Always You by Lizzie Morton

 

 

 

Two

 

 

Seriously, what the actual, fuck? This night is beginning to feel like I’m stuck in a living, breathing nightmare. My arms hang loosely at my sides, as vomit drips from what feels like every part of my body (really, it’s only the back of my pajama top, but still …) I can feel tears burning my eyes in exasperation at the whole situation. They could also be from the rancid stench of vomit that keeps hitting my nose. I’m not sure which is worse.

My stomach begins to turn, and I’m at risk of sympathy vomiting. If we don’t get out of the club soon, this has the potential to turn into a massive vom fest, and I promised Han that wouldn’t happen.

Sophie has other ideas as she folds in half, creased with laughter while squeezing her legs together. The moment is causing her some major problems, as she tries not to pee her pants. That would be all we need to add to this shit show.

Standing for a couple of moments with my eyes squeezed tightly shut, I pray that when I open them again Jake won’t be there, that this will all just be the horrible nightmare it feels like it is. But that would be cliché and far too lucky.

“Abby … How are you?” His question comes plain as day and oblivious to the ridiculous scenario I’m currently stuck in.

After six years of no contact, he’s acting like it’s completely normal that we’re here, standing together. His question gives me chance to quickly take in his full appearance. He looks older, manlier, more handsome than ever, with muscles that definitely didn’t exist the last time we saw each other. A tattoo of fire covers his other arm and I briefly wonder what they all mean, and if he has more in unseen places.

It’s infuriating how cool and complacent he’s being, when I feel anything but. While I’m having my internal breakdown, Sophie returns to dancing and using some guys as her props. I’m assuming they’re Jake’s friends who have congregated around the spectacle. When she begins singing at the top of her voice, I decide it’s time for us to make a move.

“Sophie. Will you please stop spinning in circles? We need to get out of here.” Embarrassment pulses through my veins, but at least things can’t get much worse.

Instead of helping, she collapses into the arms of a bemused looking guy, who, taken by surprise, loses his balance and they almost become the second pair to tumble into the puddle of beer on the floor. Luckily, he reacts quickly, finding his footing and somehow managing to keep them both upright.

“Before anyone else ends up on the floor, can we please stop her from moving, and get out of here?” I say.

The guy she collapsed into, looks at me with sympathy and shrugs. “Don’t worry we’ll get her outside in one piece. See you in a few, Jake?”

Jake breaks his gaze from me, turns to his friend and replies, “Yeah, man, I’ll help with Zoe. Watch her though, she’s a loose cannon.” His friends leave with Sophie, and he turns his attention back to me. “Abby, will you please let me help?”

From his body language I can tell he’s being sincere, and his expression is friendly and patient. Though I know he’s finding the whole situation amusing, he’s hiding it well. Just like old times.

“Do not think that if I accept your help it means you have suddenly become my knight in shining armor. I’d accept anyone’s help right now, just to get us out of here.” My words are harsh, and I know they sting, as he winces, but quickly recovers. The friendliness from his expression disappears.

“Fine, if it helps your ego, then I’m helping Zoe. Not you.”

He turns his back and scoops Zoe gently into his arms. I can’t stop myself watching his broad back, flexing, and straining under the material of his black shirt as he walks away, quickly towards the exit. I hate that the sight of him still makes my mouth water.

Every part of me screams not to follow, to stay away from him, but I need to make sure that Zoe and Sophie get home. Sighing, I follow them out of the club, receiving more funny looks than when I first came in, thanks to the stench of vomit accompanying me out.

New York summers are sweltering, but it’s nothing compared to the sweaty heat of the club, and as I step outside, I feel like I can breathe properly in the ‘fresh air’.

“I thought you said no vomit?”

I turn and find a stern looking Han, wrinkling his nose down at me.

“Well maybe if you’d let me inside quicker, I might’ve been able to intercept earlier. Does it count that I was the buffer and the vomit actually went on me not the floor?”

He stands for a minute, contemplating, and then responds, “I may let you off. You sure there’s none on the floor?”

“None on the floor. As you can see, it’s all over me.” I gesture down at my vomit covered clothing.

“I suppose you stayed true to your word. If I don’t have to clean any up, I’ll let you off.”

What a champion.

“Merely returning the favor, Han. I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

“And next time …” he says.

“Yeah?”

I’m intrigued by what else he could possibly have to say.

“Try to wear some actual clothes, you’ll get in quicker.” He winks, ending our communication and turns back to the line of people still waiting to get into the club.

Looking around for Jake, Sophie and Zoe, I find them and Jake’s friends, further up the block by my parents’ car. Taking a deep breath, I try to mentally prepare myself for another few minutes of being close to Jake again. It’s only a few minutes. I can do this and walk away in one piece.

A wave of nostalgia hits when I reach the group and look around, realizing that everyone apart from the guy Sophie collapsed into, is familiar. They’re the old gang from back in high school, and it’s understandable why they didn’t register earlier. Although the resemblance is there, most have changed their hair, they’re taller, fuller and working the grunge look. They no longer fit the preppy boy mold they tried to rebel against in high school.

“Little Abby …” a guy with dark blond hair, cut short at the sides and long on the top, styled away from his face steps forward. There are a couple of nose piercings that are new, but he has the same handsome face and friendly blue eyes.

“Sammy!”

I can barely contain my excitement at seeing him, and squeal, throwing myself against his chest. He engulfs me with his strong arms. Besides Sophie and Zoe, he’s one of a few people I’ve missed since leaving home.

“I didn’t recognize you all in there, thanks to being occupied with other things,” I say.

I pull away and once again gesture down at my vomit covered pajamas, not that he’d need a reminder with the stench coming from me.

He laughs and his eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles. “Some things never change. Not to worry, you can get your fill of me now.”

He catches me off guard engulfing me in another friendly hug and it’s hard not to bask in his warmth and familiarity. It makes me feel protected from the pain of seeing Jake again and right now I don’t ever want to leave the comfort of his arms.

In less than ten minutes, this group of people I used to call my closest friends, are breaking through some of the walls I’ve put up over the years. I can already see my resolve beginning to crumble and I’ve not been home twenty-four hours.

A throat clears from behind us, and I turn to see Jake standing with his shoulders squared and arms folded across his chest. “We haven’t got all night. What are you going to do with Zoe?” he says.

I try to keep the snappiness out of my voice when I reply, “Chill. You offered to help, remember? If you didn’t want to, you shouldn’t have gotten involved.”

“I offered to help with Zoe, not stand around all night watching you and Sam grope each other.”

“Jealous, I see.” I place my hands on my hips and tilt my head to the side with a sweet smile. To everyone else it will come across as playful, but I know how to rub him up the wrong way.

His face flushes in surprise. The old Abby would have been too shy to challenge him, but times have changed.

He quickly recovers and says, “Hardly. Why would I be jealous, Abby? I was the one that ended things, don’t you remember?”

This time it’s my turn to be shocked. Shocked at how easily he’s bringing up our past, such a sensitive subject, with little respect for my feelings. It feels like I’ve been punched in the gut, but I refuse to let him see how his words affect me after all this time.

“How could I forget? You’re clearly still a douchebag,” I say.

His face shows no emotion, but his eyes bore into mine.

Then he smiles and says, “You’ve gotten feisty.”

He lets out a deep breath, which warms my cheek, and I can feel my whole body beginning to tingle, and my stomach flutter. When did we end up standing so close? How did I not notice myself gravitating towards him during our little sparring session?

Sam steps forward, recognizing that I’m in over my head and says, “Seriously, guys, you weren’t even like this when you split up. Can we at least try and get along for a few minutes? You haven’t seen each other in six years.”

“Well, that would be because Jake doesn’t like handling things like an adult, isn’t that right, Jake?”

Jake doesn’t say a word, just shakes his head and looks away.

Sam continues his intervention, more forcefully this time, and says, “That’s enough, Abby. This isn’t the time or the place to start rehashing things. It’s not gonna be long until Zoe starts barfing again. Do you really want it to be all over your parents’ car?”

I know he’s right, which is reinforced by Sophie swaying from side to side, muttering, “Aaabbbuuu buuu buuu, I’m so tired and booooored. Can we please go home now?”

Resigned, I back away from my face off with Jake. “I guess that’s my cue to leave. It’s been emotional as always.”

The guys help to get Zoe in the car, and in the process, Sam saves my cellphone number to his, declaring we need to make up for lost time. I laugh and agree to see him soon.

As I step back, Jake shuts the front passenger door, turns and crashes straight into me.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize you were there,” he apologizes and steadying me with his hands on my arms.

“It’s fine. I should have said I was behind you.”

I look up and everything feels like it stops. His stare holds an intensity that takes my breath away, but as with most of Jake’s emotions, it vanishes as quickly as it appears, leaving me questioning whether I was imagining it.

“You look good, Abby. Drive safe.”

With that he walks down the sidewalk, back to the club. I wait a moment, hoping he will look back over his shoulder. Any sign he was as affected by the moment as much as I was. He walks into the club without glancing back, proving he couldn’t care less about seeing me again. If only I felt the same.