5.
Her eyes are burned into my permanent memory like a fire that can’t be extinguished.
The scent of her skin – the very sweetness of her – toys with my sanity.
Sitting here across from her has me reliving the last time we were together.
We were teenagers sitting on the edge of my bed on the verge of something we didn’t fully understand. I grimace slightly, remembering:
“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked.
I smiled. “What do you mean? I’m just looking at you.”
“But it’s different.”
I smiled and looked away, not sure if I wanted to say what was on the tip of my tongue. I just decided to go for it. “What would you do if I kissed you?”
She swallowed the knot in her throat and said, “Run.”
She chuckled.
I grinned. “You would run?”
She nodded.
I licked my lips, very doubtful that she would run away from me.
I knew she wouldn’t. We’ve been as thick as thieves since we were eight.
We were in sync. Something about us together was perfect, and running away from each other wasn’t a part of the equation.
We ran to each other with open arms. She was my saving grace.
The girl I put ahead of everything and everyone in my life.
My parents even knew I was in love with her.
They didn’t say anything, but they knew.
Knew I was sliding her money. She didn’t ask for it.
I just gave it to her because I felt like she needed it.
I wanted her to have nice things like I had.
I wanted her to be happy. That’s how I knew I loved her.
I licked my lips and leaned forward. Closing my eyes, I waited until they connected with hers. When they finally did, something came alive in me. It was a brief kiss. Too brief. At fourteen, I didn’t know how to kiss. I just knew it was what you did when you loved someone.
And I loved her. Deeply.
We separated.
She smiled.
I smiled.
“I thought you were going to run?” I asked.
“I thought so, too. I guess my heart had other plans.”
She leaned closer to me, pressing her forehead to mine, and then, boom – the door opened.
“Giada Gardner, come here right now!”
Her mother was livid. I saw it all on her face as she stood at my door with a broom and a dust rag. We weren’t even kissing when she opened the door, but somehow I feel like she knew what had just happened.
That was the last time I saw her before the bachelor auction last weekend.
This evening is the second time. I can’t believe she’s agreed to meet me, but she’s here.
This is real. She’s real. And she’s beautiful.
Beautiful in a way that’s pleasing, yet makes me ache.
Makes me feel a tinge of pain and chaos in my heart at the distance I feel between us.
But I’m grateful that she’s here, even if I am going through an array of gut-twisting emotions in the process.
I thought for sure I’d nearly have to beg my way into her good graces, but Diedra must’ve done a good job talking her into giving my proposal serious consideration.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asks.
Déjà vu.
Her question takes me back to us as teenagers, thinking about that small kiss we shared.
I can’t tell you how many dreams I had about that moment.
About her lips. The way she smiled. The way she smelled.
The way we felt together. She was my forever, then in an instant, it was snatched away from me. From us.
“Like what?” I ask. “How am I looking at you, G?”
“Giada,” she says, correcting me.
I frown, taking a moment to bite back my frustration. Time has already taken enough from us, stretching the space between who we were and who we are now. Yet, she still insists on keeping the distance, too, making me tread carefully – not too close to the friends we once were. Best friends. My G.
“How am I looking at you, Giada?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know. Like—never mind.”
“Like what?” I press, trying to get something out of her – things I feel she needs to say, but holds back.
“Like you hate me, but admire me at the same time,” she answers. “Is there a word for that?”
Her observation is spot on, but it’s not hate in my eyes. It’s hurt. Hurt, admiration, and love all spinning together in a tornado that my life has been without her.
Hurt.
Admiration.
Love.
Those are the three words she needs to find one word for.
I hand her the one-page document and say, “This is the agreement. I need you to sign it.”
“I’ll need to read it first.”
“Take your time. I ordered us some appetizers.”
“You mean you ordered yourself some appetizers. I don’t have an appetite.”
She reads the document carefully and says, “Wait—I’m not living with you.”
“You are. It’s in the contract. It’s only for three months.”
“Didn’t you draw up this contract?”
“No. My lawyer did.”
“Then tell him to take it out.”
“It’s a requirement. Look—you’ll have your own quarters if that’s your concern.”
She places the paper on the table and rests her bowed head on her hands. This is a struggle for her. I get it, but I’ve struggled for years without her. Watching her navigate all of this is nothing compared to the agony I’ve experienced without my best friend. Her absence, the silence…
Memories of us were too much to bear, knowing we weren’t us .
After the long, silent stretch between us, I say, “You can trust me, but I’m sure you know that already.”
“Do I?” she asks with raised brows.
My chest tightens, her words stinging deeper than they probably should. “What is that supposed to mean?”
She shakes her head and says, “Nothing.”
Agitation building, I say, “Don’t insult me, Giada.”
“It’s not an insult. It’s just that you’re asking me to trust you while also asking me to do something illegal.”
“Nothing about it is illegal. I told you that.”
She looks up at me. I can see the distress on her face as she struggles with trying to make this decision.
If only I were privy to all the thoughts running through her mind.
Then I’ll know why this was so hard for her when it would be so easy for any other woman.
But Giada Gardner isn’t just any other woman.
She’s the woman I love. The woman I’ve been in love with since I was eight.
It was obvious to anyone watching – we were destined to be together.
My parents knew it. Her mother knew it, too, even though she didn’t like it.
And that’s baffling in itself, because it was her idea to introduce me to her daughter when she saw how lonely I was.
If it wasn’t for her, I would’ve never met Giada.
That day Ms. Gardner came to get Giada out of my bedroom, was the day our relationship changed. I guess her mom didn’t see me as a little boy anymore. She saw the hormone-raged teenager after her daughter.
And that’s exactly who I was.
I was after her because I loved her.
The days that followed were like torture. Every day, I waited for her to visit me. That summer, I turned fifteen and she did too, because her birthday is in June. Mine, July. We were both out of school for summer break – the times we usually had our best adventures.
That summer, I had no one.
Every day her mother came over to work, I asked for her.
EVERY. SINGLE. DAY.
And every day, she’d brush it off. Said Giada was on her monthly, or she wasn’t feeling well.
Then she told me she was out of town. Finally, after I guess she got tired of me asking, she said Giada was busy with her studies and felt like she was getting sidetracked by hanging out with me.
She had her own friends, her own life that required her time – people she could get along with. People like her .
I tried to be understanding, because that’s what you do when you love someone. You try everything possible to see, reach and reconnect. After two weeks had gone by, I gave my cell phone number to Ms. Gardner to pass along to Giada in case she had lost my number.
Another two weeks passed, and I still hadn’t heard anything from her. So, I did something I never could see myself doing – I wrote a short note.
Giada, hi. It’s me, Kase. Remember me? It’s been over a month, and I haven’t seen or heard from you.
Your mom told me you were busy with your other friends, and that’s all good, but I thought we were friends – best friends.
I have no one but you, G. I miss you. Please call me, or come over so we can talk. Maybe.
As if that wasn’t desperate enough, I went to my mother and told her about my problem. My mother didn’t wait long before she asked Ms. Gardner about what was going on. I listened to their conversation:
“Where’s Giada these days?” Mom asked Ms. Gardner. “Kasim sure does miss her.”
“I know,” Ms. Gardner said. “You know how teenage girls are. Oh, wait—maybe you don’t since Kasim is your only child. Anyway, she said she’s outgrown him.”
“Aw…”
“Yeah, I didn’t want to tell Kasim that, but he keeps asking me where she is and—I just feel so bad.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll have a conversation with him about it. It’ll do him some good to hang out with some of the fellas. The boys on the football team are always trying to get him to hang out, but he was always with Giada.”
“Yeah…football. That would be much better for him socially.”
“How is Giada doing, by the way?”
“She’s doing well. Straight-A student.”
“That’s wonderful.”
“Well, I’ma get back to work so I can get home at a decent hour.”
“Alright. Let me know if you need anything. I’ll be in the office for a few.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
“Kasim?”
I blink back into the restaurant and stare at her face. “Yes?”
“Did you hear anything I just said?”
I glance away from her briefly and say, “No. I apologize. I was in deep thought.”
She sighs and says, “Do you have a pen?”
I pull one out of the inner pocket of my suit jacket. Yes, I’m dressed up on a Saturday evening because I had to meet with a client this afternoon – a meeting that ran over longer than I expected. There wasn’t any time to change clothes, and I wasn’t about to miss this meeting with Giada.
I hand her the pen.
“Thanks,” she says, taking it from my grasp.
Our fingers touch slightly, but it’s enough to send a jolt through me – reminders of what I’ve been missing.
I heard her sharp intake of breath the moment it happened.
She felt the spark, too. The charge. The undeniable, achingly familiar pull that lingers in the heavy tension surrounding this table.
She scribbles her name wildly and places the pen on top of the paper and says, “There. It’s done.”
“What time can I expect you tomorrow?”
“I can’t go by there tomorrow. Monday is more like it.”
“No. Tomorrow. I don’t care how late it is.”
“Fine,” she says, standing. Frowning.
“Giada—”
“I have things to do,” she says, cutting me off. “See you tomorrow. ” She hikes up her brows and rolls her eyes before walking away from the table.
I flinch as she leaves. The sight of her walking away from me hits a nerve, reawakening the sadness I could never bury. God knows that’s the one thing I can’t take – her walking away from me, leaving emptiness in my world.
Not again.
The last time she did that was fourteen years ago. I can’t let it happen again.
I won’t let it happen again.