From the Inside Out: The Compilation (Scorned, Jealousy, Dylan, Austin) (5 page)

I can’t turn back the clock and appreciate what I had, but I still feel the loss of her every day. Realizing I have nothing left to lose since I already lost her, I take a chance. “I don’t know what to call you.”

She stands there studying the painting in front of her, no anger gracing her beautiful face like it did this morning. “I go by Jules now.” She glances my way and that’s all it takes to be utterly captivated by her, just like I was years before.

“I LIKE JULES,”
I reply, leaving the words lingering between us.

Juliette turns her head and looks past me. Her eyes widen like she sees someone in the distance, someone she recognizes who makes her smile. “If you’ll excuse me,” she says, not making eye contact, her gaze planted on my chest. I can see her struggle not to look up before she walks away.

Disappointment and relief covers me equally. I like the time I spent with her, just like this morning at the coffee shop. But it’s intense, heavy between us. I’m relieved to have the chance to take a breath and gather my wits back together. She throws me entirely off my game.

That makes me wonder if I’m playing a game with her. I don’t mean to. It’s not my style anymore.
When did I get game anyway
? Juliette loved that I had no game… when we met. I was popular, but didn’t screw with people’s heads to get my way.

With Hillary, it was all games. Life was a game to her. People were puppets to be toyed with, their emotions and lives irrelevant. Unlike my family, who are financially secure, coming from money for Hillary taught her not to value anything or anyone. People destroyed in the process were just consequences to the petty game. The first time I met her, I saw the devil in her eyes…

She was there. I think she was waiting for me and I don’t normally drink strong cocktails like martinis, so it was easy to lose my better judgment. What happened became a blur in the darkest of corners past the small antiquated payphone booth, hidden from the rest of the party.

Targeted. She had targeted me and knew she would get me eventually. I wasn’t strong enough, the liquor loosening my grip on the important things in my life, like Juliette.

Hands firmly wrap around my neck, pulling me toward the dark. My body ruled my mind in its weakened state. It was obvious that fate had already decided, it was obvious what her craving for me did. She was not shy, but like a woman possessed. Maybe obsessed was more appropriate when looking back.

Her lips found mine, but I resisted, turning my head. I’d never been with an aggressive woman before. The sudden stirrings I felt were unexpected. Somehow as she whispered the things she would do to me, for me, I knew. She was not going to take no for an answer. She would be relentless until she broke me.

She brushed across my cock, just on the outside of my pants, but it shamed me that my body wanted more. She couldn’t see my anger as I grabbed her wrists and removed them from where only Juliette had been since the day I met her. She couldn’t see the guilt that was already washing through me as I spoke of the love I had for my girlfriend. She wouldn’t have cared anyway.

Taking advantage of my faltering, she dragged my hand down her body demanding that I touch her. Suddenly I realized that I wanted her. Not as a whole, but on some level, some buried part of me liked her touch, her directness, and the words she spoke in hushed tones in my ear. She had to have me and she wasn’t afraid to ask for what she wanted. She wanted to please me. She was eager. I told her no, then Juliette came to mind and I stepped back. She reached for me, started pulling me back to her, but I ran. I ran into the restroom and I threw up.

My stomach rolled as I emptied the contents along with my heart and my life into the toilet, and flushed it all away. I avoided my reflection in the mirror as I washed my hands and my face, trying to bring color back to my cheeks, not wanting to worry Juliette. I scrubbed my mouth clean with paper towels before escaping quickly while making sure she wasn’t out there again waiting to pounce. I made it back to my girlfriend just as the clock struck twelve, giving her a closed mouth kiss.

Hugging me tight, she told me how happy she was, how lucky she was that we get to spend another year together. The moment was ruined when I saw Hillary over her shoulder though. She smiled at me like she knew she already had me. I closed my eyes, trying to block her out while I appreciated what I held in my arms.

It was in that moment I decided I would trade Heaven for Hell. I still hate myself for hurting Juliette. I was never dumb, but I was obviously naïve. I see that now.

The very first time I saw her on campus I knew she deserved better than me. I would tell her that, but she would laugh, never believing me. In the end, I proved her wrong.

This morning I saw she doesn’t wear a ring on her left hand. I only went there after figuring out what the date was. I took a chance to ease my conscience and tracked her down so I could apologize. It was long overdue. I saw the fear and anger in her eyes though. She felt ambushed, her eyes telling me much more than she did.

Looking back over my shoulder, I see Juliette hug a man in a tailored suit.
Is he deserving?

The way she embraces him makes me wonder about the nature of their relationship. He touches her with a familiarity that’s more personal than professional. He’s attracted to her, that much is obvious. They hold each other too long and I feel the beginnings of jealousy. When she looks down instead of resting her chin on his shoulder, I feel a small sense of relief, but should I?

I turn back to the painting before moving to the next one, needing to stop the crazy thoughts I’m having. I don’t want to invade her space, even though I completely want to.

“You have some fucking nerve.” I hear a man say from behind me.

I turn around at the crass statement only to be faced with someone that takes me by surprise. “Brandon!” I exclaim. His face is tight, eyes blazing, jaw locked, and his arms crossed over his chest. “How are you?”

“Save the pleasantries, Somers. Why the fuck are you here?”

It’s hard to look tough or feel like you can hold your own when you’re holding a wine glass. I set it down on a passing tray and cross my arms over my chest. I can see how this is gonna go down. “By that greeting, I guess you’ve still got a hard on for Juliette.”

“Fuck you. You don’t know shit about anything, much less me or her.”

His eyes flicker in her direction and I follow watching as she pulls a calculator from her pocket and types, showing it to nice-suit-lukewarm-embrace man. When I turn back, I say, “This is over Juliette. You’re pissed I’m here… or threatened?”

“It’s Jules,” he says. “You have no right to call her Juliette.”

“But that’s her name, and I’m still in the dark as to why she’s so insistent on being called Jules now.”

“I’m not giving you anything, asshole. Why are you even here? You didn’t do enough damage the first go round. You crawling back? What the fuck, dude. She can finally sleep at night… most nights, and here you are slithering back into her life.” He pokes me in the chest.

I don’t take lightly to the interrogation, but with the tidbits he’s dropping out about her, I’ll take it a bit longer. Knowing I have the upper hand here, I reply, “It’s all coincidental. I stopped in because I liked the paintings. I didn’t know she worked here. But why are you here? You two together?” I look back at her briefly, surprised she would date him. He was never her type and definitely not deserving of her. Jealously settles into the pit of my stomach.

“It’s none of your business what our relationship is, but the one thing I am that you never were is supportive,” he says, pointing at Juliette. “You don’t know what you did to her—”

“I do. I made a huge fucking mistake, but—”

“But nothing, my ass! I bet you money you know what today is and here you are rubbing her nose in it.”

Looking down, I sigh. The heaviness of the day is wearing on me. “Look, I know today is the day we broke up. I don’t need the reminder. I’m reminded every fucking day I wake up without her,” I say, lowering my voice as other patrons start to look at us.

His voice lowers to a menacing degree. “I’m warning you, Somers. Stay away from her!”

“Don’t tell me—”

“You two need to leave.” Juliette appears, seething with no patience for either of us. “You’re starting to cause a scene.”

“I’ll leave when he does.” Brandon stands tall, determined.

She looks at him and I see a slight break in her firm demand. “Don’t do this, Brandon. I’ll see you later. I promise.”

Glancing back at me, I don’t get another word from her before she turns around and walks across the gallery.

Brandon looks at me and in a hushed tone, he utters, “Fucker!”

“Asshole!” My back is to him already as I walk out. I debate if I should go home or join my clients at the strip club down the street. Turning back to steal one more glimpse of her through the window, I see her hugging Brandon. It’s warm, welcoming. She finds security in him, but I’m still left wondering when the neighbor became more.
Or was he waiting for me to screw up all along?

Hailing a cab, I decide to head home. I’ll send my apologies to the clients tomorrow. I’m in no condition to entertain. After dumping my wallet and phone on the kitchen counter, I brush my teeth and strip down to my boxers. With all the lights out, it feels too dark in here. I walk to the bed and stub my toe on the corner of the frame, and hobble the rest of the way. After climbing in, I check my alarm clock and lay there thinking about Juliette… thinking about
Jules
.

I pull my comforter up to my neck, but it doesn’t feel like enough now, so I reach down for the throw that I shouldn’t have. It’s the one I stole from Juliette that made Hillary mad. I drag it up the bed and cover my arms, trying to sleep while the feeling warms me from the inside out.

I KNOCK, KNOWING
Brandon will probably be asleep, but he’s expecting me. When he opens the door, the smallish smiles on our faces are a giveaway for how tired we are. It’s late, so no big greetings are needed. He scratches his head and I can tell he wants to ask me why I didn’t use my key. But he doesn’t, he just kicks the door open wider.

After brushing my teeth and pulling on my pj’s, I slip into his bed, foregoing the guest room. His bed is warm.
He’s
warm, but doesn’t fill the void and it’s better than being alone across the hall.

We don’t normally share a bed, but if I’m alone the tears will come, overwhelming my head and heart. The date hasn’t changed and he understands that tonight is different. I’m tense, wanting to escape my own body and mind, so tonight I let him hold me. I try to settle my nerves and heavy emotions, thinking I should be happy how the evening played out. Paintings were sold and big commissions were made, giving my paycheck a huge boost. A dedicated buyer bought another, adding to his growing collection, all of which I’ve sold to him. He’s persistent and dresses nicely, wealthy, single, and handsome. He’s interested in me, hopeful even. I don’t know why he waits for me. He deserves a medal for his patience. I carry too much emotional baggage to burden him with.
Can he not see how damaged I am? How I’m scarred from the inside out?