Beautiful Torment (21 page)

I watch Dad shake his hand, and Mom gives him a hug. He waves to Gracie before turning to me.

“Congratulations, Luci,” he hesitates.

“Luci, what’s wrong with you?” Mom yells when I don’t answer him. “Well, let me just take a picture,” she waves her hands, motioning for us to move together.

“Oh come on Mom,” I groan.

“It’s okay, if Luci doesn’t want to,” he’s embarrassed and sad.

“Absolutely, yes! Lucinda Cunningham!” Mom orders, and I brace myself for the contact as he approaches, the magnetic pull of his body forcing me closer and closer. He removes his hands from his pockets, placing them around my waist as he glides behind me. He settles to my left, dropping his left arm as his right brushes against my lower back, staying there.

“Smile,” Mom fumbles with her camera.

To my complete horror, his thumb starts to move in gentle circles, causing my shirt to lift ever so slightly. I shiver from the contact as our eyes meet, full of sorrow and heartache.

The flash goes off.

“You weren’t looking!” She shouts. “And try smiling. You look like someone died.”

I fake a smile, moving away from him as soon as the second flash goes off.

“Josh, you ran off!” Holly walks up behind him, shoving a stroller. “Oh, hi Luci!”

“Hi,” I mumble. I think I may have thrown up a little in my mouth. I hoped to never have to see the kid; in fact, according to Josh’s story he shouldn’t even be born yet.

Probably just another lie.

I stare at it - a boy.

This is too real.

I try to find a similarity in this child to Josh Harrington. My Josh Harrington. Maybe then it will make me hate him less, this innocent little person.

My eyes dart around his face. His eyes are closed, his hair is light, his nose is wrong, and his chin looks like hers. Maybe it’s the anger in me, or the fact that
I don’t want to
find anything
, because this is a part of him that has nothing to do with me, but I don’t see it. Not a damn thing.

“Oh is he yours?” Mom roars, breaking my icy focus. “I didn’t even know you were married! You don’t wear a ring.”

“Mom!” This time it’s Gracie who yells at her.

“It’s okay,” he tells her.

“He was so early!” Holly gushes before turning to me, “Do you want to hold him, Luci?”

Josh jumps in, stopping the madness. I hear him talking as I run off, the tears are already welling up.
No, she’s fine. We should get going
.

I don’t stop until I get to my car, out of breath and heaving, furious at life, because as much as I loathe Josh Harrington, I still love him.

I think it’s Gracie who followed me, but I hear his voice and almost on cue, streams begin to run down my cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I didn’t mean for that to happen. I just wanted to say congratulations.”

“It’s too hard,” I sob uncontrollably. “Next time you see me,
if
you ever see me again
, please just stay away.”

“No… Why?”

I don’t know if he’s asking why he can’t talk to me, or why life is so unbelievably cruel, and I want to tell him that I’m not like him. It’s not okay, or good enough, for me to just to see him. I don’t work like that. I can’t get the words out, though, and Gracie’s voice prevents me from trying.

“Come on, Luci,” she says, opening the passenger’s side door and getting in, saving me. I open my door too, pausing, looking back his way. He’s still waiting for my answer.

“Because…” I stammer. “Every hello just means another goodbye. Don’t do that to me.”

NOSTALGIA PART II

The second bell rings, snapping me back to reality as the hall clears at a rapid pace. His wonderment and uncertainty soon turns into a smile, and he’s completely beaming by the time he sticks his hands in his pockets and closes the distance between us. I bite my lip nervously. 

“Luci,” my name is soft, a whisper on his lips.

I let out a breathy sound, almost a hi.

His smile is cautious and nervous, my last words still obviously haunting him.

“How are… you look… gosh, it’s just… you’re
here
,” he stammers, laughing at his tongue-tied self. 

I try to collect my thoughts, my fists still balled, my eyes already stinging, so used to crying over him. I’m overwhelmed, still attempting to push past the rush of memories. Crap, and how my body reacts to him automatically - still - after all these years. It’s not fair!

“I had to drop off a paper for my sister,” I tell him.

“Yeah, Gracie’s in my class this year.”

“I know,” I admit.

“Oh,” he seems disappointed that I knew this.

“Speaking of,” I breathe. “Don’t you have class now?”

“Shit,” he rocks on his feet, his hands still in his pockets. “I do,” he smiles. “Guess you still are Trouble then, huh?”

Old sensations surface as the air catches in my throat upon hearing my old nickname. He exhales loudly, unmoving. Needing to be somewhere, but desperately wanting to stay. “I heard you went to Italy after senior year.”

“Yeah,” I let out a questioning sigh, wondering how he knows this.

“You’re in school now though. Almost done.” It comes out as a statement rather than a question, because
he knows
.

My heart pounds heavily and I nibble on my lip again. I thought for sure he’d forget me, be with his family, but here he is, and knowing so much!

“I think we have a lot to catch up on,” he’s being wary and careful.

“I- I-” I’m stammering now. I can’t do this to myself again.

“Please?”

“I-” I clearly can’t talk.

“I’ll get down on the floor and beg if I have to.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” I take a deep breath, wanting to waiver, aware that I shouldn’t.

“A lots changed,” he promises.

“Not for me,” I confess painfully, still so hung up on him.

“That’s what I’m banking on,” he seems hopeful.

What the hell is that supposed to mean? Like he still
wants me to want him
, just so he can break me again? Newsflash, Josh Harrington, I’m already broken over you.

“We’ve always enjoyed eating together…” his stare burns into me, remembering, his mind clearly going where mine’s just been. Where it all started, and ended - lunch, our lunch.
And all those times during lunch
! Oh, how he’s ruined me in so many ways. The thought that he’s given me more orgasms, in this building, in a day, than any other man has given me in all these years, still has me panting. What I’d give to feel like I once did again.

I’m smarter now, though, and the real world isn’t some fairy tale dream.

“I’ll be totally pleasant, I promise,” he holds his hands up.

Those hands! How they’ve touched me!

I’m shaking my head no, but haven’t said a thing.
I have to say no
. I
should
say no.

I’ve never been able to tell him that though.

“I’m going to assume you still love Italian food,” he talks to the air, as I’m still quiet. “Great,” he whispers, happily, to our one-sided conversation.

“Tomorrow then, 7pm,” he backs away, still facing me. “That small Italian restaurant in town.”

This is bad. I’m sort of seeing someone now, not that it even matters. Not that this guy even comes close to what we had. Not that I would do anything with him anyway.

I take a deep breath.

Just say no!

I swallow hard, my hands slightly shaking - the once teenager in me just begging to go somewhere
in public
with him, and on a Saturday night no less!

He smiles at my continued silence, only this time, it’s so damn wide it reaches his eyes. I go to leave, so I can process the fact that
I’m going to see him tomorrow
, but I don’t make it far before he’s calling my name, and I’m turning back around to face him.

“And Luci?” he raise his eyebrows in that way I’ve always loved, his eyes still intently on me.

“It’s a
date
.”

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