Page 143 of Only After We Met

I didn’t realize until then that I was crying so hard, my vision was getting blurred. He came close, breaking the inches of safety that lay between us. He tried to hug me, but I pushed him away. I heard his labored breathing. But then I gave in, let him have his way, let his arms wrap around me as I sobbed into his chest. His hot breath in my ear made me tremble.

“I know I’m an idiot, Ginger. But I never felt anything for those girls. I always knew you were the one, that you were my rock…”

The buzzer downstairs rang.

Confused, in a situation I could never have predicted, I walked away from my desk and took a few Kleenex out of my bag to wipe my face and blow my nose.

“It’s James. I’m supposed to have lunch with him.”

“Give me a fucking break.” Rhys closed his eyes.

“Please, if I matter to you at all, even just a little bit, try to act like a normal friend, Rhys. Are you listening to me? I know all this is difficult for both of us, but I don’t want to hurt James. He doesn’t deserve that. I didn’t even tell him about what happened that summer; all he knows is I met you in Paris, and that we’ve been talking since then…”

“Go let him in,” he grunted.

I hugged him, passed by him, thanked him. For an eternal second, my arms around him, I asked myself what would happen if I didn’t open the door, what would happen if I stayed with Rhys forever, just touching him, feeling him, listening to him breathe. Creating anus. Was that even possible, or was it just a dream, an ideal, like touching the moon?

But then I returned to reality.

And I let go of him and walked out of my office.

84

Rhys

The hardest thing I’d ever done in my fucking life was putting up with that awful meal in the private dining room of a fancy restaurant with tiny portions of bullshit. The situation was killing me. Everything was killing me. The way I’d felt in those months, lonelier than ever, more lost than I’d ever been. My stomach shrank when I saw James wrapping his arms around her, resting a hand on her knee, gawking at her like an idiot. I think that’s the first time I ever felt real envy, the twisted kind that fucks you up inside. Envy of stability, of how clearly I saw what I could have had if I’d known how to do things right.

“Ginger told me you’re putting out a record.”

“Yeah, that’s the plan. If I can ever finish.”

“I don’t understand much about electronic music. It just sounds like noise to me. But I guess it’s not easy; there must be a knack to it, like everything. It’s interesting.”

I nodded, distracted, trying to figure out what the hell this slop on the plate in front of me was. I’d ordered something with potatoes, and either they were invisible or they were green. I couldfeel Ginger’s eyes piercing me. Pleading. Shouting in silence. If only I knew her less and couldn’t read her face…

But I couldn’t fake it, I just couldn’t.

I wanted to go.

Disappear.

Turn to smoke.

Nothing.

“I’ll be back in a minute.”

I got up and went to the bathroom. It was just as pretentious as the food. I closed the door and looked at myself a few seconds in the mirror before taking out my wallet and the baggie. I grabbed a credit card and cut a line on the red marble counter. When I came out, five minutes later, I felt cooler, more chipper, more prepared to put up with that torture.

“We were about to order dessert without you,” James joked.

“Don’t worry about it. I don’t like to mix chocolate and lines,” I murmured. I felt Ginger tense up and regretted my words.Shit. I wanted to see the guy in front of me as a straight-up dickhead, but really, I was the only one at the table acting like one. “The apple pie looks good though.”

I decided to make an effort.

Took a deep breath.

Rubbed my nose.