Bad Boy Blues(111)

“Yeah. Up there, actually.” He tips with his chin and I turn around to see an apartment on the second floor, across the street. There’s a little coffee place downstairs.

“I was thinking,” he goes on and I face him. “You could crash with me. The apartment is plenty big. I could take the couch.”

“You’ll take the couch.”

“Yeah. It’s a futon. It rolls out. It’s gotta be better than the bed and breakfast that you’re staying at and —”

“Stop talking,” I tell him, finally coming out of my stupor.

Zach frowns like he’s so confused.

He’s confused? I am fucking reeling here.

Reeling.

“What are you doing?” I ask with gritted teeth.

“What do you mean?”

“What do you mean, what do I mean?” I say, hysterically. “Did you just ask me to live with you?”

“Well, yes. As I said, the apartment’s got a lot of room.”

“A lot of room. Right.” Shaking my head, I look at the ground and gather myself. “Why do you have a job? Why do you have an apartment?”

“I can’t stay at the motel forever. Where do you suggest I sleep?”

I throw my hands up. “In New York. You have all these things in New York. An apartment. A job that you told me you liked and that you’re good at. Your life’s in New York.”

Throwing me a lopsided smile, he shrugs. “I don’t have anything there that’s not replaceable. And I told you.”

“Told me what?”

The chilly breeze ruffles his spiky hair as he says, “You’re my life.”

His words have more of an impact this time. Maybe because now I can see what he means by it. He’s showing me by re-arranging his life around me.

They hit me right in the gut and the butterflies go crazy. I feel their razor-sharp wings flapping, making everything bleed inside of me.

I wrap my arms around my waist, trying to quiet them down. “Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?”

“Why won’t you leave me alone?”

There’s a slight flush on his harsh cheekbones. I think it’s courtesy of the colder weather here. And he’s not even wearing a sweater.

I don’t know why I’m thinking about that when something much more important is at stake.

“Because I don’t want you to be alone. Or afraid,” he says with a clench in his jaw.

“I am not alone,” I blurt out, looking up at him.

We’ve been standing a few inches apart from each other but while talking, we moved closer. I can feel his body heat, his smell, enveloping me, stopping the shivers brought on by the weather.

“What?”

I lick my lips. “I found a guy.”

“A guy.”

“Yeah.” I nod. “He came to the diner yesterday. Sat in my section. He told me that I was beautiful and when I said that I was new in town, he offered to show me around. So we’re going out this weekend.”

It’s a lie. Obviously.

And even telling it is making me want to throw up but I have to say it.

Zach’s standing here, all taut and flushed with the cold. His black eyes watch me carefully.

“Are you going to ruin my date?” I ask when he doesn’t say anything.

The vein on the side of his neck pulses. “Do you want me to ruin your date?”

I step closer for some reason, bringing the toes of our boots flush together.

“No.” I shake my head once, boring into his eyes. “You want to watch me, right? You won’t leave me alone. So I want you to watch me on my date. I want you to watch me as someone else makes me smile. Makes me laugh. As someone else holds my hand, kisses me goodnight at the end of the night. I want you to watch all of that, Zach.”

His nostrils flare and the color on his sharp cheekbones deepens. I think it’s from anger, rather than the cold.

“That’s what you want, isn’t it? To watch me. That’s why you won’t go away. What do you think is going to happen? Do you think I’ll always be alone?” I scoff, “You’re my first love. Sometimes, I think you’ll be the only love of my life. But that doesn’t mean that it won’t get easier. That I won’t find someone that I’ll want to spend the rest of my life with. I want that, you know. Maybe I won’t love him like I love you. Maybe he won’t make my heart beat faster or he won’t make the butterflies explode in my stomach. But it’s okay. I want a home. I want babies. I want a future, Zach. Maybe it’s okay for you to live in the past but I want to build my life. I want to belong somewhere. To someone.”

To you.

Oh God, how I wish that. How I wish to belong to him. How I wish he belonged to me.

But I guess some stories are just doomed. They don’t have a life, no matter how alive they feel.

Zach swallows and lowers his head. He watches the ground for about five seconds, the longest five seconds of my life.

In those five seconds, I think he gets it. He finally gets what I’m saying.

In those five seconds, I’m fraught with panic that he’ll leave. And relief that it won’t cut me every day to look at him, and not be able to touch him.

Then he looks up and his eyes are glassy. Vulnerable. Overflowing with emotions.