Photo above: Andy Fletcher
Pleaes excuse any typos. Thanks! <3
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Anxious to leave, I abandon any notion for a second plate of food and head for the house. I plan to say goodbyes first and then get out of here, but when I see Mike slouched in the living room through the sliding glass door, I change my mind. There's no way I can tiptoe past him without being caught.
Giving up on that idea, I resort to trying to get my mind off everything that's happened since I arrived by trying to interact with people. I want to ignore Mike's friend's insult, but it's hard. It's impossible not to wonder or doubt. Had Mike mentioned something about me? It's true, the second time we'd given dating a try, he'd been the one to end it. Was it because he found me boring? Lacking in some way?
I feel my chin tremble, and quickly bite down on my lip to keep my emotions anchored inside. Turning my thoughts away from the throb that seems to be throwing my heart off balance, I listen in as Chris tells a story about a prank he did to his girlfriend's brother. A moment later, Gavin comes to sit by me and rests his head on my shoulder, the scent of tobacco and peppermint hitting my nose when he sighs. At first I think he's trying to offer some comfort. Maybe he'd heard the insult Mike's friend whispered, or saw how Mike responded to my refusal to get in the pool. But when I glance down at him, I find his eyes shut.
A grin lifts my lips slightly at the serenity on his sweet face. He's always been attractive in a youthful kind of way. He was blessed with smooth skin and a gentleness that's enviable, but with that came the joking and teasing from his buddies. They all make fun of his inability to grow a beard—well, everyone but Andy. Andy's more intuitive about how words might affect someone and is usually the one stepping in to defend. Gavin, though, has never seemed to mind. He even makes fun of himself half the time, encouraging others to join him.
I pat his head gently, receiving a small smile in return.
"Can you play with my hair?" he asks, eyes still shut.
Laughing, I run my fingers through his hair, using my other hand to pull out my phone and shoot my dad a quick text.
How're you doing?
His response is almost immediate.
Stop worrying. We're all good here. Just have fun.
My dad suffers from diabetes, resulting in severe tingling in his feet. I tend to worry about him when I'm out, unsure if he'll be able to hold down the house while I'm gone. I know walking can be a challenge for him at times. He's stubborn though, which is why I'm here tonight. He insists that I enjoy the life I have rather than worry over unchangeable circumstances at home.
Tucking my phone away, I listen to Chris jabber, barely allowing anyone else a chance to talk. My eyes jump toward Andy's friend, Alec, just as he excuses himself from the group to take a call and I catch Andy's eye. He offers a quick wink before dropping his attention back down to his phone. From the looks of it, it seems nobody's really listening to Chris. When Gavin begins to snore on my shoulder, I get Chris to help me out. I think everyone's a little relieved that I was able to distract him enough to shut him up for a couple of minutes.
The two of us carry Gavin to the porch swing and, not so gracefully, drag him up onto its cushioned seat.
"You think he'll be okay there?" I ask, eyeing Gavin's rising and falling chest.
"As long as no one tries pushing him..." Chris says, a wicked gleam flaring to life in his eyes. "Actually..."
"No," I laugh, just as Chris reaches for the swing, ready to give it an aggressive push. "That's so cruel."
"Please." The tone of his voice mimics that of a child pleading for a cookie and I can't help but chuckle again.
Shrugging I mumble, "if you must," with a grin before turning in search of a drink.
That's when I spot him. He's just slipped through the sliding glass door behind Mike, his back to me as he slides it shut. Just as he turns, I duck down low, heart hammering against my bones.
"You gotta pee or something?" Chris asks me, scrutinizing my position with a skeptical eye. "There's bathroom's inside for that."
I ignore his question, too desperate to remain invisible to even hear him properly. Standing, I turn my back to the man who just entered the party and face Chris. Grabbing his shoulder, I force him to pay full attention to me, even though he already is.
"My ex just showed up," I explain to him. "Help."
His eyes flicker over my shoulders, his lips puckering to the side in contemplation. I notice the moment his eyes land on Jessie because they widen marginally and he lowers his head so that he's eye level.
"Jessie's your ex?" he whispers, shooting the newest arrival another glance before finding my eyes with his own.
"I didn't even realize all of you guys knew each other," I confess, using a hand to shield the side of my face when I spot him out of my peripheral vision.
"Yeah," he nods, crossing his arms over his chest. "For ages. The guy's a freakin' genius on the soccer field. Andy, Gavin, Alec and I like to meet up with him and his buddies about once a month for scrimmages. I think Mike knows him from high school. Their families used to go to church together or something."
I groan. "I've got to get out of here."
"That bad, huh?" he asks, referring to our break-up.
"You have no idea."
He eyes me a moment, contemplating how to help when he spots someone passing by behind me.
"Yo, Andy!"
I don't turn to acknowledge him, my muscles too stiff to offer me that luxury. Not that I want to turn around anyway. If Jessie sees me, I have no idea what kind of drama will break out and I'm in no mood to test it.
"Care to show Lindsey where the bathroom is?" he asks, giving the blonde a pleading look. It's a look that implies he's not really asking. "Preferably the upstairs one?"
That's when I find the courage to turn just enough to see Andy stopped halfway between the patio steps and the door. I see him check his phone again before he slips it into his pocket and takes the remaining steps in our direction.
"What's up?"
He clearly knows there's something much bigger going on and he's not buying the fact that I don't know what every single room in this entire house is.
"Lindsey's ex is here," Chris explains, shoving his hands into his pockets.
"Okay..."
"They're not on good terms," Chris clarifies.
"Alright," Andy says, glancing around the yard, eyes searching for whoever my ex might be. Then he's slinging an arm around my shoulder to shield me from the man who destroyed my heart.
"Come on, Lin Diesel," he says softly into my hair, using the nickname he's used for years due to my obsession with the Fast and Furious star. An obsession that no one knows about except for Andy... because I think he's equally obsessed.
We slip through the door and I allow Andy to guide me up the staircase and into Mike's room. The room hasn't changed a bit. Aside from a large military duffle bag, everything's just as I remember.
Dropping down onto Mike's bed, I take a deep breath, hoping it'll lighten the thickness gathering in my chest. All I want is to go home and snuggle up with my family. I want to tell them how special they are to me, flaws and all. But the events of tonight have punctured holes in my sails and the lack of motivating winds is pulling me down.
Between Jessie and Mike, I've got drama pouring into my life like a busted water pipe. I want to help Mike, but I've never dealt with a situation like this. The things he's seen are horrific, I'm sure of it; I have no clue how to guide him through that. He's broken and he's doing a lousy job of concealing it. Now, on top of that, it turns out he's friends with the one person who damaged me so greatly I had to drop my dreams in order to figure myself out. I think I'm still figuring myself out.
"So, who's the ex?"
I glance up at Andy where he's gotten comfortable sprawled out across Mike's bed.
"Jessie," I tell him, and then start to nod, predicting his next question. "Yep, the same Jessie from three years ago."
"I thought you guys broke up ages ago."
"Kinda," I shrug. "Things ended about a year and a half ago."
"Seriously, how do I not know all this? We call and text on a regular basis," Andy wonders, clearly perplexed. I watch as he sifts through his memories and his brows slowly lift as something dawns on him. "Do you realize that the last time we actually saw each other prior to my sister's soccer game the other day was nearly a year ago? Holy crapcicle! How could we let that happen?"
"We both got busy with life, I guess." It's my lame attempt to offer a reasonable explanation, but other than a heavily inquisitive look from Andy—one that tells me he suspects more than I'm willing to share—he lets my vague response slide.
"So, it was a pretty ugly break-up huh?"
I sigh, nodding once as I bite my bottom lip.
"You know," Andy starts to say, a sliver of humor peeking through his blue eyes. "He used to talk about you non-stop."
"Oh yeah?" I ask, turning and pulling one leg up onto the bed so I can face him better. "What'd he say about me?"
"That you were beautiful," Andy tells me, face serious as he falls back onto the bed and stares at the ceiling. "That you were funny and smart. That you pestered him like crazy about his smoking habit—the same way you pester Gavin about his." He pauses, turning his head to the side, a soft smile lifting his face and causing his cerulean eyes to crinkle at the corners. "I'm surprised you two never got married, actually. The way he spoke about you... you were his angel."
I laugh. Loud.
"That's a joke," I say, keeping my words light even though they're dripping with sharp sarcasm.
The room goes quiet for a moment and I can feel Andy analyzing me.
"What happened?"
The question squeezes itself around my chest, tangling a web between my ribs and choking any sound from releasing through my lips. My fingers reach up to pinch the bridge of my nose, the threat of an emotional headache tiptoeing around my brows.
"Hey."
I feel the feathery touch of Andy's hand on my arm, the tenderness of the gesture mirroring the tenderness in his voice. I turn to find him sitting up, his shoulder just inches from mine.
"Listen," he says. "I get that things got ugly. I understand ugly. After my dad died, things got really ugly for me. But," he shrugs, "if you ever need to talk, I'm here, ya know? I'm a good listener, and, I don't know, maybe I can help."
"Thanks, Andy," I say, grazing his hand with my own as I shoot him a grateful smile. "Same goes for you. I've never had to deal with death, but I'm sure it's still not easy for you. Wish I could have been there for you."
"Yeah," he nods solemnly. "Maybe one day you'll feel comfortable enough to tell me why you weren't."
There's no judgment in his words, but rather, understanding. He gets that I must have been going through something. In my opinion, that didn't give me an excuse to ignore his grief, but being the ever-optimistic one, he probably truly believes that I had a good reason. In fact, he looks more concerned as to what I might have been going through than offended that I never came to visit after his dad died.
"You doing okay with it?" I ask. "It's only been, what? Seven months?"
"I'm dealing," he answers with a nod, offering a sad smile. "Anyway, I'm gonna go grab a drink. You want something?"
I shake my head, smiling up at him as he stands from the bed. "I'm good. Thanks."
"You gonna be alright up here on your own?"
I laugh, enjoying the concern woven into his question. "Yeah, I'll be fine."
"Alright." He watches me for a moment, thoughtful, and then he nods. "Let me know if you ever need anything, okay?"
I start to answer, but he cuts me off.
"Seriously."
There's a heaviness in his tone that wipes away any thought of responding light-heartedly. Instead, I nod, my smile fading even though my heart feels full of gratitude.
"Okay." I'm not expecting the thickness in my throat with my response, but Andy doesn't seem to mind. "You do the same, okay?"
"For sure." He chuckles as he pats my head, giving my hair a good messing up while he's at it. I swipe his hand away, grateful for his ability to pull a little humor out of nowhere and ease the tension. Giving me a playful shove, I topple over on the bed, a chuckle leaving my lips.
"Later Gator," he sings. With a wink he turns to leaves the room, taking the comfort with him.
I suddenly feel like a trespasser. I'm not welcome in these parts anymore. Mike's room can no longer be labeled my safe haven. The funniest thing about all this is how attached I still feel to him. It's been over five years, and though I'd reached a point of not thinking about him constantly, I don't think I ever truly got over him. Even when I started dating Jessie, Mike was always in the background. Maybe that was one of the reasons Jessie and I could never work out. It was always a comparison game for me, and Jessie was always just a step behind Mike—even if Jessie was the more gorgeous one with his floppy dark hair and vulnerable caramel eyes.
I let my body flop back onto Mike's comforter, my eyes trained on the ceiling as thoughts roll around in my head. So much has happened in the last five years, and though I wouldn't change the outcome for anything I still have regrets. Regrets that feed on my soul, producing holes that allow darkness to slither in. I don't like it because it does nothing but make me feel guilty. I love my life, but there are days I wonder, what if...
Those are dangerous words. They open up a door to ideas that do nothing but harm me and the ones around me. They invite bitterness and anguish into my life. At this point in my life, I'm both miserable and overjoyed. I've got so much to be thankful for, but I don't know... either I'm unusually selfish or I'm wallowing in natural human emotions.
I hear music click on outside, the party rising a notch as shouts of excited chatter fill the backyard. As much as I love all the guys down there, I can't bring myself to move from this spot. Being around Mike was bad enough, but Jessie just adds a whole new level of anxiety that I'm too weak to handle.
So, closing my eyes, I allow myself to drift off. I only planned to shut my eyes for a moment, but that moment stretches out into an hour. When I wake up later, it's with a panicked jolt. Fumbling for my phone, I check to see if anyone's tried to contact me and sigh in relief to find my inbox empty. As I stand and turn toward the door, preparing to send my dad a text that I'm coming home, I'm startled to find I'm not alone.
"Wondered where you ran off to," Mike says.
He's standing with one arm rested on the doorframe as he watches me...
And he doesn't look happy.
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Dear friends of the US of A, Canada, Liberia and parts of the Caribbean! Happy Thanksgiving!! (Yes, I did have to google search what countries celebrate Thanksgiving) :p And to everyone else... Happy Normal Day! :p Hope you all have a lovely day with family and friends while you stuff your bellies to full capacity (even those of you not celebrating). Have fun! Make memories!
Teaser: Is everyone ready for a little one-on-one with Lindsey and Mike? *wiggle eyebrows*