by Hall, Marie
“At least you’re honest.” Tipping his cup, he takes another sip.
“Javier had fun yesterday.”
“Good. That’s good.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to apologize again, to ask him if maybe we can try to be friends again and wipe the slate clean of last night, but the girl who’d been with him earlier picks that moment to return, plopping down onto his lap and circling his neck with her arm. His hand lands on her knee, a familiar looking gesture, and I hate it.
I can’t stop glaring at his hand, wishing he’d move it, wishing she’d get off him. Blinking my eyes closed, I tell myself this is for the best, but that thought hurts like hell. For a second I’d forgotten my own rules.
Thought I could actually be friends with him. Maybe with another guy, but not Ryan, because Ryan’s too dangerous, makes me feel scary, unbelievable things. He’s the fire that consumes, will shatter all my defenses. I don’t know how I know that, I just do.
The girl’s whispering in his ear again, pressing her body tight to his (like she’s done it before and maybe she has) and I want to vomit as the beer takes that moment to remind drinking on an empty stomach is a bad idea. Ryan though, he’s looking at me with a question in his eyes.
But I can’t talk, not with that girl sitting there looking all adorable and needy, so I lift my cup and jiggle it.
“Need a refill.”
He looks like he wants to say more, but he doesn’t stop me and I don’t look back, because I feel like an idiot and a fool. Blinking back the tears and hoping I don’t do something as stupid like cry about a guy I’m not dating and never will making out with some blond bimbo right in front of me, Ryan can touch whoever he wants.
Working myself up to a really good pity party, I don’t see Frankie until he’s right in front of me.
He holds the spout of the kegger out to me. “Hey sexy. Been watching you tonight,” his hot breath fans the shell of my ear.
Then he claps his large hand on my ass and yanks me into him, kissing me.
And I should push him back, tell him get a life, but I’m raw and insecure and know Ryan’s watching and somewhere ugly inside me I want to know he’s as jealous as I am.
So I kiss Frankie back.
It isn’t long or pleasant, he’s drunk off his ass and the fumes are making me dizzy, but I make it look as good as I can, even going so far as to thread my fingers through his slick curls. A shivery moan spills from his lips and that sound is like a slap in the face, I push him back.
Stumbling, his lashes flutter and a breathless whimper whooshes from his lungs as he laughs. And the awful realization is this, I’ve become just another notch in his belt.
Claps and jeers surround us and all I want to do is disappear.
I’m not this girl-- this petty, ugly girl who does things to make guys jealous. It’s mean and selfish. I feel his stare on me, know if I look I’ll see the questions, maybe even the hurt.
Why did I do that?
Ashamed of myself, I wipe my mouth and toss the cup into the garbage, deciding to wait for Monique outside.
It takes another thirty minutes before she finally comes out looking for me, Ryan doesn’t follow and I know I’ve blown it.
That’s the meanest thing I’ve ever done and in this moment, I hate myself.
***
Monday morning I have an economics class. It’s boring as hell and honestly I don’t know why I signed up for it, thought it would be an easy credit. Not. This class has been a lesson in humility. Thank God the term is almost over, summer break is just days away. All I have to do is focus a little longer and then the nightmare is over. Though the finals are gonna blow, I’m just hoping to get out of here with a ‘B’.
Sitting in my seat, I’m staring at the slightly balding but still kind of adorable Professor Simmons talk about the theory of capitalism and know I’m in deep trouble because I can’t focus.
I hate to admit this, but he sounds like one of those peanuts characters from Charley Brown, “Wah, wah, wah, wah, wah…”
I groan, slumping in my seat, knowing I’ll have to read the book later tonight. My neighbor, who I don’t know all that well but know his name is Zander, was nice enough to tell me at the start of class that I looked like shit this morning.
Nice.
Considering he’s the Mohawk, tatted Goth, it sorta means something when he thinks you look bad. I just smiled and thanked him politely, before rolling my eyes and giving him my shoulder even though I know he’s right.
This morning I’d not looked my best, I’d done what I could, but you can only do so much when the bags under the eyes are dark and heavy. At least I’d washed my hair last night. But I hadn’t gotten a chance to straighten it, Javi and I had been running late. I’d had just enough time to knot it into a messy bun, toss on a pair of bright green skinny jeans, a gray belly shirt that somehow had a bright blue paint mark on the hem in the size of a small thumb (Javi and his finger painting) and brushed my teeth.
At least I smelled clean, small consolation though it was.
I lean toward Terra and whisper, “Could I get a copy of your notes after class?”
She frowns her furry thick brows at me. Terra is annoyingly smart, and she knows it. Which is even more obnoxious, but I need her notes so I try to charm her with a big, bright smile.
“You should be paying attention.” She casts me a dirty look and I nod, because I know she’s right. Annoying or not.
“I know. I just can’t, okay. Can I just get your notes later, please?” I don’t typically resort to pleading, but I’m afraid without a thorough set of notes I’m going to tank the final on Wednesday.
Something on my face must have softened her, either the pitiful pout, the huge eyes, or maybe the thread of shamelessness in my voice, because she exhales loudly and grunts.
Which I assume has to be a yes.
I hope.
I try, I really do, to focus through the last twenty minutes of class, but I can’t. Because last night I’d had a bad one. I’d dreamt of Ryan again, covered in his blood, looking at me with deep blue eyes and pleading for me to save him. To rescue him.
I’d woken up covered in sheen of sweat, heart racing so hard I’d felt it in the back of my throat. It’d been like that all night, every time I closed my eyes, anytime the dreams came, they were always of him and always the same thing: Save me, Lili…
I’m not one who thinks there’s some hidden meaning behind a dream, practical to a fault my father always used to say. But I can’t help but wonder if what I did Saturday is why I’m being plagued this way, maybe it’s God, or fate, or karma telling me I screwed up big and I need to find him and apologize.
But then shame creeps in there, and I hate the thought of facing him… of telling him ‘I’m sorry, Ryan, that was really stupid, I’m really stupid sometimes because you’re making me feel crazy, impetuous things that I don’t want to feel’. I have his number, I could always just text him, or call even. Get it over with.
I rub my temple, trying to soothe the thread of pain that’s been lancing through my skull since Saturday night.
But I can’t, because an apology deserves to be done face to face. Whether Ryan even wants anything with me anymore, and that’s a big if at this point, it doesn’t matter, he at least deserves the courtesy of an apology.
Maybe once I do it, I’ll be able to stop obsessing about this. About him. Wondering if I’d hurt him that night, wondering if he’d slept with bimbo. There can never be anything between us, just the fact that I’m going nuts proves that. I can’t handle more distractions, my life is hard enough as it is, I can’t bring this in too.
I come to that conclusion the second class is over, glancing at my sheet of doodles and scribbles, I groan.
No, I definitely can’t bring Ryan into my life, I won’t survive it.
Tessa shoves sheets under my nose. “Here, I won’t need them anyway.”
When she lets them go, they scatter to the floor.
She doesn’t try to help me pick them up. In fact, no one does.
She flounces out of her seat, and as she walks away, she doesn’t look back. Looking at the scattered notes on my desk and floor I can’t help but wonder if this is a metaphor for my life. I’m the last one out of class and only have thirty minutes between classes. But I know if I don’t do this right now, I’ll talk myself out of it again.
Marching to Chai, I clutch the back pack straps in my fist and run through what I’ll say. I have no clue if he’ll even be there, but odds are good because I know Alex is. Not that I’m stalking Alex’s work schedule… okay, so maybe a little. But he makes the best drinks, and he knows what I like.
Stopping at the crosswalk, my heart threatening to choke me, I stare at the brightly stenciled Chai Time sign.
“Ryan, I’m sorry,” I mutter, stuttering at first. The next time I repeat it, I get through it without tripping over my tongue. “I’m an ass. That wasn’t fair. I really do want to be friends.”
A guy wearing ear buds glances at me, his brows dip when he realizes I really am talking to myself and not to a Bluetooth.
Blushing, I clamp my lips shut as he takes a step away.
Then the little white walk icon flashes and just as I’m getting ready to walk across the street, the door opens and my stomach bottoms out.
It’s Ryan.
He’s dressed in a pair of distressed jeans that hug his slim hips in a way that makes my breathing hard, a white shirt that clings and shows off his finely chiseled chest and abs and a dark pair of sunglasses. Brushing a strand of wavy hair out of his face, he leans against the brick face wall and tilts his head up to the sun.
Someone bumps into my shoulder, making me stumble.
“Sorry,” I hear a mumble, but I don’t look and I think I might have said something back, but I’m not sure it’s anything coherent.
Ryan is gorgeous.
Drop sexy, beautiful. The sun glints off his dark hair, highlighting strands of red throughout. He’s not looking at anything, I have to think his eyes are closed, which means I can’t stop feasting on him.
The man reads books-- great, wonderful, literary classics. He loves sushi. Has terrible taste in coffee, but that’s such a minor sin compared to the fact that he makes me laugh and for whatever reason, makes me feel again.
All that talk this morning about not wanting him in my life… it’s all lies, all stupid, stupid lies. Because I’ve never been so intrigued in my life-- he’s funny and sweet and so terribly wounded that it calls out to me.
Just as I’m ready to finally walk across I notice the light has switched again, impatient now, I debate whether to call his name and call him over to me, but then the door opens again and a woman walks out.
I recognize her immediately and the claws come out, a hot tide of heat slithers and slinks through my gut and I recognize it for what it is. I’m jealous. Disgustingly, getting ready to snarl jealous.
It’s the blonde bimbo, and she’s rubbing up next to him. My nails dig into my palms. Smiling broadly, he tilts his head back down and then wraps his arm around her waist as he whispers something in her ear.
She drinks from her cup, and then rubbing noses with him, steals a kiss.
Anger burns through my eyes, heats them and my vision starts to blur and I can’t believe I want to cry. I’m so stupid to care, he and I aren’t dating. Because of me, because I’d shot him down in the zoo, I’d rubbed myself like a freaking cat in heat on Frankie… I did this.
Then he stills, like some sixth sense draws him to me and I know he sees me. His entire body is tense, his arm drops from bimbo’s waist and I bite a corner of my lip, wishing I could say something, do something.
She’s running her fingers through his hair and he’s shrugging her off, looking like he’s getting ready to take a step forward.
But I can’t talk now, not without letting him hear my voice break, or see my eyes tear up. So I do the only thing I can, I twirl on my heels and run.
***
It’s been two days since I’ve seen Ryan. I’ve avoided Chai Time like the plague.
And I keep telling myself that running off the way I did wasn’t really that bad, that maybe he hadn’t really seen me, been too busy with the bimbo groping him up, but unfortunately my heart doesn’t agree. Every time my phone rings I experience a momentary thrill of adrenaline only to be replaced by disappointment a second later when I read the number.
I’m an idiot to hope he’ll call. Especially after the way I ran off, but seeing him with blondie, hugging him, him smiling and laughing and looking so good, my heart had twisted painfully. I liked this new Ryan, a lot. Too much.
So much, that I kept forgetting this Ryan and the one from February are the same guy.
Mama notices my mood. She notices everything. I think she knows it’s about a guy, and probably even knows which guy, but she doesn’t mention him. Just hugs me and tells me everything will be okay.
She’s always my biggest cheerleader, even when I’m the one who screws up.
Sighing, I look up at the sky-- blue and bright, and not a cloud in it. It’s so sunny, blindingly so, typical Texas day. Swatting a fly away from my face, I huff.
I want a coffee.
Not really.
I want to see Alex.
I’ve been trying the last two days to find excuses to go back, get brave, but no sooner do I take the first step I remember seeing him leaning against the brick wall and bimbo clinging like a baby monkey and I just can’t see that again. So I leave.
Which is ridiculous. He and I aren’t dating, it’s a free world. If I want coffee I should be able to get coffee, who the hell cares who he spends his free time with?
Trying not to overthink this, I stuff my books into my bag and get up, following the scent of coffee like a homing beacon. Even if he’s there again, I’m going in. I might even be brave and smile and wave and pretend nothing ever happened, pretend he’s just another random face. Another guy.
I swallow hard as I nibble on my lip. I still owe him an apology though, no matter what, I’m going to do it this time. If he’s there, I’m going to do it. Not for his sake, because obviously he doesn’t care anymore, but for mine. I’m not that girl that tries to get guys jealous by kissing other guys, never done it before in my life and I’ll never do it again.
I open the door and sigh with relief the moment the icy AC kisses my face. Quickly I scan the milling faces, heart beating a rapid tattoo in my skull, proving yet again what a liar I am. No matter how much I try to shake him, the man is under my skin, making me freaking crazy.
“Lily Bean,” Alex’s call is a welcome sound, turning toward his voice I manage to smile despite my frustration that Ryan isn’t around. But Alex doesn’t sound angry with me and that’s a good thing, because maybe it means Ryan’s not as pissed I’d feared.
“Heya, Alex. How are you?” My voice sounds unnaturally perky and fake, and I have to breathe to settle my nerves.
“Oh you know, life…” he shrugs and winks and yeah, my heart does pitter patter. I might be seriously obsessing about his cousin, but Alex is easy on the eyes.
Why couldn’t I like him instead?
He has such a gorgeous smile. Surfer good looks and seems infinitely more normal. He doesn’t make me want to act stupid, or kiss him until I can’t breathe, he’s safe and Ryan’s the great unknown and that scares me.
Grabbing a cup, he starts my drink.
“Can you add ice this time?”
“What?” His brows shoot up to his hairline. “You don’t mean to tell me that you can’t handle the heat.”
Sticking out my tongue, I lean against the counter and cross my sandaled feet. “Yeah, well, shocker… it’s hot as hell out there and I don’t particularly feel like sweating my ass off today.”
“I could grind the ice for you. Make it real smooth,” his tone is suggestive and I have to laugh.
“Have I told you how much I love you lately?”
&nb
sp; He snorts as he grinds my beans. “What you doing Friday night?”
“Considering that it’s the start of summer, not much. Thank God. I need a break.” I slump my shoulders. “Why do you want to know?”
“Oh no reason, just the guys at the frat are throwing some stupid dance. Back to the seventies, or some shit like that.”
I grip the edge of the counter and do a small shimmy. “You mean to tell me you don’t dig those bell bottoms, dude?”
“Hardly. But,” he snaps the lid onto my cup, “I’ve got a fro, the vest, and some snazzy pants. No date though. So whadda say?”
