Authors: Leisa Rayven
He reads the panicked expression my face and drops his head in defeat. “Okay, fine, no kissing, but let me tell you, it’s a wasted opportunity. Alcohol?”
“Yes, please.”
“Oh, so you can say ‘yes, please’ to booze but not to me? Nice. Taylor, if our show tanks, just know it’s because you didn’t get on board with my make-out-with-Ethan-as-often-as-possible publicity plan. I hope you can live with that decision.”
I laugh and slap his arm. “Vodka cocktail, please.”
“Yeah, whatever.” He fake-sulks as he makes his way through the crowd toward the bar, and as soon as he leaves my side, I miss him.
I step out of the alcove and take a deep breath.
As beautiful, and patient, and hilarious as he’s being, there’s still a shard of something inside me that twists and burns without reason or warning, and it terrifies me, because sometimes it makes me feel like the specter of our past will always be hanging over us, making me push him away even when I want him closer.
I feel a hand slide around my waist, and I flinch in surprise as I turn to see a familiar face.
“Connor!”
Oh, God,
Connor
.
“Hey, Cassie,” he says and leans in to kiss my cheek. “How have you been?”
“Really well. You?”
What’s he doing here? Leave. Please, leave now.
“I’m great. Just about to open in the new production of
Arcadia
down at the Ethel Barrymore Theatre.”
“I heard! That’s fantastic. I can’t wait to come and see it.”
“Well, let me know when you want to come, and I’ll get you house seats.”
“That’d be great.”
I’ll never come and see it. He knows that. I’ve ruined our friendship.
I’m a fucking terrible person.
We lapse into silence and just look at each other for a few seconds as awkwardness settles between us.
“You look beautiful,” he says, and I glance down because I really can’t look him in the eyes anymore. “As usual.”
“Connor…”
“How’s the play going?” he asks, changing the subject. “Must be weird working with Ethan again, huh?”
I look over and see Holt at the bar, waiting to be served.
“Yep.” I tuck my hair behind my ear and push down my rising panic. “Weird is one word for it. Does he know you’re here?”
He shakes his head. “No. I wanted to see you first. Say hi. I … I wasn’t sure how much you’ve told him about us. I didn’t want things to be awkward.”
I sigh. Awkward seems to be where I live these days. Right there on the corner of Freak-Out Avenue.
“I haven’t told him anything,” I say, wishing Connor would leave before Holt comes back, “and I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t mention it. We open in a week, and I don’t want to cause drama.”
“Don’t tell me you’re back together?” he asks, his face turning dark.
“No. We’re not. We’re just … we’re trying to be friends.”
When I look over, Holt’s walking toward us, and I feel like I’m going to have a stroke, my heart’s beating so fast.
Connor follows my gaze as a wry smile settles on his face. “Well, I guess some things never change. I can’t believe that after what he did to you, you’re still completely in love with him.”
I look at him sharply. “That’s not true.”
“Oh, please, Cassie. Even when you claimed to hate him, you were so fixated, you couldn’t see other options that were right in front of you.”
“Connor—”
“I would have never hurt you like he did. But I guess it’s all just history now, huh?”
He shrugs it off, but I know how much damage I did, and that knowledge makes me feel like garbage.
“I just hope you know what the hell you’re doing, because if he hurts you again…” He shakes his head. “You deserve to be happy, Cassie. That’s all I’m saying.”
I nod. Things might have been so different if I could have made things work with Connor. But I couldn’t. I tried. We both know I really tried.
“Hey, Connor!” Holt hands me my drink and then shakes Connor’s hand. To his credit, he looks genuinely pleased to see him. I, on the other hand, am on the verge of two worlds colliding and am about to pass out. “I heard you were doing
Arcadia
, man. Congratulations. The cast looks awesome.”
Connor plasters on a smile. “Hey, Ethan. Yeah, it’s great. Bookings are going well, so we’re hoping for a nice, long run.”
Holt smiles and gestures toward the bar. “Can I get you a drink? They have some decent imported beer. Or if you want to live dangerously, I could get you one of these pink monstrosities Taylor’s drinking, although I’m pretty sure it’s made from just vodka and sugar.”
Connor looks at me and smiles, but there’s sadness in his eyes. “Yeah, well … she always did have questionable taste.”
Something shifts in the air, and when I look back at Holt he’s staring at Connor, his smile fading. Suddenly I think it’s really important that Connor leaves.
As if he senses the building tension, Connor says, “Well, it’s been great seeing you guys but I’ve got to get back to the rest of my cast. Hope you can come down one night and see the show.” He looks at both of us as he says it, but I know he’s only talking to me.
“See you, Ethan,” he says, his voice less than friendly. Then he kisses my cheek and whispers, “Take care of yourself, Cassie. Please.”
He leaves, and even though the room is full of people chattering and laughing, all I can focus on is the absolute silence surrounding Holt. He takes several mouthfuls of beer and pretends to look at something across the room, but I can see that his eyes are glazed and unfocused. He’s not looking at something as much as he’s trying not to look at me. I squirm because I know, without a shadow of a doubt, what he’s about to say.
“You slept with him, didn’t you?” he asks quietly. He doesn’t sound angry, or even hurt. Just … resigned.
When I don’t answer, he looks at me, and I can see that he’s struggling to hold in everything he’s feeling. His lips are pressed together and hard, and my heart is pounding so loudly I can hear it in my ears.
“Ethan…”
“Just tell me, Cassie. I’m not going to make a scene. I just need to know.”
“You already know.”
He huffs in frustration. “I need to hear you say it.”
I take a deep breath and push down a wave of nausea. “Yes. We slept together.”
He blinks but doesn’t stop staring at me. “When?”
“You know when.”
“After graduation.”
“Yes.”
“Straight after I left.”
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“Three months.”
“Three months?!” He laughs, but it’s a bitter sound. “Three fucking…” He nods and takes another swig of beer, his expression intense. “So you two were … what? In a relationship? Dating?”
“No. I mean … kind of. He wanted to, but I just … I couldn’t. I didn’t feel that way about him. It was just sex.”
He laughs again, and he’s looking everywhere else but at me.
“Ethan … I was angry and hurting. He was there. You weren’t.”
He swallows more beer, his jaw clenching and releasing.
“You can’t be upset with me for something that happened after you left. That’s not fair.”
“I know,” he says, his voice low. “I know I shouldn’t want to smash in Connor’s fucking face, but … Jesus, Cassie, three months?!”
He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly before looking at me.
“I know you were with other men after I left,” he says. “I overheard you and Tristan talking about it the night I came to your apartment. And as much as it fucking killed me to hear that, I coped by telling myself they were just nameless, faceless guys. One-night stands that fulfilled some urge for you. That didn’t mean anything—”
“They
didn’t
mean anything. Nothing has meant anything for longer than I can remember.”
“Connor meant something.”
“No.”
“Cassie, you can’t tell me you had sex with him for three months without it meaning something. It’s one thing to fuck someone you pick up in a bar and never see again. It’s another thing to have sex with someone you care about. At the very least, he was your friend, so you had to have
some
feelings for him.”
“Obviously whatever I felt for him wasn’t enough. Nothing was ever enough for me after you.”
When he looks at me, I can tell he’s angry. But beneath the anger is hurt, so deep and raw that I can’t look him in the eyes, because his pain echoes inside of me.
“Do you think I don’t know this is my fault?” he asks as he leans forward. “I know that, all right? And it fucking kills me. And what’s worse is that I could have lost you to someone like Connor. Someone who would
never
treat you the way I did.”
I glance over to where Connor is across the room. He’s looking at Holt and me with concern. He can tell that we’re fighting.
Holt is shifting from one foot to the other, struggling to stay in control.
I don’t know what to say to him. His jealousy is pointless. It always was. As if he’s ever had anything to be truly jealous of.
“Why couldn’t you make it work with him?” he asks and places his beer bottle on the bench next to us before looking at his feet. “You said he wanted more. Why didn’t you?”
“I’ve asked myself that question so many times, I’ve lost count.”
“And what’s the answer?”
I take a breath. “I don’t know. Connor thinks he never had a chance with me because I was still in love with you.”
He searches my face, then licks his lips before asking, “And what do you think?”
I fight to keep my voice steady. “I think he’s probably right.”
He looks at me for a long time, the wheels of his brain processing my words, noting I’d said “was” in love. Not admitting to how I’m feeling now.
I pray he doesn’t ask me, because I know I can’t say it. Not yet. That would be like cutting open my chest and handing over my heart all over again, and I’m not anywhere near ready to do that.
“So where does that leave us?” he asks, his brow furrowed. “Judging by the way Connor was looking at you, if you said one word to him, he’d walk out of here with you right now.”
“And would you let him?”
He stares at me for long seconds before answering. “If that’s what you wanted. If you thought he could make you happier than I could.”
I take in an unsteady breath and put my hand on his chest, the first voluntary contact I’ve made for days. He blinks in surprise.
“So, if I said I didn’t want you, and didn’t love you, and needed Connor in my life instead of you, you’d stop fighting for me? You’d just … let me go?”
He tightens his jaw and places his hand over mine before pressing it into his chest. “No.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’d be lying.”
I let out a shaky breath. “Yes, I would.”
Suddenly his hands are on my face, and before I can even get out one word to protest that we’re in a room full of people, he’s kissing me. My breath catches as his lips move gently against mine, and I’m so devastated by the sensation that I cease to care that Connor, and Marco, and members of the Broadway press club are standing around us.
My stomach coils and flips as he tilts my head and kisses me deeper, his breath loud and shallow as he half groans, half sighs into my mouth. His hands are on my face and my neck, pulling me closer and stroking me in a way that makes me lose track of time and place and just melt into him as if we’re two highly combustible chemical compounds that ignite when they come in contact.
Part of why I could never get over him is because only he can make me react like this. Every other man was like a match, igniting vague passion, but brief and unremarkable. Ethan is like a volcano. A never-ending series of ecstatic, bone-deep eruptions.
He presses me against the pillar, hands cupping my face, and that’s when it becomes too much. He’s too important, and the feelings I’m having are too big for my stitched-up heart. I push him away and grip his shirt, dizzy and unsteady.
“I’m sorry,” he says, breathless. “But … well … Jesus, Cassie, you can’t just say that you want me and expect me to not completely lose my mind. I know you can’t give me all of yourself right now, but I just needed to have one small part of you. A piece that wasn’t Connor’s, or the other guys’ you’ve been with. Just mine. And I hope Connor, and every other man in the room, saw that fucking spectacular kiss, because anyone who witnessed that could
not
deny that we’re meant to be together, especially not you.”
I step back and lean against the pillar, panting and trying to calm myself.
He’s right. That kiss pretty much destroyed any doubts I had about wanting him in my life again, but that doesn’t mean I’m ready to make out with him in front of a roomful of my peers.
I’m so caught up in the moment, I don’t even notice how many people have their camera phones trained on us.
SIXTEEN
DENIAL
Six Years Earlier
Westchester, New York
The Grove
“Taylor, just stick it in your mouth.”
“Don’t rush me. I’ve never done this before.”
“Yeah, well, the best way to learn it just to do it.”
“I don’t know what the heck I’m doing!”
“Stop talking yourself out of it. Just wrap your lips around it and suck. It’s not rocket science.”
“Oh, my
God
, Cassie,” Zoe says as she rolls her eyes. “Either do it or hand it around. Other people want a turn, you know.”
She scowls at me as I regard the glowing joint in my hand. I’m tempted to just hand it over, but I don’t want to seem like the naive girl I actually am, so I put it between my lips and suck hard. I wind up inhaling a scorching lungful of pungent smoke.
Everyone laughs as I launch into a massive coughing fit.
Holt claps me gently on my back.
“Leave your lips parted a bit when you inhale,” he says while trying not to laugh. “That way you’ll take in some air with the smoke, and it’ll burn less.”
“You couldn’t have told me that before I did it?” I wheeze as he hands me his bottle of water.
He shrugs and smiles. “Where’d the fun be in that?”
I slap his arm as I take the water and drink.