Before You Go

chapter five

He lied to me. He never answered my calls. He bailed on me too many times to count. He's the reason we grew apart.

But, more importantly, he let me down.

His decision to leave me sitting on our rock, alone and waiting for him to come back to me, is what caused our relationship to go up in smoke. It was the catalyst of the disaster, and it hurt me.

Just for the sake of my sanity, I down another shot. Tomorrow will not be a good day for me, but I don't care. If I'm sick, I won't have to socialize with Leon at all; I can stay cooped up in the bathroom with a bag of kettle corn and some Advil while I reprimand myself for being so stupid. But the thought of camping out in the bathroom is what causes me to put down my shot glass and return the bottle of tequila to its rightful spot. As much as I want to forget about Leon, he's here and I'm going to have to deal with him. Alcohol isn't going to solve my problems.

Sighing, I grab the shot glass and head over to the sink to wash it. I'm drying it when a voice comes from behind me.

"Need some help with that?"

I jump and spin around to face him, dropping the shot glass. It shatters against the hardwood floor. What looks to be millions of shards of glass now coat the floor and bracket my bare feet.

Leon holds up one finger and sets down his tack of towels. "Stay there, Liz. Tell me where the broom is."

"I can get the broom myself," I argue, my tongue becoming loose from the shots. I'm beginning to feel that buzz in my head. So much for just eating my calories tonight.

"And I can see that your stubbornness hasn't faded over time," he smiles.

"Says you," I mutter.

"What was that?"

"Nothing," I reply, staring down at the shattered glass. I'm scared that if I look at him for too long, I may do something I'll regret. Murdering him sounds very tempting, but it's too expensive. And I couldn't bear to be locked up for the rest of my life without access to my curling iron or toolbox. "The broom is in the pantry to the right of the fridge. But you already knew that."

Leon quickly salutes me and then heads over to the pantry. As he walks, I watch him closely. He's gotten taller. A lot taller. The last time I was physically in the same room as him, we were the same height. Now, he towers over me. His dirty-blond hair is unruly, tangling with his lashes. As I'm staring, he glances over at me, a look of uncertainty in his eyes. I make sure my glare is cold as ice and hard as stone. If he thinks he can walk back into my life and hop directly onto my good side, he's sadly mistaken.

I revert my gaze to the floor, telling myself to get a grip. My hands are shaking again, even with the effects of alcohol beginning to slowly numb my nerves. No matter what I do, I can't seem to harness my emotions.

"Liz?"

My head flies up before I can stop it. No one calls me that anymore. Not even James or Tenille. And when Leon says my name, my heart lurches. His voice is deeper, mellower, but the intonation when he says my name is still the same. Instantly, something inside me begins unravelling. Leon always used to say my name as if it belonged to him. Or maybe I just let him have too much power over me when we were young. Maybe I was a fool.

"What?" I ask.

"You're good to walk now."

I blink at him and then look down at my feet. No more glass brackets my feet. My cheeks begin to heat up. Goddamn him. How long was I staring? How long was I daydreaming like a sixteen-year-old girl? I suppress an eye roll, hoping he wasn't talking to me while he was sweeping. If he was, I'm sure he's aware that I was checking him out and mentally drooling over him. He may not have an orgasm-inducing body like Scott does, but Leon is alarmingly attractive in his own way. He carries an allure with his personality; he seems like your average guy, but once you peel back some of the layers he has, he becomes interestingly complicated. He's a mystery you'll never be able to solve no matter how hard you try.

His grin widens and he cocks a brow.

Great, I think to myself. Just great. I'm stroking his stubbornly obnoxious ego. Good job, Eliza. It's just what he needs. Bravo!

Shaking my head, I turn my attention back to the kitchen sink. It's late – everyone has already turned in for the night, including James. And suddenly, I'm wishing I hadn't volunteered to do the dishes tonight so I could be in bed, too.

Leon follows me, leaning against the counter. He crosses his toned arms over his broad chest. I bet, beneath the tight sweater he's wearing, if I were to poke him, I would feel nothing but rock-hard abs beneath.

SANGSTER!

I grab the wet cloth. "Well, thanks for the help," I drawl. "You can leave now. I'm sure you've got better things to do than wash dishes. Grab whatever you came in here to get and leave. I can handle this on my own."

Immediately, Leon pushes off of the counter and I breathe a sigh of relief, thinking that he might actually be listening to me. Leaving is the best thing he can do at the moment. After the shots I downed, I know it's only a matter of time before I become too loose-lipped. Of course, I'm totally wrong, though. Instead of leaving, Leon grabs a dishtowel from a nearby drawer and begins to dry the dishes on the dishrack.

I set my sopping wet cloth down, ignoring the water that soaks the thighs of my jeans. "What are you doing?" I demand. He's humming a cheery tune as he towels the plate in his hand. "Seriously, Leon, what the hell are you doing?"

The grin on his face falters, which makes me feel a rush of triumph. "Christ, Liz," he says. "When did you become so cold-hearted?"

The shots of tequila are really beginning to hit me now; the slight buzz feels stronger and it's beginning to saturate the edges of my mind, to loosen my lips. "I don't know," I reply, shooting him a sardonic smile. "When did you become so good at being MIA? And lying? First, you fucking lie to me and then you don't return my calls and then you don't speak to me for two whole years. That must be some kind of international record. One for the fucking books, eh, Leon?"

Only when he's been silent for several seconds do I dare look at him. He's stopped towelling the dish in his hands and he's no longer smirking. Instead, he's frozen in place with a hollow look in his eyes. He's also gnawing on his bottom lip as the gears in his mind spin with thought.

I pick up my cloth and then set it back down again, wiping my hands on my jeans. Screw these goddamn dishes. I can do them tomorrow. Or Leon can do them right now. "I'm going to bed," I declare, turning around. "Nothing's changed since the last time you were here; you should know where everything goes. Cleaning the kitchen can be your payment for arriving earlier than anyone expected. Goodnight, Leon."

"Liz..."

I can hear the pleading tone in his voice. I can hear the want and the need to talk to me. His tone holds the very essence of regret.

It makes my heart hurt.

As I walk away, completely ignoring him, I clutch my chest and squeeze my eyes shut. I thought the pain of our past had been dealt with. I thought all the missed opportunities were locked away for good. I thought we had faded away into nothing. But now, with Leon showing up unexpectedly, I'm not sure what to think anymore. Everything, all these old emotions and questions and curiosities, has hit me hard.

I'm the driver of a race car with broken brakes and I'm speeding towards the edge of a cliff at an unbelievable rate.

The unsaid goodbye that happened between us was supposed to be the end of everything.

So where do we go from here?