by K B Cinder
I took another deep breath, releasing the sudden burst of tension that built in my throat. Another deep breath followed as I tried to reel in the tide of emotion.
I was avoiding the day for so long, but it was inevitable. I couldn't hide forever.
Quitting our gym and moving across the city had seemed to be enough. I had no idea why he was at that store when the condo was across town, but it didn't matter. I had to rip the bandaid off at some point.
I turned, forcing a neutral expression, facing my biggest mistake to date. “Justin?”
There he stood dressed in a blue and white striped polo and pressed khakis, feet sheathed in the hideous leather loafers I hated. Polished and brown, they looked like they belonged to an old academic, not a young professional.
While his fashion choices hadn't changed at all, his look had. His buzz cut was replaced with an overgrown mop top, and someone must have told him that a goatee looked good. Unfortunately for him, whoever it was, had lied.
“Oh, wow! It is you!” he breathed, flashing a friendly smile.
He stepped forward to come in for a hug, but I wedged the cart between us.
“Yep, it's me.” I wasn't interested in chitchat and hoped he'd get a damn clue.
He was scrawnier than I remembered, deflated compared to the men I preferred since our breakup.
Had he always been so awkward? I was slightly embarrassed to think I cried myself to sleep so long over a guy with the posture of a jumbo shrimp.
“You look great!” He looked me up and down, his smile stretching wider with each pass.
I ducked further behind the cart, shielding myself from his prying view. “Thanks?” I tried to keep a straight face but knew I had WTF written all over it.
Who cornered their ex-fiance in a store for some friendly banter? Especially an ex you dumped for another woman right before your wedding?
“No, seriously! You look amazing!” He kept looking me over, grinning like an idiot. “Have you been working out?”
I didn't know if he was being an asshole or serious. Was he blind or just fucking stupid?
“You look gorgeous!” he continued, fawning over me.
“Thanks, Justin.” I kept it short, hoping like hell he'd leave.
The whole thing made me want to throw up all over his ugly loafers, and the churning in my stomach made it an option. Turkey vultures puked to make unwanted visitors go away, and I didn't mind using the tactic if it made him piss off.
“How have you been?”
Oh, never better. Just in debt out my ass thanks to you, sleazeball.
I ignored his question, hoping he'd take the hint but held my ground firmly. I would get my damn detergent and be on my way once he put two and two together. I limped too far to go home empty-handed.
His face hardened, dropping the smile and replacing it with a sneer. “Oh come on now, Elena. We're both adults here.”
It took everything in me to keep things cordial, aiming to be the bigger person. I refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing me flustered. He watched me shatter to pieces a thousand times over, especially when I begged him to give us another shot.
“I've been amazing. Never better.” It was a total lie, but I didn't owe him the truth. I didn't owe him anything. He didn't deserve me. He never had.
“That's great! I'm so happy for you!” he exclaimed, his sneer remaining.
“Yep.” I turned my attention back to the laundry soap, more keen on staring at the labels and not the ass from the past in front of me.
“Laura and I....” He trailed.
I stiffened at her name. He really was clueless. Like I gave a damn about the woman that had been fucking my fiancé for months while we were together. She could go to hell for all I cared. There would be a special seat reserved for her.
“We're expecting.”
The news was a punch to the gut.
What did he expect me to say? Cheers? Mazel tov?
Oh sure. I'd scamper over to customer service and ask for their registry right away. I'd send it all over to the condo we once shared where they shacked up, sleeping in our old bed. Their baby would be in the spare room, the nursery I always dreamed of for my little one.
Way to dropkick me in the biological clock, asshole.
I did my best to keep it cool, knowing the only way to get rid of him was to grit my teeth despite the turmoil brewing beneath. I could feel the heat washing over my face, the prick of tears threatening. “That's nice, Justin.”
“Isn't it? She's having a boy. He'll be here next month.” He plastered that stupid smile back on his face, and I wanted to smack him upside the head with a tub of detergent.
Rather than celebrating our first wedding anniversary, he would welcome a kid with his side piece. How fucking precious.
“That's nice. I'm happy for you, Justin.” Another lie, but perhaps it would give him whatever kicks he needed to leave me the hell alone.
Maybe talking to me was some weird self-coping mechanism. Maybe he needed to settle his conscience about what he had done. He could have also been plain stupid. I was leaning towards stupid based on the smile alone.
“Thanks.” He shifted his weight between feet, his shaggy hair swishing over his eyes with each step. “That really means a lot after everything.“
“Well, one of us has to be an adult here.”
His jaw clenched and nostrils flared, anger washing over his features. “Oh, I guess you're still bitter?” he asked, voice clipped.
Every drop of venom I was choking down came bubbling back to the surface, demanding release. It must have been all over my face, too, as he took a nervous step back.
Any restraint I had was long gone, and he would know what I thought of him and his joke of a relationship. I opened my mouth to unleash every bit of anger, hate, and rage I had towards him, but a hand on my shoulder replaced the venom with a yipe.
I whirled around, ready to strike, only to find myself speechless.
There stood Jason Barrett looking handsome as ever in his incredible blue suit from earlier, eyes bright yet marked with concern for me.
“Elena? Is everything alright?”
Jason
Many trends were forgivable. From the horrors of 90s flannel to trucker hats, we all had our style crosses to bear. I was a fan of shredded denim jackets in high school, something I thankfully outgrew.
What I couldn't forgive was a goatee. It was manscaping gone wrong. The epitome of perversion. The mark of the douche.
Puberty blessed me with many things, notably the ability to grow facial hair like nobody's business. I'd have a thick shadow by dessert daily and did my best to keep it at bay. I experimented with a full beard, some scruff, and clean-shaven as of late, but I never dared to fuck up my face with a goatee.
This pompous prick not only had a goatee but a hell of a mop-top.
He was in the way throughout the store, chattering on his phone and managing to be in front of me in every fucking aisle. I turned down household, only to find him questioning Elena in the laundry section, and by the sound of her voice, I could tell it wasn't a friendly conversation. The sudden rush of redness to her cheeks made it all click.
Marty had mentioned she was fragile when I assigned the filing job to her. He brought up her wedding getting canceled at the last minute a year earlier and the leave of absence over it. It all came back to me as I watched her stiffen in front of the goatee-faced idiot. He had to be the scumbag ex.
While she was guarded around me, she was usually relaxed, always smiling and joking around the office. She was a friend to everyone despite the atmosphere. She had been respectful to me when I least deserved it. Seeing her so tense was jarring enough to stop me in my tracks.
I made a split-second decision I knew I'd regret, interjecting in the middle of things. I couldn't leave her hanging. I wasn't raised that way.
“Sorry, I couldn't find the kind you were talking about, hon. You'll have to help me.”
I smile
d apologetically and turned my attention to the twerp. “I don't believe we've met. I'm Jason.” I offered a hand, sliding Elena's cart out of the way, standing toe to toe with him.
I wasn't one for bullying, but I'd use my size when necessary. It was a douche move, one Nan always called me out on, but it worked, especially with punks. That squirmy little worm deserved to be reminded how pathetic he was.
He shook my hand, a weak grip as I figured. I made sure he felt each swing into his shoulder. Maybe he'd learn how to shake like a man rather than a leaf if I showed him.
Elena was silent, clutching the cart with white knuckles. Her mouth pressed in a tight line as she watched, eyes flicking from face to face.
“I'm Justin...” he trailed, a strange look contorting his face. It reminded me of constipation. “I'm Elena's ex-fianc-”
“Ah,” I breathed, cutting him off and extending a hand of pause, signaling it was time for him to shut the fuck up. I wouldn’t let him get it out, not in front of her. “Well, thank you, bud. Your loss is my gain. Elena is sensational.”
He looked miffed but stayed silent. Apparently, my flash grenade of an entrance into their squabble had knocked him for a loop.
I moved a hand to the small of Elena's back, earning a surprised gasp. I didn't want to touch her, but it had to happen to keep the charade going. I pulled her close to my side for good measure, smiling wider.
Pressed against me, she fit achingly well, each curve soft against my muscles, her body minuscule compared to my frame. I would definitely need to down some Bowmore to burn the feeling from my memory.
“Well, we have a to finish up and a long night ahead of us,” I breathed, lingering over night because I was that immature. “Have a good day, Jared.”
His face twisted in agitation. “It's Justin,” he corrected, crossing his arms.
“Right, I'm sorry.” I nodded a faux apology, turning my attention back to Elena and grinning down at her. “Have a good one, bud.”
She stared up in silence but didn't move a muscle or squirm from my touch. She'd most likely lose her shit once she had the chance, but I couldn't stand by while the jerk cornered her.
Justin stomped off while Elena remained by my side, a mix of emotions washing over her face.
As soon as he was out of sight, I dropped my hand and put some much-needed space between us. I was tingly where our bodies touched, a definite sign it was way too long since I was with a woman. I was reacting like a frisky teenager again.
“Oh my god...” she breathed, staring after where her ex disappeared to.
“I'm sorry to manhandle you. Unfortunately, it was a necessity to look believable.”
I knew deep down I didn't have to touch her. I could have told the guy to fuck off and called it a night. But I didn't. I touched her, and now I had to face the consequences.
She remained quiet, heavy breathing the only noise escaping.
“Since I forged a fake relationship, I guess we have to shop together until he leaves...”
I didn’t want to walk around the store with her, looking damn good still despite the long day. I made too much headway in killing my work boner for her to go tempting the dick devil again.
Jewels had a lot to do with that and would continue to after our date, hopefully.
Elena stayed planted where she stood, and I realized at that moment, she only had one heel on, one purple-painted set of toes dangling above the tile.
“How did you know...?” she trailed, perched on one foot like a flamingo.
“I overheard the conversation.”
Her eyes narrowed, not buying a damn word of it.
I cleared my throat. “And I knew a vague back story courtesy of Croft.”
“Really?” Her expression fell into despair, brows arched and eyes watery.
No one liked to be a sob story. I understood that. I hated when people pitied me.
“Nothing super personal. Just the basics. I hope I didn't infringe...”
It was the truth. I didn't know much about it, but I knew enough to know the guy was a douche. Anyone that left their fiancee right before their wedding was a major asshole.
“You did.”
Shit. I fucked up again.
“I'm sorry.”
“No!” She sounded panicked, reaching out and grabbing my arm before jerking back as if I burned her. “Thank you. I appreciate the infringement. You helped me.”
“You're welcome, Elena.”
She glanced back up at a tub of detergent far above her head. I grabbed it without being asked and stuck it in her cart.
“Thank you, s-err...” Her eyes dropped briefly before meeting mine. “Jason.”
“Anytime, Elena.” I glanced back down at her bared foot. “Now put your shoe on, flamingo. We have some shopping to do.”
She blessed me with a smile and obeyed, sliding the heel back on and standing tall.
“Need anything else?” I asked, allowing her to lead the way.
“Nope.”
I eyed her carefully, seeing she only had detergent in her cart but didn't argue. “I'll run and grab something quick. Stay here. Your feet have to be dying in those things.” I gestured at her sky-high heels.
While sexy as all hell, they were impractical for hiking around a department store.
She nodded in agreement, resting all her weight on one hip to relieve some pressure.
“Be back in a flash.”
I took off like a bat out of hell in a slight jog, not wanting to keep her waiting. On any other day, I would have skipped the razors for the sake of her feet, but I had to get them to be ready for Saturday. Between dinners and meetings, I'd have no other time to grab them. I wasn't going to go on a date with Jewels with a less than stellar shave.
I found the aisle with relative ease, grabbing a fresh pack of blades and tossing them in my basket. The condoms down the row were beckoning me over, and my cock stirred at the prospect, but I knew no amount of shopping basket Tetris could hide them. That wasn't an awkward encounter I was willing to risk.
I bounded back over to Elena, finding her right where I left her. She was relaxed, smiling softly when I returned.
God knows if I ran into my ex, I'd be drenched in sweat and in need a case of beer. But not Elena. She was radiant as ever.
“Ready?”
She nodded, and we made our way towards the checkout. I scanned the aisles for the twerp on the way while Elena clicked along with her eyes straight ahead. It seemed like I was more ready to attack than she was. I couldn't help it. Guys like him made my skin crawl.
“Thank you for this week.”
I glanced over at her in surprise, abandoning guard duty. “For what?”
“For the training.” She smiled softly. “It's been great. They're nice people.”
“Oh. You're welcome.”
It was odd. I had never been thanked for mandatory training before. Most of the time, I was sworn at behind my back.
I heard her praises from all the honchos I called in with a few complimenting her too much. She wasn't mine, but I wouldn’t let out-of-state idiots get her mixed up into trouble. If anything happened, I'd have to fire both offenders. No ifs, ands, or buts.
“They never invite us to meetings like that but expect us to know the procedures. It's helpful actually to be there to learn them.”
“I figured. This branch seems a little backward.” It was the understatement of the century, but I say what I really felt, especially as the branch manager that was supposed to be all sunshine and rainbows about the future.
“Ass backward.”
I chuckled, surprised at her candidness. “Got that right.”
“But things have been getting better,” she admitted.
“You think so?” I asked, coming to a stop at the line, waving her ahead of me.
“I know so. I'm not an idiot. I knew we were in trouble before. All you had to do was look at the numbers.”
I stared at her before swallowing the truth. I
wanted to vent about my experience with the numbers, but I held back.
“Things are improving.”
She nodded, plopping the detergent on the conveyor belt. “Thanks to you. God knows what will happen when you head to Chicago.”
“You know about Chicago?” I asked, raising a brow. I hadn't realized the cat was out of the bag.
“Everyone knows about Chicago,” she replied, smirking. “The walls of Croft talk, bud.”
“So I've heard.”
She glanced around before leaning close, catching me off guard as her coconut scent bombarded my personal space. “If you listen closely, you can hear the ghost of Steve Wilson doing jack shit,” she murmured.
I burst into laughter: ridiculous laughter that drew the eyes of everyone around us, her words cutting a cord of restraint deep inside.
Elena Julian wasn’t such a mousy thing, after all. She was a sassy chick with a mouth on her, and hopefully, a strong, new ally in my war against failure in Ithaca.
Elena
After trying on every dress I owned, I left a mountain of fabric strewn across my bed. I crumbled from the vixen in the bathroom mirror with cat eyes and sultry lips to an insecure mess after slipping into the first frock.
I had va-va-voom hair in a loose chignon and curves for days thanks to my favorite bra, but nothing looked right. I was aware of every imperfection, critiquing myself like a hawkish mother at a beauty pageant. Everything was too fitted or too baggy. Too short or too modest. Too plain or too flashy.
Bear had me primping and prepping like no other. I went on a few dates since the breakup, but not with a man I had gotten to know beyond a quick exchange at a bar. The weight of my expectations was pressing down despite my best efforts. What if he was my dream man, finally here to sweep me off my feet, and I showed up looking busted?
I was never one for fashion, but I faked it the best I could since coming to New York. I mimicked friends and coworkers, enviable of how effortlessly stylish they all appeared. I was lucky if I could match, let alone look bomb.com from head to toe.
It was a damn shame Lee was tied up with her in-laws, or I totally would have sent her pictures for approval. She was the fashionista I hoped to be someday.
