Present
“Laney, I’m calling to inform you that I’m putting a hex on you. I just removed hair from your brush and stuck it in this voodoo doll that is the spitting image of you and will commence sticking pins in it as soon as I hang up this phone. I plan on making this slow and painful. Remember you deserve it, and don’t even pretend not to know why. You know!” I end the call and fall back onto the bed.
I wish I were serious about the hex thing. Laney does deserve it, but we both know I won’t. For one thing, I’ve threatened this before when she pulls her self-absorbed bullshit. She just gets so involved in her own life, she doesn’t think. Two, I love her despite this flaw. I mean, we all have flaws, it’s just a shame Laney’s impacts me more than it should.
Releasing a sigh, I cover my face with the pillow.
I’m not alone, and that thought is unsettling, but I can admit the idea is only bothersome because it’s Paxton who is in this apartment with me. I thought I would have time to think. It’s the reason I didn’t stay with Richard—I wanted to be alone. I wanted to think about my relationship with Richard. I wanted to think about my writing and all the things I avoid. I wanted to embrace being twenty-six years old and being okay with where I’m at in my life. I just wanted to be.
I can’t just be.
There is no way for me to do any of what I want with Paxton around. His reentrance into my life from afar muddled things enough, but now he’s only fifty feet away from me. He saw me without clothes on. He saw me naked. When I walked out of the bathroom and found him lounging in that chair, waiting with his crooked, handsome, charming Paxton Luke smile, I couldn’t think, and by God if I didn’t want him to just take me right there against the wall. My body being exposed to his gaze was like being lit on fire, igniting a slow burn until I was completely inflamed.
He said it would be simple. Simple? How will this ever be simple for me? Even when he was on the opposite side of the world, the idea of Paxton has never been simple.
Shit. What’s wrong with me? I will not let him get the better of me. If it’s not a big deal to him, then it won’t be a big deal to me. I spent practically my entire childhood keeping Paxton Luke at a distance, so doing it as an adult shouldn’t be a problem. I can do this.
Sitting up, I hop off the bed and make my way to the kitchen. Before Paxton showed up, my plan was to have some dinner, stick a movie in, and have a little sake, and I’m not going to change my plan just because his arrival caused a ripple in it.
I pull out the leftover Japanese food from the fridge and stick it in the microwave then grab the chilled sake.
While the food heats up, I walk over to the coffee table, set the sake down, and grab the remote then click the TV on. Bringing up the on-demand movie selection, I begin searching through the romantic comedies. Quickly, I decide on Letters to Juliet. There’s just something about that movie that makes me feel better; it makes me laugh and feel hopeful that real love exists.
The microwave signals that the food is ready just as Paxton walks into the room in a tight-fitting t-shirt and sweats hanging low on his hips. Simple. This is simple.
“Hey, what’s for dinner?” he asks, like he belongs here and this is any other night in our lives. God, I hate how at ease he is.
Walking past him into the kitchen, I reply, “Well, I’m having leftover Japanese.” When I look over at him, he’s watching me with a small grin on his face. Rolling my eyes, I internally scold myself for having manners and feeling obligated to offer him some of my dinner. “There’s plenty if you want some, and I even have some sake that I’ll share, but I swear to God if you say one thing about my choice in movies, I’ll make your life miserable for the next month.” I must keep the upper hand in this friendly invitation.
Putting his hands up like I just pulled a gun on him, Paxton vows, “I wouldn’t dream of saying a word. You won’t even know I’m here, promise.” There’s laughter in his voice. I give him side eye while grinning because I’m not sure he’s capable of flying low on my radar, and I’m not sure if that is his fault or mine. Damn him for being so cute.
“We’ll see,” I retort. He pulls some plates out of the cabinet while I take the food out of the microwave. Silently, we move around one another in the kitchen. I dish out food for both of us while he gets us utensils.
He sighs. “Let’s not talk about this again, but I want to say sorry about our little encounter earlier. I’ll stay out of your room and make sure you have privacy.” I freeze when I feel him standing closer to me. I look up into his eyes, which are the color of the sky when a storm is rolling in—gray with flecks of a greenish color—and his expression is sincere. I don’t know what he sees in my eyes. I look into his gaze, trying to read what it might be. “We can make this work.”
Nodding, I turn back to the food and finish putting it on our plates. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll make it work.” I pick up my plate and start to walk away. I can feel him watching me. “We used to be friends, right? How hard can it be, even if you do get under my skin with expertise?” I look back for one brief moment and smile at my joke. Paxton isn’t smiling. He just picks up his plate and joins me in the living room.
We sit on opposite ends of the sofa from one another, and I click the movie on while he pours each of us a small ceramic cup of sake then hands one to me.
“Thanks.” I touch it to my mouth and tilt it back. The burn in my throat feels good.
We eat in silence, watching the movie and eating our food. Every once in a while, he pours us a refill. It’s sweet and surprisingly comfortable.
A little more than halfway through the movie, Paxton clears his throat. I look over at him and realize he’s debating saying something. I want to laugh because I can tell either whatever he wants to say makes him uneasy or he’s afraid I’m going to bite his head off for talking during the movie.
I decide to put him out of his misery. “Say whatever it is you want to say, Pax.”
He turns and faces me, a serious look on his face. It’s not an expression I’m used to seeing from Pax. Usually, he’s being funny, saracastic, and annoying, never serious.
“I was just thinking, do you think people can actually meet someone at a young age like this, fall in love, be separated, and then come together again?” His question shocks me. I even feel a slight stab of pain, but I’m not quite clear about what he means.
He must see the confusion on my face because he tries to explain. “What I mean is, can a love you find when you’re young last a considerable span of time when you’re separated and grow into different people? Do you believe that’s possible?”
How in the hell am I supposed to keep this living situation simple when he asks shit like this? I should’ve chosen Guardians of the Galaxy when he decided to join me tonight. I also realize I’m going to answer him honestly.
Turning toward him and bringing my feet up onto the couch, movie forgotten, I take a minute to gather my thoughts. “Yeah, I think it’s possible.” I look at his face and acknowledge that the years have been kind to him. He’s beginning to get small crinkles at the corners of his eyes, but I know it because everything is a joke. He’s happy. Paxton tilts his head a little; his expression tells me he’s trying to understand why I’m looking at him the way I am.
After a moment, I continue, “I think, for some people, it’s absolutely possible.” I pause, gathering my thoughts, willing my emotions not to get the best of me. “Then there are some people who fall in love with the idea of someone. Even if it feels like the most real thing in the world to them, it’s never realized, and when that person comes back into their lives, everything has changed.”
I’m so lost in the idea of what I’m saying, I don’t notice I am on the verge of tears until Paxton says my name questioningly. “Cass?”
I look away and busy myself pouring one last shot of sake then letting it slide down my throat before I begin picking up our plates. I can feel his eyes on my every move, but Paxton doesn’t say anything. For once, he doesn’t push me. He lets it go, which I know goes completely against his nature where I’m concerned.
“I think I’m done for the night,” I tell him without looking his way. “I’m tired and I have an early meeting with my editor.” I walk away toward the kitchen then stop without turning around. “Thanks, Pax, for the company.” I don’t say more, just continue to the kitchen, thinking to myself that he might be right—this isn’t going to be so bad after all.
Tiny white lies, avoidance—these are the things that come along with trying to be friends with Paxton.
He doesn’t move, just turns back to the movie. “Good night Cass. See you in the morning.”
“Good night Pax,” I whisper. It’s been a while, but tonight my mind will be busy reminding my heart we’re not supposed to feel too much when it comes to Paxton Luke.