After pressing ‘send’ for a text message to my
brother, I get into bed and pull my duvet up to my neck. For a few moments, I
listen to the sound of nothing throughout the apartment. Kayla and Leona are
both in their rooms, probably sleeping if going by the silence.
I try not to think, but fail
miserably.
When my brother’s first text
came through, about twenty minutes ago, I stupidly got excited, because I thought
it would be Dane. I don’t know why I concluded that; he didn’t say anything
about texting me.
He said he’d
call
me.
Then I realized one
fundamental fact.
He doesn’t even have my
number.
If he’d somehow managed to
get it, I’m sure he’d have called by now – it’s after midnight.
Message received loud and
clear.
I can’t believe I ignored
Kayla and gave him a chance, only for him to treat me like this. The least he
could’ve done is tell me he didn’t want to see me again. I’d have been
disappointed either way, but just leaving it like this is humiliating.
To make matters worse, I
allowed him to take up almost all of my thoughts since we said goodbye on the
street. I reflected on all the things I’ve learnt about him, and became excited
by the prospect of discovering so much more. He’s literally been with me all
day. I’m embarrassed to say that I walked away from him feeling like I was
floating. I can’t remember ever experiencing anything like that before, and
it’s been a long time since I felt a deeper kind of good. I’m even more
embarrassed to say that I appreciated sharing just that one snippet of his day
with him.
How foolish am I?
Reaching for the light on my bedside table, I turn it
off and hide my stupid self in the dark.
****
I awake to the clock on my bedside table displaying
the time 06:03 in a neon green light that right now stands out too much in the
darkness of my room. If it wasn’t for those four digits I’d still think it was
the middle of the night, thanks to my thick curtains shielding so effectively
against the outside world. Turning away from those unwelcome digits, I pull my
duvet over my head and squeeze my eyes shut.
Minutes later, I’m still
here and even more alert. Two mornings I’ve been pulled from my sleep to meet
up with that prick and on day three it happens naturally, like I’m supposed to
be up getting ready to go to the Purple Cafe.
After a few more minutes, I
grumble to myself knowing I’m too awake now. I know exactly what will happen if
I stay here like this – I’ll waste my thoughts on someone who isn’t worth it.
Departing from my warm,
comfy bed, I pull on my fluffy yellow robe and thick cream socks and make my
way to the living room. It’s around sunrise, so there’s some light, no need for
an additional source. After turning on the TV, I scan the channels and stop on
a music station. I sit on the sofa and watch the current video whilst trying to
decide between having a coffee and waiting a little while before going back to
bed.
The creaking of an opening
door grabs my attention. I’m not sure whether it’s Kayla’s or Leona’s, both
sound the same. We really should oil them. It’s silent for a moment. The living
room door slowly opens, and Kayla peeps through the gap. I welcome her with an
apologetic smile.
“Hey, beautiful, can’t you sleep?”
she asks, her tone drowsy.
I shake my head.
She walks in and sits beside
me and starts singing along with the music. She’s half asleep and so is her
voice. “Getting used to the early mornings, huh?” she says, as another song
comes on.
“It seems so. I’m deciding
whether to have a coffee or just go back to bed.”
“Let’s have coffee. I’ll
make it.” She gets up and walks through to our open kitchen.
I let my head fall back
against the sofa and close my eyes. Another bedroom door creaks open. Definitely
oiling them this week. I look up as Leona walks in. Her straight blonde hair
hangs loose and slightly ruffled. Her brown eyes are heavy and lack their usual
sparkle.
I smile in apology, again.
“Did I wake you up?”
“No, I heard Kayla’s door.
Then I heard her singing.” She yawns as she sits down on the sofa, her pretty
face scrunching up.
Kayla comes back into the
living room holding three mugs by their handles. “Since we’re all up, why don’t
we have some cookies? We’ll burn them off this afternoon, anyway.”
“Yes, please,” Leona and I
say at the same time.
I’m not hungry, but I can
manage cookies any time of day. They’re my vice. And nachos made with way too
much cheese.
“You not seeing Dane today?”
Leona asks, from the other side of Kayla.
“No, he said he’ll call me.”
I’m not ready for the humiliation of telling them what he’s done, especially
Kayla. I know they won’t judge me, but it doesn’t lessen the sting. “Have you
spoken to Xavier since Sunday?” I ask to deflect the focus from me.
Those half-asleep eyes of
hers widen, becoming excited. “We spoke on the phone last night. He sounds sooo
fucking sexy. We decided to meet tonight instead.”
“Really?”
She nods, grinning. “He
suggested it. How could I possibly say no to a man who sounds like he does?”
I feel even worse. Why
couldn’t I meet someone like Xavier? He’s obviously keen if he couldn’t wait
until Saturday to see Leona.
“Aahhh, I love first dates,”
Kayla gushes, all dreamy, “the butterflies, and the guy being on his best
behavior because he wants to impress you. First dates are freaking awesome. Oh,
guess who wanted to take me out after the show on Saturday?”
“No way!” I beam. Her smile
says it all.
“Yup.” Her lips stretch even
wider.
“Tell me you said yes.”
“No, I’m going out with you.
Live music and cocktails, remember?”
“Yeah, I remember, but you
don’t say no because of that. We can do it any time.”
“I’m not ditching my girl
for a guy. Even Chase Dean.”
“On this occasion you have
my permission to ditch me. At some point today, call him. I’m serious. Cookie
time!”
I reach for the packet on
the table. The next music video comes on;
Single Ladies
.
We can’t help ourselves, so jump up, put our beverages
down, and start hitting the notes and some seriously sexy dance moves.
Six-forty-five a.m., and three unattached women are dancing around their living
room and singing along to
Single Ladies
.
****
After music videos, cookies, and coffee, I went back
to bed and slept through until the early afternoon. I missed class, but woke up
refreshed.
I also woke up angry.
You see, I don’t care that
Dane doesn’t want to see me again. I’m glad I discovered him for the weasel he
is before I got too close to him. But at some point we will see each other, and
I’d prefer the first time to be something
I’m
in control of.
After checking online for
the opening hours to his shop, and a couple of other details, I shower and
start getting ready. I’m meeting up with my dance husband, Owen, at six for
dinner and drinks. That gives me time to get dressed and then I can pass by
Dane’s shop on the way.
I style my hair in a chignon
and put on some black eyeliner, black mascara and a moderate layer of
plum-touched brown lipstick. I team my high-waist, black pencil skirt with
suede peep-toe stilettos and a fitted sheer, sleeveless, burgundy blouse tucked
into the waistband, with a black bra underneath. On the way out, I slip on my
long-sleeve black bolero. All this black has nothing to do with my mood, I just
love this outfit.
It’s slightly chilly as I
step out, but I’ll be inside mostly and a cab will be my method of transport,
so I’ll survive. As I turn on to Bush Street and feel the eyes of the man I’m
passing burning into me – make that checking out my tits and hips – I realize
something I’m not happy about.
The way I’m dressed.
Dane will think I’m some
bitter bitch who’s dressed up to show him what he’s missing. That’s the last
thing on my mind, but since he’s so shallow he won’t realize that what he’s
missing out on goes deeper than the surface. The person
beneath
the
flesh. Typical.
Fuck what he thinks, it’s
irrelevant.
When I get to the shop, I
enter and home in on the sales desk. The place is brightly lit with white,
shiny floors. I pass a large selection of fancy new motorcycles presented like
a work of art. No doubt they were arranged by the hands of a stinking gigolo.
I keep in mind Dane’s
behavior as a means to stay determined and not be intimidated by the fact that
this is a strange environment and it’s his territory. Thankfully, the person on
the other side of the desk is a female.
Tone polite, I ask the
blonde, “Is Dane Sinclair here, please?” I wonder if he fucks his pretty staff
members. She’s quite attractive and young.
Her slender lips curve, but
she looks a little unsure as her blue gaze moves from my face to something
behind me.
How fucking rude?
“Brooklyn,” I hear in
that
voice. It lacks the curiosity it had the first time he said my name, but
there’s definitely a suggestion of surprise present.
Turning around, I look into
Dane’s intense eyes. For a split second, I almost waver. I actually forgot how
commanding and alluring his presence is, an unwelcome combination.
“I’d like a word, please,” I
say as graciously as I can. I’ll gladly embarrass the hell out of him, but I’m
not going to embarrass myself by being aggressive.
His expression doesn’t tell
me anything. Cool, calm and collected. This is probably the norm for him. “Come
on out back,” he says, low enough for only me to hear.
“No.” I’m not going to some
back room with a man I barely know, especially one I can’t gauge. “I’d rather
go outside.” I don’t wait for his reply; I walk around him and head for the
door. On the street is ideal, it’s away from watching eyes and listening ears,
but on even territory and in a public place.
On the pavement, I turn as
Dane approaches me with his hands buried in the pockets of his black cargo
trousers. They have a similar fit to his denims, only they’re slightly looser.
The long-sleeved black cotton top bares the company logo over his right pec and
snugly holds the physique I plan on erasing from my mind immediately after I
say what I’ve come to say.
When he stands a few feet
away from me, I move back a couple of steps to give myself some space. He
frowns at my actions and, of course, he’ll assume I’m being standoffish
.
“I won’t keep you long.
Since you wanted me to form my own opinion of you, I just want you to know I’ve
decided you’re an arsehole. I’m not bothered that you don’t want to see me
again, but I do care that you didn’t have the decency to be honest with me – so
much for the no bullshit or games.” I hold his gaze, though it’s far from easy.
Those eyes and everything
else about him overwhelms me.
“It wasn’t like that.”
“It doesn’t matter what it
was like, I’m not here to gain further understanding. I only wanted to tell you
what I think of you. I expect I’ll see you around at some point, so at least
this way we’ve had closure, not that there was much to close.” I shrug my
shoulders and stop at that, because this is starting to sound like the end of a
flipping relationship.
“Goodbye, Dane.” I turn and
walk back the way I came, even though I actually need to go the other way. My
mistake, but I’m not turning around now.
“Brooklyn, wait.”
“I have to be somewhere, I
don’t have time,” I say with a glance over my shoulder at him. I’m glad I got
to clarify that I’m dressed up for a reason. Not for him.
He catches up to me. “I’m
sorry I wasn’t more honest with you. I don’t usually do things that way, but I
didn’t know how to tell you.”
“It’s quite simple. “I don’t
want to see you again, Brooklyn.””
Saying it out loud hurts. It
really bloody hurts.
“Not really. As lame as it
sounds, I do like you and I wanted to see you again. I just think we’re looking
for different things.”
“Seriously, Dane,” I stop in
place, because I need him gone. “I feel humiliated by you. Not only because of
your actions, but because I still gave you a chance when my friend warned me
off of you. This conversation is only making me feel worse. I need you to leave
me alone.” I continue walking and up my pace, feeling like complete and utter
shit. And it isn’t because of
him
. It’s because I … I just can’t deal
with this.
As my eyes sting with tears
I’m not going to allow, I search my handbag and pull out my mobile. I select
Owen, but before I press ‘call’, I realize that cancelling my plans will mean
being in the apartment alone, which is the last thing I want or need right now.