Mister Weston

Not only that, but the few occasions that I spent the night with him, I would catch him whispering in his sleep. It was always the same phrases over and over, “He lied to you, Jake, he lied to all of us,” “How do you sleep at night?” or, “Who are you here for?”

And every time that I attempted to ask him about it, he would look at me as if he had no idea what I was talking about. He would then, as always, distract me from the topic with his incomparable sex—rendering me completely useless for hours.

Sighing, I swung my feet across the ledge and shut the window. I walked over to the corner by my desk and picked up a handful of envelopes, prepared to force myself to at least face five of them, but a familiar sound suddenly came through the walls.

“Ohhhh goddd! Ohhh god! Yesss!!!” Meredith’s voice rang out loud and clear. “Yessss!” The walls shook harder and harder, and before I could grab my earbuds, my phone vibrated against my pocket. A text message from Jake.

JAKE: COME OVER. (USE the luxury cab. I’ll pay for it.)

I TOSSED THE ENVELOPES to the floor and grabbed my coat.

GATE B25

JAKE

JFK (New York)

AS THE EVENING CLOUDS gave way to an ashen grey sky, I stood on my balcony, watching Gillian sleep in my bedroom.

Whenever she spent the night with me, I noticed a pattern: No restless nights or stress if she was around. Even today, when my memories seemed hell bent on following me around, her very presence seemed to keep them at bay. Not only that, but anytime I was around her, there were remnants of feelings that came to life whenever she gave me a certain look.

When we kissed, I felt hints of emotions I once possessed. And after several meet-ups in cities all across the country, I wanted to deny that my attraction to her was more than skin deep. I wanted to deny that even though she was the exact type I should stay away from, I couldn’t seem to get close enough. She was getting under my skin, slipping into my marrow, and that was a problem.

Picking up my phone, I logged into my condo’s call log, stopping when I saw a new voicemail from an unfamiliar number. Helplessly hoping it was the one I’d waited years for, I typed the password into my system and let it play.

“One new message...” The system said before the familiar soft beep.

“Jake, it’s me...” It was the last person I wanted to hear again, Evan. “Jake, I really hate that you insist on rerouting all of our phone calls. It really hurts, and you never—”

“Stop.” I gritted my teeth as the message came to an end, scrolling past the new set of blocked numbers for Evan, Riley, and my father—the ten different ones they’d used this month.

As I added this new, unwelcome number to the list, a chill ran down my spine. It was a sudden reminder of how I’d been off track for the past weeks, how I’d lost focus and almost started to trust someone again.

Every person in my life, except one, had betrayed me at some point, or decided to take an opportunistic turn instead of remaining loyal, and I knew it was only a matter of time before Gillian did the same.

I walked back over to her as she slept and pulled the blanket across her body. I trailed my finger against her lips, making them curve into a sated smile, and then I took a pillow and a blanket to the couch.

I needed to stop whatever the hell this was turning into and return to what we were at the start. For both of our sakes.

GATE B26

JAKE

Madrid (MAD)

SUBJECT: HEY...

My parents (and family) are coming into town in a few weeks for that marriage proposal I told you about. We’ll both be in New York that weekend, and I was wondering if you wanted to be my date (casual...just casual) at dinner?

—Gillian

SUBJECT: RE: HEY...

This email is not about fucking.

—Jake

SUBJECT: RE: RE: HEY...

LOL. I’m aware. (Haven’t received one of those from you in awhile, so thank you for the laugh :-) ) Would you like to come, though? It might ease my nerves if you’re there...

—Gillian

SUBJECT: RE: RE: RE: Hey...

Why would I want to meet your parents, Gillian? Would you introduce me as the guy you’re fucking?

—Jake

SUBJECT: RE: RE: RE: Re: Hey...

I would introduce you as my friend.

—Gillian

SUBJECT: RE: RE: RE: Re: Re: Hey...

We’re not friends.

—Jake

SUBJECT: RE: RE: RE: Re: Re: Re: Hey...

Okay...Are you having a bad day or something? Something wrong?

—Gillian

SUBJECT: RE: RE: RE: Re: Re: Re: Re: Hey...

Jake? Are you there?

—Gillian

I DIDN’T ANSWER THAT thread. I started another.

SUBJECT: DALLAS.

Meet me at A21 Thursday.

—Jake

SUBJECT: RE: DALLAS.

I’m not meeting you anywhere until you tell me what the hell is wrong with you. What’s wrong, Jake?