?”
“Well, yeah. I’m not interested in hearing you lie to me.”
“I’ve been known to kiss a few men in my time.”
“So you’re bisexual?”
I couldn’t bear to face him when I admitted this, and I wasn’t going to beat around the bush anymore. Staring at my knees bent in front of me, I said, “No. I’m not bisexual—”
“So what, you mess with men for fun? Jesus, Giselle. That’s fucked up. I’d never do that shit to you. I’d never lead you on like that.”
“I didn’t lead you on, Collier.” My voice rose in anger, and I lifted my head to stare him straight in the eye. “I’m straight. Always have been.” I hadn’t intended to blurt that out, and certainly not with as much force. I had wanted to ease into it, tell him how I got to the point I was at, but my temper hadn’t allowed that.
“Does my sister know? What about your friends? The girls you’ve dated? How the hell can you say you’re straight?”
“Because I am. I’ve never done anything more than kiss a woman.” My frustration mounted, but I didn’t know how to reel in the anxiety that drove my words. “I like men.”
“How is that possible? All your friends are lesbians. You’ve told me about your dates since we met and how bad they’ve been. And it’s all been with women. So enlighten me as to how you’re suddenly heterosexual.”
I wrapped my hands around the back of my neck and tried to ease the tension by massaging the muscles that had contracted since this conversation started. My head tipped, and I rolled my shoulders with my eyes closed. When I finally opened them, Collier’s wounded heart glistened in his gaze. And I knew…there was no way this would end well.
“I was married…to a man. He cheated on me with the woman I told you about that I ran into at the restaurant.”
“So you lied to me about the ex being a woman?”
“No, you assumed it was a woman, and I didn’t correct you, but I never said it was a man or a woman. I simply said it was my ex.”
“It’s a lie just the same.”
He was right, and I knew it, but this was his chance to get the information he swore he wanted, so he could either shut up and listen, or I would shut down. “Do you want the story or not, Collier? It’s a little early in the morning for this shit.” I didn’t have a right to bite at him, but my emotion and embarrassment drove my irritation.
“Yeah.” He turned to face me and leaned up against the stair railing.
“I swore after the nastiest divorce in history that I was done with commitment. I had great friends and didn’t need a guy to complete my life. So I used men the way he’d used me, but I was honest about it. I told them I wasn’t interested in a relationship—I didn’t want anything more than something physical. I figured men did it all the time, and as long as I was safe about it, there was no reason a woman couldn’t pursue her sexuality the same way. And I did.”
“So what changed?”
“Justin.”
He looked at me quizzically, so I broke it down for him. I told him about the string of horrible dates with men that ended with Justin creating urine art all over my walls and that after that night, I decided I was done with the opposite sex. And I chose to give women a shot since my heterosexual relationships had flopped…crashed and burned…exploded in a blaze of glory.
“You know you can’t just choose to be gay, right?”
I rolled my eyes having heard the same thing a hundred times from the lesbians in my life. “Yes. I get that now, but at the time, it seemed like a logical choice.”
“Chasing women because men hadn’t treated you well seemed logical?”
“Look, that’s what happened. My first date was with your sister. It went really well. We had a great time. Our second date was the night we met at your house, and it did not go the way the previous one had.”
“But you said you never slept with my sister.”
“I didn’t. I never touched your sister, unless you count her holding my hand and kissing me on the cheek when we left the bar as an intimate touch. But I have to tell you, Ronnie has done that a thousand times, and I can assure you there is no sexual tension there.”
I recounted each of my dates with the same sex and how each had fallen short, most of which he already knew from the countless conversations we’d had, but I wanted him to have a timeline of events.
“Look, Collier. I don’t know when it happened or how, but somewhere along the way, you let me in. We got to know each other without anything between us because you thought I wasn’t available, and it was safe. But in the process of growing our friendship, something shifted inside me. Every once in a while, I’d catch you looking at me like you longed for me, and I fought the urge to return the gaze. Or your sister would comment about my being the best thing that had happened to you, as though she knew you were into me, too. And then you took
me driving and didn’t bitch at me for having to wait while I got dressed or my house being a mess. You never judged me or told me I was broken. You didn’t care that I was into cars and loved to paint my nails. You were just you. And somewhere along the way, I fell.”
“You fell?”
“Yes. I did. Hard. And Friday night, I’d had too much to drink, and you were there like you always are. When I turned around, I swear I thought I saw the emotion I felt written all over your face. I shouldn’t have done it. I shouldn’t have kissed you. It was impulsive and reckless, and I just hope it didn’t cost me our friendship.”
He totally glossed over my heartfelt confession, even if it wasn’t poetry. “So you’ve lied to me since the day we met? You allowed me to believe things about you that weren’t true? You saw glimpses of how you thought I felt, and it never occurred to you to come talk to me? To tell me the truth? You paraded around in front of my friends half-dressed, and hung out with us like you were one of the guys, and every bit of it was deceptive.”
“Jesus, Collier. Put yourself in my shoes. How was I supposed to do that? Just waltz in your door and lay it on you? Or would it have been better if I’d tried to seduce you when I was in your home? Or maybe I could have spread my legs for your friends so you could see I dig cock. Please, tell me how I could have approached this better. Because I’ve racked my brain for months trying to find an answer.”
“Months? You’ve had feelings for me for months and didn’t tell me?”
“I didn’t tell anyone. What difference does it make, Collier? Clearly, I misread the signs. I’ve gotten more of a response from my grandmother when I kissed her than I did from you at Bar None.”
“Whoa, you can’t blame this on me. Regardless of my feelings, there was no way I would have shared those with you believing you were into women. Get real. That was on you. And my lack of response was out of shock, not how I felt. Then you took off and refused to talk. I’ve spent the better part of the last week chasing you down when, in fact, you should have been chasing me.”
Girl Crush Page 17
