by Eva Luxe
Chapter 18
Liam
Not a single day has gone by that I haven’t spent most of it talking, texting, or being with Hazel. It’s perfect. Never in my life have I been able to have such a relationship where I can not only be myself, despite being a fake fiancé, but I can also enjoy my partner’s true self. Even after last week’s random parent visit, Hazel and I have been basically inseparable.
And thank goodness I have someone like Hazel on a day like today. I finally have my big audition, for a starring role in a movie. It’s for the role of the Starbucks barista I was studying for on the day Hazel and I met, just like every day since I found out about the opening.
The audition is at four, pretty late in the day for whatever reason, and this really messes with my plan. I was hoping it would be over lunch time as I wanted to have Hazel come with me to the audition and wait for me so she could help me either celebrate getting the part or commiserate over the loss. Of course, there’s always the very likely possibility that they don’t even tell me if I get the part for days.
But the audition being at four means that Hazel might not be able to join me. She is supposed to be at work until five, and it doesn’t seem right to ask her to leave early. Even if it wouldn’t be a problem for her job, I’m sure that after a long day of legal work, the last thing she’d want to do is trudge along with me to an audition, only to wait outside to see how it goes.
When I call Hazel and give her all the details, though, she agrees to join me without giving it a second thought. She says she has some personal leave time available she’ll put in for so she can leave work a couple hours early. I assure her over and over that she doesn’t have to come with me if she feels too tired and doesn’t have the energy, but she cuts me off with a quick “hush.”
“What kind of fake fiancée or real girlfriend would I be if I’m wasn’t there for your big break,” she jokes. God, how I love her.
I meet Hazel in downtown Brooklyn, a few blocks from where the audition is being held. I’m very visibly nervous but Hazel keeps her hand flat on my back while I wait to be called in.
“You’ll do great,” she says, sounding very confident. “I just know it.”
“Yeah, I’ll do great because I have you here with me and you’re my lucky charm,” I tell her.
“Nope. You’re my lucky charm,” she insists. “You’re the one who’s Irish. My Irish good luck charm.”
“How about we just agree that we’re both each others’ lucky charms?” I ask her.
“Deal,” she says.
The smile she flashes at me puts me at ease. I run the lines through my head over and over, hoping to have them burned into my brain.
Finally, the moment arrives. The casting director opens the door and calls me in. Hazel flashes me a thumbs up sign—along with her charming grin one last time—and I tell myself I’m as ready as I’ll ever be. For this audition. For this relationship. For life in general. This is what I’d come to the States for, and my dream was about to be fulfilled, thanks in large part to Hazel, my fake fiancée, real girlfriend, and lucky charm.
I wish I could explain what happens when the door closes behind me, but in all honesty, I become a different person. When I walk back out to the room Hazel is waiting in, I’m being congratulated by the casting director and told that I’ll get a call in a couple of days.
As we walk out of the building, I ask Hazel how long I’d been in there.
“Seven minutes.”
Seven minutes. In that short amount of time, I was able to show off what an amazing actor I can be. That, or they didn’t need to see much of my acting chops because all the other candidates were so bad, but, due to how enthusiastic the casting director was, I’m going to go ahead and think positively and stroke my ego here.
“I’ve never been hired that quickly for anything in my life! Does that normally even happen?” I shout, as I prance down the sidewalk.
“I don’t know,” Hazel says. “You tell me. You’re the one with the auditioning experience.”
“It’s certainly never happened for me before,” I tell her, doing a little jig.
Hazel laughs at how childishly giddy I look, and then she holds me tight. As I feel her arms tighten around me, I have the sense that Hazel somehow really did have something to do with me getting the part. I’m not normally one for superstition, but the one thing that makes this audition different than all of the ones I’ve done before is that Hazel was around for this one.
“Hazel. You really are my lucky charm.”
She blushes and tries convincing me that there’s no such thing as good luck, but I know good luck when it happens and there’s no denying that Hazel is my good luck charm. I’d been wanting this role for so long, but it wasn’t the first role I’d wanted so badly. Only after I’d met her was I able to do get it.
“Not only that,” I add, “You're far more beautiful than any rabbit’s foot or horseshoe.”
Once again, she blushes and leans close to me.
“Guess you'll need me to be at your side at all times, huh,” she suggests.
“I guess I do.”
I lean in to kiss her and her lips meet mine so eagerly that I know we’re sealing the deal.
Chapter 19
Hazel
Another day at the offices of Horowitz and Chao concludes unceremoniously. This place really does suck the life out of a person. Me, at least. I don’t understand how there are people here who have been here for almost a decade and have yet to run out of the office for good one day, never to be seen or heard from again.
One of the few things that make the day bearable is getting to chat with my favorite co-workers on the way out of the labyrinthine hallways. Lyssa and her friend Suzanne usually join me on our walk out. After having a hell of a “best friend” in Brittany, I’ve enjoyed hanging out with Lyssa and Suzy, my new friends, who seem much more real and good than Brittany ever did. Today, they seem to be less than enthused about meeting me though.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
They're very hesitant to answer me, making me feel a bit uneasy and question whether or not I even want to know.
Lyssa finally answers. “It’s Scott. He’s been calling all day apparently, looking for Brittany.”
“What, is she ignoring him or something?” I ponder aloud.
Suzanne answers me this time. “Actually, she didn’t show up to work today.”
Cheaters tend to attract cheaters. And considering how Brittany acted when she first met Liam, I don’t think it’s too far fetched to think that while Scott is worrying about where she is, she’s having one or many alpha male type guys deep inside of her, filling her holes with some warm, white fluids, in a way that non- alpha male type Scott really can’t. It’s one of Scott’s biggest fears, I’m sure. When I voice this theory to Lyssa and Suzanne, they laugh but say they’re pretty sure that I’m not too far off.
When we turn the corner to the lobby, we’re stopped by Scott himself. He’s a mess. He’s clearly spent the last few hours crying, smells as though as he hasn’t showered, and his clothes look so ill-fitting on him, not to mention downright mix-matched, that it’s obvious that he just put on whatever clothes were nearest to him before heading out.
“You two bitches,” he says, referring to Lyssa and Suzanne, “Go home. Hazel and I need to talk."
“Scott!” I chastise him, but Lyssa and Suzanne are already skedaddling out of there, apparently not caring what kind of insulting name he just called them.
I can’t blame them for getting the heck out of here since the situation seems sure to be volatile, but I do wish they hadn’t left me alone with him. I know they thought I’d follow them, which would be the wise thing to do, but I can’t seem to stop watching the train wreck which is Scott breaking down in front of me.
“Where is Brittany?” Scott demands.
“How in the hell should I know?” I sneer at him.
“You two are best friends! You have to kn
ow where she is,” he hisses.
I scoff at him. He’s in worse shape than I thought, and that’s saying a lot. “Scott Withers, where have you been for the last seven months? Brittany and I haven’t been friends since I caught you fucking her on my desk!”
The fact that I just reminded him of our breakup sends him somewhere dark. “Listen, you fat cunt. You tell me where Brittany is or I’m telling everyone in this office about your sham engagement.”
He roars laughter like some sort of mad scientist and then gets closer to me. “They don’t know, do they? I wonder why that would be. Wouldn’t you make a big announcement to the office or ask for vacation time for when the wedding is?”
I stutter as I try to explain myself. “We haven’t picked out a date yet s-s-s-o—”
“Oh, don’t give me that,” he whispers sharply. “I know how you females are. The second a guy proposes, all you can think about is having your little fairy tale wedding. But not you, Hazel? You're the one woman on Earth who hasn’t bored everyone to death going on about how perfect your wedding is going to be? Or how beautiful you're going to look splitting the seams of a dress that’s too small for you?”
He’s worse than Brittany. Brittany will go behind my back to hurt me, or make snide passive aggressive or snotty remarks to bully me, but Scott has clearly lost it. He’s saying everything he knows will hurt me. And he doesn’t stop there.
“I bet you haven’t even told anyone about your precious Liam,” he continues. “I gotta know. Is he a gigolo? Some guy from Craigslist? How much are you paying him to act as if you’re not out of his league? I’ve actually been wondering how many actually attractive chicks he has to fuck to get the thought of kissing you out of his head. I mean, he probably gets some fine ass. I’m not gay, but I know a hot dude when I see one. And he’s much too hot to be with someone like you.”
Tears start to well up in my eyes. I can’t fight it. I’ve never thought about it, but I’ve been cheated on once. Isn’t it entirely possible that Liam could be seeing someone other than me when I’m at work?
“Hazel, look, I’ve been thinking about it. Brittany is a big fucking whore. And even with that said, I think you're better at fucking. And sucking. Brittany lets me fuck her in the ass, but that can’t compare to how good your mouth feels. Let’s fool around. Dump that Liam guy. It’s fucked up that you're still making him hang out with you. You got Brittany to buy your bullshit, isn’t that all you needed him for?”
I no longer know what to think. Scott is angry and irrational right now and I know I shouldn’t listen to a word he says. But he’s always known how to push my buttons and he’s gone right for my insecurities. I’ve only known Liam for under two weeks, so, I really don’t know much about him.
Scott goes on to ride this train of thought further. “He’s just playing a part. A part he’s clearly tired of playing. It’s obvious. He even mentioned it at the party. He told me that being with you has been a lot to handle. Who knows if he’s talking about your weight or personality, but that’s what he said.”
“When?” I ask, although I know I shouldn’t listen to a word he’s saying.
“When you were in the bathroom,” he says, triumphantly.
He’s only trying to hurt me, I know this, but there’s something about what he’s saying that could have some truth to it. And the fact that he’s reciting something he’s saying Liam said at the party makes me question this further.
If I recall correctly, there was a time when Liam and Scott were talking near the fridge in the kitchen, until I came out of the bathroom and Liam and I left the party. There aren’t a lot of ways one could misinterpret the phrase “she’s been a lot to handle.” After everything I’d been through, the last thought I want running through my head is that I’ve wasted time getting involved with an Irish hunk who could be going all around New York, having sex with every woman he runs into in coffee shops.
“Leave me alone, Scott,” I say through gritted teeth. “I’m going home.”
I push him out of my way and shoot out through the double doors at the front of the building. I hear Scott following me closely, but decide to just ignore him. His footsteps echo mine as I hurry to the subway station until I run into, who else, Liam.
“Hey, hon,” he says warmly, as he moves towards me. “Thought I’d surprise ya. How would you like to—”
He stops talking as he notices Scott coming up behind me. However, when Scott notices Liam, he quickly scurries away in the other direction without saying a word. He’s always been such a wimp. He can hurt me but take off when confronted by a bigger man.
Baffled by the tears now streaming down my face and the appearance/disappearance of Scott, Liam grabs me by the arms and asks me what’s going on. Nothing can stop my flow of emotions now.
“You don’t have to be with me if you’re not interested in anything but sex.”
He seems baffled by my statement, but I continue. “You don’t have to keep seeing me if you don’t want. I just needed you for the coffee shop. That’s it. The party was your idea.”
I try to head into the subway station, but he blocks the entrance. “What in the bloody hell has gotten into you, Hazel? What do you mean I don’t have to keep seeing you?”
“You don’t have to keep pretending that you like me,” I shout at him. “You can do much better. And you probably already are. I get that this is just another acting job for you.”
Liam is so taken aback by my claim that I’m able to push past him and get into station. I hurriedly run down the steps and to a waiting train.
I want to tell him it’s over, but there’s no way I’ll be able to do that with all the tears running down my face and a strong flow of mucus following very closely behind.
I can’t text him. Call him. Or see him. But if he seeks me out further, I’ll tell him then and there. I can’t go on like this. I was an idiot for falling for him.
Chapter 20
Hazel
How much heartbreak can I possibly live through? I already feel the heartbreak I promised myself I wouldn’t let myself suffer through again. Scott and Brittany broke my heart in a way that not only hurt, but is unavoidable in my everyday workspace. And now I find out Liam broke my heart with the little chat he had with Scott.
I don’t want to have false hope, but I can’t help wondering about some things. If Liam found me hard to handle, why did he ever suggest going to the housewarming party with me in the first place? And why did he keep seeing me? Sure, we had hot sex but also good conversations and lots of feelings.
I don’t know what to believe any more. I don’t to open my heart out, just to get stomped on. And I also don’t want to close it off and never experience love. Love like I thought I had found with Liam.
All of these thoughts run through my mind when I get home. I tear through my living room and lock myself in my room. I push every piece of furniture as close to the walls as possible and set up my easel right in the middle of my space and get out some of my paint. No brushes, though. This is going to be an animalistic performance of pure heartbreak, rage, and artistic talent.
I make large, sweeping motions with my arms, as paint drips from my fingertips and splatters all over the easel. Red. Red all over in different shades. It’s not long before my painting starts to take form.
The figure that emerges is Liam.
It’s Liam with red paint, but it’s not one of my usual angry paintings or drawings. He’s not being impaled or hanged, or anything of the like. It’s just a nice, red painting of a semi-nude Liam. His big cock is featured prominently in the form of a bulge underneath the towel he’s half wearing in the picture.
It’s going to be a while before I’m able to stop thinking about him. Or, apparently, painting him.
The next morning, I find myself full of regret. One of my best paintings in months is of a man I’m currently avoiding so as to not fight with him. But he’s been texting me. It’s been almost non-stop since I left him in the parkin
g lot of the offices of Horowitz and Chao.
I haven’t trusted myself not to respond, so, I’ve resorted to turning my phone off completely. My roommate has been blasting the volume from the living room TV and all the movies she’s watched today so far are romantic comedies: the bane of my existence at the moment.
Due to my current state, I decide that I’m unfit to work and call in sick. I have to turn my phone back on, but I quickly fake a cough well enough to not get hounded by my manager and turn the phone back off before the vibration from the incoming texts from Liam slow my phone down.
From here on, it’s just me and my thoughts. My intrusive thoughts that keep the name “Liam McSteele” appearing in my mind’s eye. It’s impossible to tell if I even want to stop thinking about him.
