I can't spend another minute getting over loving you...
*****
All the progress I have made in the last couple of days - if I have, indeed, made any progress at all- inevitably went down the gutter the second she picked up the phone.
I knew it was her almost immediately, but something inside of me was hoping I was wrong. I wasn't even remotely ready to face all the feelings that came rushing over me with the sound of her hesitant voice at the other end of the line.
But as painful as it was, I can't deny that it was also exhilarating. Because every day that has gone by since that night and until today, I grew more and more numbly accustomed to the idea of never see or hear from her again; and it was bloody awful.
She was getting more and more unattainable and distant with each day I'd share with Madeleine, and when the time came for me to finally acknowledge that our battle was lost, she find her way back into my life. Willingly or not, but she did.
Even though I still feel scorned by her, now I can see that the distance was fairly worse.
I still don't understand why she would answer the phone when she must've known that I was the one calling. My name had to be plastered on the screen and she could've just made the choice of letting it ring until the voicemail would take over. But she chose to pick up. She chose to talk to me, and I'm not really sure what that means.
Maybe she wanted to talk? Maybe she needed to hear my voice as much as I needed to hear hers, despite of all of the torment that it now has brought upon me. Or maybe, she just picked up the call without even looking; perhaps thinking that it was her phone that was ringing.
After all, those damn phones look exactly alike to one another, and no one ever bothers to personalize the ringtone.
"Hey... Where are you?"
The contact with her body, though it's been a while, still strikes me as foreign as the first time. But nothing I can't actually live with. And as pathetic as it sounds, being alone is not the best option.
Being alone means silence, and that sort of silence always leads to thinking. And thinking, well, it is just not good for me.
Her arms wrap around my waist as I can feel her forehead pressing softly between my shoulder blades. She is a really sweet girl, and any other guy would be lucky to have her. And I know that if I let this thing go any further, all I will ever do is hurt her.
Even though I have been nothing but honest with her throughout our entire... whatever this is, I keep telling myself that I need to end this; that I have been taught better than to use the favors of a woman to forget about another, and this is not the way people should be treated.
But then again, there is that silence. And whenever I think about it, lurking in the shadows, waiting to get me alone so it can swallow me whole, I go back to her and the shield she has provided me with for the last couple of weeks.
"Hey!" she calls again. This time with a bit of urgency, "Is everything okay?" Her grip loosens, but just enough to allow me to spin around and come face to face with her. Her brown eyes look up at me, filled with questions, "You've been off since that phone call..."
When I said I have been honest with her, I meant it. She knows everything, in absolute detail, about the girl who stole my heart, made it grow three sizes with all the love she poured inside of it, and then, once she had it in the palm of her hand, made it burst within her tighten fist.
She knows all there is to know about Clementine; even the fact that she is far from being out of my head, and she insists on being fine with it. In her own words, she is just having fun with the famous guy and I just let her erase my memory temporarily every time we go at it.
"I'm sorry, Mads" I gasp with my lips pressed on the top of her head, "I don't think I should talk about this with..."
Every time I come close to her physically, I keep reminding myself that there is no need for me to do this. She might be okay with our little arrangement for now, but there is this flame in her eyes burning brighter with each day that goes by, telling me that it is just a matter of time before her mind and heart change into something more.
"... Me?" she finishes my sentence, "You don't think you should talk about it with me?"
Her eyebrows arch into a sarcastic, funny frown and when I notice that spark in her pupils, I know that there is a sting she is trying to conceal. The corners of my mouth curl up into a sheepish simper, and I do my best to push the guilt as far away as it would let me.
"Yeah..." I manage to say before diverting my gaze from hers. With a gentle tug, I unwrap myself from her, and I walk inside the kitchen, pretending to be searching for something. Anything.
"Oh, come on! Since when there is something you can't talk to me about? You know you can tell me anything" she says, standing between me and the refrigerator just when I'm about to open it for the third time, "It's about her, isn't it? She was the one you were talking to..."
"Can I, though? Tell you everything?" I ask her a little more condescending than I intended, "I know that you think you're alright with this..." I continue when I see she opens up her mouth to object. My hand waves in the air, between the two of us, "But I think it is getting out of hand. And I don't want to hurt you or disrespect you"
For a few seconds she just stares at me, terrifyingly vacant. The only movement I see from her is this almost imperceptible wobble of her chin. Is she about to cry?
Just when I am about to place my hands on her shoulders, ready to comfort her, she burst into a resonant fit of laughter. I instinctively jump backwards out of shock, and maybe even fear.
"Don't flatter yourself that much, Thomas" she finally says when the sniggering yields enough to let her talk, "You don't honestly think that you're the only one with a past or a ghost to chase away, do you? Well, let me tell you, you are not... It's just that I am not as much of a sharer"
I feel like a conceited, arrogant fool. Not only for assuming that she was actually falling for me, but also because now I realize that I have always been the one doing all the talking and venting. And now, as she talks to me -rather superficially, one could say - about the man she is also pretending to be over from whenever she's with me, I try my best to keep the blushing of my cheeks at bay.
"Alright, then. I guess I got that awfully wrong" I let out with a mixture of bashfulness and deliverance, "My apologies"
"Apologies accepted. Now, bring it on!"
I tell her about the phone call. I guide her through the details of my conversation with Clementine, bit by bit. Word by word. Just as I have her used to, apparently.
She gasps in horror and self-reproach when she realizes that she had been heard when she spoke a little too close to the speaker, and she reprimands me for not shutting her up before she said too much. I just shrug noncommittally, practically excusing myself.
"It doesn't matter, anyway" I say with a sadness in my voice that is not lost on me, or her, "You should've listened to her, Mads. She was so cold, so detached"
"I'm so sorry, man. I do" she places the palm of her small hand on my cheek and my eyes close reflexively, "Whatever you want to do tonight, is on me!"
Just as in cue, my phone begins to ring on the other room and I excuse myself to go get it. As I suspected, Chris's name is popping up across the screen, along with the picture he took of us, back when we were both dressed as Captain America for his cameo in The Dark World.
It never fails to draw a chuckle whenever I see it. Not even now.
"Hello"
"Hey, man! How are you?" he says enthusiastically, "I saw you called" His tone is obviously trying to mask the awkwardness of Clementine passing the message along.
"Yes, I did" I respond in the same matter, "So, you're in London. That's great!"
"I am. And we should get together. Maybe grab a beer at a pub, tonight? What you say?" I almost don't catch what he says because of how fast he's speaking and because I may or may not be focusing on the sounds that come from the background, "Still there?" he asks when it takes me a few moments to reply.
"Sorry, yes. I don't know about that. You probably want to spend time with Ally and I don't think she..."
"Oh, don't worry about it. Today is Clementine's birthday and they are having a girl's night out... I'm as free as a bird and I want to catch up with my British friends"
I can literally feel how this black, all-absorbing whole is being punched inside my chest. How could I have forgotten what day it is today? Granted, the days have been slipping away on me in such a blur lately, but I never thought her birthday would escape my mind so easily.
The pain begins to have a life on its own when I remember the plans I had made for this day, ever since she told me about it in her car, even before I had the certainty that she was going to let me stick around long enough to see it.
She's turning thirty. Or twenty-nine, according to her adorable calculations, and all of the things I wanted to do with her today, flash before my eyes like a bloody romantic comedy no one else could give a fuck about.
"Okay, let's do it. What place do you have in mind?" I ask before realizing that I am the one playing local here, not him, "I know a few pubs we can check out"
"Oh, don't worry. I have the perfect place" he cuts me off, "I'll text you the address later. See ya"
"We are going out, then" Madeleine says from behind me as I put my phone back on the table.
*****
The place is small and it's located in a very narrow, not so busy street, so I don't find it odd when I walk in and the room is not that crowded.
The structure is rather simple and very much like any other pub in London. A few tables placed against the big windows facing the street; there are also some booths with red-leathered upholstery, and dark wooden tables with visible water ring marks on them; a pretty wicked jukebox stands by this small platform that I guess, serves as some sort of stage or something like that, since there is an empty stool and a microphone in the middle of it.
I wonder if the show is already over. I could use a little live singing.
"This is cozy" Says Madeleine as she steps ahead of me, squeezing my arm as she does.
I take a second to scan the room a little longer, trying to spot my American friend. It shouldn't be hard to find since he can be a bit flamboyant while drunk, and according to the texts he sent me a few minutes ago, he's already there.
But I don't see him. I see... her?
No, it has to be a mistake. It has to be someone that looks like her, at least from behind.
Her hair falls down her back in soft, subtle waves, though it is shorter and even lighter than I remember. She's leaning against the counter, having an intense conversation with the bartender, or more specifically, she's talking and he's just listening and nodding along.
I take a wavering step forward, afraid that if I get any closer I might discover that it is, in fact, her; but also terrified that she might not be.
Her finger is pointing adamantly at her attentive interlocutor, who is totally oblivious towards Madeleine's attempts to catch his attention, and my gaze goes up and down her body as I take another step in her direction.
The bartender says something that I don't hear but when she talks again, I do. And though her voice is clearly affected by whatever the hell she has been drinking, I can no longer tell myself that she is not Clementine.
"...I didn't sleep with Harry" I clearly hear her say. Or do I? Probably it is just my mind, making me hear nonsense due to my shock of having her so near, "I simply made him think that I did" What the bloody hell is she saying? "Well, he thought that I did it and I never corrected him"
This is not real. This is a sick, twisted joke someone is playing on me. Maybe Chris is on it, also Mads. Hell! She could very well be a part of it, too. She did not sleep with him? Is that what she's saying so openly and without a single care in the world? Is she really bragging about lying to my face, making me believe she cheated on me with that asshole of an ex-boyfriend of hers? This is not real. It can't be.
This hurts so surprisingly more.
"Excuse me. Can we get two beers over here?" Mads bellows a bit annoyed for being ignored. The bartender finally obliges and attends her order.
I am standing right behind my companion, using her as a shield once again. Clementine visibly tenses up immediately and I can see her looking at Madeleine from the corner of her eye. I know she recognized her, obviously she did.
It is rather funny, but also tragic; seeing how the color of her cheeks vanishes as the realization hits her in the guts, just as hard as her confession just pummeled mine.
She knows that I'm here. She can sense it with all of her body and I can see how her skin is now covering with goosebumps.
And then she looks at me, falling straight into my eyes. And I just lock her inside of them, refusing to let her out without an explanation.
A/N:
Oh, my God! I just couldn't stop writing this chapter, and my heart is beating really fast as I finish doing the last minute changes and editing before uploading.
Tom's bits are supposed to be that... Bits... Short, and cute and full of feels. But the words just kept on coming and I just couldn't stop.
I hope you enjoyed it. Please, vote, comment and share!
Btw, I will soon have a video made especially for my story thanks to the lovely @makha23 and I can't wait for you guys to see it because I know it will be awesome!
Love you all.
Lucy <3