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Sophie
Seven years ago
“Ididn’t think I scared you,” he says and Madox’s voice is rough until he clears his throat.
“You don’t,” I answer him although my heart beats wildly inside of me, as if slamming against my rib cage in denial of what I just said.
“Then why do you keep looking at me like that?”
“Like what?”
His smirk is slow to form. It’s wicked and charming, just like Madox himself.
“Like you’re waiting for me to pounce on you.”
With a slight tilt of my head and my blood pressure rising, I simply give Madox words he’s told me before. “Your answer is in your question.”
Today
There’ssomething about flying that makes me horny. Not full blown, not like that. Just… turned on a little. Like a smidgen.
Maybe it’s fear; the perceived danger, even though I know logically it’s the safest way to travel. Still, as the engine rumbles and roars in my ears, I feel the vibrations intensify under me. My eyes close, my breathing hitches, and I have to grip the edge of the seat.
Pathetic, aren’t you? Is your life really that boring?My inner voice is a bitch, but she’s not wrong.
The snide thought makes me smirk, even while my heart lurches as the plane finally leaves the safety of land. I almost laugh at my ridiculous response. Especially given I’m in the close confines of coach seating with so many strangers, all of us headed from San Francisco to New York.
It’s a long flight to sit this close to someone. I peek up after feeling the rush, offering a polite and tight-lipped smile to the elderly lady on my right, in the middle seat. The woman and the man next to her in the aisle seat, who I assume is her husband, are already preparing their neck pillows to nap and neither of them pays me any attention.
Thank God.
Leaning closer to the window to glance out, placing most of my weight on the armrest, I let the relief wash through me as my heartbeat slows back down.
Time ticks by, the droning sound of the pilot speaking muffled by the white noise of the plane, and as the plane settles, so does that feeling deep in my belly.
My grip goes from white knuckled to loose, and my pulse returns to normal. The jitters that hit me for a brief moment, that tiny moment when I questioned if I would be all right, those jitters eventually subside. The desire fades too.
It’s not always like this.
I know part of the reason I feel this way is because I’m going back tohiscity. The hints of apprehension and thoughts of him make for a deadly concoction.
It’s odd to think of New York as if it’s dominated by a single man. But he’s the only one who’s always ruled it as far as I’m concerned. Even when we were teenagers.
Madox Reed takes what he wants; he always has. Irresistibly handsome, ruthlessly elite, and seemingly untouchable, there was nothing that he couldn’t have back then. And so New York simply belongs to him in my eyes. Even if it’s an utterly ridiculous thought.
I wish he’d stay in the past where he belongs. It’s fucking killing me that I’m letting the thoughts of a man I once knew bother me so damn much.
I cross and uncross my legs, pretending like he doesn’t matter and as if this anxiety I’m feeling is solely because I’m flying. I’ve always been shitty at lying to myself though. Yeah, these nerves aren’t from the plane, they’re because of him.
He’s been on my mind ever since I packed my final bag last night. If I’m honest with myself, ever since the phone call saying I got the job and learned I’d be moving back to New York, I’ve been thinking of him. But this has to stop. This is about new beginnings and my past will stay right there, where it belongs. In the past.
Trisha’s dropping off my boxes at the post office today and with those last three shipped, everything I own will be delivered to 55 Thompson Street, apartment 617 in gorgeous SoHo. I owe her more than a few drinks when she finally comes to visit me. I hope she comes sooner rather than later.
I’ll be alone in the city, and my one friend is all the way across the country now.
Trish’s brother, Brett, is technically a friend as well, and he’s always been kind to me. He’s also technically in New York but friends with Madox, so there’s no fucking way I’ll be contacting him. None of those guys will be getting a message from me to let them know I’m back. No. Fucking. Way.
They were a tight crew back then and I know Brett, or any of the guys for that matter, would tell Madox I’ve returned. So that shit’s not happening. No matter how much I miss everyone. I left our entire group of friends – basically my family — and I up and left without a word, tagging along with Trish.
