Authors: Ilsa Madden-Mills
“You
never stop loving someone;
you
just learn to live without them.”
–Nora
Blakely
THE DAYS MARCHED on, turning into
weeks. Drew and I had gone out on a few more dates, and he’d come to the shop
on some nights, and we’d do our Cal homework after band practice. We liked the
same books and shows; we knew the same people; we laughed at the same jokes. We
suited each other in every way.
I’d gotten my tattoo. I’d gone in one day and described to
Shayla what I wanted, and a week later I went back to see what she’d come up
with. When I saw her design, I knew it was exactly what I’d envisioned. She’d
drawn a set of delicately feathered angel wings with the phrase
She Flies
With Her Own Wings
in the middle. Since the wings were life-sized, it had
taken me three visits to get the entire tat.
On the day she finished it, I sat there in her shop, staring
in the mirror at the ink gracing me from my shoulder blade all the way to the
back of my waist. The phrase was written in a pretty scripted font and sat
between the wings and near the top of my neck. It was exotic and perfect. I
laughed at the irony in that word.
I thought of Leo and how he’d wanted me to have them.
I felt invincible with these wings.
Club Vita had officially opened and was suddenly filled with
affluent, health-conscious people. The
Dallas Herald
had even come out
and done a story about Leo and his climb from struggling musician to
businessman. I never saw him when I worked the desk, and I wondered if it was
by choice. I only saw him at practice, and those times he looked either pissed
or oddly despondent, and I figured the stress of the opening was getting to
him.
Is it true that soulmates always end up together? I didn’t
think so, but I hoped that if there was such a thing as reincarnation, we would
meet again in another life and try again. If it was possible, I’d find him, for
another chance at love.
Sometimes I’d catch him staring at me with his hungry look,
his pale eyes seeming to devour me as he ran his eyes over my face. On those
times, my heart would beat furiously, and I’d have to leave the room for a few
moments to catch my breath.
Once, after a long practice, I’d broken down and asked
Sebastian about Leo and Tiffani. He’d told me that Tiffani had come by the gym
some. He didn’t elaborate on the rest, and I think that was an answer enough
for me.
That night when I’d gone to sleep, I’d dreamed of him. We’d
been in the music room alone and when I demanded he stroke himself for me
again, he’d told me he had a lesson for me in mind. He’d stripped off his
clothes and then mine. He’d taken my hand and licked my fingers and told me to
rub myself until I climaxed while he watched. I’d lain on the couch for him,
opened my legs and touched myself slowly, etching little circles on my aching nub.
He’d stood above me, panting and watching, calling me Buttercup and pumping
himself. When I’d gotten close to coming, I told him, and he licked his fingers
and plucked my nipples between his finger and thumb. I’d writhed on the couch,
crying out his name as I came.
“I’d
lost her.”
–Leo
Tate
THE DAYS DRAGGED miserably into
weeks of hell. Sebastian told me she was seeing Drew, and I’d flinched, hating
the thought of her with him, telling him about soulmates. I tormented myself
with images of them together, sharing epic kisses.
At least it wasn’t Sebastian she was with. He’d admitted to
stringing me along and making me think he was in love with her. I couldn’t be
angry because I think he’d done it because he thought I was making a mistake by
not admitting my feelings. He wanted me to find someone and be happy, like our
parents had.
The gym opened successfully, so I immersed myself in work,
pushing her from my mind. I never went to the front desk when she was there.
I’d stay holed up in my office, planning the opening, handling calls, and
picking at my guitar.
I finished my song for her.
At practice, my eyes ate her up. Her vulnerability and
strength combined made me want her more. I watched her share little jokes and
smiles with Teddy and Sebastian. I watched how she’d swing her long red hair
behind her when she played the piano and sang off key. I watched her
be happy, and I knew it was too late for us.
She’d said we’d shared an extraordinary moment, that it’d
been our chance to have a once in a lifetime kind of love, and I’d fucked it
up. She’d moved on to someone else. Someone better.
At night, I’d dream of her. I’d dreamed she’d come in my
room and stand in front of me, telling me she was my soulmate. She’d strip for
me exactly like that night in the bathroom. Only this time instead of walking
out, I’d sweep her up in my arms and carry her to my bed, vowing to never let
her go. She was mine forever. We’d make love and fall asleep holding hands.
ONE SATURDAY NIGHT at ten o’clock, I
locked the doors to the gym after the last client left. Sebastian was spending
the weekend with some of the football players at Lake Travis, and I was alone.
My head was killing me, and I wanted to tear into someone, but most of all, I
wanted to stop thinking about Nora.
By eleven, I dripped with sweat from running ten miles on
the treadmill. I made my way to the shower, swearing I wouldn’t jack off to
her.
By twelve, I’d had two glasses of Lagavulin while, like a
lovesick schoolboy, I pored through about a hundred snapshots Teddy had taken
of us in band practice. Pictures of Nora smiling as she played the piano;
pictures of me sitting beside her on the couch, both of us laughing at
something someone had said; pictures of her dancing around the room with
Sebastian, doing goofy things like jazz hands and high kicks; pictures of her
being happy.
They sent me over the edge.
By twelve-thirty, I had the music blaring, listening to the
shittiest, sappiest songs I could find, and believe me, there’s plenty of them
out there. Isn’t that what most people sing about? Sad, broken-hearted people
who have no one to love, because they ruined whatever chance they had by being
an asshole to the one person they were meant to be with.
By one, I’d had two more drinks, and I finally felt at ease.
Hoping I could sleep, I made my way upstairs and crashed. A bit later, I heard
banging on the gym door. I groaned, angry at being woken up from what I thought
might be a fitful night. More banging and buzzing ensued. I jumped out of bed
and swayed on my feet. Carefully, I made my way downstairs.
“What!” I barked out as I opened the door. Nora stood there,
her hands raised for another knock, her eyes wide as she stared at me. I looked
down to make sure I had shorts on. Yep. “Well?” I asked, leaning against the
door for support and crossing my arms.
“Sebastian called me to check on you. He’s been trying to
call you for the past three hours,” she said in an angry rush. “I’ve been
buzzing the bell and banging on the door for fifteen minutes. And . . . are you
drunk?” she asked incredulously.
I ignored her, turned back around, and started walking back
up stairs.
She huffed. “Leo, wait a minute.”
I threw my hand up. “Don’t have time to listen to any shit.
Going back to bed,” I told her and marched up the stairs.
“Are you alone?” she called out to me, and I stopped,
hearing the uncertainty in her voice.
“Yeah,” I mumbled.
I heard her shut the door and turn the lock. “Alright then,
let’s get you back to bed.”
“I don’t need your help, Nora. Just leave me alone.”
I walked back in my bedroom and sat down on the mattress,
hoping she’d leave. If she didn’t leave, I’d have to. Hell, she probably had a
date tonight anyway, and with the thought of that, I picked up the Lagavulin
bottle on the nightstand and took a swig.
She walked in, frowning at me. “I guess I can’t say anything
about the drinking. Been there, done that,” she said, watching me set the
bottle back down.
“I’m old enough to drink. You’re not.”
Her lips tightened, and she looked away from me. Yeah, I
knew that barb hurt her. Maybe I wanted to hurt her. Maybe it would make her
leave.
I lay down on my stomach and closed my eyes, and even though
she was near, my body relaxed and dark oblivion beckoned me.
She sat down, and I opened my eyes to half-mast. “Nora, what
are you doing?” I said, slurring. “I’m fine, go home.”
“But what if you get sick?” she said.
I rolled over and grabbed her. “Leo!” she yelped as I pulled
her down until she was lying across my chest. When I caught the scent of
peaches, I pressed my nose in her hair and groaned.
“Are you sniffing my hair?” She leaned back to look at me.
I stared at her mouth. “No.”
“Liar.”
I soaked in her face, her eyes, those red lips. “I know what
love is,” I said.
“You believe in love all of a sudden?”
“I never said I didn’t,” I muttered.
“Just not for yourself, right?”
“Raising Sebastian, starting and running my business,” I
said. “Guess I never had time for it.”
“And you do now?”
I didn’t answer.
“Are you in love with Tiffani?” she asked.
I sighed heavily.
“Leo, are you in love with Tiffani?” she repeated, her voice
sounding small and scared.
I scowled at her. “Are you in love with Drew?”
“Drew is special, yes. We’re probably going to UT together.”
I pushed her off me and rolled back to my stomach, hating
the words that had come out of her mouth. “Bring me a trash can in case I need
it,” I mumbled, hoping this conversation was over.
She didn’t move for the longest time, but she finally got up
and brought the trash, putting it next to the bed. She stroked her hands through
my hair, and I pulled away.
“There’s some pictures Teddy took. I want you to have them.
Take them out of here,” I muttered. “They’re over on the dresser.”
She went over to the dresser and let out a small gasp as she
looked through them, reminding me of what they showed.
It hurt, knowing she’d found someone. I ached to be alone
with my pain.
It was all my fault though. I deserved the misery I had.
She’d practically told me she loved me weeks ago, and I couldn’t run away fast
enough.
Now it was too late.
“Get the fuck out of here, Nora.”
“What?”
“You heard me. Get. The. Fuck. Out,” I spat, my heart hating
the cruel words I used on her but needing the distance, needing a reprieve from
the hollow feelings I got whenever I thought about her and Drew.
She let out a whimper.
“Please,” I begged.