The Space In Between

by Melyssa Winchester

  “I can’t believe it.”

  “What?” I ask, confused. “What’s so funny?”

  “He did it.”

  Considering who we’re looking at, it’s pretty obvious he’s talking about Christian, but why, I can’t seem to put my finger on.

  “You feel like cluing me in or just leaving me hanging all night?”

  “Ems, I have a feeling that if you think about it, you’ll realize you already know the answer to that.”

  Focusing all of my attention back on Christian as he stands flanked by not only Jonah, but Marissa and April, I study him, taking in everything I can with the way he’s standing, giving his body the complete once over, and willing my brain to come up with the answer. Which after a few minutes of intense staring, I finally manage to get.

  It’s a setup.

  “Did you do this?” Slapping him as hard as I can, and blocking as he tries to mount a comeback with a small shove of his own, he laughs and nods.

  “Yes! And I have no regrets.”

  “Why?”

  “Wow, you really are playing dumb tonight, huh? You already know the reason for that too, but since I don’t want you actually punching me next time, I guess I can explain.”

  “You better.”

  “I don’t know what’s going on, because whenever I try to bring it up you blow me off, but it’s pretty obvious that something went down between the two of you. Going from spending every waking minute with the dude to avoiding him like he’s carrying some contagious disease, it’s weird. Even for you.”

  “So you thought what? Go behind my back?”

  “Pretty much, and look. It worked.”

  “What worked exactly?”

  “I told him what you were gonna wear and said that if he even remotely gave a shit about you, he’d go to the store, grab the suit I saw you eyeing, and he’d show up in it.”

  I hate to break it to him, but just because Christian showed up wearing a costume matching mine more than his dates, doesn’t mean what he thinks it does. It doesn’t mean he cares.

  Maybe he just didn’t want to be a sheep like the rest of them.

  They really are a herd.

  “Still doesn’t explain what you’re doing here.”

  “I thought that would have been obvious. I came to see if he would actually have the balls to do it.’

  “So, you didn’t come for me?”

  “Sorry, babe. I told you, as hot as you are in that dress, it wasn’t enough. Cayne on the other hand…now that was.”

  “You’re a jerk.”

  “And you love me.”

  “I do, but I’m seriously questioning that decision now.”

  “No you’re not. As much as it annoys you, me going behind your back, you’re happy I did it.”

  “Wrong.”

  “Ems, we’ve been through a lot of shit together, right?” He asks. “Known each other a long ass time, can pretty much read each other’s minds and finish each other’s sentences. Am I right?”

  “You’re right, but what does that have to do with this?”

  “I know you well enough to know that you wanted to be here with him. I’m willing to bet that you’ve been wanting to be with him since the night you and Thomas went to the movies, but you’re just too damn stubborn to say anything. So when you can’t, I will. And as you can see, I did.”

  “You shouldn’t have.”

  Watching as Marissa slips her hand into Christian’s, the both of them walking away from Jonah and April and into the middle of the gym as the beginning notes of a slow song begin to play, I point, swallowing down the flash of jealous rage that rears its ugly head as she wraps her hands around his neck and they began to sway to the beat.

  “See? What you wanted, getting him to show up here dressed like me, it failed. He’s still with her.”

  Moving around him, having seen more than enough, the burst of rage now turning into a nice stomach dropping pang of regret and loss, I shove Johnny’s arms away as he reaches out to stop me and take off, moving around the couples dancing, desperate for the exit and the release of emotion that will come once I’m as far away from the scene unfolding as I can get.

  Pushing my way through the doors and bumping into people that are trying to make their way through as I’m lost in my dramatic exit, I start running once I’m out and I don’t stop until I’m all the way down the darkened hall with the music room in my sights.

  If I’ve got to stay here all night and take pictures, all the while pretending that what I just saw between Christian and his date isn’t destroying me, I need to let off some steam and not just any kind. The musical kind.

  Trying the door and shouting out with joy when the door clicks open as I turn the knob, I clamp my mouth shut as I slip into the room, double checking before I completely shut it behind me that I’m not being followed.

  Flipping the light on, I make my way slowly to the back of the room and pulling the acoustic guitar down from its secured spot, slide one of the chairs out and throw my body down onto it.

  Running my fingers over the strings, I strum the first few bars of the song we wrote together, and despite knowing that I’m getting what I deserve and I have no reason to act jealous, much less care at all, I can’t stop the overflow of emotion that hits me the second my eyes close and I start to sing.

  As the first tear slips out, the warmth of it quickly turning cold as it makes its way down my cheek, quickly followed up by another until I can hear the droplets hitting the stained wood of the guitar, I pause my fingers movement and that’s when I hear it.

  The click of the door and what will no doubt be the end of the perfect seclusion I’d been hoping to find when I snuck in minutes before.

  Looking up, expecting to see the annoyed face of my best friend, it’s not Johnny’s eyes staring back at me.

  It’s the soft blue that no matter how much I tried to distance myself from and put of my head all together, I can’t seem to let go of.

  Christian’s.

  Chapter Eleven

  Christian

  “Broken, lost, and desperate to be found.” I hear her singing softly as I quietly enter the room, not daring to make a sound or take another step and ruin the raw acoustics and angelic sound that fills the normally loud room. “I’m still here all alone, missing pieces.”

  Letting go off the door as her voice wavers on the final line of the chorus, it clicks closed louder than expected and the eagerness for her to continue mixed with the anxiousness to hear how she sounds without me accompanying her falls away as her head swerves up, her hand pausing mid stroke and I see her expression.

  She’s been crying.

  Damn that door for ruining everything. If I had just kept my hand there a little longer, I wouldn’t have her sad eyes staring back at me now.

  “There goes that idea.” She sighs, releasing the hold she has on the guitar and standing. Turning her back to me, she starts walking towards the back of the room, and knowing she’s going to put the guitar away, I don’t hesitate to try and stop her.

  For the first time since I got here almost two months ago, I feel like I just put myself in the middle of something I should have stayed out of and I hate myself for it.

  “You don’t have to stop.”

  “Yeah,” she scoffs, placing the guitar gently back in its place. “I do.”

  “Why?”

  “If you’re here, it means Marissa won’t be far behind. You probably want to be alone, and I might be weird, but watching the two of you go at it isn’t exactly my idea of a good time.”

  She is so unbelievably wrong.

  She also has no clue that the reason I’m here is because I caught her running from the gym and at the exact moment I decided I was going to follow her, Johnny had come along and made it even easier to get away.

  He never said a word, just mouthed music room before swooping in and sweeping my date off her feet, her laughter as he spun her around and dipped her the last thing I heard as I
made my way out of the gym to where I stand now.

  The only girl I want to be alone with already in the room.

  “That’s not why I’m here.”

  Spinning around to face me, she bridges the gap between us by moving closer, stopping once she reaches Yorke’s desk. Nervously rubbing her hands over her arms while shooting sideways glances my way, obviously trying to figure me out, she slips her body up onto the desk, her leg tapping back and forth like a metronome as the seconds pass until she finally breaks it by speaking.

  “So, why are you here, Mikey?”

  Taking her use of my middle name as a good sign, I slowly lower myself down onto the other end of the desk, my eyes not leaving her as I watch for a sign of how she’s going to feel about me being this close.

  “I was hoping we might be able to talk.”

  “About what?”

  “Whatever I did to make you hate me.”

  “Okay, but first you’ve gotta tell me why me wanting nothing to do with you matters so much. Because Mikey, it’s kind of creepy how much you care about what I think.”

  Creepy wasn’t exactly what I was going for, but it’s something and as long as there’s something, words of any shape and size coming out of that pretty mouth, I can work with it.

  “So with the way we met, you weren’t expecting it to get creepier? That hurts, Emery. I was using all of my best stalker material on you for weeks.”

  There’s no guarantee this is going to work, but after watching her with Johnny and seeing how quickly she switches gears, I’m hoping that I can at least break up whatever this is so she’ll hear me out.

  “Christian,” she sighs. “What are you doing?”

  “Getting my friend to talk to me. See, she’s been kind of avoiding me for weeks and I’m sick of it.”

  “So instead of taking the hint and cutting your losses, your big idea is to corner her and make her talk to you? Even though it might be the last thing she wants?”

  “Yeah, I guess, but I don’t agree with the last part. It’s not the last thing she wants.”

  “And you know this how? Because a bird with a big mouth told you?”

  “Nope.” I disagree. “She told me herself.”

  “Oh, this I gotta hear. If I haven’t talked to you for weeks, how do you figure I told you anything?”

  “Who said I was talking about you?” I joke and when her eyes catch mine, nail her with a wink. “You really have too high an opinion of yourself, Ems. Damn.”

  As hard as I know she has got to be fighting any reaction to my words, her lip quivers just slightly and raises, the sight of which makes my heart soar.

  Not giving up and walking away despite her frosty reception when I got here, it’s paying off. She’s warming to me despite her every intention not to.

  I’m winning the battle.

  “I miss you, Ems.” I take the chance and admit, “I didn’t think that I would, but I do. I know that probably pisses you off and I hate that, but I’m not sorry I feel that way.”

  Wanting to give her time to come to terms with what I said, I let my eyes fall away from her out over the room, memories of all of the mornings we spent together here coming to mind easily, making it absolutely impossible to find one spot in here that doesn’t remind me of her.

  I’ve got it bad, but after spending weeks trying to forget, move on and make a whole new set of memories, I’ve come to the conclusion that being that way isn’t necessarily a bad thing.

  “You miss me.” She finally responds and instead of repeating myself, I just smile weakly and nod.

  “I didn’t want it to end. I told you that.”

  “You didn’t want the music to end.”

  “No, Emery. It might have started out like that; about the music, because what we were making together was amazing, but when I told you I didn’t want it to end, I meant us. I meant you.”

  “Oh…”

  “I didn’t want to end…you.” I repeat, for no other reason than wanting to hear myself admit the truth again. The way it feels after it’s been said like a tremendously huge weight has been lifted off my chest.

  When I moved here, the last thing I expected to happen was to meet some girl and have her turn my world upside down with her strange humor, old soul heart and uncanny ability to touch my soul through her music. In fact, if anyone had told me that was what I was going to find, I would have laughed in their face.

  It was crazy. This, whatever it is with her, it’s completely crazy.

  It’s also exactly what I want.

  “Where does Marissa fit into what you just said? You’re here with her.”

  “I said yes to her because of Jonah at first, but then it was about giving you what you wanted. The space you put between us, I wanted her to fill it, but she couldn’t.”

  “Sure didn’t look that way when you were dancing.”

  “Emery,” I start, knowing exactly what I want to say but having a moment of pause where I doubt whether it’s going to be too much for her to hear. “I wanted to do right by her. Instead of bailing, I wanted to see it through. Make sure she had a good night. I wanted to do the right thing.”

  “If that’s true, then why are you in here when your place is out there with her?”

  “Because as nice as she is, and as much as I still want to do right by her, she isn’t you. She doesn’t even compare.”

  Emery

  The space between us, I wanted her to fill it, but she couldn’t.

  She isn’t you.

  She doesn’t even compare.

  The girl more interested in pictures, music and getting lost in daydreams, the one always just on the periphery of life, is in no way prepared for what Christian just admits.

  Words like this are meant for girls like Marissa and April. They interact with others and actually enjoy doing it. They’re worthy of being liked, missed and maybe eventually even loved.

  They don’t spend every waking hour with their faces shoved in front of a lens, snapping pictures of life being lived instead of living it themselves.

  They’re not me.

  But Christian isn’t saying any of this to them.

  He’s saying it to me.

  “Did Johnny put you up to this?”

  “That depends. He did play a part in this costume, and he helped me out by dancing with Marissa when I saw you take off, but he’s not the reason I’m sitting here unloading on you. All of that, no matter how embarrassing, is all me.”

  I believe him. Johnny might have given him a heads up on costumes and even distracted his date long enough for him to slip away, but the rest, it’s all just words and feelings that he’s probably been swallowing down for weeks, the same exact way I have because it seemed too good to be true.

  So good it was scary.

  “I missed you too.” I admit, knowing there’s a whole lot more to be said, but needing to bridge some of the distance he said I put between us.

  Sliding across the desk, his eyes drifting away from mine just long enough to catch what I’m doing, he proves himself even more by moving with me, until finally our legs touch and with a slight turn of my body, so are our arms.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner. I’m sorry that I stupidly let you walk away that night without at least fighting for some kind of explanation so I could make you stay. I’m sorry that I spent weeks trying to give you what you wanted instead of going after what I did, but most of all Emery, I’m sorry that it wasn’t you out there in the middle of the gym dancing with me tonight.”

  I need to stop him. He’s apologizing for things that he had no say in. I created the distance, I stayed away and I’m the one that kept my mouth shut, waiting until it was too late to finally tell the truth.

  I did it. This is all on me.

  Moving my hand and slipping it under his, never once taking my eyes off him, I feel his fingers curl around when I make contact, and just like his words from earlier, nothing compares.

  It’s the way it�
��s supposed to be.

  The way it should have been the entire time.

  “Christian,” I say at the exact moment he whispers mine. “I like you.”

  “That’s good, Emery. That’s real good, because with the way I’m sweating just being this close to you, it’s a pretty safe bet I like you too.”

  When his eyes soften with the admission, I see something in them that I never noticed before.

  Mine reflecting back at me.

  They remind me of something he said the night I took him to our spot, and instead of keeping it to myself or swallowing it down out of fear, I smile and just like he did with me, be honest.

  “The beach.”

  “What about it?”

  “I never noticed it before, but our eyes. We’re like the beach.”

  “As adorable as that is, I’m still not following.”

  “Blue eyes, the color of water.” I attempt to explain. “And mine, brown like the sand.”

  “The beach.” He muses softly. “Another sign.”

  Squeezing my fingers in his, causing him to look away long enough to react and respond back with a squeeze back of his own, he looks up and in that moment, I know I don’t have ask for an explanation because he gets it.

  “From the moment I met you, things have been happening. Signs that for the first couple of weeks, I didn’t really understand, or maybe I just didn’t want to understand, but no matter where I went or what I did they just kept coming. Signs everywhere. I want to tell you about them, and I will, but there’s something more important that I want to do first. If it’s okay with you.”

  Thinking of all of the things I want to do now that we’ve admitted how we feel, my eyes fall to his lips. Lifting my free hand and bringing it across, I make my desire very clear as I run my fingers slowly over them, feeling the warmth of his exhale as it comes, and releasing a sigh of my own as he leans in, lifting his own hand and resting it on my cheek, I hold all other breaths in anticipation of what’s about to happen next.

  With his lips so close to mine I can feel them as they part, instead of taking the next step and pressing them to mine, he whispers to me instead.