Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Ashley
I walked away from his door feeling numb.
He was right, I supposed. If I was going to ask Kris to see me anywhere, the game would be a good place for it.
As good as any. If the conversation got awkward, or stopped altogether, we could watch the game.
We wouldn't have to sit across from each other in a crowded restaurant, or bar.
The downside, and it was a big one, was that I'd have to see Chase again. Sure, he might be a dot on the field, but he'd still be there. Then if we got invited to post game drinks, I'd see him there too. Unless we said no, but then we might have to explain why.
Damn, why did adulting have to be so difficult? Was it too late to go back to being a kid? I'd enjoy some finger painting about now, followed by a screaming tantrum on the ground.
Either of those things at my age would get me locked away somewhere. The latter one anyway. Finger painting might be considered therapeutic, even if I painted Chase's bike.
The idea was more tempting than I'd like to admit. I wouldn't use anything that wouldn't wash off. I wasn't a monster, I was pissed off and a little bit heartbroken.
Again.
I really needed to make better choices when it came to men. For one thing, I shouldn't have come here in the first place. Why did I? Just to yell at Chase for standing me up, or because I really wanted an excuse to see him? Maybe a little bit of both.
All I did was make things worse. Although, things were somewhat clearer now.
I was ninety-nine point nine nine percent sure he felt the same way about me that I did about him. The way he looked at me, touched me, said more than words ever could have.
We also shared the feeling we should avoid each other, before we got hurt.
I slipped into my car and turned on the engine. Thankfully something went right and it started.
On the drive home, I considered my options.
Would I go to the game on Saturday? From what I understood, it was an important one.
If the Humpbacks won against the Kookaburras, it would put them on course to the Down Under Bowl.
It was difficult not to get excited about that.
If they lost, their season would more or less be over.
The atmosphere would be electric.
Did I want to share that with Kris?
I was still mulling that over when I got home.
The moment I parked the car, I had the feeling something was off.
Gingerly, I climbed out and glanced around. I saw no sign of Harvey Danbury, or anyone with a camera, phone or anything like that. In fact, the street was quiet, but not more so than usual for this time of day.
I shrugged to myself and headed into my building. I gave Greta, the night door person, a nod as I passed on the way to the elevators.
Greta was as sweet as they came, but she didn't look it. She was taller than Chase and maybe twice as wide. Only a brave person would try to get past her.
She gave me a funny look, but nodded in return.
Okay, this was getting weirder. Did I need to cross my fingers that the internet wasn't suddenly full of stories about me, and photos of me at Chase's home? Because I'd totally cross them and keep them crossed while I hid out under the bed covers.
Good grief, when did I start having to worry about being a tabloid headline? As if life wasn't enough of a challenge.
The elevator took me up to my floor without stopping or acting strange. That was a bonus. I dreaded it breaking down some day and leaving me stuck in there. If I didn't have a fear of confined spaces, I would after that.
The doors slid open. I looked each way slowly before I stepped out and let the doors slide shut behind me.
The only sounds in the corridor were the TV in number thirty-three, and someone in thirty-six singing loudly. A male voice, he didn't sound bad at all. I didn't recognise the song, but I wouldn't be surprised if I heard him on the radio some day.
I stopped for a while to listen, then kept walking to my door. The thirty-nine above the peephole was a little worn. I might have to see about replacing that.
I slid the key into the lock and opened the door.
"What the hell?"
Everywhere I looked was covered in bright, round balloons. Red, yellow, green, blue, pink. Every colour you could imagine, it was there. If I guessed, it would be over a hundred of the things. Maybe two. I didn't try to count them.
I shook my head. Should I step inside or turn and run?
I shuffled in and closed the door. The balloons shifted in the light wind generated from my movement.
I stood still. If I didn't move, neither would they. Unless balloons could sense fear. If that was the case, I'd be in big trouble.
The phone rang. I nearly jumped so high I hit my head on the ceiling.
I pulled my phone out of my bag and answered without seeing who was calling.
"Hello?"
"Hey." Kris' voice came through the connection. "Did you find my surprise?" He sounded very pleased with himself.
"You did this?" I asked. Of course he did. Who else would have a key? Stupidly, I was halfway to thinking this was Chase's work.
Idiot, I told myself.
"Yeah, I thought I'd, um, surprise you." Kris didn't sound so smug now.
"You did that," I said. This explained the look Greta gave me. She must have seen him walk by a few dozen times, balloons in tow. Unless he sat here and blew them all up, one by one.
I took a deep breath. "Did you forget I hate balloons?" As a kid, I had one burst in my face. I'd been scared of them ever since.
Silence came over the line.
He cleared his throat. "You do?"
"Yeah, I do." Running away might be a better choice than standing inside my apartment, watching them float around across the couch and floor.
"Shit," Kris said.
"Yeah. It's not that I don't appreciate the gesture—"
"I really screwed up, didn't I?" Kris sounded deflated, like I wished the balloons were.
"Yes," I said. "You did. First with her, then coming into my apartment without me knowing." I felt violated. I should have insisted he give me back his key. Honestly, I wished I never gave him one in the first place.
"And this— How the hell am I supposed to get rid of all of these things?" I couldn't exactly throw them all out the window, tempting as that was.
"I could come and help pop them?" he offered. He sounded as though he had one foot out the door already.
"No," I said quickly. "I'll manage. I—" I closed my eyes.
I had to speak these next words, but they were hard to say out loud.
"I don't want to see you again," I said firmly. "Not tonight. Not ever."
"Because I left balloons in your apartment?" Kris sounded bewildered and angry. "Come on, Ash, be reasonable. How was I supposed to know you hate balloons? Do you have any idea how much they cost?"
"You're going to play the victim card?" I asked, as calmly as I could manage.
He spluttered for a moment. "No, I just meant… Shit. I tried to do something romantic. You could at least say thank you."
"Thank you," I said sarcastically. "Thanks for getting naked and sticking your dick in another woman. Thank you for letting me catch you. Now I know how big an asshole you really are. I should have seen it sooner, but I was blind. I thought you loved me."
"I did love you," he insisted. "I do love you."
"Shut up," I growled. "You don't know what love is. You might think you do, but some day you'll realise what we had was nothing but a lie. A comfortable, warm, stupid lie. We are done. Now, forever and after that."
"Ash—" He sounded desperate now. "Please."
"Go to hell." I disconnected the call and sagged back against the door. No wonder some people broke up with others via text message. That was the worst thing I ever had to do. Now it was done, I wanted to cry. In part, from relief. That was one lot of rubbish taken out.
Now what the hell did I do with those balloons? I didn't want to pop them all, but I wasn't sure I had a choice.
I bit my lip and thought for a moment before I came up with a solution so perfect it made me smile. First, I had to gather them up and stash them in the spare room for the night.
I opened the door and grabbed a broom to sweep them all inside. It took some doing. Several wanted to make an escape by hiding under the couch, or one of the side tables. One even hid behind the couch, the crafty bastard.
"I don't believe you don't all have minds of your own," I told them.
They bounced around in response and one in the corner popped.
I jumped and hurried to close the door behind me.
Finally more or less balloon free, I microwaved a soup for one, poured a glass of wine and flopped down on the couch.
I flicked on the TV and turned it to the local news. I didn't see any photos of myself, thankfully. If they reported on Chase's love life on this network, I didn't see any mention of him. It might have blown over already, in favour of more important, actual newsworthy stuff.
Fortunately, there was no report on some dumbass with a bajillion balloons in the back of his car, or however he got them here. I didn't really care, to be honest.
I finished my dinner and stretched out on the couch to sip my wine. I'd really like a hot bath, but my apartment was too small to fit one. Chase had one big enough to fit several people.
I sighed. I shouldn't be thinking about him. Or his bath. Or the way his hand felt on my cheek when he wiped away my tear. Or the way his lips tasted. Or…
I thought back to the expression in his eyes when we were talking.
I knew that look, I had it myself a lot lately.
In the mirror in the morning when I remembered how Kris used to look at my reflection over my shoulder.
When I touched up my lipstick at work and thought about how he said he liked that colour.
It was the look of hurt, and the fear of being hurt again. What was the saying? Once bitten, twice shy? We both got bitten, hard. The plan we made tangled everything into a messy knot.
Cutting Kris out of that knot once and for all made things easier. For the first time in a long time, I could breathe.
Out of curiosity, I picked up my phone and went to click on Kris' social media profile. It now read 'single.' Most of the photos of us were gone. One disappeared while I sat and watched. Then another.
After a moment, the app bounced me out to my feed. Kris' profile was either gone, or he blocked me.
It should hurt, but I felt relieved. That door was closed forever.
The question was, was it too late to open a new one?