The Player and the Pixie(68)

We.

Us.

Sean and I.

I hated that our lives existed in two very different worlds.

And I hated that he had to leave. Hate was a strong emotion, one I often tried to avoid, but there it was in all its ugly glory. Sean Cassidy had made me feel things, intense things, and far too many of them for that matter.

I thought about dressing quickly and going to the airport, just to see him off, just to say goodbye in person. But I cared too much. If I started getting all weepy and teary-eyed at the departure gate, then he’d know the growing depth of my feelings for him.

That couldn’t happen. It would be a big, fat mixed message, which wouldn’t be fair to either of us.

There was no Sean and me. No us. There never had been. Not really.

Yet for a moment last night—not while we were going at it against the wall or on the rug, but while we were lying in bed, touching, speaking of ourselves, sharing each other—it had felt possible.

***

My mantra over the next few weeks was distance was good.

Although it seemed like a small part of me was being torn away, distance was what we needed. It was for the best. Distance would make my heart grow less fond—I hoped.

Had he forgotten about me already? Moved on? Realized I wasn’t worth the effort? Found a new . . . teacher?

The questions had me feeling positively morose and it was so unlike me to get worked up over a man.

It was a full two weeks after he’d left that I received the first text message, the first morsel of communication between us after an endless sea of uncertain silence. I was waiting in line with some friends at a food truck event in Central Park when my phone buzzed.



Sean: Is it strange that every time I see a gay pride flag I think of you?



I snorted a laugh at the question, giddy as a school girl that he’d decided to make contact, my insides all aflutter. I excused myself, stepped out of the line, and immediately responded. Obviously, the distance hadn’t worked. Plus, I’d been wearing the yin and yang pendant. I’d been wearing it every day, touched that he’d gone to the trouble of buying me such a thoughtful gift.



Lucy: Not at all. Every time I see two spherical objects side by side I think of you.

Sean: ???

Lucy: Begins with a B, ends with an utt.

Sean: How obsessed we are with one another’s rear ends…

Lucy: I like to think it’s a healthy level of interest ;-)



Several minutes passed before I received anything else. When I did I chuckled, rolling my eyes at his brazenness.



Sean: If you send me a picture of yours, I’ll send you a picture of mine.

Lucy: Wow, you don’t care about the cloud at all, do you?

Sean: Nope, not when there are dozens of photos of me already floating around the Internet.



I frowned, recalling the images I’d seen of him online, taken by women he’d had one-night stands with. They’d posted them like they were trophies, something to be proud of, when really they should have been ashamed of themselves.

Sean wasn’t just some hot piece of arse to be shagged and then bragged about. He was a person with feelings. And yes, I never thought I’d see the day that I defended Sean Cassidy and his feelings, but here we were. Those women were as bad as all the men who went around treating women like sex objects. My next text was fueled by this anger and therefore startlingly honest.



Lucy: I’m having some really violent feelings toward the women who did that to you right now.

Sean: Don’t be angry. I’m not.

Lucy: You should be. You’re worth more than that.

Lucy: Thank you for the pendant, btw. I love it.



Another full minute passed and then came his response.



Sean: I miss you.



I inhaled, the three simple words taking the wind out of my sails and causing a sharp pang of emotion to cut through my chest. I didn’t even hesitate to respond.



Lucy: I miss you, too.



He didn’t respond after several minutes, so I tucked my phone back in my pocket and rejoined the line and my friends. But when it came time to order, my stomach was a swirling mess. I couldn’t eat. I could barely draw a full breath.

***

After that we messaged almost every day, chatting about all manner of things, and I found myself looking forward to our interactions, a smile on my face every time my phone pinged with a new alert.



Sean: -unicorn vomiting rainbow emoticon- Another thing that reminds me of you.

Lucy: Not sure what to think of that.

Sean: I’m going to have it put on a T-shirt as a Valentine’s Day gift.

Lucy: How romantic.

Sean: Terribly so. How are you?

Sean: I still miss you.



I didn’t contradict him, but rather just accepted the affectionate way he often spoke when we texted. However, I was also becoming uneasy, because the nicer he was the bigger my feelings grew.