Lost in Us (34 page)

"No, I'm not scared," I say. My voice is trembling slightly. "I wanted to be alone with you, to tell you I can't come to the breakfast. I… have things to take care of."

He laughs softly in my ear. "Come on Serena, you want me to celebrate alone?"

"There are plenty of people you'll celebrate with."

"If you're not with me, I'll be as good as alone. I want you by my side. If you were mine, I'd—"

He stops abruptly and I lift my head, locking eyes with him. They're hesitant, as if he doesn't know if he should continue. I want him to continue. I need him to. If I can't have his lips caress me, then at least his words.

"If you were mine, I'd get on a jet with you and fly somewhere far away. Just the two of us." He lifts his hand to my face, and the slight touch of his fingers on my cheek is almost unbearable. I don't pull back, and I don't break off eye contact. I can't, though I know I should.

"I'd kiss you right now, make love to you, if you were mine," he whispers, his fingers trailing to my lips.

I don't know where I find the strength to say, "But I am not," when all I can think of is losing myself in his arms, his lips. His hand falls by his side. He takes a step back, and I look away from him, not wanting to see the disappointment in his eyes.

"You should go," I repeat.

"Promise me you'll come to breakfast," he says.

"James—"

"I won't bring… us up again. You have my word."

"Fine, I'll be there."

"Excellent. I hope they are well stocked with champagne." He rubs his hands energetically.

I laugh, more out of relief that the moment of tension is broken. That I managed to be inches away from him and resisted him. "Planning to drown these past horrible hours in champagne?"

"Horrible hours? Maybe," he says playfully. "But they were also fun."

I blink. "Fun?"

"And exciting. Don't you think?"

"If almost getting a heart attack is exciting to you, then by all means, yes, this was exciting. I'd call it dangerous."

"Isn't that the same thing?"

"Not for me," I say. "Jumping from a plane is exciting. Almost losing your business is dangerous. Risky."

James smiles as if nothing could amuse him more than what I'm saying. It feels alien, talking to him like this. In another life, I think we could be friends. The kinds of friends who have nothing in common, and who continuously make fun of each other's differences. Like Jess and me. But in this life, I know we could never be friends. Not when I crave his touch, his lips. Not when the memory of our last night together shatters me bit by bit with every passing day. It was easy to ignore all of this before, when we were surrounded by people, but now… now it's inescapable. My lips still ache with the memory of his touch. Only distance will help me escape my need for him. Suddenly, I'm not sure New York is far enough away.

"Everything in life is risky, Serena. Life is not like college."

"I know that," I say, a little too snappy. "But some things are riskier than others. Like this and everything in Silicon Valley." I point around with my hands. "I could never live like this. I don't know how you can."

He bites his lip. "I couldn't imagine living any other way. It's the only way to live."

I frown. "You do agree that it's dangerous, though?"

His phone rings, and he puts it to his ear without glancing at the screen to see who's calling. "Yes Parker, I'll be there in a second." He closes the phone and smiles at me, walking backward toward the elevator.

"Of course it is dangerous. But it's also thrilling." He presses the elevator button, and the doors open immediately. "It makes me feel like I live life at its fullest every single moment. And what's the point, if you don't live life at its fullest?"

The elevator doors close, leaving me alone in the empty room. Alone and too stunned to move. I remember someone else living by this prerogative. Kate. She said something to this effect to me once, just before she sneaked out of our house, through the window of her bedroom. It was before she started
heavily
doing drugs. She'd been invited by one of her classmates to her fifteenth birthday party. Her classmate lived way too far from us, so my parents wouldn't hear of it when she asked for permission. So she did what Kate did best: ran away, even though I repeatedly told her Mum would ground her for months if she caught her—which I was sure she would. This only seemed to motivate Kate more. In the years that followed, I learned that nothing excited her more than the thrill of losing everything.

I always thought it was the drugs that made Kate so reckless. But now I realize it might just have been her way of living life. To its fullest. Every single moment.

Like him. They are the same, Kate and James. Danger excites them. It's just that Kate ended up on the wrong side of dangerous. That's where I always thought people dabbling with risk would end up. It never occurred to me that it depends on what kind of risks they take.

Jess always took risks—whether it meant forgoing paying insurance to have more pocket money, partying in less-than-decent bars, or having sex with a stranger. She always got out of whatever trouble she was in almost effortlessly, like she did when she needed money to pay off the bar damages. She always took risks but never really got to the point of no return.

Neither did James.

But the line between reckless and the point of no return is so thin, one can cross it and never even realize it. Like Kate.

And so I always shunned risk. Every form of it. I dismissed Kate and then Jess humoring me, constantly telling me I live a half-life. It was such a breath of fresh air when I met Michael. He, like me, seemed to want to stay out of any kind of trouble. No class skipping or bungee jumping for him. None of that for me. I thought we didn't need any of it. I honestly felt complete that way.

And then he left me.

I thought he was an asshole then. Now, I think he might have been onto something. Perhaps the desire to risk, the need for adrenaline is buried in all of us, deep in our DNA, waiting to resurface, fighting to do so. Some of us don't want to fight it at all, like Kate.

Some of us are particularly good at fighting it—like me. But where does that get us? If too much adrenaline leads to recklessness and abandon, where does its absence lead? An outbreak, like Michael's? A half-life, like mine?

I don't hate adrenaline; I just fear it. But part of me also relishes it. I felt that when I jumped from the plane. That small act of stepping into nothingness made me feel something I could get addicted to. That's why I fear it.

But what else is left? How long can I watch others take risks while I'm trapped in a prison of my own making, a paralyzing fear that forbids me to take that one extra step, to live life to its fullest. Perhaps that's why I always find myself somehow surrounded with people like Jess and James. They make me feel alive. Being with James is the most alive I've ever felt. Yet I'm so willing to let him go. All because I never allowed myself to learn the art of risking. 

Perhaps if I had ever dared to take risks, any kind of risks, I wouldn't now prefer the certainty of losing him over the risk of him never growing to love me.

I
don't find anyone from the group when I get out of the elevator. The reception area is empty except for the girl standing behind the desk itself. It's the same girl who mistook me for an interview candidate when I was here weeks ago. She's clutching an enormous cup of coffee in her hands, and she's watching me nervously.

"A rather large group was here five minutes ago," I say. "Do you know where they are?"

"They all went to Wellstone's. Do you want me to call you a cab, Miss?"

I smile. "That'd be lovely."

Twenty minutes later I get out of the cab in front of Wellstone's, only to find everyone camped in front of the entrance, in various stages of exasperation. Most sit on the sidewalk with their legs crossed, and some lean on the wall of the building or on the glass doors of the entrance.

"They open in half an hour," someone informs me.

"Great."

I find Ralph siting on the sidewalk a little farther from everyone else, smoking and smirking. Since he's the only one I know from the group, I go to him.

"Why the heck didn't you wait for me?" I ask him, and sit next to him at a safe distance so his smell doesn't invade my nostrils again.

"Darling, I thought you and James would be busy for the next hour at least. I assumed that was a perfect moment for some make-up sex."

"You assume too much," I say flatly.

Ralph shrugs.

I rub my arms with my palms as the morning breeze chills me. I wish I had a steamy coffee between my hands right now. I could use it to get warm and to whip the tiredness from my body and mind. I hadn't felt it before, but sitting here on the concrete, I feel like I might doze off any second now.

Ralph finishes off his cigarette and almost immediately lights up a new one. "I wouldn't push this too far, if I were you."

I choke on the cloud of smoke he breathes in my direction. "What are you talking about?"

"I mean, stop playing the unattainable. If a chick treated me the way you treat James, I wouldn't bother with her ever again," he says, taking another smoke, clearly annoyed.

But he can't be as annoyed as I am. "The way
I
treat him?" I emphasize every syllable, crossing my arms. "Please, by all means, explain to me how I'm treating him badly."

"You know what I'm talking about. Ultimatums are never fair play, Serena."

My stomach turns to ice at the word
ultimatum
. I flex my palms and rest them on the concrete. Surely James didn't tell him about our conversation? Or anyone, really. That moment was private and painful, and something both of us want to erase from our memories. At least I know I do.

"Especially when it involves getting rid of one of their oldest friends," Ralph continues, his gaze as cold and accusing as his tone. The cigarette between his fingers is almost finished—he wasn't kidding about his smoking speed. "When a guy ditches such a friend for your sake, it means he’s in it deep.”

And now I finally do get what he's talking about. He's talking about Natalie.

"Maybe he realized that particular friendship was harmful for him," I snap.

Ralph snorts. "Funny thing to realize, after being friends for fifteen years."

"I didn't tell James to force Natalie out of his company, Ralph."

"But he did it." He lifts himself from the concrete just as the doors of Wellstone's open. "That should count for something." He turns around and walks into Wellstone's without another glance at me.

I wait for everyone to get inside, a taste of bile in my mouth. Of course Ralph would resent me for what happened between Natalie and James. I remember Ralph and Natalie discussing the trip to Malaysia, in a very friendly half-embrace. True, Ralph seems to have a habit of touching everything that has female parts, but he and Natalie have known each other for so long, they must be friends. I push myself up and rise from the concrete. A cab passes in front of me and I'm tempted to signal it to stop and get the hell away from here. I don't need all this talk about Natalie and what James's behavior toward her means, now that I've made my decision to move to New York. I don't need more reasons to doubt myself.

But James's Porsche pulls in front of me before I have time to search for another cab. I suck in my breath when he gets out of the car. How is it that each time I see him I'm surprised by how handsome he is? By his well-contoured cheekbones and piercing blue eyes. And those lips. A shiver wracks me as I remember all the places on my body his lips have kissed. His eyes lighten up when he notices me, and I realize he wasn't really expecting me to show up.

"That went fast," I say as he and Parker stride toward me. My voice is astonishingly even. "Did something go wrong?"

"No," James answers. "It went better than expected, actually. I think they might—"

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Parker comments, but he's grinning.

It's such a relief to see Parker grin in my presence. Then I remember his grin has nothing do with me; he's still mad at me. I need to remedy that right away. I won't have the chance again. I'll go to New York, and when I come back to pack for my move, who knows if I'll see Parker?

"Parker, can I have a word with you?" I ask, just when James opens the glass door to Wellstone’s.

Parker doesn't look surprised. "Sure."

James doesn't look surprised either. He looks amused, if anything. "I'll see you both inside."

He closes the door, and I'm left alone with Parker, whose eyes bore into mine with such intensity I have to look away. His eyes are a tad too much like James's for me not to feel things I shouldn't at the sight of them.

"I am really sorry about lying to you when we went to the event," I say, staring at the pavement as if I'm talking to it.

"I must admit I wasn't expecting that from you, Serena."

If I could have a superpower, I'd choose one that would allow me to drill a hole in the concrete solely by staring at it. Or be invisible. Either would work just fine now.