Present
There’s a ringing in my head. It won’t quit, and it feels like it’s getting more persistent, louder. My head is throbbing. So much pain—oh my god, do I have a tumor? It’s so dark. After a moment, the ringing stops. I try opening one eye, and the light streaming in through the blinds is like a lightning bolt to my head.
“Ahh,” I moan. The ringing starts up again, and I realize it’s my phone. Champagne is the devil. Reaching out toward the side table, I keep my eyes closed for fear I will be blinded by the sunlight coming into the room. What the fuck, San Francisco? The one day you decide to let the sun shine without the cover of fog has to be the day I wake up in an ultimate vampire state?
Without looking, I tap the screen just to make it stop ringing. “Hello,” I groan. My mouth feels like someone shoved a million cotton balls into it.
“Hey Cass, Happy New Year!” Laney shouts, her words vibrating through my skull.
“Ssssshhhhh. Don’t shout,” I beg. “I think it’s just nifty you’ve decided to stop ignoring me after a week on the one day my head feels like I was kicked between the eyes.”
She giggles. “I wasn’t ignoring you…well, maybe initially, but then work has just been nuts and with the time difference, it’s made it too hard—not to mention, I was hoping if we didn’t speak, my spiritual essence would disappear and your voodoo doll wouldn’t work.”
“Should I pull it out and see how it’s working now?” I suggest without a hint of humor.
She laughs louder, causing me to hold my head. I hate New Year’s Eve.
“I’m calling now, and that’s all that matters. What stupid thing did you do or are you about to do?”
“Nothing,” I state so quickly, even I can’t deny I sound like a liar.
“Okay, you’re the worst liar in the world, and you definitely can’t lie to me—I know you too well,” she informs me. “So what’s up? Am I too late?” Her voice is only slightly serious. I can hear a bit of concern, although it’s not Laney’s thing to get too emotional.
Sighing, I whisper, “Yes and no—and yes.”
“Cass…”
Interrupting, I sigh again. “Look, Laney, you know I’ve been all over the place with Richard.” I start with that because my real problem will take a bit more guts to admit.
“Really? That’s it, Richard again?” she remarks with an air of disappointment to her voice.
“Let me finish,” I insist, trying to work up the nerve to continue. “It’s not just Richard. Richard and I are definitely still in that weird limbo, not together, not completely apart—you know, our standard.” Pushing myself up slowly, I lean back against the pillows, my eyes finally adjusting to the light. “I didn’t tell him Pax is staying here.”
“And?” Laney isn’t grasping the picture, but why would she? I’ve never let her know the Paxton part of me, and that’s the dangerous part—there is a Paxton part of me.
I continue, not directly addressing her question. “He was pissed at first, but then he did his normal thing because, let’s face it, he doesn’t really care.”
“Cass, what’s the stupid part? Last night you said you were going to do something stupid and it would be my fault. So, what is it? Is it the fact that you stay in this mess of a non-relationship?” She doesn’t sound annoyed, just her usual Laney style of matter-of-fact.
“The stupid part is Paxton,” I say, almost in a whisper, because if I say it out loud, it makes it mean something.
“Paxton?” Laney questions, and then a small gasp sounds through the phone. “Did something happen between you two?”
“No! I mean, not really. Oh Jesus, Laney, it isn’t really like that, but it’s just something…like a storm brewing. It’s always… Shit, forget it.” I close my eyes. “It doesn’t matter because it’s Pax and he’ll never change. Things will never change between us.”
There’s a short silence, like we’re letting my words settle, allowing ourselves to accept them and move on.
“Okay.” Her voice sounds strange, like she’s resigned to the fact that she missed some crucial part of this conversation but understands she’s never going to get it again. “Well, my only advice for what I actually know about, which is this thing between you and Richard, is to figure it out and do it quickly. It’s time, and it’s destroying you. You make things too easy for him, and it’s about time you start caring enough to put yourself first, for you to choose you and figure your shit out with him, for you and no one else. No matter who…” She trails off, either because she can’t or doesn’t want to finish her statement.
“You’re right.” I sigh. “It’s going to take time. Richard and I need to talk; I owe him that much—I owe myself that much.”
I can practically hear her rolling her eyes through the phone. “Whatever you say. Just do something, Cass, anything, as long as it’s something. I’d prefer it be something different, but know I’m your best friend first and always, no matter what, no matter who—”
“I know. It’s the one thing I’ve never had to question. Thanks for that Laney. I love you.”
“I love you too. Try not to be stupid without me,” she jokes, unable to be serious for too long.
“Bye,” I say, then add, “Happy New Year, and don’t think I don’t plan on getting you back for this whole living situation you put me into with Paxton.”
“Happy New Year! I love you, like whoa! Always will!” Click. She hangs up without another word. Shaking my head, I laugh out loud at her. I can never stay annoyed with her for long, and as for the Richard thing, I know she’s right.
I lie back again, staring up at the ceiling.
Richard didn’t stay last night. It’s been more than a month since I’ve let him do more than kiss me. Last night, he finally brought it up, and we argued—again—then he left, saying he didn’t understand but would respect my wishes. I convinced him I wasn’t feeling well and had had too much champagne, and I almost convinced myself of the same thing. I haven’t truly acknowledged that it’s been since the moment I looked up from my birthday candles into the eyes of a ghost from my past.
Now that ghost is sleeping in a room across this small apartment from mine.
I need to talk to Paxton, set some boundaries, because my heart is beginning to forget that we don’t want to let Paxton Luke in; it’s the key to our survival. I also need to figure out what he was thinking last night.
Throwing the covers back, I slowly move off the bed, my head spinning a little. Damn the bubbly…or maybe it was the tequila. Both are so good going down, but so brutal the next day. Walking into the bathroom, I open a drawer, pull out some pain reliever, and then switch on the water. I cup my hand, place the pill on my tongue, and drink a bit of water to help it slide down and start working its magic.
Surprisingly, I get dressed fairly quickly and decide coffee is necessary to continue life.
Walking out into the living room, I find Paxton looking out the window, phone to his ear. I stand, watching him. He hasn’t seen me yet because his back is to me. He doesn’t have a shirt on, and I can see every edge of muscle across his torso and over his shoulders. His jeans are hanging low on his hips and he looks relaxed. He’s beautiful in the morning light.
Suddenly, as if he can sense someone watching him, he swivels around.
Our eyes meet, a small moment passes between us, and then a shadow falls over his gaze—one that’s impenetrable, one I don’t think I’ve ever seen—but he smiles anyway. I don’t like it because it’s forced. I recognize it because I’ve used the same smile against him in the past.
He points at the phone, waves, and then turns back around.
I watch him a moment longer than head into the kitchen and pour myself a cup of coffee.
When I walk back into the living room, Paxton isn’t anywhere to be seen, and his door is closed.
I need to talk to him, so I take a seat on the couch, facing his door, and wait. I finish two cups of coffee and still no Paxton. I know he’s still here because I can hear him moving around his room. Resigning myself to the fact that he’s not coming back out any time soon, I go get ready to meet a couple of my girlfriends for an early dinner.
Hoping he would’ve made a reappearance by now, I look around the apartment for any sign of Paxton; he must have snuck out while I was in my room.
I leave with an uneasy feeling. Something has shifted between us again, and it’s a shift we may not be able to come back from this time.