I sat stubbornly on my couch, unsure of the direction I should take. To the left of me was the remote to resume my marvel movie marathon, which was highly attractive considering I had just made another bowl of popcorn. But on the right of me was my wallet, a subtle reminder that the charity event was tomorrow and I still didn't have a dress or a date.
Truth be told, I wasn't sure if I still wanted to go. I had had enough social time and excitement from last weekend to last me through the rest of this internship. If I managed to not screw up by limiting the places I went for the next month then I considered this a success.
But, on the other hand, I was forced to remember that I had come to New York to escape the demons of my past and try and build a new life for myself. And it was hard to claim that I had a "life" if I didn't actually have friends that I actively socialized with.
It's not like Gretchen was asking me to donate blood with her, bonding us for life. It wasn't something death defying like rock climbing. It was simply going to a rich party that I would never otherwise have had the opportunity to attend, and taking advantage of their open bar and luxurious amenities. Anybody else would tell me I was ridiculous to refuse such an offer.
My hand started to reach for my wallet.
Then the commercials on my giant TV finished and Chris Evans reappeared.
All morals and logos flew out my head.
My hand inched towards the remote.
RING A DING DING
I looked over from my dilemma to see my phone buzzing violently. My mother's contact photo of her blacked out in the pool float lit up the screen. I snickered, as I did every time.
My mother couldn't hold a candle to Chris Evans. I went to press decline, but the grease on my hands from the popcorn smudged the screen, pressing accept on the call instead.
My eyes widened.
The doors of hell had been opened.
"Alexa mother freaking Baker! I have called you so many times that I have your stupid voice mail from 10th grade memorized. Why the hell have you not been picking up my call?"
I grimaced. "To avoid this exact reaction."
"Are you kidding me?" She screeched. "You went to one of the most important conferences in the country and you thought I wouldn't expect to hear about it?"
"The news reports weren't enough?"
"Not when my daughter was the one leading the charge," she snarled.
"Technically everyone was represented equally," I muttered.
I'm sure if it were possible, my mom would have been strangling me through the telephone. "Technically because I was the one who got you this job and I work for the same company, you owe me a full breakdown."
I groaned. "Don't you get, like, official reports of these from somebody who actually cares?"
"No I have someone to read them for me," she deadpanned. "Now Alexa Baker lets hear it. I want to know everything and everybody who was there. What company were they with? Did they tolerate you? Did you try to speak to them? How much more successful are they? What were their views on the matter? Did they at least suppress their laughs when you have your speech? How much did you fuck up?"
"Hey!" I exclaimed, fed up of her demands. "I didn't screw up anything. Zane told me Monday that my remarks are going to be used in the official lawsuit."
The phone went silent for a moment.
I contemplated wether she had fainted from shock or was seething with the thought that I had lied.
"Hello?"
"Yes," she huffed.. "Yes I'm here. Is-is that true?"
I rolled my eyes. "Would you expect me to say anything else that wouldn't contribute to ending this conversation quicker?"
My mother scoffed. "That tone is very unnecessary, Miss. But, regardless, I suppose—well, I believe I'm proud of you Alexa." Woah. Praise? I hadn't heard that since i dropped 10 lbs on the Victoria secret diet she had forced me into. "I'm happy with you, actually. You aren't humiliating my name."
And that moment was now ruined.
I watched the television as Captain America reappeared from the machine, shredded and oiled. I licked my dry lips. "Welp," I muttered, forcing myself back into the phone call, "if that is all you have to say then I see no reason why our two phone should be connected any longer. You can hang up, and I'll be on my way."
"Oh please. What could you possibly have going on a Friday night?"
"Well, I'll tell you one thing. It doesn't involve looking for my fortune at the bottle of the Captain Morgan's bottle," I snapped. "I have to go shopping. For a charity event I've been invited to."
A pause. "A charity event? As in, an important snobby party that requires black tie and a date?"
I hesitated, unsure whether that was an insult or genuine curiosity. "Yes?"
"Oh, my!" My mother beamed. "Two weeks in and they're quoting you for laws and inviting you to sip fancy wines and throw away your money for the children. You're fitting in fabulously, Alex."
I cringed. "Alexa, mom."
She dismissed it. "I'm going to ignore your horrid timing on picking out a dress because at least you have a date picked out. Who is it? What is his name? And how large is his bank account?"
I snorted. "I have befriended the secretary to the VP, Gretchen, and her and her friends have invited me to go with them in place and Zane and Ember."
"Friends? Wow, good...good for you! That's a plural I haven't heard in years."
"Yeah because I can't count your drunken asses as such," I muttered under my breath.
"What was that?"
"Nothing!" I piped.
"Mm. Never mind. The date. 'Fess up. What's his name?"
My mom never really got to know Blake but she knew he was the reason for the depression that consumed me for the beginning of our move to San Diego. If she heard his name, she'd have more than a speech to give to me, and I wasn't trying to tell her anything more about my life than she needed to know. Which also meant telling her about Jake, a CEO with an all too famous and wealthy connotation, was a bad idea as well.
"I have someone in mind, but, I'm not sure. I'm so conflicted about the benefits over the consequences of my choice afterwards."
"Well, is he anything like Darian?"
The color drained from my face. I hadn't heard that name in a blue fucking moon. "No," I seethed, anger suddenly boiling beneath my skin.
"Oh, Alexa, honey—" my mother stumbled, realizing she had caught me off guard.
"It doesn't matter," I said a little too harshly, emotion thick in my voice. "You said it and now my night's ruined. This conversation is over. Go bother being a good and interested mother to Paul's children now."
I clicked the phone off and out of pure frustration, hurled it against the pillow. It bounced harmlessly off the cushioned surface despite my effort.
Darian.
My lips curled in pain and disgust.
Darian.
My one long-term relationship in San Diego.
The one guy who broke me as much as Blake had.
Of course she would bring him up despite all the good news of the progress I had made.
Of course. She. Would.
His scar ran almost as deep within me as Blake's.
I shook my head, face scrunched and contorted with my effort to suppress my feelings and try and enjoy the strip show in front of me as Steve Rogers was sprinting down the streets, pecs bouncing with each impossibly long stride. Best to just forget the whole conversation and move on. Because that was how it would always be. Anything nice she could possibly say would never be enough compared to the insults that followed.
Completely out of the mood to shop, I settled in for a long night. I wasn't going anywhere.
I tried to enjoy the movie as best I could. But of course, as I watched the movie with glassier eyes, my mind began to slip, replaying memories I had all but burned.
Darian.
I had known him for just about as long as Blake, but in a lot better circumstances. While Blake was the product of a ruthless and doomed rivalry between high schools, I met Darian on spring break of my junior year in college. At the time he was just a handsome guy who I crashed into at a bar, but soon, he became the devilishly attractive man who added fire to my vacation, accompanying me everywhere and bringing a smile to my downcast face.
When we returned home, I thought that would be the end of my fantasy vacation. We never exchanged social media or numbers. It was just supposed to be a perfect memory remembered by photos and sweet nothings.
And for a couple months it stayed that way.
Then, it was the end of May, and I had taken a summer job waiting tables at a steakhouse. The night had been going well, until the last face I expected walked in...along with 10 others like him—otherwise known as the senior class of the USC football team.
Turns out dreamy Darian, the guy who handed me piña coladas daily in actual coconuts over spring break, was actually Darian Foster, Heismann Trophy watch player heading into his senior year as one of the top wide receivers in the nation.
No, I hadn't seen that coming. And no, I didn't even find out about his status until halfway through the evening when I noticed half the restaurant was finding him more fascinating than their $200 meal.
He didn't notice me though. Not until the very end of the night when a couple of the players were lingering at the door, most likely waiting for me to return to my hostess station. He had no idea the reason for their whispers until I reluctantly showed myself.
We, uh, long story short, went back to his place.
That night was amazing.
The others that followed, however? Not so much.
In short, we tried to date long-distance but soon, he was more toxic than anything that lay dead in Michigan. He showered me with affection when it suited him for the next 6 months we "dated", but as I look back on it now, the haze is gone, and I know it was nothing more than me being hopelessly caught on his hook.
I'd visit him every weekend. I'd share his bed. And I'd also introduce myself to his latest fling that entered his room as I was out the door and headed back to my own home.
I thought I could change him. I thought I could save him. But in the end, he finally pulled the string so tight it suffocated me, and it ruined me. After him, I never dated again.
I frowned. Toxic was too kind of a word. He consumed me so much that whenever his name was mentioned I couldn't think of him in passing. His name meant reliving every pain he ever put me through.
Not even Chris Evans could cure the chills that ran through me.
I needed to get out of the house. Time to go shopping.
******
******
******
I nibbled on my lip, overwhelmed by the choices. White was too marital and black was too gloomy, but all other bright colors were too bold for me to even think about wearing. And any metallic color other than silver was out of the question because it clashed horridly with my brunette hair.
So many choices. So many options. So little time and patience.
I groaned. It was too late to call Gretchen for help. And even if I did, she'd then want to know who I was going with, and I didn't quite have an answer for that question either.
My shoulders sagged.
Why couldn't I have made more friends by now?
Lonely and miserable among all of the glittering dresses, I unlocked my phone and dialed the only person who would come.
It rang only twice.
"Phone tag, you're it!"
I scrunched my eyebrows. "Oh, God, is that a thing now?"
Jake snorted. "Of course. But, before you say anything, I want to go first."
I fingered the hem of a short red dress. What it lacked in length, it made up for in softness. "Go ahead."
"I think I know why you called, Alexa, after almost a week of ignoring me," he decided. "I think you're suffering from a lack of vitamin me."
"I'm already regretting this."
"No tag backs!" He sang. "Now, what are you doing right now besides deciding what lingerie to wear before I get there?"
I rolled my eyes. "How about none of the above? I'm shopping for a charity event."
"Ahh, how saintly," he chuckled. "Is it the one this weekend for the hospital opening up on ninth?"
"Yes," I said, suddenly nervous. "Do you know that because it's common knowledge or do you know that because you're already going?"
With a date? I mentally panicked.
"Well, I mean we are a sponsor of the healthcare company that owns the bank, so I could call this middle ground and that I know of it as more of a corporate schmooze opportunity."
My rigid body relaxed. "Oh, okay. Well...that was what I was wanting to talk to you about," I admitted. "See, Ember's personal assistant Gretchen invited me to come along with her group, and I was thinking about asking you to be my date, but, now, is it even a good idea?"
The phone faltered for a moment. "Where are you?" It cracked back to life.
"Uh, Saks Fifth Avenue?"
He hung up.
I stared at the phone in disbelief. That did not go well.
Disappointed, I continued shopping and running through my head other options for dates, or considering just cancelling altogether and telling Gretchen I was sick.
But right as I turned the corner, ready to head for a dressing room, I rushed to put on the brakes of my heels as I narrowly avoided crashing into a man.
"Hey," I snapped. "watch where you're..."
I trailed off as I realized the heavily breathing and wheezing bodybuilder in a suit was none other than the millionaire I was on the phone with minutes ago—Jake Hill.
I smiled wryly at the other shoppers who were just as perplexed by him as I was. Maybe they'd think he wasn't with me. How embarrassing.
"Alexa," he laughed, once he caught his breath, dispelling my previous thoughts. "Something told me you'd be here."
I stared at him. "Yeah. Me. Unless you have some kind of tracker installed on me. And if that's true, then it would explain a lot."
He waved me off. "Instinct, actually, Bambi."
I furrowed my eyebrows. "Are you the Flash?"
He flashed a grin. "Indeed. My powers only come alive when a beautiful damsel is in distress."
"Then I think your sense of directions is off."
"Mm, are they really?"
I nodded and jabbed my thumb at the store exit. "Forever 21 is that way."
He rolled his eyes at me. "Can't ever just let me have one," he grumbled.
I winked. "That's why you keep me around."
Despite my jests, he regained his confident and playful nature. "While this is true, I'd say there's a bigger reason why I'm continued to be consumed by your beautiful converse-wearing figure night after night."
I mindlessly flipped through the dresses, trying to look anywhere but at him. "Oh yeah? And what might that be? Because you're a stalker?"
"I like to think of myself more as a James Bond long-term booty call," he chuckled. "But no, Bambi, it's because I've come to the realization that there is so much more to you than a fabulous body and a sharp tongue, and I'm utterly fascinated to know more."
"Oh?" I cocked an eyebrow. "And what gave you that impression?"
"There is something intimate that binds you with Blake, something so personal that you both tense whenever someone mentions it," he smirked. "And I've only ever known Blake as a steely business man with a mitus touch for whatever he wants. I've never met anyone who could make that wall tremble."
"I wouldn't call it trembling," I murmured.
I desperately wished for Jake to mention something more. He had picked up on the pain. But had Blake still not told him why? Had he said anything about their conversation on the roof?
The way Jake was talking so animatedly made me realize that Blake had not. Still, it was so raw. A secret kept sewn to his chest.
"The point is," Jake paused, "you are special, Alexa."
I froze.
We had been heading towards the dressing room, but that no longer seemed to be Jake's destination. He whirled around and grabbed my hips, pressing me against the wall and spilling everything out of my hands so there was only our own clothes separating our bodies.
Tucked away in a small corner of the store, no one would find out nefarious positions. Perhaps he had been planning that all along.
Jake stared deeply at me. One hand rubbed a circle along my hips, the other cradled the small of my back, keeping me pinned between a rock and a hard surface.
"I've missed you, Bambi," he murmured. "Do you know how hard it has been to keep my hands off you when we're around Blake?"
Truthfully, I hadn't.
He leaned in, lips brushing against the sensitive flesh of my ear lobs, hot breath tickling the sensations that lit my core into burning flames of desire.
Nervous, I tried to focus on my breaths, so not to let my rapidly beating heart give me away.
"You drive me crazy," he whispered. "A crazy no man can ever sanely keep hidden."
I nibbled my lip. "I do that?"
He nodded. "Oh yes. The sway of your hips and the strides of your legs catch the attention of every man lucky enough to be in your presence."
"I-I didn't notice."
He chuckled darkly, a rich and melodic sound that was unraveling Alexa. "Let's go back to your place, Bambi. Let me show you how much I've missed you."
His searing touch and sinful words had me so close to the edge of giving in. So, so close.
But at the mention of my place, my mind immediately went to Skylar, a friend who did not know nor deserve for me to go behind her back.
"I-I can't," I managed.
He quirked an eyebrow, not buying my lie. "But your short breaths tell me differently."
"Well," I stumbled, "I just can't. I only call you to invite you to the charity event with me, but I think I changed my mind."
He continued to rub his thumb against my hip bone, making it difficult to form words. "Oh? Why is that, Bambi? We would be the envy of the party."
Sheepishly, I stared down at the floor and mumbled, "Your ex-girlfriend Skylar is my neighbor. She only told me this a couple days ago, but I haven't told her about you, so I feel bad."
When I looked back up, I saw a new kind of emotion flicker in Jake's eyes. One I hadn't seen yet. Remorse.
He stared at me for the longest time. And then, "I'll pick you up at 6 Saturday, Alexa."
And like that, he disappeared.