A few weeks later
I smile along with everyone's laughter, a beer in my hand as we sit at a bar. They're all James' friends, a mixture of people that don't make sense but that in and of itself makes sense because people just love James. It doesn't matter who they are.
We've been taking things slow, we're friends. And as much as I'm glad that James has forgiven me enough to be friends with me, I can't help but think that we're more.
It's the looks that he gives me, the way our eyes meet amidst the chaotic bar, or the way he texts me randomly throughout the day and I him. We've fallen back to some old habits, ones I've missed and longed for. And there's some old habits we haven't found our way back to. The more intimate ones and I crave those intensely.
I take a drink of the cold beer, the dew pooling against my hand as I sit across from James wedged between a girl named Frankie and another girl named Ashleigh. They're focus is not on me, in fact I'm probably more of a placeholder than anything, someone they can turn their back to without worrying as they flirt with the people on their other side. Which is fine, I don't have it in me to stave off potential flirts. Setting my beer back down on the table, the clink of glass hitting the beat up wood top drowned out by laughter, I see a guy approach James.
He's tall, like James, one of those guys that looks too perfect, chiseled and handsome. He's dressed impeccably, just like James, a stark contrast to my plain ill fitting attire and I find myself wishing I had borrowed clothes from Wes. He has light blond hair, a hint of red in it, a fair complexion, a jawline that could cut glass and a dazzling smile.
Instantly jealousy roars to life within me, consuming every nook and cranny as I grind my teeth together and watch. He leans into the table, cutting James off from his friend Kareem. James smiles, shifting slightly so this intruder has space. My blood feels like it's been set to boil, desperation heating up until my entire body is tense, my breathing tight as I watch their interaction.
I have no right, I know that. He's not my boyfriend, but I want him to be. And watching him smile at another man like that hurts. It's a pain so intense it's blinding.
And with it comes the awful truth. That James doesn't want to be my boyfriend, not after what I did, how I hurt him. That if I want him in my life I'll have to spend it watching him love another man.
The man inches his way closer, his attention on James and even though he just walked up I can't sit here and watch it. It'll kill me, it'll tear me to pieces. I shove the table away, hard enough that my beer clatters precariously back and forth. And just as I go to stand, James' eyes meet mine, a guarded expression that I can't read.
We take each other in for a minute before I turn and head for the doors. I wish I could be one of those people that are just happy for their ex. That they just want them to be happy and have what they want regardless of their own feelings. But I'm not.
I want James. I've been trying to show him that I'm back. That I'm staying. That I'm trying.
The night air is cool as I burst through the doors, all the heat and stickiness of the bar dissipating from my skin causing goosebumps to erupt. The parking lot is empty of people, packed with cars and I start off with purpose toward my own.
"Where are you going?" James' voice fills the air around me and I spin around.
He's standing in the light of the bar, perfectly illuminated so I can see all of his features.
"I'm leaving." I say like it's not obvious and I hear James let out a dry laugh.
"So what, you're running away again?" James' voice fills the air, clipped and angry.
My own anger surfaces, lying just beneath the surface waiting to strike. "You were flirting!" I throw my hands out accusing him.
"I'm single!" He defends. "I'm not doing anything wrong!"
He steps toward me and I take one too, both of us tense and ready to stake our claim. He towers over me, not only in height but also in mass but I don't care. I don't want James to be with anyone but me.
"What about us?" I shout at him.
"What about us Brett?" He counters back, not giving me a chance to rebuttal. "How am I supposed to trust you? How do I know you're not just going to drop me? You're still not actually out Brett!"
"I'm trying!" It's a desperate plea that flees from me. "I love you J and I'm..."
I don't get to finish my thought, tears filling my eyes and my vision going blurry just as James bounds across the small distance that separates us. His lips crash into mine, his hands drawing me close. Everything stills inside me, all the anger and the pain and the jealousy dies right there as I melt into James.
He still makes my head hazy, clouded with lust and unable to think about anything but him being close. It's a feeling that I've missed, that had slowly slipped away from me.
His forehead rests against mine, his hand pulling my chin closer to his as we pull away. Not enough to put much distance between one another because now that he's this close I'm not sure I can bear to have him leave. His eyes are closed, his warm breath fanning across my face.
"Do you want to go to my place?" He asks, a low rumble that hits my core like a wrecking ball, shattering any composure and self restraint I had.
I nod my head, unable to find words.
His hand finds mine, our fingers lacing as he says "come on" and I follow after him willingly.
