Seb
Dinner was halfway over, and Roxie still hadn’t looked at me. Not even once.
She mostly discussed food with Hallie and proposed a review, which reminded me of her childhood habit of photographing meals at restaurants. Even James’s lobster joke managed to make her laugh. But she acted as if I wasn’t there, as if ignoring me was a contest.
My knee grazed hers under the table, and she recoiled as if even the slightest touch from me was dangerous. The only time she’d bothered to look at me was shortly after we’d sat down when it was painfully obvious that Hallie and James were playing footsie under the table with each other.
But since then, nothing.
Fine. That was fine.
Let her ignore me.
I tried to keep my focus on the food, the wine, the burrata, and the shrimp scampi.
But the more Roxie ignored me, the harder it was for me to think of anything but her. It didn’t help that she was wearing a black dress with a neckline that dipped low enough I had to stop myself from choking on my second glass of scotch.
My brain felt like it was about to explode—too full of every thought of Roxie.
“My favorite place to pick up on conversations I can write about is in coffee shops around the West Village. I always overhear some juicy tidbits from a group of women on their way to a workout class,” Hallie was telling James.
Ah yes, she usually wrote the Overheard column.
That is, before she was tasked with her article series on looking for a man in finance.
I was still trying to get my head around how James was okay with that, showing up as a character in her work, albeit a mystery one.
But the way he hung on to her every word, written and spoken, told me he was more than happy to play his part.
“I’ve read a few of your pieces,” I told Hallie as the waiter came by to replenish our bread basket. “They’re whip-smart and quite funny.”
Hallie ducked her head slightly at the compliment. “Thanks, that means a lot. I’m assuming James probably sent you a few?”
“A man can’t enjoy a Sunday morning reading about which heels are the most comfortable on dates or what the best haircuts are for spring weather?” I asked her, feigning offense.
Roxie’s mouth curved upward a little, a barely there smile, as she reached for her wine, watching James and Hallie opposite us. Her deep burgundy lips were mesmerizing. In all our years apart, I’d never seen a smile that even came close to hers.
Her slender, graceful fingers held the glass stem. A smudge of lipstick stained the rim. I found my eyes drawn to the red stain, wishing it could be on my skin instead. I shook my head, trying to get rid of the thought.
Then it happened. Finally. Her beautiful eyes flickered upward, locking onto mine.
It lasted all of two seconds.
But it was long enough for me to know I was a goner.
I’d take any bit of attention she’d give me. And I’d do whatever it took to keep her eyes on mine. This weekend, and if I could manage it, beyond.
I saw a bit of the old Roxie when she smiled back at Hallie.
The person who fell asleep on my shoulder at a Fourth of July movie night.
Or the girl who, after being teased by other girls for constantly carrying a camera, intertwined her fingers with mine under the bleachers at our school, despite pretending she wasn’t affected by their sharp barbs.
My foot moved beneath the table before I could stop it. The side of my shoe brushed hers. She didn’t move. She didn’t acknowledge it, but she didn’t kick me away either.
Progress.
I leaned in slightly so she could hear me without cutting into Hallie and James’s conversation.
“If you really wanted me to believe you were ignoring me, you should probably move your foot off of mine.”
Her fork paused mid-air. Slowly, she placed it down. Lifted her wineglass again. Sipped. Then, she turned her head toward me, her eyes filled with a withering contempt that could make anyone crumble. But I’d always loved the passion in her eyes.
“I should’ve asked to sit on the other side of the table.”
“You still can. I’m sure Hallie wouldn’t mind,” I quipped. “But I’ll miss you when you’re gone.”
It was so easy to slip back into the way things used to be. To forget the history between us.
Roxie’s jaw flexed, sparks flying in her eyes again.
I braced for the snark. For her claws-out response that would cut just deep enough to make me bleed.
But she didn’t say a word.
Instead, she shifted in her seat, her foot disappearing from next to mine entirely as she squared her shoulders toward her friend and away from me.
Roxie didn’t speak to me again for the rest of dinner.
When we got back to the house after dinner, a jittery energy coursed through me. Everyone was tipsy. Laughing. Content.
Everyone except me.
I went straight to the liquor cabinet, my eyes darting over the bottles, searching for a drink that could numb the chaos in my mind. The cabinet was ridiculously full, with old labels and unusual blends. I opened the fridge next, just below the cabinet, deciding against hard liquor.
“Think I’m going to have a night cap,” I said casually, already pulling out two cold beers from the lower fridge just in case. “Roxie, care to join me?”
I braced for the eye roll. For a sharp reply. Or even a polite decline.
But she surprised me yet again.
She shrugged, acting like none of it mattered, despite our tense dinner. “Sure.”
A thrill coursed through me, though I kept my expression neutral when I heard the word.
Without another word, we slipped out through the back door, the cool night air hitting my face. Hallie and James murmured, their voices barely audible behind us, but I didn’t pay them any mind. All I could focus on was the sound of Roxie’s bare feet padding across the stone patio.
The pool shimmered beneath the moonlight, its surface like cut glass. We settled back into our lounge chairs, which were still slightly warm from the sun of the day. The clink of the bottles was the only sound as I passed her one and then twisted open my own.
For a moment, we drank in silence. No words. Just the hum of cicadas and the distant crash of waves from the beach beyond the dunes. Her eyes reflected the water. Her dress had ridden up a little, exposing more of those legs she’d been torturing me with all night.
“Nice night,” I said finally, because I was weak. I just wanted to hear her voice again.
She let out a soft huff. “Don’t try small talk with me, Sebastian.”
I turned my head to her, the beer cold against my palm. “Then what do you want?”
She was quiet for a moment as she stared out at the water.
Finally, she let out a sigh before she spoke.
“Honestly, I don’t know. I’ve spent all these years trying my best to forget you.
When I made it to NYU, I dreamed about what I’d say to you if I ever saw you again.
But then, I stopped thinking about you altogether. ”
I didn’t flinch, at least not outwardly. Her casual, unbothered words, which made forgetting me seem as simple as deleting a contact, left me gasping for breath.
Stopped thinking about you altogether.
God, that was worse than if she’d said she hated me. At least hate meant she still felt something.
I stared down at the bottle of beer in my hand. The label was peeling from the condensation, and I did my best to focus on that instead of the way my insides ached.
My own stupidity, stemming from raging teenage hormones, had rerouted the direction of her life.
It was the pain I’d caused her that was the sharpest, even though its sting was precisely what I had aimed for at the time.
Seeing the outcome now made me wish I’d made different choices at seventeen.
That I’d never gone to her grandfather and told him Roxie’s most guarded secrets.
I’d turned my back on her because I had been jealous.
I knew that now. Actually, I’d known it for a long time.
I just never thought I’d have the chance to make it right.
“I guess I deserve that,” I said finally.
“No. You deserve worse,” Roxie said, her voice sharp. Then, as if she couldn’t hold the bite for long, she added quietly, “But I don’t have the energy to start hating you again. I forgot how exhausting it is.”
I’d had enough after a few moments of us being silent.
It was time for us to put the past behind us.
Given Hallie and James’s blooming relationship, there was a good chance we were going to be spending more time together.
If I didn’t have a chance with her romantically, no matter how I felt about her, I at least wanted things to be civil between us. And that meant we needed to talk.
“I never intended everything to happen the way that it did,” I said, still not looking at her.
If I did, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to get the rest of what I wanted to say out.
“I was jealous and hurt. Hell, I know that’s not a good excuse for what I did.
I just wanted to get back at you, but I know what I did hit you ten times harder than what you did to me. ”
“What I did to you?” Confusion colored Roxie’s voice as she asked the question. “What the hell did I do to you?”
I finally turned to look at her. She couldn’t possibly be serious. She couldn’t possibly have forgotten one of the most pivotal moments in my life. All the years of pent-up anger I had for her suddenly teetered on the edge of meaning nothing.
“That party the summer before we were meant to go to college, the one at that senator’s house further up the island. His son sent out a blast about having a free house, and we decided to go with our friends?”
Roxie nodded. “I remember that party. You disappeared about an hour into it, and that was the last time we were … us.”
There was so much history loaded in that last word. But Roxie remained completely silent about what she’d done with that guy when she thought I couldn’t see.
I stared at her. My teeth pressed together, and I felt the strain build in my jaw.
“You’re really not going to mention him?” I asked.