Don't Tell (Don't 1)

My chest tightened. “Vaughn? Oh.”

Disappointment crested into confusion. I didn’t know what to say. It had been a week since I had made my one attempt to call him. His call was out of place.

“I guess you were expecting someone else.” His voice had a different weight to it, but I had been crying and nothing sounded the same.

“M-my brother, actually.”

“Everything all right?” he asked.

Nothing was all right. It hadn’t been for a long time. I didn’t think I could hold it together any longer. I was too upset about Garrett to sort through why Vaughn had called at this particular time.

“N-no,” I whispered. “Maybe we could talk another time.”

Whatever the instant connection I had felt to him was, it had unraveled over a week of silence. It couldn’t have meant the same to him as it did to me or I would have heard from him. I knew that much about men.

“Are you home?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Stay where you are. You don’t sound very good. I’m coming over.” His voice was confident and firm.

“You don’t have to do that. I’ll be fine.” I tried to sound stronger than anything that was a reality.

“I do. I wanted to talk to you, anyway. Tell you where I’ve been all week. I’ll be there in a few minutes. Ok?”

I nodded. “Ok.”

Vaughn hung up and I wondered what had prompted the call. What prompted me to let him back in? We had no ties. No commitments, but his sudden absence at the beginning was a clear sign. I hadn’t even mentioned him to Greer. We had one date. A second date was worth dissecting, but no call after a first date was not.

I had a history. A history of going for the wrong guy.

The unavailable and emotionally removed were my type. And no matter how many therapy sessions I attended, or journals I scribbled in, the type didn’t change.

I swore under my breath every time I wouldn’t make the mistake again. I’d assess the red flags from the beginning and if they were there, I’d end it. Somewhere in the past few days when I hadn’t heard from Vaughn I had made that decision.

It was a big city. Other than a phone number I didn’t know where he lived or where he worked. I could go the rest of my life and never see him again.

But he called.

I walked to the bedroom to assess the damage the crying had done to my makeup.

I splashed water on my face and started reapplying concealer and mascara. I stepped out of my suit and changed into a tank top and a pair of yoga pants. I didn’t bother with a bra. I returned to the deck with my glass of wine and sat to wait.

I left the sliding door open. When I heard Vaughn’s knock I paused for a minute. This was a man I had deemed a red flag. But I felt the rush of jitters in my stomach. I walked slowly, unlatched the lock, and opened the door.

“Hi.” He smiled.

“Hi.” I stepped back for him to walk inside. “Glass of wine?” I offered.

“Sounds good.”

He followed me to the deck.

I handed him a glass and he stepped to the edge of the roof, gazing down to the street. “I still can’t get over the fact that you two have this apartment.”

I nodded, guzzling the glass.

Vaughn on the roof did something to me. It was a big open space, but he captivated me in a way that should be a sin. I could think of nothing else than his lips or his strong hands. The way his shirt fitted the contours of his shoulders. I thought I had remembered those details, but something had happened in the past week. I had forgotten how gorgeous he was in person.