Page 35 of If It Can't Be Us

“What about you, Vivian?” Stella asks.

“Oh, I don’t have anything very crazy to tell. Just peeing on a curb in a back alley, trying to sleep on a dance floor at a club, you know… the usual. If anything crazier has happened, I was too drunk to know about it,” she replies, her confidence radiating, and I find myself more and more attracted to her. She’s funny, attractive, athletic, and loyal… she’s the whole package.

The night starts to wind down. I pick up the bill, placing my credit card into the fold. Meredith and Vivian insist on splitting it with me, adding their credit cards as well.

Vivian and I walk home together, side by side, recounting the evening. She loved all my friends, but can’t stop talking about Meredith. It makes me happy. As we walk, the cool night air wraps around us, and our laughter echoes softly in the quiet streets.

We walk down the long row of townhouses and stop in front of mine.

“Thanks for coming tonight, Walker. My friends loved you!” I take both of her hands in mine and kiss her knuckles, making her giggle.

“What are you… like pretending to be a fuckin’ gentleman tonight?” She is buzzed for sure but stopped drinking well before I did.

“Well, we were just in the 1920s, love, and I wanted to kiss my lady’s hands,” I spout off, realizing that I’m more drunk than I thought.

“The fuck? Kiss my lady’s hands? That’s not the 1920s! How drunk are you?” She loses control of her laughter, doubling over and clutching her sides.

I keep trying to form a sentence, but can’t between the fits of laughter and my drunken state. The more I try, the funnier it seems, and we both end up laughing uncontrollably on the sidewalk.

She suddenly sobers, a haunted look crossing her face, as if she’s seen a ghost.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, trying to calm myself while taking deep breaths.

“Nothing. I, um…” She shakes her head back and forth, scowling, “I just had a flashback, a déjà vu type of thing, you know what I mean?”

I search her eyes, still holding her hands, feeling a surge of lust. “Jesus, Walker… you’re stunning,” I say, suddenly dropping her hands, aware of my escalating thoughts and body’s response. “I should go now, before I do something we’ll both regret. See you tomorrow,” I say, turning to walk inside—cock hard—leaving her stunned on the sidewalk.

As I close the door behind me, I lean against it, breathing heavily. This is becoming a pattern, walking away from her, only to end up finishing myself off later. It’s either that or face the consequences of blue balls. Dammit. What is she doing to me? The intensity of my feelings for her is overwhelming, and I know I need to get a grip before things get out of hand.

What the hell was that? I’m going to owe her an apology tomorrow. My hand goes to my forehead, pressing hard as I groan, remembering all the things I did tonight. I completely crossed a line.

I stumble into the dark kitchen, ramming my thigh into the countertop. “Shit!” I make my way to the fridge and manage to whip up a concoction of coconut water and egg yolks, my hangover cure. The taste is vile, but I chug it down and head upstairs to my bedroom, shaking my head in disbelief.

I told her she was fucking sexy.

I put my hand on her thigh.

I stroked her thigh with my thumb.

I thought about what it would be like to fuck her at the bar.

I stared. All night long, I stared at her.

And I just told her I needed to go before I did something we’d regret.

I stare at my ceiling, feeling the weight of my mistakes settle in.

Shit. I’m a bloody idiot.

* * * * ** * * * *

Wednesday, October 25

Four Days Later

“There you are.” I hear Meredith’s voice echo through the break room. “I looked in your office, and you weren’t there. How have I not seen you yet today?”

“Hey, Mer,” I say, standing to meet her as she crosses the break room for a hug. “Busy day today. How are ya?”

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