“No way, Jose.” This fool is out of his damn mind. A shot of whiskey. What the hell kind of nonsense is this?
“Oh, tequila. You want tequila. I can get tequila shots.”
“Lucas, seriously. No. Just a martini, and I’m good. No shots needed.”
Sighing in resignation, he rises from his seat across from me and goes to the bar to order us a few drinks. When I agreed to go for a drink, I thought we’d go to the bar in the hotel lobby or maybe the sports bar we passed on our way to the food carts. Then Lucas stopped a couple enjoying an amazing aromatic gyro, and while I contemplated my fourth meal of the evening, he secured a recommendation for a popular local watering hole.
At first glance, I didn’t see the door for the establishment. Painted black and blending in with the brick of the building, the door has a simple “22” marked on it like an address. When we opened the door, it was dark and took a few blinks to adjust to the darkness. Bluesy music wafted through the room as people spoke in hushed volumes. Stepping up behind me, Lucas placed a hand on my lower back and guided me toward an empty booth in the corner.
I’m sure to most of the people in the room, we look like any young couple on a date. What they don’t know, what Lucas doesn’t know, is I’m enjoying his hand on me a little too much. As I take my seat, the overhead lights catch the ring on my left hand, and I pause slightly before sitting down. Guilt hits me like a sledgehammer.
Then anger. Anger directed toward Trenton, and anger toward myself for even feeling guilty for being here with Lucas. For loving the idea of people thinking we’re a couple, and we’re here together. Wishing I didn’t have this ring on so maybe for one night I could see what it’s like to be with someone who listens to me. Someone who sees the person I’ve always been, the girl I was ten years ago and the woman I am now.
Without a second thought, I slide the ring from my finger and slip it into my pocket. Who knew a simple act like that could lift the guilt from my shoulders instantly? How can I even consider going through with this marriage when I’m giddy at the thought of spending the next few hours with Lucas? I’m literally the worst person ever.
“What’s with the sad face?” A chilled martini glass slides in front of me, and without hesitation, I pick it up and finish off most of the cocktail in one drink. And then I cough up half a lung, because martinis are strong and basically lighter fluid.
“Dang girl,” he teases while bringing his glass of amber liquid to his lips.
Smiling, I shrug and take a much more dignified sip of my martini as Lucas goes into a story of growing up with a grandfather who loved R&B music. I’ve never taken the time to truly listen to the music but must admit the beat has me swaying in my seat as I drain the rest of my drink before popping the olive in my mouth.
Trenton would rather run a mile without shoes on the hottest day of summer than sit in a bar like this, a throwback speakeasy where people are here to be with one another, to converse, and be in the moment rather than be seen. The realization of who the man I’ve chosen to marry is, well, it’s less than desirable. That is not the kind of person I want to spend my life with, but I’ve been so focused on the perfection of our life I didn’t realize how much of me I was giving up for him.
I’ve striven for perfection. Demanded it. Planned it. Wished it. I was wrong. Perfection isn’t a plan or a way of life, it’s living the best life there is for you. With the people who love you, the life you choose is perfect because it’s your best life.
“Okay,” Lucas deadpans, taking the glass from my hand and placing it on the table. Double blinking, I look up to him as he stands and extends his hand. “You’re way too serious in your own head; we’re dancing.”
“No way. I have two left feet and you’re a professional.” My head is shaking a big fat no so quickly it may fly right off my shoulders.
“Yes way. Come on, give me the dance I never had as a kid.” His comment takes me by surprise, and I stare at him in awe. His perfect smile reaches ear to ear, and a dimple I never realized was there winks at me. Speechless, I stumble a little as he tugs me from my seat and leads me to the dance floor. Surrounded by four other couples, I allow him to spin me until I’m facing him and my left arm rests on his shoulder.
“Relax; it’s just a dance, Whit.”
I try. I really do. My efforts are for naught because I’m stiff as a board as a bluesy tune by Bonnie Raitt talks about being a little too. A little too close, a little too loud, and staring a little too long. Somewhere between too loud and staring, I’ve relaxed and let Lucas pull me closer to him. Swaying side to side, I rest my check on his beating heart and swear my own heartbeat matches his.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
Seamlessly, the music transitions to something sexy and soulful. A song that oozes emotion and heart. Lyrics of love and wishes. Questions without answers. The need for a reciprocated love.
Questions and needs of my own heart.
Tears slip from my eyes, and I’m torn in two. Both sides of my life, the one before I walked in on Trenton and the one I’ve found these last few days, battle one another. Who am I if I go back to the life I had? Heartache and pain is guaranteed. Trust and faith are gone. Wishes and hope shattered.
This isn’t the life I want. This isn’t the perfection I dreamed of. I can’t marry Trenton. More tears fall, and before I know it, a new slow building love song envelops us, and Lucas places his hand on my cheek, wiping a tear away as I turn my gaze to his. No words are spoken. There are too many for me to articulate. I’m in a battle and losing by the second. When he leans down and his lips land on mine, I melt.
I melt into a puddle of pain and sorrow and of happiness and satisfaction. His lips are soft. His kiss is tender. We slow our dance to barely a sway as both hands cup my face, and he deepens the kiss. His tongue glides into my mouth and the moment it does, I feel my knees buckle. My fifteen-year-old self is in heaven, but the woman I am today is in a euphoric state.
And while the kiss began slowly, it ends abruptly.
Zing.
Zang.
Electricity.
It.
Stepping back, I look to Lucas wide-eyed. Scared and horrified at what I’ve done. I may have decided five minutes ago I don’t plan on marrying Trenton, but I’m still engaged. I’m still spoken for, and as much as I hurt seeing him with Eliza, I’m no different in this moment. I’ve broken my promise to him, and I feel sick.
“Whitney,” he begins.
“I have to go. I . . .”
Nodding, he offers me his hand again, but I pivot and walk toward the front door. Distance. I need distance. And a cold fucking shower.
I’m not sure how long I stand outside, minutes or seconds, but when Lucas appears he says, “I called an Uber.”
We stand in silence, this time it’s awkward and not comfortable like it was. I don’t know why I’m freaking out, but I am. Fine, I’m freaked out because I want to go back to his room with him and let him do all the naughty things he simulates on the stage.
The drive back to our hotel is quiet. The darkest cloud fills the small space, and it isn’t from the joint I’m sure the driver was smoking before we got in the car. When we pull in front of the hotel, I take Lucas’s offered hand when I step from the sedan but drop it almost instantly.
Our rooms are next to one another. Not only next to one another, but adjoining. Two little doors separate us. And when he wishes me goodnight, I want nothing more than to tell him I’m sorry for my reaction. That I’m confused and a mess but that was by far the best first kiss of my life. It was everything I always hoped it would be and then some. I don’t. Instead I offer, “Goodnight” before stepping in my room and locking the door.
I could wallow in my frustrations. Lying on the bed and sobbing into the pillow seems like an excellent idea. Instead, I pull my phone from my back pocket and call Jessi.
“What’s wrong?”
The tears I thought were locked away reappear as I sob into the phone, “I can’t marry Trenton.”
“No shit. Why are you crying?”
Laughing, I let my best friend give me the worst pep talk in the world but thank my stars for her and her ability to plan ahead.
“What do you mean you can implement Plan B? I have no Plan B.”
“Girl, it’s like you don’t know us. We totally have a Plan B and maybe a Plan C in case you had this realization on the big day. Anyway, I just squirreled, but moving on, we have a plan. Specifically, how to cancel a wedding in less than a week. I’ll take care of everything since I have your passwords and shit. Your job is to tell Trenton and your parents. When do you get back?”
“After tonight? I think I may fly home tomorrow.”
“What happened tonight?”
“Nothing.”
“Liar.”
“We’ll just say fifteen-year-old Whitney was right.”
“Oh. My. Gosh! You kissed him!”
Her shrill is so loud I’m certain Lucas can hear it through the doors that adjoin our rooms. Shushing her, I tell Jessi about our night and the perfection of Lucas DeCosta’s lips.
“Damn, girl. I won’t lie; I’m jealous. But good for you. I think you should send the dirty douche a breakup text and go knock on that hot stud’s door.”
“There are so many things wrong with that statement I can’t even begin. I’m going to unblock Trenton and make a call.”
The pep talk picks up again and this time, words of encouragement and love are exchanged. With Jessi’s encouragement, I unblock Trenton’s number and wait for the notifications to filter through.
One.
There’s one notification, and it’s a text.
Trenton: We need to talk.
You can say that again, buddy. Before replying, I pull up my travel app and search for a flight home. There’s a mid-morning flight that gets me home long before dinnertime, and I hit book before typing a response to his text.
Me: I’ll be home tomorrow. Should we meet at the house?
Trenton: That works. Text me a time.
I don’t reply and instead toss my phone on my bed and step toward the door separating me from Lucas. My nerves are in hyper drive as I open my door and lightly knock on his. Seconds tick by, and just as I’m set to give up, the door opens, and Lucas stands before me. His hair is mussed like he’s been running his hands through it, and I must hold back from raising my hand to smooth his tresses.
“Hey,” I whisper.
“Hey.”
“So, I just talked to Trenton.”
The tension that was full of sexual undertones an hour ago cools to one of ice as he takes a deep breath and looks beyond my shoulder into my room.
“I’m going to fly home tomorrow. I hate having you drive alone, it worries me—”
Lucas cuts me off, “It’s fine. I think I’ll stay another night here in Portland. Check out more of the city before heading back.”
“Luc –”
“Let’s not do this, Whitney. It was a great trip. No regrets.”
“No regrets.”
Offering me a small smile, he nods and closes the door. The second the lock clicks a piece of my heart cracks with it.