Love in All the Right Places (Chick Lit bundle) (22 page)

Chapter 13: R18

For the record, I knew what I was doing—granted that my five senses were pleasantly fuzzed. And the fact that I was in Benj’s hotel room, sitting on his bed while he rubbed my neck and shoulders, didn’t help bring things into focus. It felt so good that I couldn’t—wouldn’t—think straight. I might even have moaned.

“Where’s Duffy?” I breathed out, opening my eyes long enough to look at the empty bed beside ours.

Benj gave a throaty chuckle. “Oh, he’s back on the prowl after Bea ditched him.” Then he continued in a low voice. “But it all worked out, ’cause now I get to spend time with you—
alone
.”

Before I could answer, he had scooted right in front of me and met my lips with his. I knew that at some point we were going to kiss, but at that moment, I wasn’t ready for it.

Quickly my brain reworked itself, and I parted my lips. The kiss deepened. I put my arms around his neck, while he traced wide, lazy circles on the small of my back. Slowly our bodies pressed against each other like perfect magnets. He leaned back, and his hands started venturing beneath my tube top. I gasped; his hands felt like fire.

It had been so long since I was this intimate with someone. The last time was five years ago with Benj. Just Benj. It had
always
been Benj.

Right on cue, my phone trilled a message, breaking the spell.

DON’T DO IT. Don’t do this to yourself. Don’t do this to Vince.

I stared at the message for a very long time.
What was I thinking?
I wasn't thinking, period. Bea was right. I was doing the same thing Benj did to me years ago. And I was doing it to Vince.

I stood up. My head spun, and Benj pulled me back down.

“Enough of the texting. We have more important things to do,” drawled Benj, grabbing my phone. Suddenly it rang. Before I could stop him, he swiped the phone screen.

“Hello?" He paused. "No, you can’t talk to her. She’s busy—” He looked at me and laughed. “Actually
we’re
busy. You’re interrupting a
very
intimate moment.” He winked at me. “Who’s this? Hello? Hello?”

He threw the phone on the bed. “Asshole.”

My heart was pummeling in my chest. “Who was that?”

“Some dude who wanted to talk to you.”

Dude?!
I quickly made a mental list of guys who would possibly call at this hour. Please, oh, please let it be Leo, who was calling about work.

I reached for my phone. Everything felt like it was happening in slow motion.

Then the strains of an incredibly sappy eighties tune filled the room. It was a ringtone I wouldn’t be caught dead with.

Benj popped out of the bed, turned his back on me, and slipped his phone out his shorts pocket. I looked over his shoulder as he pressed the red button to drop the call.

Then as if nothing happened, he smiled that delicious smile and leaned toward me. “Now where were we?” he said in a husky whisper.

But it was too late. I had already seen the caller ID photo. And damn it, I would have recognized those almond eyes anywhere, that sleek long black hair, those pouty lips. It was the face of the girl whom he constantly had his arm around when I was still silly enough to stalk him on Facebook.

“Who was that?” Clearly this wasn’t me talking.
This
was someone else, who was a lot saner than I was, someone who could ask a question without hysterically slapping the person in front of her. 

“Oh, someone from work.” He forced a laugh. “I can’t believe they had the nerve to call me while I’m on vacation! I told them that I didn’t want to be bothered.”

“Benj”—by now my voice was shaking—“I saw the caller ID.”

Silence.

I decided to break it.

“So what was that
bullshit
about you and Cara breaking up?”

He held up a hand. “Wait. That was the truth. Technically Cara and I have broken up. However, we’re still seeing each other while seeing other people.”

What?

“So when you say you ‘see’”—I made quotation marks in the air—“each other, do you mean like, see each other as friends?”

“Crissy . . .”

“So when you get together, what do you do? Each other?”

Benj’s voice hardened. “We’re not teenagers anymore, Crissy. Grow up.”

“So what—you’re like bed buddies?”

“Yes!” Benj exploded. “We have sex!” He shook his head in disgust. “God, I can’t believe you’re still the prude girl I met in college.”

That stung. Benj used to say that my Jane Austenesque ways were a breath of fresh air. That’s why I could not wrap my head around the fact that he had chosen Cara over me. Cara, whom he admitted, wasn’t into commitment. Cara, who flashed her tongue ring every chance she could get on Facebook, and whose ample chest, emphasized by plunging necklines, was always pressed to some part of Benj’s body.

Was I prude? If being prude meant having slept only
once
with one guy because he had promised that our relationship was for keeps, that he needed something to remember me by, that I needed to prove my commitment before he crossed to other side of the ocean—then yes, I was prude. But also stupid.

But I had to hand it to this new version of Benj. He didn’t lose a beat and was back to being Mr. Suave, rubbing my neck.

“Crissy . . . you need to loosen up. Tonight we can have fun as two mature, consenting adults. Then afterward, we part ways as friends—both of us happy. It’s as uncomplicated as that.”

I wanted to tell him that he never was a friend. That there was only one mature adult in the room, and it wasn’t him. Most of all, I wanted to tell him that I could never respect, much more sleep with, someone who used such a tacky song as his ringtone.

I opened my mouth to tell him all this. Instead, five margaritas worth of rancid vomit spewed forth, splattering Benj full on his crotch.

Chapter 14: Climax

Barfing on Evil Ex was sweet revenge. But it was a short-lived triumph. When I checked my phone, it took me a while to accept that the last caller was, indeed, Vince.

“I think he turned off his phone,” Bea said, putting down her Blackberry. We were in a cab on our way home from the airport. Since last night, my life had been a blur. I had been calling and texting Vince nonstop even before taking that final step into the airplane. I had pleaded Bea to call him up for me, in hopes that he would pick up an unknown caller.

“I have to see him. I need to go to Cubao.”

Bea looked at me with . . . pity? No, it was sympathy. “You should get some rest. You haven’t slept since last night.”

I nodded. I kept on nodding until the tears came out.

“Shh . . .” Bea put her arm around me, and I sunk down to her lap. “It’s okay. Everything’s going to be okay.”

Up and down my head went, though I didn’t believe a word she said.

* * * *

Every day, for the entire week, I passed by Nostalgia Mania after work, but it remained closed. I didn’t know how else I could reach Vince, so every day I slid a note beneath the roll-down metal door. At first I only wrote different versions of “I’m sorry” and “Please, I need to talk to you.” But tonight I came prepared with a full-length letter.

Dear Vince,

I am sorry.

Here are the answers to the questions you might be asking yourself:

The one who answered my phone that fateful night was my ex, Benj.

Yes, we kissed. And though it was pure chance that I bumped into him in Boracay, ultimately the choice was mine whether I would kiss him back or not. I did not want to admit it to myself then, but yes, I knew that there was the possibility that we would be sleeping together. But no, we didn’t do it.

At some point, while we were fooling around, I realized that I was being stupid. I did not want to repeat a horrible mistake. Most of all, I didn’t want to lose you.

And then you called. And Benj answered. And you know the rest.

I had finally let go of Benj. But I guess it came a second too late. I am still struggling with the fact that sometimes life works out like this.

Someone once told me that there were no guarantees in relationships. Still they’re worth the risk. I know it’s a lot to ask you to forgive me and to continue taking that leap of faith with me. Still I ask it of you because I would forever hate myself if I didn’t at least try.

If you would rather forget me, then please forget me completely. Forget the hurt and betrayal. Don’t ever look back. Live, be happy, and love again. You deserve the love you are capable of giving.

Take care,

Crissy

I took a deep breath and turned the corner that led to the store. My heart stopped in my chest. The store was open.

There was Vince, turning the lock of the cash register. It ached to see how different he was from Benj. Unlike Benj, who naturally attracted attention, Vince’s appeal was unassuming; I had to discover it for myself. And that made it more special.

After taking deep breaths, I entered the store.

Vince looked up with a smile. But that smile left his face when he saw me.

We stared at each other for a heartbeat.

“Hello,” I said, my voice small.

Without even blinking, Vince hunched back to the counter.

I knew that I was going to put myself up for more hurt. But I couldn’t leave without a fight. I walked to him, my sneakers squeaking every step.

“I tried calling you, texting you. I even left notes under the door. Did you get them?”

Vince opened a drawer and looked at its contents.

“I just want to explain . . .”

“Just answer me this—were you with another guy in Bora?”

“I-I didn’t know Benj was going to be there. I didn’t even know he left the States . . .”

“Benj?” Vince’s eyes were wide with disbelief. “
The
Benj? Your ex?”

At that moment, I was having an out-of-the-body experience. I couldn’t keep my thoughts straight. I knew I should be saying something, but I just stared at him.

“Forget it.” Vince slammed the drawer shut, turned his back on me, and walked away.

Suddenly my temper shot up. I dumped my bag on the counter and followed him to the stockroom.

“I didn’t know he was going to be there! And it’s stupid—I know—but when I saw him, I felt like he never left, that he never hurt me. And we didn’t sleep together, but yes, he kissed me and I kissed him back. I’m sorry I did. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. So, so
sorry
.”

I didn’t mean to cry. Vince was looking straight ahead, as if in a trance.

“You kissed him,” he said softly.

“It was a mistake.”

He turned to me. “I should’ve listened to you that night. You were right. You weren’t ready to fall again because you were—are—still in love with him.”

I shook my head violently. “No, I’m not—”

Just then the door chimes jingled.

“Vince, are you there? We’re going to be late.” 

“Shit.” Vince called out. “I’ll be ready in a few—just fixing some things.”

“Well, hurry up! Carl is famished and extra grumpy.”

Sheena! No wonder the voice sounded familiar.

She continued, “And might I say that Karen is all dolled up and superpsyched for our double date? Poor thing. She’s been fidgeting the whole time on our way here. Come and put her out of her misery!”

I looked at Vince in shock. His eyes refused to meet mine, and when they did, they were ablaze, as if daring me to react.

Then he walked out. “I’m just closing up,” he said. “I’ll be done in a few.”

You're used to this,
I told myself.
You're used to rejection
.

Very calmly, I wiped the tears from my eyes, took out my compact, dabbed my nose with powder, and put on my big sunnies. Then I stomped out into the counter.

“Well, looks like things are in order, Vince.”

“Crissy!” Sheena shrieked. “Oh my god, I haven’t seen you in ages!” She kissed my cheek, then took in my sunglasses and my probably still-blotchy nose. 

“Shrimp,” I said. “Food allergy is such a bitch.”

“God, I know how you feel.” She groaned, rolling her eyes. “With me, it’s peanuts. One time I had to be rushed to hospital ’cause I was all puffed up. I looked like the Michelin man.”

I tried nodding sympathetically. “Well, I have to go now.” I nodded to Vince and grabbed my huge ecobag hastily, spilling out its contents.

“Ooh, what’s this?!” Sheena squealed, bending and retrieving an open paper bag. “This is so cool! Is it working?”

Shoot.

I snuck a peek at Vince, who was staring at the aqua vintage radio I bought in Baguio. I had originally thought of giving it to him as a goodbye gift—but not now,
not ever
, with the way things had panned out.

“Y-yes,” I blurted, my mind racing. “It’s for Vince’s dad. I wanted to thank him for letting me consign.”

Sheena was fiddling with the radio dials. “If your dad’s selling this, I want first dibs!”

I had to leave.
Now.

I gave her a small wave and inched toward the door.

“I’ll see you out!” Sheena’s voice was high-pitched with excitement. Outside she leaned toward me and said in a conspiratorial whisper. “We’ve set up Vince with Karen Ritzman—you know, that half-Pinay, half-Swiss indie actress? She saw him at a party last month and thought he was cute. I’ve been hounding Vince to go out with her, and last night, he finally agreed!”

“Great!” I kept the smile plastered on my face. I looked at my wrist as if to check the time. Stupid, I wasn’t wearing a watch. “Gotta rush. See you!”

The tears that were threatening to overflow finally did.

I hailed a cab and told the driver my destination, ignoring his curious stare.

So just like that, Vince had moved on. If there was one thing I was grateful for, it was that I didn’t give him my masterpiece of a letter. I would’ve looked stupid ten times over, professing my longing and self-sacrifice, when he was already anxious to get rid of me.

I felt my pocket for the letter, then crumpled into my seat.

I had left it in the paper bag.