Page 13 of Unmasking You

I lose sense of the words as I watch Jamie getting into his conversation. Even the jealousy I felt a few seconds ago decreases, faced with the beauty of his movements, of his very being. His hands move to express even better what his mouth is saying. I like the way he touches his mouth when he laughs too loudly and gets self-conscious about it. He looks adorable, and I want to be the one making him do all these little things.

I compare this man to the boy he was, and there are so many similarities, but there are also new things I find endearing. He’s taller than he was, at least five inches, putting him at about my shoulder. His body has filled out a bit, but he still has the swimmer’s physique that attracted me so much when we were younger. His hair is longer than before, and my fingers tingle with the need to touch it, wanting to make sure it’s as soft as it looks. Jamie’s face still has a youthful appearance, but his cheeks are more visible now, and I love how he keeps his face clean-shaven. My eyes zero in on his lips, the colour of a ripe peach, and—as I already know—as soft as a mature one. The taste, though, is different; it’s like nectar, like the best wine you can buy, sweet and delicate, and so very manly. I’m addicted to it, and I want more of it. I want to drink from them as if they were a cup, as if they were the Holy Grail. They are lost to me, though, like that cup is lost to humanity.

I ignore the sadness that thought brings, and I concentrate on drinking in everything Jamie is. I don’t want to miss a single detail because they will soon all be lost to me. The sweetness he has will soon transform into hate. A hate I deserve. A hate that’ll probably never go away. A hate I want to take from him and wear until he feels I’ve done enough penance. And maybe then he’ll find the strength in himself to forgive me.

When the dog moves, I redirect my attention to her. I mentally coax her to go back to her owner so I can admire him from afar for just a little longer. Instead, she moves towards me, getting a little closer. I’m sweating more with each step she takes because I’m sure I’m seconds away from being discovered.

“Queen Lizzie?”

Jamie’s voice calling the dog spreads panic inside me. I need more time to admire him, to absorb as much as I can before I’m discovered. I sound like a stalker, and clearly I am one, but what other choice do I have when he doesn’t want to see me?

It’s wrong. Completely and utterly wrong, but what else can I do?

I bring the newspaper higher, totally hiding myself behind it. The dog, instead of listening to Jamie, moves closer and sits on my foot, leaning her full weight on my leg. She turns her head towards me, and those black eyes are so lively and attentive, calling for lots of cuddles.

I always wanted a dog, but I was never allowed one. I was never “obedient enough to deserve a dog.”

This beauty is really trying to carve out a space in my heart. She seems to understand my turmoil because she stands up, sits on her back legs, and after placing her front paw on my leg, looks up at me. Her tongue is hanging out, spreading doggy drool all over my jeans while I whisper to her to go away. Instead of listening to me, she swiftly jumps up to sit on my lap. Surprised by it, I let the newspaper fall.

I hear Jamie’s panicked intake of air and then his steps getting closer.

Does he know it’s me?

“I’m so sorry.” His tone is apologetic at first, and then more commanding. “Queen…” Then his voice stops abruptly, and for a second, there’s only silence.

I glance up, knowing damn well I’ve been discovered, but still hoping to have time to be with him. His face has lost everything I admired before, all the joy and warmth, and my guilt rears its ugly head.

“What are you doing here?”

I don’t look up. Instead, I focus my attention on Queen Lizzie. Such a fitting name, especially now that she’s sitting on my lap, acting like she owns it.

My brain is trying to come up with a plan that won’t make me look like the dick I am. Before I can, however, Jamie speaks again. His irate tone and the jealousy I felt before come back with a vengeance that clouds my mind.

“I said, what the hell are you doing here?”

I fold the newspaper with calm and controlled movements, like I’m not the one in the wrong here. Or like I haven’t been caught doing something I shouldn’t. I follow my old man’s teachings—always act as if you’re right—and for once, his way of doing things is coming in handy.

“Having a drink,” I say, glancing at Andy, who’s watching us as we interact. My glance has him going back to preparing my drink, so I don’t look like the liar I am.

I’m being a dick, and I have to continue…

“Here?” Disbelief exudes from Jamie’s words.

“Yeah, chai latte. My favourite.”

“It’s mine t—“ He stops, as if remembering we’re not friends, and lets his words die. Then he continues with a different tone. “I’ve never seen you here before.” Suspicion has taken over the disbelief from a few seconds ago.

“It’s my first time. I love finding new places and trying their chai lattes. Today, it was this place.”

Another long look has me squirming like a kid being scolded by the teacher, but I don’t show it.

“So, you’re not here for a chance to talk to me?”

I’m screwed. Lying to his face is where I draw the line. I did it in the past and there is no way I’m doing that now.

“I can’t say I’m not.”

He looks at me, puzzled, as if he doesn’t really get what I’m saying. “Are you here for me?” Doubt drips in as his voice shakes.

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