That new ‘A’ on my transcript is going to be eyed with scrutiny, but what I must now face is nothing compared to what Jensen stands to lose.
I don’t know what brought me to this bar. The same bar Jensen took me on my first, and last, day of working as his assistant. It reminds me of him, but more than that, it reminds me that there are places in this world where you can get away from all the noise, and all the confusion.
“Are you going to drink that?” Jensen asks from behind me, pointing to the glass of whiskey.
I stare him down, shocked that he’s here, standing behind me. My first instinct is to run, but I don’t have the energy. It never crossed my mind he’d show up here, but I should’ve known. It’s his safe place. “I’m considering my options.”
“Do you mind if I take a seat?”
I answer with my hand, a gesture telling him he’s welcome to take a seat. He swipes the glass off the bar and downs it in a quick gulp. “I’m suspended indefinitely, pending an investigation.” He wipes the alcohol from his lips with the back of his palm. “I worked so hard for this life and it’s vanished overnight.”
“I had nothing to do with that video.” I palm the glass in front of me, opting to stare into the creamy yellow concoction, because I can’t bear to look at him.
“I know.” His voice is haunted and low. “Some people are content to roll around in their own filth. Other people can’t live with guilt as easily.” I’m not sure which one of those people he believes me to be. I can’t even tell the difference myself. “Your friend Cece is one of those people. She told me everything. Brick hid a camera in your room and she took the video and uploaded it to the school’s servers.”
“She’s not my friend,” I hiss. “I don’t have friends.”
“That’s a shame. She is—was such a good girl.” He swipes the drink from my hand and chugs it. I let him do it, not being able to bring myself to care about anything. “You and your boyfriend almost ruined her.”
“Stop calling him that,” I scoff at him and shift my eyes.
“I won’t pretend to understand it, because it’s so foreign and so vile to me.” Ouch. “I hate myself for even entertaining the idea I could forgive you so easily, but my heart would never forgive me if I didn’t try.”
“You don’t owe me anything.”
“How can I love you so much? It makes no sense on a multitude of levels. I’ve known for you less than two weeks, and in that time, you have hurt me so much.” He shakes his head and purses his lips, confusion and pain blending into a beautiful cocktail of a broken smile. “But that hurt is nothing compared to the way you make me feel. You make me feel alive on the off-occasions where you aren’t actively trying to dismantle my life.”
“You don’t love me, Jensen. You just think you do.” I bow my head and collect myself. I want nothing more than to be with him again, but I’m terrified of all the ways I could hurt him. “I’m not good for you.”
“You’re right about that, but don’t presume to know what I’m thinking, or how I’m feeling.” His hand falls to my chin and tilts my head up. “I’ve struggled all day, going through a sea of changing emotions. From anger, to heartbreak to this painful knife being ripped through my gut.”
“What do you want from me?”
“I’m boarding a flight to California tomorrow. I’m leaving at noon.”
“I hope you find happiness out there.”
“I was kind of hoping I could bring it with me.” His fingers stroke through my hair, and an inquisitive smile lurks across his face. “Come with me, Apple.”
“That’s a terrible idea.” I pull away from his touch and hop off the stool.
“Probably, but I’ve spent so much time playing it safe, I’m ready to take a gamble.”
“I’m a losing proposition.” I throw my hands to the air, and raise my voice with seeds of anger. Not toward him, but toward myself. “I’m a royal flush. You’ll never catch me. You’ll never win.”
“Here I thought a royal flush was the best hand you could get in poker.”
“It was a metaphor. A terrible one, but a metaphor none the less.”
“I caught that.”
“You’re better off without me.”
“Why can’t I decide what’s right and wrong for me?” He shakes his head and his eyes narrow in on me.
“Because you’re blinded by this.” I gesture to his heart.
He reaches for my hand, pulling it flush against his chest. “Can you feel it?”
“It’s beating, which is obvious because you’re not dead.”
“It’s beating fast. Almost too fast, like it’s hard to breathe whenever you’re around. I’m old enough and wise enough to know what I want, and I’m in agreement with my heart here.”
“Do you love me?” I want the whole, honest truth. It’d be easier if he says he doesn’t, because I can walk out of this bar with no strings attached to anyone or anything in this life. I can have a fresh start, another chance to become somebody else.
“All signs point to yes, but maybe I’m wrong. I’d rather take a chance and figure that out later.” He places a hand across my cheek, a subtle signal of affirmation. “We can be happy together, far away from the bullshit and the pain of this place.”
That’s all I needed to hear. His answer is the perfect tightrope between hope and doubt. He’s not blind to who I’m capable of being and that’s important to me. “I’ll go.”
“I’ve always wanted to join the mile-high club.” He bites into his lip and caresses my cheek, and I enjoy the light-hearted gesture.
I roll my eyes. “Only if you’re on your best behavior.”
“Oh baby, don’t you know… I’ve got one hell of a bad reputation.”
“That makes two of us.”
And I kiss him, finding solace in the taste of his lips I knew I’d never taste again.
30
For the thirtieth time today, my phone rings, vibrating against the grey cloth seat beside me. For the twenty-ninth time today, I grab the phone and decline the call. Brick is desperate to reach me, but I’m even more desperate to keep him out of my way.
I’ve made up my mind, and I’m leaving today with Jensen. I don’t know for how long, or where exactly we’re going, but I know it’s the only thing that makes sense. But it can be easily undone with one glimpse of my past in the rearview mirror.
Brick has to stay behind me at all times.
The gas light indicator has been flashing for the last five miles. I’m already running behind schedule to meet Jensen at the airport, but I’m going to have to pull over soon. I take a sharp right turn into a franchised gas station and pull up to the pump.
I pop the door open and slide out of the car and onto the pavement. There’s a white note taped over the card reader: Pay Inside.
I groan to myself, slam the car door shut and rush past a line of pumps. An elderly man holds the glass door open and I jog into the convenience store, taking my place behind the one-person line.
My fingers tap against my short shorts as I wait impatiently and check my phone for the time. The home screen fades away into another incoming call from Brick. I swipe my finger across the phone, denying him access to me once more.
When the tall man in front of me is done paying for his goods—two energy drinks and a pack of skittles—he turns to me, and I’m back at square one, facing my past.
“Apple,” Dom says with a glowing smile. “I haven’t seen you in forever.”
I can see my ghostly reflection in the mirror behind the cashier, full of guilt and beyond tired. “Hi.”
“How are you?” He pushes his fist against my shoulder playfully. “Still kicking ass and taking names?”
“Something like that.” I force a smile and step up to the register, handing the cashier a twenty and pointing to my car. “Twenty on pump four.”