“What can I get for your friend here?” The guy asked, not looking at Stella. She didn’t recognize him from her time working at Cosi, he must be new.
“El, let me guess. Please?” He took a step forward and explained to the guy behind the counter, “She thinks she should order a salad because she drank last night, but she is debating between fire-roasted veggie sandwich and the turkey and brie because she is IN LOVE with the bread here. I think she’ll go with the turkey and brie.” He looked at her.
“Well, don’t you just know everything?” She smiled and said, “Turkey and brie sounds perfect.”
As they walked down to the counter, George pulled money out and so did Stella.
“El, let me pay.”
“You don’t have to.” She was smiling, but her stomach showed her true emotions. She was queasy.
He swatted at her wallet, “I know. I want to at least take to you lunch. Okay?”
“Okay,” she whispered.
“Do you want a cookie?” he asked.
She smiled at the memory. “No, thank you.”
After comfortable small talk during lunch, Stella had learned more about George. His favorite color was red. He was an independent, politically speaking. He actively hated both parties, which Stella loved about him. He read consistently, when he wasn’t working. He worked all the time and right now was exhausted.
“How long have you been up?”
“Never made it to sleep last night,” he sighed.
OH. “Oh,” she said and leaned back in her chair consciously aware of how close their bodies had been, walls starting to come up. “So why did you want me to meet you here, George? This really isn’t like you.”
“You know a couple of months ago we said that if we met anyone that we would let the other know so that we wouldn’t hurt the other person?” he asked, staring intently at his coffee mug.
“I seem to recall that conversation.” Stella felt a shift in her brain putting things in place George had been able to puncture. Walls in place, that was quick, she thought. She had just taken them down a few hours ago. “As I recall though, it was about eight months ago.”
He looked up at her. “I know. The thing is, I met someone and I want to see where it goes.”
She scraped her chair back, making a loud screeching noise, and rose quickly. “Okay. Good luck, George.” She turned and ran out of the restaurant. She was so stupid, so STUPID, she thought. She turned and walked as fast as she could toward her house. As she walked, she thought about last night; that was a quick departure from him ripping her panties off.
“El!” George jogged to catch up with her, “El, wait.”
She stopped without turning around and waited for him. She felt his hand on her neck first, heat blazing through her body. Then he held her there with one arm and put his left palm on her left shoulder blade and she froze.
“Why are you running?”
“Shouldn’t matter to you,” she whispered leaning into his hand, cherishing this last bit of contact.
Leaning down he kissed her neck, “You don’t want me.”
She whispered back, “Yes I do.” Then she began walking again. She wasn’t crying, she stopped and said, “You know George, I read somewhere everything that comes together falls apart. That’s pretty fucking accurate.” I fall apart, you walk away, she thought.
She didn’t turn around, but walked slowly away from him, daring him to come after her. He didn’t.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
She walked half of the way home before she sat down on a bench, dazed. Stella was shocked by the quick turn of events from last night at Finnegan’s to now, but not surprised that George had ended things. It surprised her they had lasted this long. He wanted things she just couldn’t give him. She pulled out her cell phone and called Millie.
“Hey sister, what’s up?” Millie called from the other end.
“Pretty shitty night/day sister, pretty shitty.”
“I thought George was coming over.”
“Me too. He stood me up and then invited me to lunch just now to tell me he was seeing someone.”
“Oh, sweetie. I’m coming over now.”
“No, don’t do that.”
“Your protests don’t work on me. I’ll see you in thirty.” With that Millie hung up. Stella looked down at the phone and saw the picture that was her wallpaper. Her and Jamie. Always her and Jamie. This was nothing, George was not important. He’d gotten a foot in the door, but nothing a little chocolate and a lot of alcohol wouldn’t cure.
“Okay,” she said out loud and that was that. In her mind she made a little box for George as if he were just some name on a list of people that didn’t matter, put him in the box, and started walking the rest of the way home.
Millie, Billy, Patrick, and Stella stayed up half the night drinking, cussing the opposite sex and talking. By Sunday morning, Stella was feeling a little better. As she opened the door to Patrick’s room she was stunned he slept later than her. Her eyes grew as big as saucers as she took in the still-sleeping tangled naked bodies of Millie and Patrick. HOLY SHIT, WHEN DID THIS HAPPEN? She tried to be quiet as she shut the door and walked through the house in a daze.
Billy was outside tinkering with his bike and saw her expression when she came outside. “Oh you saw that, huh?” He looked down with a smile, “At least one of us is still getting laid.”
“Um… What the fuck? I don’t even know what to say.”
“I think, I would pretend I didn’t see that.” Billy kneeled to see something on the chain of his bike.
“Oh, like I can control myself that much,” Stella laughed. “This weekend has sucked all emotion out of my body. I’m going to lift weights and kick the shit out of things.”
After her shower, Stella heard footfalls making their way to her room. Grabbing a robe, she peered around the corner. A very exhausted, but happy Millie appeared in her room. Stella’s smile gave away her knowledge and Millie glanced toward Patrick’s room. “You always get what you want?”
“Pretty much,” Millie laughed and sat on Stella’s bed. Stella pulled on jeans and a sweater, and then sat next to Millie on the bed.
Falling back on the bed she sighed. “Well, I guess that’s that.”
“Which that?” Millie asked.
“George and I,” Stella said, crossing her legs at the ankles.
Millie laid her head on Stella’s stomach. “El, all you have to do is tell George you want him back. So, what is the problem?”
“There are many problems: (1) I do not do love; (2) I’m in law school and can’t be bothered with a relationship; and (3) he’s met someone else.” She ticked off the reasons on her hand.
Millie brushed her reasons aside with her hand. “He’s totally into you, but you kept pushing him away. No one wants to be rejected on a continuous basis.”
She let what Millie said sink in; she didn’t feel like she rejected George. On the contrary, she had let him in. He knew things about her, made her feel things she hadn’t allowed in years.
“You love him.” Millie stared straight at the ceiling.
“I guess I’ve never thought about it like that, Millie. I never thought what I’ve been doing is rejecting him. We really have been together, but I just wanted to keep that last barrier up for some reason. It wasn’t even a real barrier. He broke through that months ago.” She sighed. Stella had made a mess of everything.
“You love him.” Millie repeated and turned her head to look into Stella’s eyes. “I know you do. Go tell him.”
“Uh, no. He just met someone, he wants to give it a go. I’m definitely not going to stop that.”
“You should tell him.” Millie smiled. “You do love him.”
“Shut up and leave me alone.” Stella closed her eyes. “Nothing like realizing too late.”
“Well, what are you going to do?”
“Nothing.”
“Seriously?” Millie’s eyes went wide. “You’re the most stubbo
rn person I’ve ever met.”
“I’m going to hunker down the last bit of school. I have to get a job, then the bar.” Stella got overwhelmed just thinking about it all. “I’m actually quite busy and don’t have time for George.”
“Only every night,” Millie said playfully.
“That, I will miss,” Stella sighed again. “You know, I think I need a new tattoo and to drink more.” Stella rolled over and looked at Millie. “Thanks.”
“For what?”
“For being my friend. I know I’m difficult and surly. I’m probably very hard to be friends with… thanks for everything.”
“El, you’re not that bad,” Millie chuckled.
Stella was yelling loudly to Miranda Lambert singing about her heartbreak, quite fitting for how she was feeling. She set the pork tenderloin on the table, along with the oven-baked macaroni and cheese and roasted brussel sprouts. Opening bottles of red and white wine, she put them on the table. She turned up her own bottle of pinot noir she had been drinking from while cooking, it was almost finished. The table was set for three. She knocked on Patrick’s door. “It’s ready, love birds.”
She drank a couple of gulps of wine from the bottle and poured some into her glass before Millie emerged from Patrick’s room. She smiled and smoothed her hair back. “Looks awesome, El.” Millie sat down at her seat and waited for Patrick and Stella to join her.
Patrick came out a minute later. “Happy Thanksgiving.”
“Whatever, sit down and let’s eat before it gets cold.”
Millie held her hands out, Patrick took her hand and extended a hand to Stella. “In my house, we say what we are grateful for before we eat.” Stella took Millie’s and Patrick’s hands.
Patrick nodded, “I’ll start. I feel so grateful for being here with two beautiful women. I’m grateful to have a great job and great friends.”
Millie squeezed his hand. “I’m grateful to be spending Thanksgiving with my chosen family. I’m also grateful that I’m getting laid.”
“Come on...” Stella dropped their hands and took a gulp of wine.
“How about you, El,” Patrick asked.
“I’m grateful for you both. You’ve made my life livable. I’m also grateful that I didn’t have a heart left for George to stomp on.”
“El, George stomped on something. You should really talk to George. I feel like you’ll get back together. “ Millie took a gulp of wine.
“Maybe he stomped on my vagina and I’m pissed about it.”
“Millie, leave her be.” Patrick cut into his tenderloin. “This is great, El, thanks for cooking.”
“No problem.” Stella ate a forkful of mac and cheese.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Stella’s back arched at his touch, his fingers gently running in between her breasts, down the length of her stomach. She exhaled loudly as he touched her everywhere. Then his lips were on her, devouring her. “George,” she whispered. He looked up at her and climbed up her body, kissing her neck and then jaw line. Stella closed her eyes at the pleasure. All of a sudden, she felt empty. He was missing, his body not pressing into hers. She opened her eyes and it was dark, she was alone.
Fuck, she thought, that felt real. Looking over at the clock she realized it was 6:00 am, but decided to get up anyway. She was still turned on without any relief in sight, she pulled on her workout clothes and got Cooper’s leash. “Let’s go, Coop,” she whispered and Cooper began his jump dance that he reserved for going for a run.
She pulled her wool cap over her ear buds and grabbed her gloves on the way out the front door. It was still dark when she left her house. She started her run, hoping to get rid of her thoughts of George. She had a final today and would study a little when she got back. Cooper ran back and forth in front of her, taking full advantage of the empty sidewalk.
When she passed Finnegan’s, she glanced over to find George’s motorcycle parked in front of the bar. Weird, she thought, but kept running. She chastised herself because she needed to be focused on her final, but her mind kept returning to George and all she had done wrong. Could she just appreciate the experience of having him in her life and let him go? She’d been trying, but it was harder than she initially thought. Stella picked up her pace so that it would be harder to think and she would simply have to concentrate on running and breathing. She ran down to the Torpedo Factory and turned around, running back up King Street.
She was panting when she looked up and saw him standing in the middle of the sidewalk. She would know him anywhere. George was wearing a sweater, navy pea coat, and black wool cap pulled tightly down over his head. He was smiling. Stella stopped a block back and stared, wondering if she was dreaming this. She saw his lips moving, but she couldn’t hear him. Cooper started pulling her toward him.
“El...” George’s cold hand brushed her cheek.
“George?” she asked, wondering why he was outside of the bar at this time in the morning.
George rubbed his thumb over her bottom lip and leaned into kiss her, she jumped back.
“George, what’re you doing?” Her ear buds falling out of her ears.
“I miss you...” George put his hands in his pockets and smiled. “I’ve been texting you and you won’t respond.”
“What are you doing here... now?” Stella was still mildly confused.
“Oh, I had some stuff to do at the bar.” He pointed over to the bar and then said, “I haven’t been sleeping well.”
“Me either,” she said before she could stop herself.
“You want to come in for a minute or two, I could make us coffee and we could talk.”
“About what? About you and your new girlfriend?” Stella shook her head, “No thanks.”
“You’re jealous?” George’s eyes widened.
“Fuck you, George.”
“We could do that too, El. Whatever you want.” He smiled his 100-watt smile at her, his dimples making an unwanted entrance.
“I want to stop thinking of you,” she said quietly.
“What?” George leaned in, he smelled like sandalwood.
“New perfume for your new girl?” Stella asked sarcastically.
“You like it?”
“Not really,” Stella started to put her ear buds back in and George grabbed her hands.
“Come talk to me.”
“You haven’t really given me a good reason to.” She started to move away from him. “I have a final. I don’t have time to do this.”
“Do what? Have coffee with a friend?”
“We’re not friends, George?”
“Why?” George’s eyes clouded over. “We used to be.”
“Well, we’re not anymore.” Stella pulled her hat off, realized what she must look like, and slammed it back on her head.
“What can I do to change your mind, El?”
“I don’t know,” she whispered. “I really don’t understand why...”
“Why what? Why I want to be friends? Why I can’t let you go?” His hands moved wildly expressing frustration.
“Oh, George... you did let me go.” Stella looked down at her shoes. Cooper was sitting in between them wagging his tail, looking back and forth.
“I want you back, I didn’t mean to let you go. I didn’t know you would want me like I needed you to,” George stammered.
“Well, you should’ve asked.” Stella said stoically.
“I did ask, Stella.”
“Not that day, you didn’t.” Stella pulled off her cap off again. “George, I know it was my fault. I know, okay. I couldn’t help it. I can’t help what happened between us. What I can help is how I feel now, which is horrible by the way. I don’t blame you for leaving me. I don’t blame you ... I just can’t let you in again. I can’t...”
Stella put her left ear bud in. “Don’t be this way El, I’m sorry,” George started. He took her hand and put it on his face, she looked at him. Stella put her other hand on his other cheek, and stood on her tiptoes and kissed him.
What started out as a gentle goodbye kiss turned into a heated open mouth, leave-you-panting kiss. Stella pushed George back by his chest and looked at the desire in his eyes. It mirrored hers. She couldn’t help but want him, but he was with someone else.
“I just want you to be happy.” Stella said and rushed down the street back toward her house. Damn, that clear-my-head run didn’t turn out as expected. He still wanted her, but she didn’t know if she had it in her to fight for him or that she could bear the hurt that would be involved. Best to rip off the Band-Aid, all the pain, at one time. Then it would fade, eventually.
Stella hadn’t told anyone she ran into George or that she had kissed him. Millie would make her go see him and Patrick would drive her somewhere and lock her up before he would let her see him again. She finished all her papers for the semester two weeks ago and she had been sleeping and drinking since.
Stella opened the book and wrote, “When I saw this I knew you would love it. I hope you enjoy your holiday.” She shut the latest book by Bob Woodward and smiled. He’d attended a function at American and she had gotten the book signed then. George was going to love it. Stella hadn’t heard from him since that kiss. She put the book in her bag and slung it over her shoulder.
She was wearing a tight sweater and leggings with her gray knee-high boots under her coat and scarf. She walked down King Street headed to Finnegan’s for the first time since George had ended things. Stella was driving down to Atlanta tomorrow and wouldn’t be back until after Christmas. Taking a deep breath she pushed open the big oak door to the bar. It wasn’t even happy hour yet, but she knew George usually got here about 4:00. There wasn’t anyone behind the bar and just one person drinking at the bar. He turned and looked at her and pointed toward the bathrooms and the office.
Walking cautiously toward the office, she knocked. George was seated at the desk and was going through documents. He looked up when she knocked and looked at her, shocked.
“Hi,” Stella said.
“Hi.” George rubbed his hand over his face and head, sighing.
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