saturday,
may 4th, 2020
TRINITY HAYSON
"Trinity."
My lips fall agape, my eyelids fluttering repeatedly in a way of trying to convince myself that this isn't real. He's not sitting there, right in front of me. Right beside me. In the same confined space. No way.
"Fuck," I whisper absentmindedly, earning a breathy, bewildered chuckle from the man next to me.
Christ, he's beautiful. His curls, slick with rainwater are matted to his forehead. His amber eyes are wide with surprise and the tiniest smile pulls at the edges of his rosy, puffy lips. He's dressed prince-like. He looks like actual royalty.
"I— you can take this cab," Shawn stammers, getting ready to push open the door, "M'sorry. I'll get another one."
I frown, watching as he glances out the window to make sure it's safe to open the door. Just as his fingers latch onto the silver handle, I clutch his opposite wrist. I wince, not sure of what I'm about to say. This makes no sense, yet I find myself yearning to tell him to stay.
"It's okay," I whisper shyly, "We can share. The traffic is mad, you'll be ages finding another one. And it's cold, and raining."
I don't want him to get sick.
He looks taken aback, eyebrows raised, "Are you sure?"
I nod with pursed lips, offering a small smile, "Yeah."
Shawn sighs, breaking eye contact to glance at his shoes. He pushes his hair from his face, shoving his curls into a little wavy mound atop his pretty head. He clears his throat, flicking his head towards me again. My breath catches in my throat due to how unbelievably gorgeous he looks.
"Where're you heading?" he asks softly, hazel irises faltering to stare at my lips before I lick them. He snaps his eyes back to my own, awaiting my answer.
"West 192nd Street," I reply gently, almost a whisper.
Shawn nods, "West 192nd Street, please," he says to the driver, leaning forward in his seat a little.
"Sure thing, man, but I gotta tell ya, with this traffic?" the driver huffs, "Could be fifty minutes to an hour."
My face falls as my eyebrows scrunch. All I want to do is get home to my cramped little apartment and sleep in my comfortable bed. Maybe curl up with a cup of tea first, or have a hot bath. I don't want to be sitting in a cab for an hour, that's for sure. But what choice do I have? I can't possibly walk there in this rain. I'm fond of walking, so on any other day, I may attempt walking the thirty minute drive from this part of the city, but tonight? Not a chance.
Shawn sighs, grabbing my attention, "Trinity, I can leave if you want. Let me pay for the ride."
I shake my head immediately, "No, Shawn. I'm not letting you pay that. It's gonna be fucking expensive."
Shawn shrugs, reaching for his wallet before I stop him with a featherlight hand on his bicep. He freezes, eyes swivelling up towards mine. I blink, swallowing back nostalgic tears. He swiftly licks his lips, glancing at my hand on his arm. I quickly retract it, seeing his face fall in the slightest.
"Just stay," I sigh.
Shawn nods, clearing his throat again before sinking into his seat and buckling his belt. I do the same, realising that the car hasn't moved an inch since we stepped in. Just on that thought, it crawls forward a little before a red light prevents us from crossing the intersection.
It's silent for a painful five minutes, no sound but the rain tapping off the windshield and the light music playing from the radio. That is, until he talks again.
"You look lovely," he whispers, turning a little to eye me fully. I feel a blush creep up my neck and mentally curse myself for allowing him to have such an effect on me. "How come you were in this part of Manhattan?"
I tuck my wild, frizzy curls behind my ears, gulping before looking at him, "Sort of a... banquet thing for the people at, well, People."
We both lowly chuckle at my stupid sentence and I watch intently as Shawn bites his bottom lip. Raindrops are still rolling down his rosy cheeks and I instinctively mutter something I probably shouldn't.
"You'll get a cold."
Shawn's eyebrows tug in, "Hm?"
"The rain... on your skin. Your hair's all wet, you'll get a cold," I say timidly, reaching into my handbag and pulling out a packet of tissues.
I hand them to him and he bashfully grins, "Well, thanks for caring."
I scoff, folding my arms across my chest, "I do not care. Actually, give me those. Get sick."
I outstretch my arms to grab my tissues and Shawn pulls away, curling his arms inwards, chest rumbling with an amused chuckle. I huff, leaning back in my seat and crossing my arms again. I stare at the headrest of the driver's seat, sneakily eyeing him from my peripheral vision. He's sat there, a warm, toothy smile adorning his perfect fucking lips and eyes twinkling with some sort of unspoken emotion.
When I notice that he won't take his eyes off me, I turn my head, "Yes?"
Shawn chuckles lightly, shrugging and shaking his head. He pulls a tissue from the pack, "Nothing. Just admiring you."
He starts to pat his face and neck dry with the tissues.
My heart surges at his nonchalant way with words. I lean back in my seat and gaze out the window instead of at him. My bottom lip trembles dangerously but I pull it between my teeth to stop it. I want to tell him he has no right to admire me. I want to tell him that he's long lost his fucking chance to admire me. God knows I couldn't do that though. In fact, butterflies start swirling in my stomach at the thought of him being in close proximity to my body for the third time this year.
I take note of the taxi moving forward a little. We approach Harlem River Drive, surrounded by even more traffic. Great.
"Why are you in New York?" I hum casually, still staring at the racing raindrops on the window.
"Met Gala," the brunette sighs, "I left early."
My forehead creases as I frown, facing him again, "Are you allowed to do that?"
Shawn shrugs, tucking a loose curl back into the messy mountain of hair on his head, "Not really... I dunno. Andrew is kind of pissed about it, but I had to get out of there."
"Why?"
He releases a puff of air, sucking his lips in and meeting my eyes, causing my heart to flutter, "Felt a bit anxious. I'm good now though."
I let out a confused giggle, "Your anxiety just vanished? Are you really alright now? Do you need some water?"
"I'm with you," Shawn hums, tilting his head, "Being around you always makes part of me feel a sense of tranquility."
I swear I almost stop breathing as the string of words tumble from his supple lips. My heart pounds against my chest, making me feel a tad lightheaded.
"And..." I gulp, licking my lips, "And the other part?"
Shawn sighs yet again, rotating in his seat to get comfortable. His legs are spread, left hand resting on the middle seat separating us and his right, tattooed hand gripping his right thigh. His head falls to the side, face resting against the back of his seat. I can see his pupils dilating as he drinks me in, making me feel small and insecure. His Adam's apple visibly bobs before he shakes his head, maybe in disbelief.
"The other part..." Shawn whispers, eyes locked on mine so intimately that I don't want to blink, "That part of me feels differently. When I'm with you, my heart races so quickly I think I'm about to collapse. You intimidate me. But, in a good way. You make me feel such strong emotions that I can't even comprehend them myself. My hands shake and sweat when your eyes fall on mine. I feel the sudden urge for hydration and oxygen, because frankly — and I don't care how cheesy this is — you take my fucking breath away."
My breathing is laboured by the time he finishes his little confession. My eyelashes flitter as I finally allow myself to blink. When my eyes reopen, his bottom lip is sucked beneath his top one, cheekbones ablaze with a blush. I'm speechless as he studies my face intricately, watching my eyes travel his face and examining my lips. He looks almost intrigued.
"I— I uh," I stutter, gulping nervously and Shawn coughs lowly.
His head turns to face forward, "Sorry. I'd no right to tell you that. You don't have to answer me or anything." Then, his head retreats to its previous position to provide him with a clear view of my face and body. "Just said to myself maybe I could let you know how you make me feel."
My eyebrows rumple, "It's, um, fine. I guess. I mean, you're fine. I mean..."
Shawn chuckles, lips pressed tightly together to suppress the rumbling.
I narrow my eyes at him, "Alright Mr. Confident. Thought I intimidated you?"
"You do," Shawn hums, long eyelashes fanning against his skin when he closes his eyes for a moment, "You intimidated me hugely. Until you got all nervous around me just there."
I roll my eyes, fighting off a fond smile, "Would you like me to recite your previous speech for you?"
Shawn laughs a little, opening his eyes. He stares at me again, silently. The taxi driver hums to the low tune of the radio, minding his own business as he weaves his way through traffic. Shawn smiles a small smile whilst gazing straight at me. I lose the fight against my emotions; my lips twitch into a smile. Just the sight of him looking all lazy yet somehow deliciously sexy gets me giddy. And it shouldn't. He shouldn't make me feel giddy. Not after what he did to me.
"What?" I ask, indicating his shit-eating grin.
He shrugs again, jutting out his bottom lip, "Nothing. Actually, yeah, something," he corrects himself quickly, furrowing his eyebrows as he looks me over, "You look absolutely stunning. I'm overstepping my boundaries, I know. You don't have to tell me to shut up. I will. I just wanted to voice my opinion. You're beautiful."
My smile falters but I can feel my dimples cave and my cheeks flush, "Thank you," I whisper, glancing at his expensive looking attire, "You look good too. Nice suit."
Shawn hums a chuckle, straightening up in his seat and opening his suit jacket slightly, looking down at his wet clothes, "Versace. Soaking now though."
Yeah, I think, me too.
I inwardly roll my eyes, scolding myself. Why now? Why on Earth am I dripping for this heartbreaker of a man now? The other half of my brain — or rather, my beating heart — just thinks the fit of his suit and the way it hugs his fit arms and thick thighs and broad shoulders really fucks me up. My eyes even eye his package cheekily. My heart elevates at the sight of his strained pants, bunching around his hidden area, the material cupping it well. A fraction of me hates myself for having these thoughts.
Ten minutes pass, and all Shawn and I do is remain silent, staring out our windows at the iconic city of New York.
"Traffic's easing up now," the driver informs us, snapping me out of my daydream, "Should be another twenty minutes or so."
"Cool," I reply, "Thank you."
I see him nod and focus back on Shawn. Our lingering eye contact strikes me as he bites at his lip.
"How're things being head editor?" he asks huskily, his voice shockingly an octave lower.
I clear my throat, breaking eye contact. His loafers catch my eye and I mentally chuckle. So unlike him.
"I, uh, it's good. Really good. I love it there," I respond, pursing my lips and looking at him expectantly. He cocks a brow. I sigh, "How's your job? Writing, singing... must be fun."
Shawn instantly nods his head, a curl tumbling down and sitting against his forehead. He ignores it. "Yeah, it's incredible. Absolutely love it. It's crazy really, but I'm enjoying this sorta life. I feel as though I was made for this, and that overjoys me."
I smile, a sense of pride washing over me. After everything we've been through, I still can't help but wish the best for this man. He's truly a good person. I know he is, and he'll treat the right girl perfectly. Though he hurt me, I understand that he's overall a pure man, and a few awful mistakes in his love life doesn't change the fact that he's a good person. I'm disappointed that I clearly wasn't the right girl, but that's alright, because I have a life that I love, too. And I'm happy with that.
"I'm happy for you, Shawn," I admit in a delicate whisper.
Tears pool in his caramel eyes but I unwillingly say nothing, "I'm happy for you too," he says, voice cracking, breaking my heart, "And I'm proud of you."
He nods with a confident, affirmative nod and furrows his dark eyebrows whilst staring intently at his shoes.
"I appreciate that, you know," I tell him, reaching for his left hand that sits on the middle seat.
I clutch it in both of mine, his cold skin somehow soothing my hot flesh. His fingers instinctively curl around mine and he squeezes my small hand, looking up at me. He sniffles, a tear spilling over from his right eye. He quickly wipes it away, shyly meeting my stare. My chest tightens at the sight of him so saddened.
"How are you not screaming at me?" he chokes out, "After everything I did to you... after the way I hurt you... how are you sitting here conversing with me and holding my hand?"
I frown, my stomach dropping. He sounds so vulnerable and melancholy and... broken. I shake my head with a gentle shrug.
"I don't know, really," I chuckle sadly, looking at our joined hands and pursing my lips while swallowing the lump in my throat, "I believe you're a good person, Shawn. I do. I just wish you'd handled things a little differently two years ago."
Shawn sniffles again, wiping his eyes with his free hand, "Believe me, Trinity, so do I. I told you then that I'd spend the rest of my life regretting it, and fuck me, not a day passes where I don't think of you. And how we could be if I didn't fuck it up."
My eyes fall shut as tears stream down my face and I squeeze his large hand. I shake my head, withholding any noises and trying to calm myself down, hoping my voice doesn't fail me.
The driver yawns, "'Bout five minutes away now."
Neither of us respond as I glance at the driver. He's tapping his fingers against the wheel of the cab, turning the music up and mumbling along. I don't even think he's heard a thing Shawn and I have said. It's like he's in his own little world. I'm sort of thankful for that right now.
For a solid two minutes, I recollect myself whilst examining how perfectly our hands fit together. I steady my breathing as we pull onto 192nd Street. I exhale deeply, my head lifting up to glance out the window. With another deep breath, I look over at the curly-haired stunner beside me. He's already gazing across at me, bottom lip trembling.
I catch my apartment building from the corner of my eye. I lean forward and point it out to the driver politely. He pulls up outside it and clicks a button on the little screen that displays the price of $72. I ignore Shawn's mutters of protest as I pull out the cash and receive my $3 change.
I turn to Shawn, hesitating before releasing his hand. I lean over slowly, pressing my thumb to his shuddering bottom lip to stop its movements. My nose tips his cheekbone as I close my eyes to press a slow, soft kiss to his cool cheek. I rest a hand on his knee as I pull away, offering a thin-lipped smile. His eyebrows raise and close in, puppy eyes watching me leave the taxi. I emerge from the yellow car, rain immediately engulfing my body.
I shakily sigh, leaning down to poke my head in the door.
"Goodbye, Shawn."
I close the door, turning on my heel and sucking my lips inwards, the tears uncontrollable by now. I ascend the steps outside my apartment building, about to enter my code when a nearby door slams shut behind me. I turn my head, my heart skipping a beat as Shawn stands at the bottom of the steps, getting absolutely drenched by the rain, hair sticking to his face. He spreads his arms, adamantly shaking his head.
"I'm not letting you go again," he calls over the rain.
I sigh, shaking my head as well. I'm about to tell him go to his hotel and get some sleep before he beats me to it.
"I wrote you a letter," he says.
I frown, descending a step curiously, "I never got a letter."
"I know," Shawn replies, reaching for his dark red jacket and pulling a piece of folded paper from an inside pocket. He unfolds it, "I never sent it. But I'm here now. And I have the letter, and I want you to listen to me."
I gulp, tears cascading down my cheeks like waves crashing against the shore. I sniffle, wrapping my arms around myself as Shawn stares up at me hopefully. I nod my head once, glancing to the letter in his hands and back at his face. He elicits a noise of utter shock, gasping for air before starting to recite his words on paper.
"Trinity Hayson," he croaks and I immediately clutch a hand over my mouth to silence my sobs, "You have no idea how truly in love with you I am. I'm still head over heels in love with you." He pauses, looking up at me with a bit lip. He clears his throat, reading his letter again. "I fucking love you, Trinity, and I miss you every day of my damn life. How I wish I treated you right, and handled you with care like you fucking deserve. You've worked your way right into my heart and I can't get rid of you. From my mind, from my soul, from my heart itself. Nothing worked. I can't get over you. I've been trying for almost two years now, and I stopped once I realised that, Christ, you'll forever have my heart, Trin. You're the only woman I can picture in my head when I think of my future. You're the only person I want to be with, and I adore you. I want nothing more than to hold you again, and show you how truly loved you are. Because yes, I broke your heart, and I've been living with the consequence of my own shattered heart each day since. But I can't help but feel that maybe, the universe wants us together, as silly as that may sound to you. That interview? Why wasn't it somebody else? Why you?"
Shawn pauses, sobbing lightly, eyes glued to his letter. He seems almost afraid to look at me. When he does, he adds to the letter vocally, referring to our most recent interaction.
"That fucking cab ride?" he scoffs desperately, "Nobody can convince me that wasn't fate."
My heart thumps intensively. He doesn't understand that I completely agree.
"My mistake does not define me. God, I fucked up. Massively. I lost my chance. I know that, and you know that. But please, please try to forgive me. At times, I truly, fully hate myself for hurting you so badly. I wish I had another chance to prove to you, that you are the most important thing in the world to me. I'd die for you. Nothing on Earth could change my mind about you. I'm stuck on you. Completely. My heart wants you, my heart is set on you. You mean more to me than anything else in the world. My fans, my career, my fucking life itself. You're everything, Trinity, everything. Yet nothing, because I can't have you. And I understand why, it isn't your fault at all."
I'm shaking inevitably as he reads his letter so clearly, a melancholy rasp to his tone. The sheet drowns in rainwater but his head shields it slightly from the pouring rain. Shawn mutters out a curse as he sobs, turning his head to wipe his eyes. He folds up the letter looking up at me desperately. He helplessly shakes his head with a shrug of his broad shoulders.
"If there's any part of you at all," he says, bawling his eyes out in front of me. My chest hurts from the cries I elicit. "Any fucking chance that you'd even consider giving me one more opportunity to prove to you how in love I am with you, how much I want you back, how much I need you in my life, I'm staying for two weeks. I respect that you're with somebody. You probably want to stay with him. But I'm staying at The Bentley Hotel, if you change your mind about me. Room 8902."
I watch with a complete loss for words as he gives me one last look before turning away and walking off with slumped shoulders. I see him stuff the — probably destroyed — letter into the pocket it was previously in and wipe his eyes as he strolls away, rain settling over his entire body as he tips his head back, revelling in the feeling. He disappears around the corner, but not before glancing over his shoulder once more at me.
I defeatedly collapse against the wooden door of my apartment building, a hand on my heart as I try to comprehend what just happened.
He's still in love with me.