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The asshole on the stairs doesn’t look like he’s had a single drink.
“More like what are you doing, Haston? You’re acting like my brother and I have news for you.” She jabs at my chest with venom. “We’re not related.”
I scoff and the fire burns brighter in my chest.
“Trust me, I know.” The retort is automatic and I feel that shift again; the one that thickens the air and has my skin burning and my heart racing.Except this time she doesn’t look embarrassed. She looks furious.
She glares up at me, shaking her head. “What does that even mean?”
What do I mean?
We both know there’s nothing but bad history between us and maybe, yes, there had been a time I had possibly thought there could be more, but now? My comment was pointed and sharp. Even now it slices through my own defences as the picture of that sleaze pawing at her skin creeps unbidden into my mind. Followed by a fantasy of kicking him swiftly in the gut. It’s entwined in my thoughts with the same ease that dragged dreams of skimming my teeth and tongue over her neck into existence this morning. And watching her wait for me to answer her I realise something. I am screwed. I am completely and utterly screwed, because all I want to do right now is pull her back into the apartment, carry her to her room, and lock us away in there for the rest of the night. I want to erase every touch and trace of JoshuafuckingLucas, and I want her to want that too.
“What I do in my free time is absolutely nothing to do with you, Haston. Do you understand?” She seethes as I stare at her.
Blinking, I find some sense of sanity and soften my voice. “Mik. You barely know the guy. This isn’t -”
“No.” Her voice is measured but venom drips from it, cutting me off before I can utter another word. I’ve only seen her like this once before and picturing that now is ice in my veins. “Let’s get something straight here. You do not know me. You think you do, but you don’t, Haston, and I don’twantyou to. I do not like you. I do not trust you. I do not want your opinion on this. You are my brother’s friend and a colleague. I am being civil because it is important to Jamie, but make no mistakes with this.” She doesn’t shake or sway. The glassy intoxication fades from her eyes. She ignites with her anger. “I remember what happened five years ago like it was yesterday and I willneverforget it. So back off.”
Something inside of me breaks with her words and, as she turns her back to me and moves away, I reach out. I know I shouldn’t. I know I should just let her walk away. But I’m desperate. I’m desperate not to end this with her angry at me again. I’m desperate not to be the bad guy in her story.
“Mik!” My fingers wrap around her wrist and her body tenses on contact - as if some deeply ingrained instinct tells her to stop moving, not to pull away - and her breath stops. Her eyes are wide and frenzied when she swings to face me. My stomach becomes lead.
I relax my grip, stepping back, as she gasps for breath and tears spill. It’s as if she’s looking right through me, staring up at something or someone else, and her chest moves in ragged, disjointed gasps.
I can’t move. I can’t speak. I just watch her as the color that had drained from her cheeks begins to rise again and she blinks away whatever ghosts surfaced behind her eyes.
“Go home, Ben.” Just a whisper and yet it claws at me with violence.
“Mik, what’s wrong?”
“I said go home.”
Mikaela
“Is everything okay?” Josh watches as I dart up the stairs and ring the buzzer for my brother’s apartment, too frantic to look for my keys.
I’m biting back tears and my hands are shaking. My stomach rolls as I shake my head and try to erase the thought of that face from the depths of my mind.
“I’m fine. I’m so sorry, Josh. I -”
He steps forwards and grabs my hand and I feel the tug of my stomach as sickness threatens me again.
“Hey.” He waits for me to look over to him, keeping his hands on me when I tremble under his touch. “It’s fine. Whatever that was, it’s fine.” He reaches up, his fingers brushing against my cheek and I still, closing my eyes and struggling to breathe. “I’ll call you tomorrow?”
My smile is small and all wrong. It feels foreign and broken. As fake as I have been all night, pretending to be anything other than what I am. I told myself the kiss had felt right in the moment; it was exciting and thrilling and not something I would usually do. But maybe I was lying. Maybe his fingertips on my skin feel cold and unwelcome. Right now, everything feels wrong.
I take a breath.
The problem, I tell myself,is not Josh.
“Okay,” I nod before taking my bag from him and stepping inside as the door clicks open.
Walking into the lobby and away from his kindness, I let myself sink into the pain and anger and exhaustion of it all.
And I let myself blame Ben.
Ten Years Ago
