Tangling Hearts

10. Annie

Chapter Ten

ANNIE

L ock to my apartment: not opening. Drunk drunk drunk drunk drunk. Also, pissed as hell. Which, in England, means drunk, so that’s perfect. (burp.)

I need new friends. I knew Corinne and I were different, but leaving me at the party? That sucks. I seriously need more friends than just one. But that means talking to people and people are idiots. Jenny was okay but she’s a baby. Why won’t my key work! Oh ha-ha… this is the key to my parent’s house. Oooooh….I’m gonna to throw up. No, wait. It went back down. What was I doing? Oh right. Wait. How’d I get on the floor?

Pulling myself up to a standing position, I turn and slam the door shut. The sound reverberates. I hold my head from the pain of it. The queasiness in my stomach is demanding the calming of some ginger ale, which I know for a fact we don’t have. I do have bubbly water. That might help. I trudge to the kitchen with a surly look on my face. I’m preparing to battle the refrigerator door, too, but my fears are needless. Thank God they don’t put locks on refrigerators. I stick my head in and can’t for the life of me find my Pellegrino. I search and I search and I …

“Hey. It’s you.” A deep voice says, to my left.

I hit my head on one of the racks. “Ouch!”

“Oooh. That had to hurt. You okay?”

I carefully pull my head out and stare, losing my jaw to China.

It’s him.

Standing in my kitchen.

Brendan Clark, ninety percent NAKED.

I’m hallucinating. Someone spiked my booze and I will love that sicko forever and ever.

“I’m better now,” I mumble, staring at the Brendan Hallucination. The light of the open refrigerator highlights his blue eyes, and they are stunning! I look down to see – also outlined by light – a naked chest that could rival any I’ve ever seen in a magazine. Abs that can’t be real, with a chiseled V leading to a barely hidden extra large package. He’s wearing only gray boxer-briefs and his legs have the perfect amount of hair covering the perfect amount of muscles. I want to bite his thighs.

“Even your feet are cute!” I blurt, staring at them.

A small burst of surprised laughter escapes him. “Uh… thank you?” His voice is so deep, the middle of the ocean is jealous. This is the happiest moment of my life.

I look up and smile. I step toward him, and brush my fingers down the line of his cheekbone. He holds his breath as I touch him. I’ve always wanted to know what his full lips felt like, so I trace his bottom lip with the tip of my index finger, ever so softly. He watches me like he doesn’t know why I’m doing this. But this is my dream, so I get to do what I want.

I whisper, “Look at your skin. It’s so beautiful.”

He’s confused, which makes sense. I’m not the type to have dreams where I’m whisked onto the kitchen counter for a good, spontaneous banging. No, I’m the type who dreams realistically, like this, where Brendan Clark is perplexed by the oddity that is Annie O’Brien.

But suddenly a memory crawls out… of him talking to Corinne at the party. We stare at each other as I wake up and a sinking sensation pits in my stomach. “Oh my God. This isn’t a dream.” I retract my hand quickly, mortified. “Corinne brought you home with her??!”

“That’s her name!” He snaps his fingers, hits his hand to his perfect head. He’d been wracking his brain trying to remember.

My heart collapses and I feel vomit threatening. “You forgot her name?”

Guilt flashes across his face and then something else I don’t understand… pride? Did I just see pride in his eyes?

“Of course I remembered. I was just telling you—yep, that’s her name!” He crosses his arms, the muscles tightening. I get trapped staring at them.

I’m stunned. “You forgot her name.” Brendan Clark, the guy who would’ve won the Boyfriend of The Year award - who I’ve always thought was the nicest guy - has just had sex with my friend and does not even remember her name! My heart sinks as I think of Mark, Tommy and Ross, and what asshole players they all are. I always wondered how Brendan could hang out with them. And now I know – like attracts like.

It was just a matter of time before he was turned.

“So, you’re just like them.” I turn to the refrigerator door and shut it so the light stops illuminating him so deliciously. I’m only human. I don’t want to fling myself on his chest and lick Corinne’s perfume off it.

“Just like who?”

“Them! Them! The guys you hang out with. Tommy! Mark! Ross!”

He concentrates on me, considering what I just said. “Did you go to State or something?”

I stare at him, appalled. He doesn’t remember me? How could he not remember me? And I just revealed I know who he is. I want to crawl under my bed, but since he’s watching, I can’t do that, so I back-peddle my little heart out. “From the party tonight? Hello! I met them. I’m not completely anti-social.”

“Oh, right.” Then he looks at me, eyes narrowed. “But Ross wasn’t there.”

My tongue catches in my throat and I gurgle something like, “Corinne… she said his name. Just forget it! That’s not the point! You forgot her name and that – THAT – is the point!”

Brendan touches the tips of his fingers to his scrambled brain, then splays out his arms like he’s saying I love you this much. “Why am I being attacked here? I didn’t do anything she didn’t want me to do.”

“Oh God.” I want to tell him a dream died tonight. My dream man with the horse and shining armor. Also dead is the belief that there are good guys out there. And not only that, but my friend who I trusted is the one who helped kill that dream. Corinne slept with Brendan. Her mouth was on those abs. Her fingers traced that V. Her lips touched his lips, whispered sweet nothings into his ear while he gently made love to her…

I’m going to be sick.

“If you don’t already get it, I can’t explain it to you.” The room is spinning, but somehow I manage to walk around him and not gnaw on his bicep.

“Hey,” he calls after me. “Hey, what’s your name?”

“Leave me alone,” I mutter.

“Hang on.” Something kind in his voice turns me around. He opens the fridge, reaches in and pulls out my hidden Pellegrino bottle. Striding to me with a frown creased deeply into his forehead, he holds it out for me. “This’ll help the nausea.”

I take it slowly and look at it. How did he know this is what I wanted? Drunk-me is wondering if he’s magic. “Thanks.”

He smiles. “It was behind the stacked-to-Jupiter yogurt.”

“Oh.” I gaze at him, my head tilted. Stacked-to-Jupiter – that’s something I would say. I’m looking at him and I can’t help but stare at his smile. I could just lean in and touch my lips to his. Just brush them ever so lightly against the sensual fullness of his mouth. Find out if he tastes as good as I always imagined. See if his tongue knows how to touch mine in a way that makes my toes tingle.

“I’m not a bad guy.” He says, taking a step closer to me. “I know her name.” He stares at me. “Her name’s…uh... Shit, I had it!”

I hit myself on the forehead. “Corinne! Her name is Corinne! Jeez, why don’t you just get out of here before she wakes up! She doesn’t deserve you forgetting her name, Brendan Clark. See, I know your name and we didn’t even have sex. So what does that make you?” I struggle to say what I don’t want to believe, “It makes you an asshole.”

His eyes go hard. “From what I just experienced, believe me, she deserves exactly this.”

Before I know what I’m doing, I slap him hard across the face. We’re both shocked, and we stare at each other for a few charged seconds before he turns and fumes back down the hall and into her room. I follow him in a stunned daze, thoughts spinning, the bottle of Pellegrino still firmly held in my left hand. I stare as he races back out holding his shirt, his pants and his shoes. “Fucking women. You’re all nuts.”

I whisper-yell, “Keep your voice down!” I don’t really give a shit if he wakes her. I’m just furious in general and it was the first thing I thought.

He pulls on his pants and hisses at me, “Yeah, we wouldn’t want to wake the she-devil. I might lose my cock entirely!” He yanks on his shirt, then goes to put on his shoes but stops. “Dammit!” He glares at me as he passes to dash back into her room. I wait. He reappears. “Forgot my socks, okay? Is that alright with you?”

“What do I care?!” I sneer as he yanks them on.

One shoe. “You don’t!”

Other shoe. “No, I don’t!”

He stands, shoelaces untied, and puts his hand on the wall, chest heaving with angry breaths. He looks at me. “I’ll ask you again. What’s your fucking name?”

No holds barred, I yell like I’m screaming you big jerk, “It’s Annie!”

“Annie!” he yells back. “Good! Now I know who to stay far away from!” He storms out the front door. It slams behind him.

I run over and throw the bottle. Wet, green glass shatters as though in slow motion, a loud cracking explosion of I Love You!

I stare at the door, hoping he’ll come back. Panting, gasping for breath, I stare.

I hear her behind me, the one who betrayed me. “What’s going on?”

Turning my head like one possessed, I lock eyes with Corinne, my ex-best-friend. My ex-only-friend. “You just had to do it. You just had to fuck him, didn’t you, Marilyn? I mean, come on! Couldn’t you have shot him down like all the other schmucks you discard like gum wrappers?!”

Her eyes go big and soft with surprise. “You said you weren’t interested in him, Squid!”

“Don’t call me that! You had to know I was lying!” I feel like I’m twelve talking to an older sister who will never understand that she’s the pretty one and I’ll never go to the prom.

“I’m sorry… Annie… I…” Corinne trails off and she pulls the covers higher around her nakedness. She’s standing in the hallway looking at me helplessly. Her red lipstick is gone. Her sexy platinum hair is all fucked-up. Literally. Just looking at her makes it impossible not to imagine them together, and no longer able to hold it back, I vomit. All over the floor comes my bile of disgust. Disgusting bile. An oxymoron. And the moron is me.

I shake, gasping, and exhausted. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Tell it to someone who cares.” Wiping my mouth, I trudge into the kitchen for a towel and some cleaning products. Tears jump to my eyes. She stands there biting her inner cheek in worry as I bring the floor back to its formal glory, throwing the diseased towel into a plastic bag to be tossed in the hallway until morning.

“Annie…” she whispers.

“Please don’t. There’s nothing you can say that will make this okay.” A sob catches in my throat and I go inside my room and lock the door.

Tapping fingernails try their sweetest to interrupt my crying, and the soft sound is painful as she speaks through the door. “Can I come in?”

Someone gregarious and well liked like Corinne can’t possibly understand the double whammy she dealt me tonight. Not only did she sleep with him, she made me lose my faith in her, too. I’ve never felt more alone.

I could just forgive her and get on with my life, but I’m not made like that. I’m overly sensitive and my morals are high. I believe in integrity. It may not be easy for me to open up to a person, but when I do, I’m loyal to them to the end. I’ll do whatever they need. With this loss comes a loneliness I don’t want to think about, but can do nothing to avoid. I won’t lower my standards. I can’t.

“Please just leave me alone. Please.”

She waits a second and then whispers through the wood, “Okay.” Some time passes and I think she’s gone, but then I hear her say, “If it helps, he wasn’t very good.”

Through tears, I laugh sarcastically. “It doesn’t help. It doesn’t help at all.”