39
Alina
The H.R. MacMillan Space Centre is unbelievable.
Not only did I get to hold a piece of a real meteorite from outer space, I can now say I’ve touched one of the only five moon rocks in the entire world.
Lucky: How cool is that! Jealous. Glad you made it there, Ali.
I look again at the two selfies of me holding the moon rock and meteorite I’d just sent him.
Me: We will definitely have to come back.
I ignore the small wave of loneliness that experiencing this without Lucky brings. Maybe I should have asked the girls to come along?
Lucky: Count on it. K, lunch over. Gotta get back to class.
Me: talk soon, and thank you again for this. I love it.
Dropping my phone into my bag, I exchange it for the space centre’s map, intending to work my way back to the Planetarium Star Theatre, where I’ll sit under stars, meteor showers, and nebulas before watching the two shows: “Stories in the Sky”, and “Surfing the Solar System”. I’m too engrossed checking the listed showtimes in my pamphlet to pay attention to where I’m walking, when it happens: I ram head first into a solid chest. Dropping the pamphlet to the ground, I must admit I’m a little too stunned to step back, apologize, or even look up, as the scent of Irish Spring soap mixed with leather and mint dances in the air around me, assaulting my senses.
Slater.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, muffled, into his chest, not sure I’m quite ready to see his gorgeous face. Feeling his muscles contract with his soft chuckle, I finally look up. A mix of feelings ranging from hurt to anger to forgiveness and elation all riot within me for top spot. My emotions all float back down when my eyes halt on his face, and I remember the way he made me feel last night. He looks tired, I realize, when he removes his sunglasses, and more than a five o’clock shadow covers his still handsome, but normally clean-shaven, face. His usual confidence is gone, and an unsure gaze holds mine as I repeat, “What are you doing here?”
“I came to find you. I couldn’t stay away another minute,” Slater says, placing a hand on my shoulder.
Oblivious to the stares and whispers that Slater Jenkins of Sicken Union’s arrival at the space centre is causing as passersby and fans start recognizing him, his eyes soften, moving from my eyes down to my lips. The familiar warmth I’ll always associate as a reaction reserved for his proximity ratchets up under his heavy stare and gentle touch.
Shaking my head to get out from under his trance, I firmly say, “No.” I step back, my body still bristling from his attention. The last thing I want him to see is me reacting to him. He’s an asshole who deserves to know exactly what I think—regardless of how much I still want him. He’s just lucky Roxie told me everything; knowing he didn’t take things any further with that blonde helped more than I’d care to admit.
“Alina, please,” Slater says, using my full name, and I hate it. No, I loathe it.
“Ali,” I hiss my eyes welling with tears, and the asshat chuckles.
“Okay, Ali. Please, we need to talk,” he says, reaching for my waist and pulling me closer. “I know you’re pissed at me. Shit, I’m irate with myself, but I gotta hold you for a second. I need a hug, Ali. I miss you. So much. I fucked up, I know I did. Sasha means nothing. I need you to know that,” he whispers into my neck, holding me tightly in the middle of the crowded lobby. I look up, and that’s when I spot two of the band’s security team members—Oliver standing not too far off to the side along with Charlie, who’s holding a tray with what looks like Starbucks in it.
“You hurt me,” I admit.
“I know I did. It killed me, seeing your reaction. Destroyed me, knowing I put that look of devastation on your face,” Slater says quietly. “Honestly, Sasha’s just a—I was hurt, and drinking more than I should have been. My ego was bruised, and I guess I lashed out the only way I knew how. I’m a jackass.”
“‘Sasha’, is it? Go on.” I put some much-needed distance between us. Hearing the hurt lacing Slater’s tone is almost too much. Deciding I can catch a later show, I extend an olive branch. “There’s a sitting area with tables and chairs outside beside the gift shop. Let’s go talk for a bit,” I offer.
He accepts without pause. “I’d really like that.” After nodding to Oliver and Charlie to keep the fans at bay, we weave our way outside. Thankfully, no one is too pushy trying to stop Slater for an autograph along our way, but I do see a few phones and cameras pointed in our direction.
Once sitting with our drinks—the ones he brought for us: mine a Hibiscus Refresher, and Slater’s a Venti Pike Place, black—he takes a deep breath and begins. “Ali, I’m not good enough for you. You are pure and all things sweet. I freaked when I tried to kiss you and you didn’t kiss me back. I shouldn’t have even tried. I should have talked to you about how I was feeling. I just thought…” he says, giving me an unsure smile.
“You thought what?” I repeat, before taking a sip from the green straw.
“I thought maybe you felt it, too. Maybe you wanted more from me, but even if you don’t, Ali, I can’t keep on like this, us not talking to each other. I’d rather we just be friends than whatever the fuck we’ve been for the last week. This is fucking with my head. I’m going out of my mind not talking to you or sitting with you. I hate not jamming together late at night, and I can’t stand not being on the receiving end of your smile. And I miss your smell on my clothes after we hang out,” he sighs, his cheeks turning the cutest rose-coloured hue, and I can’t hide my smile, knowing Slater Jenkins is blushing and it’s because of me.
“I miss you too,” I admit. “I heard what happened after I left. Roxie filled me in. I can’t say I wasn’t relieved, I was. You need to know how much you hurt me, though. I can’t stop thinking about the way you looked at her, or the vulgar way you spoke to me, asking me to join the two of you, and watching you kiss her…” I say, shuddering and looking away, needing a break.
“I was dead wrong. I thought I could forget you. Truth is, you’re unforgettable. I hate myself for hurting you. But Roxie’s right. Nothing happened after you left. I was so pissed at myself that I pushed Sasha off me then tried to follow you, but Fife and Rain stopped me. I punched Fife,” he tells me, and it shocks me. Roxie had left that tidbit out.
“You hit Fife, huh?” I mull it over.
“I did. I’m not proud of it. I was so far gone, realizing what I’d done, all I could think about was chasing you. They finally calmed me down, and I left. I walked around for hours before heading back to the hotel alone. Shit, I stood outside your door forever, daring myself to knock, but thinking better of it. I could hear you in there with your girls, and knew we both needed time. It killed me, but I knew no matter what I said last night, it wouldn’t be enough,” Slater admits, reaching across the small table, taking my hand in his. “I am so sorry, baby. I would never intentionally hurt you again like I did last night. I was confused and hurting, too. So, I’m going to take a leap of faith here, Ali, and I’m going to admit, going forward—friends or more—that I want you in my life. And I’ll take you in any way you’ll give yourself to me.” He expels a long deep breath, and I believe him. I know Slater Jenkins would never hurt me on purpose. I realize we’ve both gone about this—whatever this is between us—the wrong way. I know this is new territory for both of us.
“I believe you. I’m sorry, too.” I pause.
“What I said to you—” Slater starts to speak, but I cut him off.
Shaking my head, I lean over the table, placing my finger over his lips. “It’s all right, Slater. I get it.”
“You do?”
“We both played a part in this, so now we move on and work to fix it. Work to build a trusting relationship where we both give and take. I’ve got to learn to open up. That’s on me. It might take me a little, but I want to get there with you. I want to be able to share parts of myself with you. I’ve got a lot of learning and growing to do, but I want to find that place where I know I can let you in.”
Deciding to put him out of his misery, I slide my chair over so I’m closer to him. Leaning in, I wrap my hands around his neck, pulling him in, ready to admit that I want him, too. “I’ve missed you. I feel it, too, Slater. I feel it so much. I want you as a friend, and as more…” I whisper into his ear.
When I’m done, Slater holds me tighter than I’ve ever been held, and it feels perfect.
“Fuck, Ali, hearing you say that makes me so damn happy,” he smiles, looking me in the eye. “I promise to do everything I can to prove to you how much it’s you, and only you. I’ll be there when you’re ready to share all of your pieces with me, and in the meantime, I’ll take whatever I can get.”
I nod my head. “We’re doing this?” I ask, feeling a tear of relief run down my face.
“We really are,” Slater says, cupping my face in his hands before resting his forehead against mine.
“Now, let’s not miss the showtime,” I smile, needing a break from the seriousness of our conversation. “Before we go, I have to say this. It’s difficult for me to say, but you can’t ever use other women to hurt me, Slater, ever. I can’t take seeing that. I’m too hard on myself as it is, and last night seeing her with you nearly broke me. I realize you might want more of an explanation for why I’m saying that, but I need more time to get there, to get to that place of trust with you. Can you accept that?”
“I can accept it. And know I’ll be here whenever you’re ready to open up. No matter what happens, Ali, I want you to believe me, you can always talk to me. I’ll never take you for granted again. I’ll wait as long as you need me to,” he says sincerely, before taking my hand and walking us back inside the space centre.
“How’d you find me, anyway?” I ask.
“One guess.”
“Roxie.”
“Yep, after she nearly chopped my dick off. We talked and I got her to cave.”
“Huh. Well, you must have said all the right things, because as of this morning, there were three girls, other than me, ready to maim you—especially Roxie.” I laugh, wrapping my arm around his waist, loving the way it feels to be this close to him.
I might not be ready to open up today but I know with Slater by my side, I’ll get there someday.
Before the show starts, I whip off a quick text to Roxie.
Me: thank you, Rat.
Rox: *squeak squeak*
Slater and I spend the afternoon taking in as much of the space centre as we can with all his fans milling about and gawking at us. We talk, laugh, look at meteorites and moon rocks, and—best of all—work to rebuild our bubble.