- Sebastian -
Each ring of her phone felt longer than the one before, and I was surprised by the level of anxiety I was feeling.
How could I care so much after the way she ghosted me?
How could I still want her with such intensity after so many years?
And was that even what was causing this tightness in my chest? Or was I just haunted by the unfinished business we had, desperate for an explanation so long overdue it would be naïve to think it might come?
“Hello?”
My chest relaxed at the sound of her voice. “Lily.”
“Sebastian.”
“You answered.”
“I promised.”
Silence.
There were so many questions I needed to ask, but none of them approached the tip of my tongue. “How are you?”
She laughed.
It was a sound I missed, and I leaned forward on the couch in the hope that I might feel closer to it.
“In what way?” she asked.
“Generally.”
“Generally I’m good.”
I nodded.
“You?”
We’d never needed small talk before, but our former familiarity had frozen over, making us strangers again in so many ways. Were we still us? No. Obviously not. But something in my heart made me feel like maybe we could be. Maybe. “I’m good, yeah. Busy.”
“Busy is good.”
I could hear the hesitation in her voice and wondered if she even wanted to know me again, but it was impossible to guess. All I knew was that I couldn’t come right out and tell her how much I missed her, how hard I searched for her, how not even close to fucking over her I was.
My pride wouldn’t allow it for one thing. Besides, letting her know how I felt about her didn’t keep her around before. And that was when I thought I knew her.
Therefore, I had to figure out what she wanted before I could promise that I could give it to her. “Have dinner with me.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“Why? You think your boyfriend will have a problem with it?”
“I don’t have a boyfriend.”
“Thank God.”
“Pardon?”
“He’d be insanely jealous of what I have planned for you.”
“What are you talking about?” she asked. “What plans?”
“Well, there are the plans I have to sweep you off your feet and then the plans I have for after I succeed.”
“I think you’re getting ahead of yourself.”
“Only because you haven’t agreed to dinner yet. I’ll meet you at square one as soon as you occupy it.”
“I’m not the girl I used to be, Sebastian.”
Her voice had a thread of sadness in it when she said my name, which felt undeserved considering I’d never done anything but try and make her happy. Of course, it was her melancholy edge that drew me to her in the first place.
I was seduced by her brooding expression, heavy eyeliner, and disinterest in all things bubblegum pink. She had the allure of a woman even as a teenager, and I wanted her with every pathetic pubescent bone in my body. I still did. Only now my body had hardened, and I knew what to do with it. “That’s irrelevant.”
“I don’t think it is,” she said. “A lot of time has passed. I know it would be fun for our past selves to catch up, but we’re not those people anymore.”
“I’m aware of how much time has passed, Lily.” I lifted my eyes to the ceiling and tried to count back from the last time I saw her. It had been over five years now, three since I stopped counting how many days she’d been gone. “But I’d still like a chance to meet whoever you are now.”
She sighed. “So you want to go to dinner as friends?”
“I can never be your friend, Lily. But if you want me to pretend I’m capable of that, I’ll do it for you.”
“Sebastian, I—”
“Don’t. Just think for a second.”
“You don’t even know what I was going to say.”
“I know I haven’t asked you for anything in a long time,” I said, clenching my jaw. “And I know you owe me an explanation.”
Silence.
I scrunched my face.
“One drink.”
A smile lifted my cheeks. “When?”
“I’m free Sunday.”
Sunday. Jeez. She must be busy, too. “You want me to pick the place?”
“Have you been to The Blue Note?”
“Love it.”
“You know it?” she asked.
“I go to their Thursday happy hours all the time.”
“Weird.”
“Why is that weird?”
“Because I go there all the time,” she said, “and I’ve never seen you.”
“Perhaps you stopped looking for me.”
“That’s not it.”
“I didn’t, Lil. You need to know that. I was never going to stop.”
“You should’ve.”
“I should’ve done a lot of things.”
“I know the feeling.”
I ran my hand through my hair and got chills when I remembered how she used to do it, how she used to drag her nails to the base of my neck so my whole body came to life. “I’ll see you at eight, and you can explain everything.”
“You’ll see me at eight, and I’ll have one drink.”
“Deal.”
I hung up and stared at my phone, knowing full well I was playing with fire. After all, this woman had broken my heart like it was nothing. Yet, at the same time, she was the only reason I knew what a heart was for in the first place.
Granted, mine had atrophied, rusted, and learned to settle for less since she disappeared from my life, but it was her heart I wanted to know about now.
Had she given it to anyone since me? Had I ever really had it to begin with? Did I have what it would take to win her back? Would she even let me?
I slumped on the couch and cracked another beer, sitting back up when my phone rang a few minutes later.
“Hello?”
“Sebastian?”
I furrowed my brow. “Who is this?”
“It’s Tracey.”
She was shouting into the phone, but I could barely make out her words over the background noise. “What’s going on?”
“Tiffany’s pretty fucked up. I think you need to come get her.”
“Where are you guys?” I jumped up and went to put my shoes on.
“Club Zero—no wait.”
I listened as she argued with someone else. “Tracey!”
“Club Zero, yeah.”
“I’m on my way,” I said, grabbing my keys. “Stay with her until I get there.”
I flagged down a cab as quick as I could and asked the kind-faced driver to step on it before squeezing my jaw and hoping with everything that she wouldn’t be as bad as she was the last time this happened…just eight days ago.
In the beginning, she was a blast to go out with. I loved that she was unpredictable and didn’t take herself too seriously. But over the last six months, I was starting to feel more and more like a fucking babysitter, and I was sick of watching her miss jobs (because of hangovers) and choose drug-fueled dance parties over working on the fashion blog she wanted to launch.
But most of all, the drama was killing me. I knew lots of guys who thrived on the shit, guys who were happy to fireman-carry their girlfriends home every night they went out, but I wasn’t that guy.
I’d tried to be. I really had. But my patience was wearing thin, and I didn’t want to be in a relationship with chaos anymore.
I needed a change.
I needed a woman who was as anti-drama as I was, a woman who was actually ready for a mature relationship, a woman who felt I was all the excitement she needed.