Chapter 02
A n hour. I’ll stay at this pointless party for an hour and then head home. That’s what Kev and I negotiated, and I’m a man of my word. I found a good spot to wait it out, seated on a stool at the far end of the bar, away from the epicenter of the party.
Like every year, people seem to be having fun. Most of the costumes are lost on me, but I can tell everyone did their best. It makes sense since there’s a contest with prizes. It might be a little over the top, but Kev thinks it helps with morale and makes for a great Halloween party.
The bar is nicer than I expected. Although it’s larger than last year’s venue, it still looks packed, especially since some costumes are voluminous, and everyone was allowed a plus one. Even with the dimmed lights, the Halloween decorations are out of place—as always. Fake spider webs are stretched in corners, there are skulls with candles in them, drops of fake blood on the mirrors… But nothing looks cheap or childish, which is a pleasant change.
I scan the crowd, searching once more for her , wondering if she’ll show up. She’s the only one missing from the team. Brian’s wearing what looks like a car robot costume, Steven and his girlfriend are Klingons, Mason is in a yellow hazmat suit, and Joseph is dressed as Edward Scissorhands—which I know thanks to my sisters’ obsession with Johnny Depp when they were teenagers.
I look down at my outfit, wondering if anyone will get it. Although costumes aren’t my thing, I decided to give it a try this time around. This is especially for Andrea, and if anyone can guess who I’m dressed as, it’s her. But she might not even come, and I bothered with a suit and tie for nothing.
It’s hard to tell how she’s been doing since she closes up anytime I’m near her. But I hope she’s been doing better than I have, already over what we had. A month is nothing. I’ve had arrangements with women that lasted much longer than that, and it never took more than a day to move on. So why the fuck am I unable to do it this time?
As a teenager, I realized I wasn’t built for love, lasting relationships, and the perfect little nuclear family. The two decades since only proved me right, until she came crashing into my life, flipping my world and everything I thought I knew upside down with her clever mouth and dark scowls.
My eyes have been opened, and I know that I could lead a happy and normal life with someone. But only with her. There’s no one else out there with whom I could imagine growing old, with the white picket fence, the children, the whole fucking deal. It’s Andrea or no one. That’s what I lost. Not just the smartest, prettiest, and most incredible woman I’ve ever encountered, but my only shot at a genuinely happy and meaningful life.
Holding back a sigh, I wave to get the bartender’s attention and point at my glass when I get it. The tall blonde is quick to give me a refill and a fresh ice cube before moving on to another customer. Maybe I should have bought the whole bottle. But then people would notice, and Kev would most certainly say something about it. This way, only the bartender and I know it’s my fourth glass in barely half an hour.
I’m two gulps in when a familiar laugh tears through the music and makes my gut wrench unpleasantly. As if compelled, my eyes dart in the direction it came from, landing on a headful of brown curls and a perfect profile. She’s here. At some point in the last few minutes, she arrived and joined the guys. And she’s wearing a… bathrobe?
Confusion has my eyebrow twitching as I take in her costume. She’s wearing a tan bathrobe, plaid shorts, a white T-shirt, and sandals. On her head sits a pair of sunglasses that must be part of her costume. I can’t be the only one not knowing what she’s dressed as. It has to be an obscure reference from some movie barely anyone has seen.
Leave it to her to come up with this when most women here have used the opportunity to look pretty. Andrea doesn’t need makeup, hairdos, and formfitting clothes, though. She’s still the most gorgeous woman here, even in her weird costume.
I’m still looking at her, still taking her in, when her head twists toward me. Like a coward, I look away before our gaze can meet, focusing back on my half-empty glass.
What would tonight look like if I hadn’t put an end to us? Would we be here as an official couple? Would she have come to me with one of her indulging smiles to pull me away from my dark corner and force me to socialize? Maybe we would have gotten ready together before coming here, though I might still have tried to keep my costume a secret so she could have the surprise later, after we got home together for a night of passion and cuddles.
Fuck, I miss holding her in my arms. I miss waking up with her sweet jasmine scent filling my nose before my eyes open. I miss her lessons in pop culture, her patience with me, her gleeful little laughs whenever I tease her, and her funny socks. I miss talking to her, wondering where the conversation will take us, what new little morsel of her past I’ll learn about…
Of course, I miss the sex as well, but I miss the vulnerable moments that came after even more. Just lying there with our souls as bare as our bodies. The world could have been on fire during those precious minutes, and we wouldn’t have cared. It was only her and me, lost in fleeting moments that felt like our eternity.
Once more, I gaze at her, hoping it’s safe again. She’s talking to Mason, who whispers something in her ear. She nods with a smile, and even from where I sit, I see how it doesn’t reach her eyes. Can others notice it as well, or is this some kind of ability I have developed? As someone who could never read people, it almost feels like a superpower.
And I had to let her go…
The rest of my glass goes down in a vain attempt at alleviating my sour mood. Alcohol was never one of my sins, but that has changed. I’ve drowned my gloomy thoughts on more than one occasion since that day, and it looks like tonight will be more of that. Again, the bartender efficiently refills my glass when I ask. I stare ahead at the bottles of liquor displayed before me. Soon, I’ll feel normal again. There’s no way I’ll stay this miserable for the rest of my life.
I’m about to take a sip when a firm hand grips my shoulder. “Everything alright?” Kevin asks, appearing by my side with a smile.
“Peachy,” I sarcastically answer, taking a big gulp.
“Come on, Lexi. Aren’t you having even a little bit of fun?”
“I’m only here because you made me. I’d rather be home.”
He rolls his eyes, unimpressed by my temper. When the bartender comes to us, he says, “I’ll have what he’s having. Actually, wait. What are you having, Lex?”
“Tequila.”
“On the rocks?! You psychopath.” He turns to the bartender again. “I’ll have a whiskey, please. Neat.”
While she handles his drink, Kev leans against the counter to look at the festive crowd. The bartender sets his glass next to mine, so I grab both and twist around. He takes his whiskey when I hand it to him, and we both stare at our employees dancing, talking, and mingling .
“To another successful party,” Kev offers before tapping his glass against mine. We both take a sip and resume our silent observation. “We built something good, you and I, didn’t we?”
“We did,” I agree.
“I’m glad we got to do this together, Lex.”
“It’s not like you knew anyone else who could help you make it happen.”
He chuckles and gives me a shove with his shoulder. “Don’t act like you would have done well without me.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t have lasted a month.”
“And look at us now, eight years later…”
I nod, pensive. Because I can’t help it, I seek Andrea in the crowd and stare at her. She’s talking to Tamika and Dakota, more relaxed than moments ago.
“It hurts, doesn’t it?” Kev asks.
“What does?”
“Love.”
I meet his compassionate look, disliking the way my throat tightens. We haven’t spoken about what happened between me and Andrea. Or at least, I haven’t. Kev tried everything he could to get it out of me, but all he knows is we’re over. I’m too familiar with him to say anything more. If I shared my doubts and worries, he’d brush them off and tell me to go to her and take a chance. But he’s always been a hopeless romantic, so he wouldn’t understand why I had to let her go the way I did.
His rhetorical question doesn’t need answering, so I don’t. Instead, I return my focus to the petite Latina at the other end of the room. It really does fucking hurt. More than I could have ever imagined.
“It feels like the world has lost all its colors, but I promise it gets better,” Kev says, wrapping an arm around my shoulders.
He’s wrong, but I say nothing because I don’t want to talk about all this—not now, not ever. My world never had colors—not until I met her—so I’m not waiting for everything to return to normal. I’m trying to accept that my Technicolor days are over, and I need to pretend like black and white is a better alternative.
There’s more silence between us until the music stops and someone on the stage commands the room’s attention.
“Hey, everyone,” Evelyn says to the crowd. Behind her are the rest of the people in charge of organizing Kelex’s parties, full of smiles and contained excitement. “For those who don’t know us, we’re the party planning committee. We submitted the committee as a joke, but our amazing bosses gave us a shot. So, thank you, Lex and Kev, for letting our The Office joke become a real thing. ”
She points toward us, and every head turns in our direction. Kev and I raise our glasses together, and Evelyn continues. “This party is a little special because it’s the twentieth we’ve organized with their approval.”
People cheer and clap as I lean toward Kevin. “Do you think maybe we have too many company parties?”
“There’s no such thing, you killjoy,” he whispers back.
“Anyhow, we wanted to celebrate this special occasion with everyone,” Evelyn continues, “and as you know, our bosses have agreed to a costume contest with two amazing prizes. Whoever wins will get a luxurious weekend getaway for two in the Nevada desert, spa included.” There’s more cheering from the crowd. “The winner will also get to choose a charity that’ll receive a five-thousand-dollar donation.”
She then explains the corner table they set up with papers, pens, and a box and how everyone can vote for their favorite costume. But I’m done with my tequila again, so I’m back to the bartender for a refill.
Ten minutes. I have ten more minutes of this, and then I’m heading home.
Back to my black-and-white world.
“ Y ou’re sure?” I ask Mason.
“Yes.”
“Brian.”
“Yes. I’m his plus one on that getaway if he wins—since he’s single as fuck.”
I chuckle at his eagerness. A spa weekend in the middle of nowhere sounds amazing, so I get it. Still smiling, I write Brian Hicks, as well as Transformers in parentheses, and the unique voting number I was given to make sure there would be no cheating. Once the paper is folded in four, I slip it into the ballot box.
“There,” I say with a grin. “You’re one vote closer to a bromantic weekend with Brian.”
“Thank you, sis. Imma go convert more people.”
Before I can even say anything, he disappears into the crowd. I laugh softly, shaking my head. Coming here wasn’t such a bad idea after all. I am genuinely having fun. I look around at my friends and colleagues, easily spotting Tami in her red dress. She cleverly came as the very first Black Barbie. She’s absolutely stunning in her long, glittery red gown with a side slit high on her thigh and long sleeves with openings along them. With that, she has a golden clutch, a heavy golden necklace, and her natural hair is styled into an afro.
She’s so pretty that I feel bad about my own costume, wishing I’d gone the sexy way instead of trying to be clever about it. But this was the best I could do in the short time I had, and I’m pretty proud of it.
As I approach her, I force myself not to look at the corner where Lex has been sitting all evening. True to himself, he isn’t wearing a costume and actually looks mighty serious in his dark blue suit. He even has a reddish tie, so I wonder why he’s so formal. Also, he’s wearing his old glasses for some reason—the thick-rimmed ones he keeps in his nightstand—and it’s messing with my head. It’s why I haven’t been drinking all night long. I can’t get drunk and risk spilling my guts to him, can I? Or worse, let someone know I used to tap that. Hard. Or I used to let him tap me hard.
“Hey, girl,” I greet Tami once I’m with her.
“So, who did you vote for?” she signs, excited.
Ah, shit. I definitely should have voted for my sweet and supportive roommate instead of Brian. But Mace got to me first, and I didn’t have a second to think.
“It’s anonymous,” I sign with what I hope is a sly smirk. “But just know I couldn’t resist helping a Black queen get a spa weekend.” Well, that’s not a lie…
She smiles and winks, and I do feel bad for the deception. I’m not being a very good friend right now. But maybe I can make it up to her by swaying someone else’s mind and making them vote for her.
That’s what I decide to do, fending the crowd in search of an amicable ear. When I end up by the bar, I can’t stop myself from checking the other end of it. I don’t know if I feel relief or disappointment when I notice Lex isn’t there anymore. Has he left already? I don’t know why I’m surprised. Last time, I practically had to drag him to the Kelex anniversary party, and he couldn’t leave soon enough.
Honestly, I kind of get it. I’m tempted to return home, slump down on the couch, and spend the evening watching some random channel. I’m already wearing the outfit I need for that, which is quite convenient.
When I can’t find anyone who’d vote for Tami for me, I step outside. A few people are out here, enjoying the fresh breeze or smoking a cigarette. God, it was hot in there. The cold air of late October feels great on my face.
Maybe I can take a few minutes to cool down before returning and continuing my quest. I sneak away from the Kelex crowd to lean against a wall a few steps away, seeking some quiet time. I close my eyes and rest my head against the cold brick, focusing on the muffled sounds from inside, the noise of the streets, my colleagues talking and having fun…
Being around people after isolating myself for almost a month is more overwhelming than I expected.
“Are you having fun?” asks a low, familiar voice to my left.
Of course… Of all the places he could be right now, it has to be right here.
My eyes whip open, and I look in the voice’s direction. A few feet away, Lex is leaning on the wall. He looks exhausted, his features tense, his shoulders slumped.
“Uh, yes. It’s a great party,” I answer, straightening up. His eyes scan me from behind his glasses, and I feel stupid for my costume choice. When people don’t get it, I just look like a slob. And there’s a high chance he has no idea who I’m supposed to be.
“I’ve been trying to guess what your costume is for the past hour,” he explains, confirming my worries.
His voice is a little off, his words slightly dragging, which is odd. When he pushes his tall body away from the wall to face me better, his moves lack their usual precision. He’s drunk. I’ve never seen him drunk before. Not even tipsy. He never allows himself enough alcohol to lose control.
He comes closer to me, and his assertiveness tells me he might still very much be in control, just a little off. He stops a few steps away, and I stay unmoving, wondering if this is a good idea.
“So, Andrea, what’s your costume?”
“It’s from a movie, The Big Lebowski . I’m ‘The Dude.’”
That somehow seems to amuse him as his lips twist into a grin. “Ah, I knew it would be some obscure reference.”
I almost smile at that. “It’s a very famous movie that millions of people have seen and loved.”
He frowns, perplexed. “Really? I’ve never heard of it before.”
I can barely hold back a laugh this time. “Lex, you’d never heard of Britney Spears before I brought her up. I could fill a library with all the things you don’t know.”
He chuckles softly and shakes his head. “Yeah, that’s true. Deep down, I’m just an idiot.”
The moment is weird, and even though I’m sober and can contain myself, he isn’t. I’m not sticking around to find out whatever inebriated thought he’ll spew out next. It sounds like a dangerous game where there’s no winner.
“Well, it’s good to see you’re sticking to your no-costume policy. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going back inside.” With that, I turn around and take a step toward the door .
“Actually, I tried this time. But I think I did it wrong. It’s too subtle,” he explains, piquing my curiosity.
I know I shouldn’t, but I take the bait and turn around, holding back a sigh. As my eyes glide over his familiar silhouette, I’m reminded of the muscular limbs under the fabric, the rippling abs on his stomach, the defined muscles of his arms… Fuck, I can almost remember the taste of his skin, the saltiness of it after sex, the way my soft shapes would mold against his strong body… I remember what it’s like to have him over me, the reassuring weight of him pressing me into the mattress, how handsome he looked as I straddled him with lustful enthusiasm…
As he waits for me to guess, I feel arousal take over my mind, tugging at my core, wetness pooling between my legs. I miss being intimate with him and how our bodies fit despite the height difference as he rammed into me with intensity. I’d give anything to experience all that again. To know passion in his arms one last time. To feel desired and wanted beyond reason.
Eager to put an end to this, I shrug my shoulders. I need to get away before I start begging for overdue breakup slex. “I don’t know. Are you younger Lex?” I ask, pointing at his old glasses.
The idea amuses him as a low chuckle imperceptibly shakes his shoulders. “Ah, that’s clever. But no, I’m not young me.”
“Then I don’t know.”
He throws his tie over his shoulder and undoes a few buttons on his shirt. His inebriated state slows his moves, but he manages, revealing something blue underneath. I’m not ready when he spreads his crisp white shirt open, revealing a large Superman “S” plastered on his broad chest.
My mouth dries up as he takes a heroic pose, looking afar. Holy shit. He’s Clark fucking Kent. This, right here, is a fantasy I’ve had of him from the very beginning. Fuck, I think I even had a wet dream about this at some point.
Mistaking the reason for my silence, Lex lets go of his shirt and looks at me with disappointment. “I’m Clark Kent,” he explains.
“Oh, I know. It’s… very fitting.”
“Yes, I thought you’d like it,” he agrees.
Wait, what’s that supposed to mean? Did he pick this for me? Why? I don’t have the time to overthink because he speaks again. “Well, I was supposed to come tonight to show I’m not a grumpy hermit—Kevin’s words, not mine.” He fishes his car keys from the front pocket of his pants and dangles them between us. “Mission accomplished, so I’ll head home. Enjoy the rest of your evening, Andrea.”
With that, he bows his head and turns around. I watch him walk away, wondering what the hell just happened. Given how distant he’s been, I was certain he was over us, but he picked a costume for me ? It doesn’t make any sense. I’m tempted to ask him to be honest and tell me what it means. Drunk as he is, I might get some answers.
Fuck! He’s drunk. He can’t drive.
I groan, feeling stupid for not realizing it sooner, and go after him, my sandals making it hard to not fall flat on my face. He’s reaching his car when I catch up.
“Lex, you can’t drive.” He twists around and frowns down at me, confused. “I mean… You’ve been drinking, so you shouldn’t drive.”
He shakes his head, stubborn. “I’m good. I can handle myself.” He clicks on the key to open the car, pushing the wrong button first, and then clicks again, effectively unlocking the doors. “I’m good, Walker. Go back to the party.”
He grabs the handle to open the door, but I slam it shut. “I’m serious, Lex. You could kill someone.”
After some inner struggle on his part, he gives in. Smart man.
“If you want, I can order you a cab or an Uber,” I offer.
“I was taught not to get into strangers’ cars,” he replies sarcastically.
I squint my eyes at him, not amused. “Then I’ll drive you home,” I reply in the same tone, only realizing too late what it means.