Sleeping with Mr. Sexy(5)
“No, you read it. I haven’t been in contact with him. Mitch, please, it’s nothing.”
“It’s? Don’t you mean he’s nothing?” He looks at me with glassy eyes.
“I will do anything to convince you that I care about you, but—”
“But you can’t say he’s nothing, because he is something to you. He’s been in there,” he says, tapping me on the chest, “the whole time, hasn’t he?” He glances quickly to the elevator as it dings and the doors open. “Lydia, I care about you. You know I… that I love you, but I won’t stand in line for your affections only to come in second place.” He steps onto the elevator, and holds the door open. “You really need to figure your shit out. Your life is consumed with work and guilt. You’re the one who loses in the end.” He leans back against the far wall of the elevator, and, as the doors close, he says, “Goodbye.”
As I watch the steel doors closing, ending our relationship, I realize he’s right. We never had much of a relationship because I never let him into my heart. There just wasn’t enough room in there to hold onto all the memories I shared with Chase, and add new experiences with Mitch. I lean my back against the wall and slowly slide down until I’m sitting. Maybe it’s just as I know it to be. Seems so easy to see when I acknowledge that my feelings weren’t deepening for Mitch.
I miss Chase. I miss hanging out together and the way he was always there for me. I miss my old life, but I ruined that when I slept with him. He might forgive me for instigating us falling into bed, but he won’t forget. Chase will never look at me the same. Tears fill my eyes because I remember just how good life was with him in it.
* * *
True to his word, Chase doesn’t contact me again. Another year passes while I’m immersed in meetings, climbing the corporate ladder, and long hours. I still find myself thinking about him all the time, but it’s getting easier to wash away the memories and regrets from our night of demise. Embarrassment colors my face, remembering how I took our friendship and tainted it with jealously. I had never been the jealous type. We were friends, nothing more. That last night, maybe it was because I’d mixed my liquors all night, or maybe it was the impending separation that weighed on my heart more than I let on, but my emotions were all over the place.
Seeing Chase with another girl on my last night in San Francisco just made all my fears surface and bubble over. I wanted all of his attention, and if I had been honest with myself back then, I really wanted all of him.
I stand up, and wipe away my tears, deciding to head home, all the while, letting the events flood my thoughts, taking me back to a part of that night I’d long forgotten.
“Caris, I’m worn out. We’ve been dancing forever. I’m gonna get a drink and sit this one out.” My feet hurt, so I slip off the dance floor.
“I’m exhausted. I’m going with Lydia,” Heather says, trailing behind me.
“Party poopers. Tell Jack to get his ass out here then,” Caris says, dancing and grinding out on the dance floor surrounded by enthusiastically dancing strangers.
Heather bumps me in the shoulder, and says, “You know, there’s a very handsome man at the bar that’s been eyeing you all night.”
I don’t bother looking in the direction she’s encouraging. “Oh, no! No one-night stands for me.”
As we approach the group, Heather leans over, uncharacteristically direct tonight, and says, “I was talking about Mr. Sexy himself.”
My eyes flash to hers as if she’s spoken some forbidden secret aloud.
“Don’t give me that look,” she says, putting her hands on her hips. “You two should’ve hooked up in college, and you know it.” She nudges me gently in the opposite direction from her and right into Chase.
“Whoa, there. You okay?” he asks concerned—always concerned for me.
He’s holding my arm. I look up at him, and smile. “Yeah, just trying to avoid some unnecessary intervention.” I give Heather a look, letting her know I don’t appreciate the obvious push forward.
She just laughs then turns her back to me, and leans against her boyfriend, Liam.
“So, you tired of dancing?” Chase asks, his hand settling on my hip and gently squeezing. It’s always been a comfort to me before, an encouragement to get out of my head and open up to him. Tonight, it feels different. Tonight, it feels good to be touched and the intimacy of friendship that it held before now feels like more.
“Yes, I need a break and a drink.”
“I’ve got this one,” Michelle shouts out, always the loudest and strongest personality in the group. Within a minute, all three girls are holding Long Island Iced Teas, and Michelle is reminiscing. “We practically lived off these in college.”