by Elle Harte
If you knew who I was, if you truly knew the things that I’d done then you would know that this is not me. You would know that I don’t usually go around looking for women. I don’t have to since they all come to me. I don’t have the time or the desire to do things like that. The most time I’ve ever spent on a girl was when my high school girlfriend was in the hospital and I had to sit with her for a few hours so she would think I wasn’t a jerk and continue to sleep with me. But that was a different time and since then I’ve managed to find better and less tedious ways to keep having all the sex I want.
I’m no angel and I don’t want one. What I want is a devil whose crazy matches mine.
I want love that makes you question everything and forces you to face your desire. A love that hits you hard and leaves you breathless.
Like her.
I wanted to be there while she sorted through her misery and found her way to happiness, hell I wanted to be the one to bring that happiness to her. But I couldn’t do any of that without scaring her off because regardless of what I felt for her, there were rules to be followed, protocol to be maintained and I hated it but that was life.
If she knew what she meant to me, how much I wanted her, that I was dying to take her pain and make it my own she wouldn’t have been so unhappy.
There was no time to waste. When people stayed too long in abject misery, they were bound to have trouble finding their way back and that’s not what I wanted for her. I wanted her to live every moment like it was going to bring her fresh joy.
I wanted her to live each day with the freedom of knowing that happiness exists.
And I won’t let some heartless pig decide her future.
Most people underestimate me when it comes to dealing with pigs. They don’t know my history or my potential for ruining lives because most people when they see me, see what they want to see. They project whatever version they have of me and fail to look beyond their own prejudices. I become their ultimate fantasy or their ultimate villain. And I’m happy playing both parts. I’m happy being the person they can direct their anger at and I’m happy being the one who can give them hope. You should see the way the media talks about me sometimes, it’s almost like I don’t exist beyond their rampant imaginations.
As though I don’t exist beyond what they think of me. As though it doesn’t matter what happens to me so long as they get what they want.
They made me feel invisible. And then it occurred to me that being invisible wasn’t such a bad thing. That if I played my cards right I could use it to my advantage; and until today, I was fine with it. I was okay with all the ridiculous lies and half-truths they spread about me.
Until today.
She looked my way and I was afraid she could see right through me. My silent thoughts became cluttered and obnoxious.
There was still so much pain in her eyes.
I could tell the large bag within which she was carrying her belongings was becoming heavier as time passed. Her whole world contained in a pathetic bag—I could whisk her away to spend the night in Paris, make her forget every reason of her unhappiness in the span of one night but I knew she wouldn’t let go of the baggage.
All because of one cruel, weak man.
It angered me to think that no matter how much she hated him, it wouldn’t be easy for her to let go because that was the kind of person she was and she deserved a man who wouldn’t play with her heart.
But today she was in misery. Pain is funny that way. There was no telling when it would leave her and sometimes people got stuck with it for life and while I hoped that wasn’t her, it didn’t matter to me. I may not have been able to take her pain away just yet but at least I could take care of her.
I hoped she wasn’t going to let her past get in the way of her future, and I hoped she wasn’t going to be too broken to give life a chance.
Because I wanted to continue to not feel invisible, and she was the only person who made me feel like I was more than my image.
There was a man inside me waiting for the right girl to get through to my heart.
I knew she was my only chance at salvation.
So, I was going to do what I could and see if she was willing to give me a few minutes of her time, and if I was lucky enough, allowed me to comfort her.
Blayne
The sky was furiously raining down on me.
It wasn’t enough that I was destitute, forsaken in this gloomy, forgotten place where no one knew me and no one cared.
I walked out on him. After two years of saying over and over that I should do it, I finally found the nerve. And I was trembling, not from the cold but from the sheer emotion of it. Okay, so maybe the cold had a little to do with it.
I couldn’t stop crying but the rain washed away all evidence of my solitary tears. I hadn’t thought this through, I knew I had to leave, so why was I crying if I was so sure about leaving? Why was I standing out here, stranded and lost, when I was certain I hadn’t made a mistake?
Because time makes you dependent on things you shouldn’t have gotten addicted to in the first place. It even makes you addicted to insult and misery, and a person you know never cared about you to begin with.
“Hey,” I heard someone calling out, his voice piercing through the rain and my wayward thoughts. I turned to find a pair of blue eyes staring back at me. He was young, couldn’t have been more than thirty, and tall. He was wearing a business suit and carried a cigarette in one hand that he stifled out before speaking. “If you stand here crying like this, someone will give you more reason to be unhappy.”
“None of your business,” I said, a little upset that he had been watching me. That is not protocol. When someone makes a fool of themselves by crying in the middle of the street, you don’t make them aware of it. Why couldn’t he have done what the rest of the world was successfully doing? Pretend nothing was happening and get a move on. This wasn’t the time to be with someone like him. Was it odd that he looked like somebody I knew? There was something about his face that was familiar to me and I was confident I had seen him somewhere before. But when he didn’t give any introduction that reminded me of some prior meeting, I chalked it down to my barely functioning brain. Still, I felt like there was something I needed to remember…
“Just to be clear,” he said. “Do you have a problem with ridiculously hot men? Or is it the entire male population you’re mad at?”
“Do they all fall for it?”
“Excuse me?”
“The trashy women that you go out with,” I said. “Do they all fall for this cheesy, annoyingly unoriginal, catch-penny humor?”
“Right, because your disdain for all things men is so original.”
This is so weird. Usually, it’s me who wins the banter war. Had I finally met my match? They called me the sarcasm expert in college and in school I was captain of the debate team, and our house continually won when I was the leader. But why was I thinking about all that now? Was I going crazy now too? Would they have to lock me up somewhere if I was nuts? Would I have a place to live then? I couldn’t tell if my brain was trying to use humor to survive this situation, and if I was still in shock. But there was something unusual about him that stopped me from leaving. It was obvious he was trying to extend a friendly hand, it was probably a gesture of random kindness like we humans tend to do sometimes. We help others because sometimes it’s good to feel needed. It does feel good to stop and do something that matters.
“Let me buy you a drink,” he said. “How bad could it be?”
“Judging by what I’m experiencing now, I’d say there’s a good chance it would be incredibly boring.”
“Why would it be boring?”
“Because I happen to have what they call ‘taste.'”
“Can’t argue with that,” he glanced at my dress. “Is that a Versace?”
“A man who knows his girlfriend’s designer labels. I’m impressed.”
“I don’t have girlfriends. Just girls.”
/> “I stand corrected.”
“Is that from their new SOAK IT collection?”
“Of course not, it came presoaked.”
He grinned and walked up to me. “I would give you a hand with the bags but I think you might think I was stealing them.”
He was suddenly in my space and it made me uncomfortable. I was about to move away from him, when he gestured to the bistro. “Let me buy you a drink.”
“That whole subtle messages thing doesn’t really work on you, does it?”
“Were you being subtle right now?”
“Stop doing that!”
“Doing what?”
“This… this witty thing… stop it!”
“So, you admit I’m witty?”
“No. I’m saying you’re trying to be!”
“I don’t see the problem unless,” he paused and said in a low voice. “It’s turning you on.”
I knew what I needed to do. More accurately, I knew what was supposed to do. I was supposed to run as far away from this man as physically possible. I had to get far away from those blue eyes and I needed to think about what I was going to do now. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Those eyes were staring right into my soul and I was weak, defenseless, and incapable of standing up to their deceitful allure.
“It’s just drinks,” he said. “This isn’t even a bar. Do you think I’m going to roofie your Kung Po?”
“I don’t even know your name,” I realized when I caught myself staring into those eyes and pulled away at last.
He held out his hand for me to shake. “Chase Cooper.”
Despite myself, I smiled and took his hand, tried to give it a friendly shake but it still raised the most unimaginable kind of sparks. He wouldn’t let go until I pulled away. “Blayne,” I introduced myself, with my real name, I noticed too late. “Blayne Worthington.”
“Do you feel better now that we have been formally introduced?”
“Why do I feel like I’ve seen you somewhere?” I finally asked the question that had been bothering me all this time, thinking that maybe he could ease my worry. But in response, I got a vague answer that didn’t hide his discomfort too well. “Does it matter who I am?” he said in a tone that was different from the one he had been using all that time. “So, what if I was the Zodiac, Blayne, we’re just having drinks!”
Well he had a point. Besides, I was a stranger and if he had asked me anything more personal than my name, I would have had the same reaction. Guess we were both running away from something.
It was strange but unexpectedly, I didn’t feel so defunct. I didn’t think that feeling would ever go away, not in a million years let alone in a mere few minutes of meeting him.
I didn’t feel like I was some forgotten old spirit left to wander the excruciatingly endless eternity. I felt alive. My brain was bursting with purposeful energy and I felt like someone who had been shown the right away after being lost for forever and a day.
“Blayne?” hearing my name from his mouth was a special treat. The way he said it, every high, each low was seared in my brain. The time that we shared that night was something that might never have happened if it wasn’t for him. But then again, it wouldn’t have happened if Nick hadn’t done what he did… the thought of Nick yanked me back to reality and I stepped away from him.
“What’s the big deal,” he said. “We’re both in need of a drink. Instead of being out here in the cold, wouldn’t it be better to be unhappy indoors? I can’t be worse than all the psychos you might find out here.”
Even with the rain dripping down on him he looked flawless, like some vision right out of a sixteenth century romance novel. I don’t know if it was the fact that he was there amidst all my heartbreak or if it was my need to feel like I wasn’t alone, but I found myself agreeing with him.
Okay, so those big blue eyes were more gorgeous than you think and the face they happened to be sitting on was chiseled out so well, it may as well have been carved in stone. He had the kind of smile that barely managed to conceal his mischief, and he carried the same playful lilt in his voice. And despite the commanding authority of his eyes, there was something oddly pleasant about that smile.
I glanced at the bistro we were to be standing right next to, knowing that having alcohol might not be in my best interests. “I guess I could go for some coffee.”
When we set foot inside the Twin Wok Palace I realized with more force just how late it was and how it might have been a bad idea to walk out now, but if I hadn’t done it then, I probably wouldn’t have done it for another century.
No regrets, I kept telling myself.
When we were at the entrance, Chase held the door open. It wasn’t something I was used to with Nick. I don’t think anyone had ever done that for me. It was oddly charming. But so was everything about this man.
The place was empty, except for a group of friends sitting in a booth and laughing loudly at one another’s jokes. I had a feeling they were all a bit drunk as evidenced by the empty beer bottles on their table. Chase gave them a disapproving look and turned his attention to the server. He spoke to her in Chinese and she smiled at us both and led us to one of the best places right next to the window. We could enjoy the view of the outside, while sitting cozily indoors. I guess there was something exciting about having to share a table with a stranger. A smoking hot stranger, to be accurate. I hoped Chase was bad at picking up vibes but I sincerely doubted that.
Chase pulled out my chair for me leaving me completely fazed. I tried not to dwell on the butterflies holding cheerleading tryouts in my belly. The dimly lit cozy bistro was the absolute worst for trying not to be so enamored by a devastatingly hot, possibly insane guy who was looking at you as though he was undressing you with his gaze.
Now that we were inside, I was glad I took up on his offer. When the server arrived, Chase did the whole flirt and smile bit again and of course he knew Mandarin, and of course he ordered for the both of us without even consulting me. I barely caught the words thank you and I like you and by then it was already too late. The woman had disappeared. I only realized what had happened when the server was gone and I was left alone with him. But I wanted to sit there and enjoy the pleasant warmth. It was a whole lot better than being outside in the dreadful weather.
Within moments, the server came back and poured me a glass of sparkling water. And set down a bottle of white wine down in front of us. Chase thanked her and his attention was back to me and my face. It had been a while since a non-pervert had looked at me that way. I knew I was blushing but I tried to ignore it. Let him think whatever he wants. After tonight, I won’t be seeing him anyway. It didn’t make a difference what he thought I was thinking about him. I tried to smile and be happy, but the fact that I was still facing homelessness was not the kind of thing that can go away with a few jokes. It was a looming possibility, an annoying question for which I had no answer. The way I’d lived my life was an example for people. I had done everything I was told, pretty much, but I was starting to realize that it doesn’t matter in the end because you’re the only one who can suffer through your pain. That everyone who ever promised you happiness and a steady future, clearly knew nothing.
I knew it was a bad idea, but I grabbed myself a glass and set it down in front of me. Chase didn’t laugh or make a joke about it. He just let me have this tiny bit of pleasure. The wine was exceptional. Too good to even make a comment coherently after the way it made me feel.
“I’ve never been here before, so I was totally winging it,” he said. “But I think I did pretty good, considering.”
“Do you need to be told every five seconds that you’re great?”
He had a smug smile on his face. “It doesn’t hurt.”
“I hate complacent men.” I don’t know why I said that. It sort of burst through my chest and when the words were out there was no way to take them back. So, I decided to stand by my statement.
“I’m not complacent, just confident.”
“Let me guess,” he said. “Philosophy major.”
I shook my head. “I went to law school.”
He was surprised. “Really?”
The disappointment was evident in my face. “Yes.”
“Then why didn’t you practice?”
“Why are you here stranded and looking like a lost puppy instead of being in a respectable law firm and on the track to being Junior partner?”
There was a pause. I watched him and those eyes, smoldering, and they were still focused on me. “Can I ask you something?”
“Is it going to be about what I was doing crying out there?”
“Maybe.”
“Then, no.”
“Here’s the thing,” he said. “I am a total stranger. And total strangers have privileges. You can tell me because I don’t know you and you have nothing to be afraid of.”
Yeah right. I should just tell him that I walked out on my fiancé Nick, the person with whom I spent the past five years. I should tell him that I was twenty-four and didn’t have a clue what I was going to do. I should tell him everything that went down that night, things that I hadn’t been able to face myself, so how could I possibly tell him? I had no intention of offloading this on someone I barely knew.
“I think I’ll pass.”
He was discernably disappointed. Even in the bad light of the restaurant he was strikingly handsome. Most of the women were constantly flirting with him. But he was ignoring them. Everyone but me. “Did I say something to offend you?”
“Listen,” I was trying to be polite. “I appreciate your coming up to me. I know it was a gesture of kindness, but you don’t have to stick around. I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.”
“That’s okay,” he said, smiling again. “I’m not doing you a public service, you know? I’m here because I want to be here.”
