The Things No One Else Sees

She couldn’t sit beside him anymore. He was over there listening to one of her favorite albums, throwing out jokes about sleeping with her one minute and then dissecting this yearning, tender song the next. He was right; it was about a man who was so desperate to express to a girl his simple desire to make her happy that he felt like he was going to scare her off. It wasn’t a song he should like because it wasn’t him. He was the party boy, the user, the guy who flipped through so many blonde women with double D tits that Lucy could never remember all their names. He didn’t yearn; he took what he wanted.

Despite that, it sounded like he knew the feeling. That tone in his voice plucked at her heart. So, she got up and walked away, stood by the railing and looked out over the dark water, unable to make much out besides the reflection of the moon on the waves. The song was making her throat close up, denying air to her lungs. You know I dreamed about you for twenty-nine years before I saw you. Matt Berninger, the singer, just kept repeating the phrase against the back drop of drums that felt like they were changing the beat of her heart to coincide.

Lucy hadn’t heard him get up, but she felt him behind her, probably not more than a couple feet away. His body had its own gravitational pull when it came to women. She’d thought she was immune, but not on a night like this after they’d spent a day together. A day in which all his best qualities were laid out for her like a buffet. Fuck him, she thought. He wasn’t playing fair. He was making her want him and it was probably all some smooth ploy he used on her type. Flashing money and status didn’t work, but show a heart and a passion for something that she loved and she was gone.

“You didn’t answer me,” he said.

Lucy turned around and leaned against the railing. Had he asked a question? She didn’t remember. “What was the question?”

“Why doesn’t this seem like my kind of song?” His face was in shadows. She could make out his eyes, the tip of his nose, and the curve of his cheekbone, but not much else.

“Because you’re not that guy.”

He took another step, bringing him too close. His chest was just centimeters from hers. If she took a deep breath, she might brush against him. Lucy kept her eyes on the v-neck of his T-shirt. Looking up would be a disaster. She could feel him willing her to do it, to lift her head.

“Says who?” he asked softly.

“Says me.”

“You don’t know everything, Lucy. Stop pretending you do.”

This time she did look up. He was close enough that the light from the moon and nighttime sky was enough for her to see his expression. His tongue flicked out to wet his full lips.

“I know enough,” she said.

He tilted his head and she knew what was coming. A kiss. She wanted to give in and let him take it, let him put one of his strong hands on the back of her head and take her mouth with his. It would give her an excuse to put her hands on his body. It wasn’t supposed to go like this, though. She hadn’t even wanted to say two words to him less than six months ago. How did she get to this point? How did she fall into his trap?

“Don’t,” Lucy whispered, turning her head to the right to stare at the wall. The next song had come on and broken the mood.

He extended his arms and wrapped his fingers around the railing on either side of her. Caught. “Why?” he asked.

She needed to get away from him. Gently, she laid a hand on one of his arms. They both almost jerked back at the innocent contact. “Because you’ll end up breaking my heart, and I’m not really in a position of being able to handle that at the moment.” Lucy pushed at his arm, but he didn’t budge. “Please let me go,” she whispered, looking down at the ground.

“Lucy, I....”

“Save it for someone who will believe the lines. Please move your arm. I want to go to bed.”

He released her, reluctantly, she could tell. Pushing all doubt to the back of her mind, she sidestepped him and very nearly ran off the balcony and through his dark bedroom. Once she was safely behind the closed door of the guest room, Lucy let herself collapse onto the beige carpet and blink back a tear or two. Joffrey Lupul was bad news all over and they couldn’t be more than friends. Girlfriends had a short shelf life with someone like him. Hers would probably be the shortest because she’d never seen him let a girl like her stick around long enough to meet his friends. Unless he hadn’t ever dated someone like her. Which was a ridiculous thought because he was too damn good at seducing her. That had to have taken practice.

*****************************************

When Lucy woke up, the previous night felt like a strange dream that hadn’t really happened at all. Except it had and now she had to face another whole day with Lupul. The National show was at eight o’clock. Her flight back to Toronto was the next afternoon. She didn’t want to deal with the ramifications of what had or hadn’t happened in the dark on his balcony last night.

She peeked out into the hall and saw that his bedroom door was shut for the first time since she’d arrived. Thankful, Lucy slipped into the bathroom to get ready for the day. By the time she was back in the bedroom, she heard movement across the hall. She reached for her phone and texted him, feeling absolutely ridiculous the entire time.

LUCY: So, I think we should conveniently develop amnesia about last night.

He didn’t answer for fifteen minutes, and she didn’t know if it was because he was letting her hang out while he formulated a response or because he just hadn’t seen the text. Finally, her phone dinged.

JOFF: Yeah, that’s cool. Forgotten.

She’d gotten what she wanted, but it didn’t feel right. His response was so cold, not like the friendly guy she’d spent the week with. But it was what she’d asked him for, so she couldn’t complain. Lucy bent over and pressed her forehead against the mattress. Maybe she secretly hoped that he would have told her that he meant everything, that he needed her. Gross. She couldn’t date a hockey player. He’d just fuck up her neat little life.

JOFF: I’ve got stuff to do today. See you back here before the show.

His second text felt like a stab in the chest, but Lucy tried to slow her breathing and talk sense into the side of her brain that wanted to fling the bedroom door open and tell him that they couldn’t really forget about last night. Ten minutes later and the door downstairs slammed shut. The coast was clear, but she wasn’t really happy about it.

Lucy spent the day over-thinking and driving herself crazy about the situation with Lupul. She was determined not to get hurt, but it felt like that point had already been passed. Hurt had already arrived and they hadn't even kissed. She hadn't even had the pleasure of seeing him naked in person and she felt like they'd just broken up. And the most frustrating thing was that she wasn't sure when the line had been crossed. Was it when she invited him over for lunch? Was it the Esthero concert? Was it visiting him here? Was it yesterday and their talk on the pier or the dinner? Or was it the second when she opened her mouth and told him that she was breaking up with Dennis in that bar months ago?

If she let things get more personal, more intimate, with him then there was a very real possibility--more a likelihood--that she'd end up broken-hearted and then she'd have the pleasure of watching him breeze through other women since her best friend in Toronto was a good friend of his, too.

He came home just after six. She was standing in the kitchen making sure that everything she'd touched in there had been cleaned since she was leaving tomorrow. His shirt was soaked in sweat and his hair was plastered to his head, dripping with perspiration.

"Hey," he said, sliding his eyes over her and moving toward the stairs up to the bedroom.

It was anti-climatic. She was expecting him to come in and say something to her, anything. She'd asked if they could forget about last night, but she didn't mean to this extent. It was like he was forgetting about everything, every moment they'd spent together over the past few months.

She was already dressed for the concert--a pair of jeans and a black T-shirt. Simple and forgettable. The least sexy thing she could think of because she didn't want to ignite that sexual tension from last night again. She'd probably burn alive if she did.

A few minutes after seven, he came down the steps and looked at her for the first time. She was sitting on the arm of the couch, playing with her phone. "Hey," he said again.

"Hi," Lucy replied, trying to hold his gaze, but unable to withstand it. He was in a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, too. The white fabric of it was pulled taunt over his shoulders and chest. She let her eyes skitter over his biceps and wondered if she'd have to change her panties before they left the house. He'd always been hot, but knowing that if she caved in, she could have a taste? That was a whole different ballgame.

"Ready to go?"

Lucy curled her fingers into the palms of her hands. "Look, I know I asked you to forget about last night, but I didn't mean that you should forget about everything."

He put his hands on his hips and looked at her like he wasn't sure if he wanted to push her onto the couch and walk out of the room or push her onto the couch and follow her down so he could rip her clothes off. It was intimidating. "I don't want to talk about it, Lucy."

"Lupul, I'm sorry."

"You can't ask me to just selectively wipe shit from my memory and make everything go back to what it was. That's not fair."

"I know," she whispered.

"So, it is what it is. Friends." He spat out the last word like he hated her.

The intensity of his emotion was surprising. She had thought he'd let last night roll off his back. Just another swing and miss for him. Granted, she was sure he didn't miss too often, but it had to happen sometimes. Why wasn't he moving along like she was just another girl that it wasn't going to work out with? Why the emotion? The saudade, her mind supplied. The longing.

"Okay," she replied softly. "Let's just go. The show starts at eight."

************************************************

The show was in an amazing venue--an old church that had been converted. A stage had been built and the pews were removed to provide plenty of standing room. The loft above where the organ and choir had been was now VI.P seating. But like a true music fan, Lupul had tickets for the floor. Standing in the audience, being swayed back and forth with the crowd, was the only way to see a rock concert.

People parted easily for the intimidating guy with the arms and the chest and the strong legs. Lucy followed quietly behind, wondering what she'd done. Surely he didn't really like her like that? She had been so sure she was just another mark, albeit a slightly different one than usual.

The opening band was wrapping up their set when they arrived. Lupul took up a place a few feet from the front of the stage and then looked back at Lucy. He motioned to the spot in front of him. His eyes were dark and dangerous, but he was still offering her the best view in the house because she knew he'd be behind her to keep anyone from bumping into her back.

Silently, she slid in front of him and crossed her arms over her chest. The band finished and started packing up their equipment. A few minutes later the roadies came out to begin setting up for The National. Music was being piped through the room and everyone was talking amongst themselves. She wanted to turn around and say something to him, but she didn't know what to say.

Finally, she looked over her shoulder and said, "I hope they play Buzzblood Ohio."

He just looked at her, long seconds ticking by, before he said, "Why, Lucy?"

She knew what he was asking, and it wasn't about the song. She wasn't sure how to answer his question. "Because you're a heartbreaker," she whispered, but not loud enough for him to hear.

Lupul leaned down closer, pressing his ear to her mouth. He wanted to hear want she had to say.

"Because you're a heartbreaker," she said again, her lips ghosting over the shell of his ear.

He shifted to press his lips against her ear. "Not anymore."

Lucy turned around and looked up at him. "Bullshit, Lupul."

"You don't know everything about me, Lucy."

"I know enough. And I'm not another notch on the bedpost. I'm better than that."

His eyes looked like they were burning. "You think I don't know that? Where the fuck have you been for the past few months?"

"Maybe you've got good intentions now. And maybe I'd last more than two months, but eventually... Eventually I'd be the one crying."

The lights dimmed and a cheer went up from the crowd as everyone pressed forward. Lucy turned away from him and looked at the stage, waiting for the band to come out. She could feel the gravity of his body behind her, pulling her into him.

Notes