A year and a half later
This Saturday was different than my normal break from a long work week. Normally, I'd take my dog, Spot, out for a walk in Central Park in the early morning, where sleep still cradled languidly. I'd make a late breakfast, shower, dress, and do my weekly errands with auto-pilot directing me along quickly. I'd pass along beautiful women and with a lingering, thoughtful gaze, I'd come to the conclusion that I was simply too tired of the dating game to attempt something new.
Neither company had nudged for Charlotte and me. Long distance was easy in the beginning—we even set up a scheduled time to FaceTime and had planned when we would travel to see one another in advance. Trips had to keep getting rescheduled due to something coming up at work and slowly, our video conferences kept getting pushed farther and farther back. I found I couldn't relate to what she was going through and seemingly, right before my eyes, it appeared that her co-workers (one particular man's name kept coming up) were better able to sympathize with her stress. We finally saw one another after six months apart and as soon as she stepped through my new apartment, I could tell she felt uncomfortable. We'd sat down, both seeming to understand where this was leading and almost in a way to rebel against the oncoming decision, we had gathered into one last breathless, passionate night together. We both had cried and shamelessly, I had begged for us to keep trying long distance. So, we did. Another five months later, we had mutually decided to end it since the distance had become too much.
A month later, she posted a picture with the man I had heard so much about and Angela arrived at my apartment promptly with several bottles of hard liquor. Alcohol had drowned my sorrows and regrets, leading to my best friend holding my hair back as I got sick on my bathroom floor.
This Saturday, I left Spot with a quick kiss and despite his pitiful, doe-like eyes, I followed my selfish, inner wishes and walked to a small, quaint coffee shop on the corner. The day was bright, crisp and on the verge of autumn, the city was brisk with fleeting cold. Despite this clip of coldness in walking conditions, bikers and skaters zoomed past me on the road with layers of gear on to combat mother nature.
I had a large project at work going on that needed to be finished quickly. Even though it was Saturday, I knew I'd have to put some time into it today and I needed to cleanse myself with fresh, homemade coffee and start anew before beginning the task.
Oh, the joys of being salary instead of hourly. I couldn't really ever clock out for the day.
If only someone had told my younger self to enjoy all of those naps and free time where there was not a care in the world besides what movie I was going to see with my friends the next night.
Looking up, I saw the familiar sign of this favorite coffee shop of mine and quickly stepped in to escape the outstretched, claw-like hands of the coldness permeating the air. It was a good, medium sized cafe with worn-in couches on the walls closest to me. Against the large windows that surrounded the door, people sat closely together on the largest sofa and continued casual palaver with others on the loveseat next to them. No major pop songs or annoying techno-beats filled the dips in dialogue—instead it was a playlist of simple, soft, guitar that felt more like a lullaby than a careless distraction. In the middle of the cafe, a tall, lonely table with sealed, dark wood stood and parted the lines. On top, their signature coffee sat in overpriced bags and other knick knacks that only New York tourists would waste money on.
Oh, well. You've got to make a living somehow.
Mhmm, that smell. Inhaling deeply, the aroma alone seemed to instill vitality within my bones.
Yes, today would be a good day. Coffee and then seclude myself in my office, put on my music and begin looking at spreadsheet after spreadsheet to find the miscalculation someone carelessly created. All accounting really was was looking at transactions, following them through twisty roads and completing a game of Tetris-this should've gone here, this should've moved here. There were calculations involved, of course, but it mostly just required following rules and making sure things went where they were supposed to.
After placing my order with a remarkably attractive young man and receiving it right after paying, I found a small booth in the corner to hide away from others. I had brought a book to read while I sipped on my coffee before heading back to the apartment. While Stephen King may be daunting or perhaps too depressing, I found the challenge enticing.
Voices flitted to and from my ears and strands of gossip that could've stayed longer if I decided to focus further. The smell of a new book waltzed in front of my nostrils and temporarily, it filled me with such happiness that was hard to illustrate. A moment later, that happiness self-imploded into a ball of anxiety that encroached through my veins like hard, piercing ice and then fell with a similar thud to the bottom of my stomach.
Alice Brandon had just walked in.
Alice Brandon had just walked into this specific coffee shop, in this specific state, at this specific time.
Within seconds, the whole sequence from Benjamin Button sprang forth into my mind-all the small, tiny decisions that people whom I had never spoken to had to take in order for Alice and I to be close to one another in this mostly forgotten coffee shop. The rushing college student would have decided to hail down a cab but then realized in their rush they had forgotten to grab their wallet. This specific cab yelled at list of curse words and sped off, seeing Alice on the corner down the road. They would've grabbed her and since she decided to stay up the previous night, she needed a dose of caffeine. The cab driver would've immediately turned to go to the nearest Starbucks but on the way, she looked up and saw this place, deciding to give it a chance. On this day and this time, she decided to visit this coffee shop in the vast chaos of New York City.
A lump forced its appearance into my throat and refused to move. All the surrounding noise that I had taken as a blessing seemed to drone out to be replaced by a muteness within my brain. After all of these years, she somehow stumbled back into my life.
The last eight years had been very kind to her. Even though she was in her early 30's, she did not fit the part at all.
Her short, black and spiky hair was now longer and dusted across her shoulders. A ghost of its former self still pronounced with a few stray hairs that spiked up in the back. She seemed to be the same weight—her cheekbones pronounced and demanding and, tailored clothes mutely demonstrated her slender body. The ultimatum for higher-end items had remained intact, judging by the Michael Kors black purse hanging off her elbow, red Louis Vuitton heels, and the giant new iPhone in her small hands.
She appeared to be happy. There were small laughter lines around the edges of her eyes from the repeated action throughout the years. Although the lines on her face had become a little more pronounced, she was still as beautiful as ever.
Similar to seeing your favorite celebrity for the first time in person, a kind of paralyzing sensation trapped my body and the only thing I could do was breathe slowly. It had been eight years since our break-up. Nearly a full, fucking decade. Surely she wouldn't want to see me? A debate began in my head, bouncing back and forth like a ping pong ball on whether I should actually get up and just fucking say hi to her.
She ordered her coffee and sensing her quick, sudden turnaround, I sank down into the booth and covered most of my face with my book. Looking over the top of it, my beady eyes watched her as she turned and moved towards a small, dingy corner table.
Now was my chance.
After eight years, would I really just waltz up to her and say hello?
Fuck me, I guess so.
Swallowing the hard lump as best I could, I got to my shaky feet, grabbed my four items—phone, keys, book, coffee—and moved towards her. Strangers continued talking around me, lovers getting to know one another, and the baristas worked on the last line of coffee orders. All around me, people were moving forward in their lives and had no idea such a turning point in my life, in her life was about to happen.
How many times a day did someone summon the courage around me to go and conquer their fears? And I was just simply oblivious to it?
Her back was to me, her gaze still completely attached to her phone and as I got closer, I recognized that wonderful and amazing scent of her perfume. Nostalgia swarmed me, snatched my leg, and threatened to pull me under. The many nights I had been wrapped up in her arms, engulfed in that aroma and the comfort it brought along.
Standing two feet behind her with my hand shaking the coffee cup so much that it threatened to spill over, I found myself at a loss for words. How does one just say hello to an ex-girlfriend after such a shitty break up that happened almost a decade ago?
What's shakin', honey?
What's up, doll?
Why do my nerves turn me into a Looney Tunes 50's swagster? Fucking hell.
Loosening my stiff jaw, I opened my mouth to say hello and when the breath exhaled from my throat, I heard it from behind me: "Latte for Alice!"
Before I could warn that I was right behind her, she got to her feet, turned with pinpoint accuracy and then collided against me. The explosion of tingles lying dormant for so long knocked the air out of me so that when I stumbled backwards against a tall, lonely table, I began gasping for air. Luckily, I hadn't fallen. My coffee cup had spilled so that the liquid had formed a haphazard line on the floor between us, completely avoiding my clothes or her's. My wrist burned from the splash but I groaned inside my mouth to acknowledge and try to dismiss the pain. As I leaned against the table, I saw her looking dazed, her eyes downcast, and her hand on her forehead. She wore an expression of simultaneous pain and recognition.
I guess she hadn't felt those tingles with anyone else, as well, huh?
A confident smirk twitched on the corner of my mouth.
Her gaze moved up and connected with my eyes. Several simultaneous things happened quickly: her eyes widened to a remarkable extreme, the phone fell out of her grasp to crash against the cement floor, and her hands came together to trap the cry that spilled from her mouth. Those chocolate orbs moved back and forth rapidly from my face, my hair, my mouth, my body, and then finally ending once again on my eyes. Her brow was creased in alarm confusion and I swallowed nervously at her reaction. The air around us sparked with electricity, similar to the environment when a large thunderstorm is overhanging and the hairs on the back of your neck begin to rise.
We stared at one another, despite the barista sending a dirty look at us both and the surrounding customers sending quizzical, then irritated expressions to their coffee partners. This was New York. If you were creating a scene, most found it annoying and not adorable or comical.
She finally spoke and her tone reflected wonderment. "Bella?" Her hands fell from her face and hung by her sides.
"Hey, Alice," I whispered in response and the air between us seemed to crackle more.
"Wha—how—I—" she stuttered and stammered. Jaw remained slack, her mouth agape and her thin eyebrows creased so firmly that the worn line between them became more pronounced.
"Wanna get some coffee together?"
Her expression stayed the same, locked in a continuous cycle of confusion, alarm, and awe at the present situation. All she did was mutely nod in response.
"I'll find a table outside, okay?" I reached, palm outward to tap her bicep and on the second contact, stayed against her skin once the tingles were too intoxicating to remove myself. Judging by the flutter of her eyelashes and trembling lower lip, she was experiencing the same and suddenly, the gaze changed from confusion to that same, familiar undercurrent of magnetism. She shuffled out of my grasp, shaking her head once she was free, grabbed her phone and moved towards the pick-up station.
I was cemented to the spot, staring down at my feet and nearby puddle of coffee in this whirlwind moment and hoped, demanded that I could remain cool-headed enough to control this situation.
Hey, sorry you got locked up and thought I abandoned you. I thought you abandoned me. Life's a bitch sometimes, eh?
I had also worked retail enough to know that this mess should be cleaned up by me—the actual perpetrator—and not this harmless worker. I gathered a handful of napkins, bent down and wiped it all up as I felt Alice's eyes burning into me. Glancing over, she was staring at me and did not shamelessly avoid my gaze after she was caught. We stared at one another and then I got to my feet, dropped the napkins into the trash and stepped outside.
It was early enough that most New Yorkers were still wrapped up in their beds, avoiding the onset of the day and their responsibilities. Although the street was moderately busy, the sidewalk where the two tables outside the coffee shop sat was open and free enough that we wouldn't be bothered. It would actually be just a touch romantic.
Glancing up the street, I saw a homeless man napping in front of an apartment building.
Nevermind.
It was only a moment later that Alice joined me. That confused expression, as though I actually wasn't sitting in front of her, flickered in and out again and again. Understandably, I assumed I had the same, dumbfounded feature and chose not to tease hers. She sipped her coffee, never straying her gaze from me over the top of the rim. Momentarily, I had a flashback to our original spaghetti dinner at Charlie's place where she stared at me over the rim of her glass with such intensity.
The air felt tighter and the tension between us both seemed to be growing once more, stretching languidly out as though waking up from a long nap. Her hands remained in her lap and I understood that the familiar tingles that had hung onto every moment from our relationship were exorbitantly resounding in this present moment. Their effect usually was disorienting but right now, it were as though they demanded to be felt, heard, and dominate every thought and muscle function as soon as my skin touched hers. They were acting like a woman scorned and in a bitter action, commanded to remind me of the intense attraction between us.
I did not need reminding.
I began. "How are you?"
A smirk tugged at her lips and I knew she was amused at how I chose to begin this very important conversation. "I'm good, Bella. How are you?"
"Good."
She nodded and I nodded in return. We stared at one another and now that the awkward small talk had hit a brick wall, the anger and hurt from our past seeped through the mortar and trudged slowly towards us, swallowing everything in its path.
"I need to explain something to—"
She cut me off. "I thought you were going to be there for me when I was arrested. I thought for sure that you'd be there." Her tone was clear, cutthroat and brazen. Her gaze regarded me with confusion no longer and was replaced with a blazing, acidic resentment.
"I would have but I had no idea that you even wanted to be with me at that point."
Her face cocked to the left by a half inch and her eyelids sharpened closely together, looking at me with obvious doubt. "You knew that. We had talked about it over and over and over."
"I know but—" A disgruntled sigh spilled and seemed to be mocking me. "I never got your letters until two years ago."
Her attention appeared to be more open at this statement. "What do you mean?"
"Charlie had hidden them—"
"That motherfucker!" She yelled this so loudly that the homeless man jerked awake and his bleary eyes surveyed New York slowly.
"I thought you had abandoned me, Alice." The magnetism was growing so much that I leaned forward onto the table, looking up at her. Her eyes were still hypnotizing, drawing me in and blurring the outside world. "By your silence, I assumed you had actually regretted everything and wanted nothing to do with me. So I went to college—"
"I know."
My breath stopped mid-sentence and I narrowed my gaze. "What do you mean, you know?"
"The first thing I did went I got out was look you up on social media, Bella. It was instinctual at that point. Sitting in a cell by yourself for a year and a half, thinking about how you got dumped by a teenager has that effect. It consumes your every thought." A harsh jab was contained within the last sentence and judging by the quick side-eye, she knew the outcome and relished in its effect. "Carlisle came to pick me up on my release day. On the drive back, I took his phone, looked you up on Facebook and saw how you were doing." Her gaze moved away from me, the muscle in the back of her jaw flexing and her lips tight. "I saw that pretty redhead wrapped around your neck and your beautiful, happy smile. I saw the dozens and dozens of photos you two had together. I saw your remarks to each other, filled with compliments and adoration." Her hand patted the top of her knee and although her lips remained tight, the corners turned downward and I imagined this was the same face she made upon this discovery. "Yep. I saw it all. I blocked you immediately on every single platform."
"I…" How do you respond to something like that? "I'm sorry, Alice." She continued looking down at the ground but was now biting her lip and moving her jaw back and forth in thought.
"Look," I continued. "I really, honestly thought you wanted nothing to do with me. Otherwise, I obviously would've stayed in Forks. I wanted a future with you. Charlie hid every single letter."
"You said you found those two years ago?"
"Yeah, I did."
"Did you read them?"
"Of course."
She nodded, still looking away. "And you aren't trying to cover your ass?"
"No, he really did hide them."
A small, almost invisible nod was my only response. She picked at the material on her knee before sipping her coffee. The homeless man down the road began shuffling, getting his materials together to be on his way elsewhere. A car honked down at the road at a passing cab that ran a red light.
"Well," she continued. "What did you think?"
That familiar, overwhelming sensation of guilt encroached its fingers around me. Normally, I'd sink into the feeling, as though I deserve the pain. With Alice in front of me, patiently awaiting my response, I leaned forward, putting my full weight on my forearms. She observed this newfound confidence with a twitch of a smile on the corner of her lips. Other than that, she made no comment.
"It hurt to see your descent from trust, love, and concern to bitter betrayal. Comparing those dates that you wrote to me against what I was doing in college, I especially felt extremely guilty. I desperately wish I had known so I could have changed it. I'm sorry for your pain, Alice."
Her gaze lingered on my face, obviously trying to decipher my excuses.
"You never came to visit Charlie in Forks? You could've visited me."
"I thought you didn't want anything to do with me."
"And you didn't want that full closure at all?" She spat back. "I know I did."
Our conversation paused, both of us staring at one another as the city finally came to life and more strangers began to pace by our small table. We looked like an odd pair: she was in expensive clothes, part of the upper-class and an air of confidence filled her every pore and I was in droopy, warm clothing to fight the oncoming cold. Although I was fairly confident that my salary not only matched hers, but surpassed, I made no effort to showcase this in my attire. The dynamic was so utterly different and it reflected the same feeling I had had when we were dating in high school.
"Again, I thought you wanted nothing to do with me. Of course the thought crossed my mind."
"I'm sure it did with miss little redhead on your arm," she scoffed.
Pausing, jaw loose and mouth slightly open, I surveyed her. "Are you jealous?"
She finished the rest of her coffee and then tossed it in the trash nearby. One shoulder rose in a careless shrug. "Just stating a fact."
We observed one another, the air beginning to spark with the same, familiar electricity that followed us relentlessly, a piggyback on top of our inexplicable tingles. To this day, she was the only person that I experienced this involuntary reaction around and it boggled my mind. The equally frustrating thing was just trying to determine what the feeling even meant.
I blurted out: "Did you date anyone else during our time apart?" My tone was just as indifferent as hers. The blasé and carefree attitude that seeped through every word in our conversation felt like such a farce. It felt as though it sat on the table, looking with a face of judgment at both of us.
She paused, her gaze surveying me as she thought through her answer. "I did for a brief period of time, yes."
"Did you feel it with them too?"
"Feel what?"
"You know what I'm talking about."
Her jaw clenched and I knew I had touched a nerve.
"Did you, Bella?"
Her gaze narrowed. With her arms and legs crossed in her authoritative and professional outfit, she looked like she was ready to prepare for a meeting where she would command a room.
"No." The one word was full, rounded, definitive and her features softened at my answer.
"Well," she began, swallowed, and cleared her throat. "Neither did I."
I nodded and we both stared at each other, the electricity seeming to rise. My hands felt hot and my heartbeat thrummed hard within my chest.
"Would...you care to come back to my apartment to continue this conversation?"
Her eyebrows raised slightly-only enough to register surprise and indignation before her features relaxed into an indifferent air. She shuffled a little, pausing to look at her watch and then cleared her throat once more. Her hand raised to tuck some hair behind her ear and the action filled me with unrelenting satisfaction.
"I'd like to clear the air on our past. Closure is something I've been wanting for a while now. I'll stay for a little bit."
"Sure, that sounds good. Let me get a cab," I answered and got to my feet. Immediately, one pulled off to the side, nearly hitting a driver in the parallel lane and received a rude gesture that the cabbie never even noticed. He was too focused on upcoming fare and his bills.
I slid in, informed him of my address and watched as Alice moved in and the careful calculations she performed to ensure there would be enough space between us so that there would be no tension but close enough to not appear rude. When she was satisfied, she leaned back with her purse in her lap, chanced a glance at me to find my eyes already upon her and then nodded. And we began to embark towards my apartment.
The great thing about New York—the cab drivers were easily able to decide if their temporary passengers were interested in conversation or not. His eyes darted up to the rearview mirror and after shifting between the two of us, his wandering gaze never returned and his mouth remained shut. With a click of a button, the music swelled to a volume where conversation would be useless. All the same, I continued looking at Alice in regular intervals and judging by her tight mouth, she was aware of it. She made no comment and on those brief spells where my attention was not lingering on her, the familiar sensation of being watched began. I glanced to see her head swivel away from my direction and back towards the window.
A smirk twitched on the corner of my mouth.
Taking Alice into my apartment was the best glow-up I could've asked for since our last interaction. My accounting salary with one of the Big Four companies had afforded me the opportunity to finally invest in the kind of apartment I had always fantasized about. After I began long distance with Charlotte, I had gathered my savings and spent entirely too much money on buying this apartment-perhaps it was a spur of the moment decision. I had taken out a loan for the renovations, determined to mold this space into something that I would look forward to seeing every single day. They had taken some time but it had certainly been worth it.
It was stationed in Park Slope, Brooklyn. Upon walking in, the hallway walls that were littered with framed pictures of my family and friends opened up to display the living room on the left and the kitchen on the right. The dingy, galley kitchen had been transformed into a spacious area, complete with a large, marble island, white cabinets and a longer bar top. The living room sunk down a step and encompassing most of the space sat a great, gray sectional with colorful, decorative pillows. A white coffee table with two drawers sat in the middle with some of my latest favorite books. A custom built-in, also white, took up the large wall closest to the entryway with my 55" TV mounted above and DVDs, video games, and accompanying consoles stored below. Begrudgingly, Charlotte had gotten me into video games and after our relationship crumbled, that remained.
Diagonal from the living room and just past the kitchen, the dining room encompassed the space with a large, wooden, high-top table and industrial stools stowed below. A dream of mine had always been floor-to-ceiling windows and although they were pricey, they had been worth it. My salary could not afford a gracious view of Times Square or Central Park but it was just right—showcasing the characteristics that made New York so endearing and producing a wonderful sunset later in the day.
"Wow," she remarked as soon as we passed the opening of the hallway and she raked her eyes over all of the painstaking renovations I had dearly bought. "You're doing well for yourself, aren't you?" There was a flicker of pride in the eyes that stared me down and I wallowed in the feeling.
"I'm not a teenager anymore." My tone almost sounded like a challenge for her to take. Judging by the small twitch of the corner of her mouth and the reddening of her cheeks, she also received the statement in a similar fashion.
"No, you are not," she muttered as she moved closer to the wall of windows and stared down into the beating heart of the city, thriving with the interlocking individuals with hopeful dreams and aspirations. Her fingertips pressed against the glass and the sun's bright rays illuminated the color of her eyes into a mesmerizing painting that demanded my attention and captured it. I leaned against the edge of my dining table and watched her, my arms folded across my chest.
After eight years apart, Alice was in my apartment, five feet away from me. She looked as beautiful as ever. Somehow, some way, we had gotten here. Although the reunion was nothing short of a miracle, the chance continuation of something so old and forgotten was another feat in itself.
I cleared my throat. "Do you want a drink?"
"It's a little early for a drink, don't you think?"
"Sometimes rules and guidelines are made to be broken. We've done it before," I teased and saw a gentle shake of her head. What had been an attempt at an icebreaker or small joke had only discomforted her. She moved away from the window, as lithe and elegant as ever. Placing her purse on my couch, she leaned against the back frame, her arms crossed on her chest, and continued to stare at the view.
"Are you still teaching?"
She nodded. An indescribable surge of pride crossed her face that was reminiscent from our time in high school. She was thinking of her students.
"Thankfully, yes. When we were found out, my first thought besides you—" her gaze flickered to me, waited a beat and then moved back to the beating heart of New York. "—was the fear of not being able to anymore. I just can't teach within that state."
I didn't know how to adequately respond to that. There seemed to be no formation of words that could surmise the potential of losing her passion in life. A simple nod seemed to be the only response I deemed even remotely appropriate. When I chanced a look at her, her eyes were boring into me.
"Although I didn't think it was possible, there was a part of me that hated you," she muttered, looking slightly guilty at the admission. "Day in and day out, sitting in my cell with nothing to distract me from my own thoughts, all I could think of was that I had lost my greatest passion and something I had been working for for so long over someone who immediately dropped me." She shrugged. "There was also a part of me that was disappointed in myself for even moving forward with it while in my academic position. I didn't regret the relationship itself. I just mean that I...I wish I had waited until I was no longer your teacher."
This seemed to be a moment where she was released everything she had been holding captive in her mind for years. Even though I wanted to reach out to comfort her with my arms or my words, I remained silently stationary and simply watched her face as she poured out her feelings.
"And after months and months, the thing that undid us was a quick kiss by fucking gym," she breathed out. "I was so careful the entire time but after tasting you and feeling you, I got so careless." Her lips were tight, gaze downcast to her shoes as she released everything.
"We both got careless."
"Because we were in love," she muttered. This statement hung in the air the same way an off-guard confession does—a hard wave that shifts your inner core. She reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear and tugged her earlobe, sighing as she did so. Although the motion gave me nostalgic comfort, I could see the visible ripples of festered thoughts that hadn't seen the light of day, covered in dust and cobwebs. Perhaps she felt the same way as I did—the only people that could really understand how we felt through these events were each other.
We stayed in silence, both of us lost in our thoughts. Another small sigh issued from her while she pushed off the frame of the couch and moved towards the windows. Her arms stayed crossed against her chest the entire time, a thoughtful bite capturing her lips. She moved so close that the tip of her heel pressed against the bottom of the windows.
She stared out into New York. "I don't see any pictures of that redhead in here."
"Her name is Charlotte," I answered quickly with perhaps too much of a defensive tone. After a pause, I continued: "We broke up."
Her reaction was immediate. "Why?"
I cleared my throat as a defense mechanism. "She got a job elsewhere and I had just secured my new job at this amazing company. We tried long distance for a while but it just...fizzled out."
She nodded in response. "Life gets in the way, sometimes."
"Yes," I agreed. "Life has a way of getting in the way sometimes." At this, we both looked at one another with a silent, knowing understanding of what exactly that meant.
"How were you?" She whispered softly, her tone in a warm, velvet embrace of concern. Her pause afterwards—whether she was aware of this effect or not—was a kind gesture, allowing me to wallow in the sound that I had been without for so long. I had been wary of an avalanche of these old, almost scary feelings to return upon seeing her but it also awakened something else. Our time together had molded into a deep love, something that I felt throughout my soul, my bones and filled with such innate wonderment. But it also demanded complete openness and after our history, broken down into hidden truths and forced goodbyes, the thought of such vulnerability was simply quite terrifying.
I knew what she meant. It was an elephant in the room—immediately after the arrest. An unspoken truth was also lingering in the air—devastation followed. How she was emotionally and mentally sat within my thoughts in early college, bouncing back and forth in an almost endless cycle of guilt.
"I was a wreck, honestly," I answered quietly. "That first...couple months after the arrest, I was basically...I was just so heartbroken. The separation from Forks to college definitely helped with the healing." Our stances remained the same, and yet, that tense energy seemed to crackle in my apartment, as though it had just been lying dormant ever since we had parted. The energy felt invigorated and renewed, like it was hungry for us to be near one another once again. "I went to therapy for a bit to deal with it, actually."
At this, she turned to finally face me and cocked her to the side, furrowing her brows and looked genuinely concerned. I paused, looking over every inch and then smiled softly. The sun behind her poured an orange glow through the floor-to-ceiling windows and her shadow stretched across the ground, creating an ethereal juxtaposition. She was so breathtakingly beautiful that I momentarily forgot how to respond.
I shrugged. "It helped. I actually came around to quite enjoy it. It was...cleansing to say the least."
She let out a laugh, actually slapping her forearm as she did so. It was a new, quirky movement and I filed it away. How many new idiosyncrasies had she developed in these last eight years? Her shoulders rose and fell, a soft sighing sound moving through the tense air. Hands came up to nervously touch her cheek and her earlobe. A content smile pulled on my lips at the motion and judging by the suddenly sheepish and aware look, she knew what had crossed my mind. She rolled her eyes, smiling as she did so and looked away.
Fuck me.
My stomach coiled tightly in that familiar, invigorated way. The attraction was nearly palpable—something I could grasp, touch, mold—and my heart pounded within my chest. Although I had liked to pretend I had definitely moved on so very long ago, the feelings had immediately resurfaced when she walked into that coffee shop. It was sudden, harsh—the kind of reaction one would feel after nearly avoiding a car crash. The kind of adrenaline that surges entirely through your body, short-circuits your brain, and results in very shallow breathing. This was the effect Alice had upon me—at eighteen years old and in my late 20's. She appeared to be interwoven in my very biological makeup to produce that kind of reaction.
She was still leaning against the tall windows, covered in the orange glow.
"I'd like to propose something."
Leaving my left arm still crossed on my stomach, my right hand lifted, pressing the tops of my fingers against my lips in thought. I had seamlessly began falling into this position over and over when presented with a littered accounting problem.
"What's that?" She countered.
"I would like...for us to just clean the slate and basically start anew." My hand languidly fell, holding onto my left elbow and I shrugged softly. "Are you seeing anyone?"
She kept eye contact with me, licking her bottom lip and moving her bottom jaw around in thought. Apart from the vibrancy of the city life, the apartment was completely silent-only adding to the tense energy between the two of us.
"No, I'm not."
"What do you know? Neither am I," I smiled and she chuckled, rolling her eyes again while her head shook.
As if taking the first step in a high-stakes chess game, I took a couple steps forward so that I was a mere five feet in front of her. Although she now appeared older and the lines within her face were deeper, I appreciated the look she had about her—she did not give a damn anymore. Perhaps that came with age and maturity and I had simply not reached that point in my life yet. Her hard glare that refused to leave me only demonstrated her lack of insecurity further and it made my skin itch with anticipation. A small smirk now slid onto her lips and she crossed her arms again, quite obviously looking me up and down as if she were egging me on.
In silent acquiescence, I took two closer steps and now stood a few inches longer than arm's length away from her. The sun's blazing rays parted around her head and directly hit my gaze. I watched her lips part while she scrutinized my eyes, my lips, my skin. She bit her lip once again, lowering her head to look at me from beneath her lashes.
This was not a classroom.
"So, what's your thoughts on this proposal?" I asked again. My hands moved behind my back, clasping together as we stared one another down.
We were equals.
"Just a clean slate?"
We were older.
"Yes."
The law did not confine us.
"Then…." a beat passed and momentarily, I saw that same terrifying feeling of vulnerability flash in her eyes. The muscle in her jaw flared and then she stood completely up, moving her arms out in disbelief. "Then...slowly, we can...see what happens."
It were as though a shift had occurred, a wave dispelling in all areas of my life to give that simple, minute nudge and everything just clicked into the perfect position. Now gleaming in the light was a small shininess to her gaze—the onset of tears—and she sighed once again, looking away and folding her arms across her stomach.
I took another step closer, my heart pounding so hard that my ears were filled with each thump as though drums were urging me on. Hands shaking, they unclasped and swallowing the lump in my throat, I simply outstretched my right hand.
She was perplexed, then slightly amused and shook my hand. The tingles were not an explosion this time but something that simply grew at the first touch and moved like vines, crawling up our arms. A small flicker of her lashes showed the confirmation she felt it too.
"Hi, I'm Bella," I said, receiving a small laugh. She raised her hand, covering some of her smile and then, another shake of her head before she participated.
"I'm Alice. Nice to meet you."
Our joined hands stopped shaking and I paused, smiling.
"So...do you believe in love at first sight?"
Hi, everyone. Long time, no see.
I hope that you liked the end of the story and that it reached your expectations. Understandably, this story has been laid to rest (really) 6 to 7 years, so I imagine that's plenty of time for you all to speculate and create grandiose ideas of how you wanted the story to end. If I am able to give you any minute amount of satisfaction, then I have accomplished my goal.
Thank you for accompanying me throughout this journey. For those that have stayed, I hope these final chapters are worth the wait.
If you have any questions, feel free to PM me. I can't guarantee that I'll be able to answer all of them or quickly but I'll try my best!