Always You by Lizzie Morton

 

 

 

Twelve

 

 

Not that I’d ever mention it to Sophie and Zoe, but I’ve always wanted to go to Lake Placid. Knowing they’ve been doing it these past few years without me brings out some jealousy, but I stomp it down quickly because it’s completely irrational. I try to focus on being excited about a break away with the group.

After girls’ night, and a full day of work, there’s been no time to pack, but hopefully it won’t take too long later. I’ve managed to bag a later shift at the bar, the positive being that time passes quickly, leaving me with less opportunities to dwell on the potential disaster this trip could be.

Plowing my way through my end of shift jobs, I place my cell on one of the shelves in the stockroom with a random playlist on. I get to work on the final job, restocking the bar, quickly zoning out with the music playing in the background. There’s no one around to laugh, so I dance around, grabbing bottles off the shelves and placing them into the crates, ready to be carried out front.

A throat clears behind me.

Spinning around in shock, I tripover one of the crates and fall back into the shelves, causing multiple bottles to tumble down. One hits me in the head. Others rain down on various body parts and, believe me, it seriously fucking hurts. By some miracle none of them smash but I’ve taken the full brunt and am going to have a few bruises to show tomorrow. Great.

“Shit! Abby, are you ok?”

My humiliation is complete, the voice belongs to Jake.

Internally I groan. Scrap that, externally I groan, and bang my already banged up head back against a shelf. I close my eyes and pray that when I open them again Jake will have gone, his appearance merely a figment of my near-death experience.

Luck is not on my side. When I open them, he’s still there looking at me and I’m nowhere near death.

He looks even more gorgeous than the other night. Damnit. He’s wearing a pair of tight-fitting black jeans, a white t-shirt and leather jacket. Without his tattoos showing, he looks more like the Jake I remember, and my heart flutters. Because I’ve been ogling his body, I’ve completely ignored him speaking to me.

He waves a hand trying to catch my attention. “Did you hit your head that hard? Can you hear me? Should I call for help?”

Three questions in a row. Is he for real? I rub my head and wince. “Jake, please just shush for a second.”

I try to gather my bearings. Maybe the bottles did more damage than I care to admit, or maybe it’s being alone in a storeroom with him. I don’t know where to look, but I can’t keep sitting on the floor like an idiot, not saying anything, as it’s making the whole situation worse.

“Shaun isn’t here,” I say. It’s all I can come up with.

“I know, I’ve already seen him.” Jake’s eyes twinkle with amusement and I can tell he’s fighting back a smirk.

“Right. So why are you back here?”

“I came to see you.” He shoves his hands into his jean pockets as if he’s suddenly uncertain about what he came to say.

“Why?” I don’t mean to come across sounding like a bitch, but the last thing either of us needs is for me to start swooning over the things he says. Walls, I need walls to keep him out. The only way I know how is with limited speech.

“Sophie and Zoe mentioned that you’d agreed to come on the trip to Lake Placid. I figured things haven’t exactly been friendly between us and thought maybe we could clear the air?”

“Okay.” I wonder if he’s noticed that one-word answers have become my forte.

“Erm. Yeah … So, how’ve you been?”

Never, in the time I’ve known Jake have I seen him act awkward, but as he’s talking, he rubs the back of his neck with one of his hands. Why, after all this time, would he be nervous? What does he even have to be nervous about? He’s not the one constantly making a fool of himself.

“I’ve been fine, just the usual, working …” I reply.

“Yeah, the girls mentioned you’re working a lot. Your dad too.”

“I’ve had some great projects since I’ve been back. A lot of work locally. It’s been good.”

When I stop speaking, I realize I haven’t asked anything about how he’s doing, but it’s too late to backtrack and it would come across exactly how it is, an afterthought. I finally let myself look up at him properly and he’s smiling.

Suddenly I realize I’m still sitting here, on the floor, Jake towering above me.

“I seem to have a habit of falling at your feet,” I say, wryly.

“Neither time has been your fault. Anyway, it’s great that you’re doing well. Seriously, Abs, finding your feet here again straight away … you’re doing amazing.”

He extends his hand to help me to my feet. He’s staring at me intensely, like he did when we were at the gig, and my heart pounds at his use of ‘Abs’, but this time I won’t allow myself to get caught up in the moment. I don’t have alcohol clouding my judgment. I ignore his hand and struggle to my feet.

“Thank you for the compliment, but you didn’t need to bother coming all this way just to say that,” I say lightly.

His expression changes from intense, to aggravated. There’s sadness there too, which is maybe why he tries one last time to win me over. “Can’t we just be friends, Abby?”

I frown. “Now you want to be friends. That would have been great six years ago. You know … when you broke my heart and left me alone. You even isolated me from some of my friends, but it seems like you’ve forgotten all that.”

“I’m sorry.” His jaw becomes tense. “There were things going on at the time that we both had no control of. I didn’t mean to hurt you like I did, but it’s been a long time and we’ve both changed.”

“Yeah, we have. I don’t accept bullshit as easily as I used to, Jake.”

“It’s not bullshit. I’m trying to clear the air between us. You’re here for a couple of months and we’re all going away on this trip together. The group is tighter than when you left, so we’re gonna be around each other a lot, and I thought it would be unfair to the others if there was all this tension between us.”

“Are you kidding me? The last few times we’ve bumped into each other, I’m not the one who’s had a chip on my shoulder.” I clench my fists at my sides, trying not to get too riled up.

His shoulders sag. Maybe he understands I’m right, and the animosity between us isn’t just one sided. He’s had his own part to play in why things are so awkward.

“It’s my bad,” he says, “I knew you were coming back, and I tried to get my head around the fact that we’d see each other. I didn’t realize how difficult it would be. It’s not easy being around you again, Abs.”

“Why? I’m hardly a gremlin. I’ve barely said a word to you,” I say with wide eyes.

He sighs dejectedly. “That’s not it …”

“Then what is?”

“I’m not quite sure what the answer is.”

The twinkle he had in his eyes when he first came in the storeroom is gone. I feel a tug of guilt that it might be my fault, but him being nice now doesn’t change the torment he put me through.

I shake my head. “Then neither am I. I’m not a mind reader, Jake.”

“Can we start again? Pretend the last few meetings haven’t happened? Or press pause and skip forward to the bit where we finally get along. If it doesn’t work, then we go back to ignoring each other.”

He rubs the back of his neck again, causing his shirt to rise, revealing abs that weren’t there six years ago. My eyes do a quick perusal, observing how much he’s filled out since we were together. I’m mesmerized watching his now broad chest rise and fall rapidly as he watches me watching him. I can’t take my eyes off him and would happily stand staring at his body for the rest of the night, but he clears his throat breaking the moment.

He sounds breathless when he asks, “You ok?”

My cheeks feel like they’re on fire and I snap my eyes away from his body.

“Yep! Zoned out for a moment there. I must be concussed from those bottles to the head.” It’s cringeworthy how loud and chipper I’m being.

“Okay.” There’s a hint of a smirk on his face and then his eyes trail over me.

This is getting out of hand. We’re both in relationships. He has a girlfriend who I’m about to spend two days in proximity with, yet here we are taking our fill of each other. What the hell is wrong with me?

“I should probably get back out there. Shaun will be wondering where I’ve got to, and I need to finish up and get home to pack.”

“Are we at least a little bit cool? Cool enough to try and get along for the benefit of the group?”

“I guess so.”

I step to the side, trying to create some much-needed distance between us. I pick up a crate and make my way to leave the storeroom.

“Great,” he says quietly to my retreating form.

“Oh, and Jake …” I look back, over my shoulder when I reach the door.

“Yeah?”

“Don’t call me, Abs. You don’t get to call me that.”

I walk out of the storeroom quickly and try to ignore his sigh. A lot of things are muddled in my mind right now, but one thing is clear as day. Jake and I cannot be alone together again.