Desperate to Touch

“Way to give me a fucking heart attack,” I reprimand him although I don’t have the energy to speak loud enough for him to hear me.

I’m still inwardly calming myself when Seth comes into view, closing the door behind him.

“I made myself a key,” he comments, holding up the shiny silver piece in his hand and then letting it fall, clanging with the other keys on the ring. It takes me a minute to respond. I’m too caught up in how he’s dressed. There’s no suit today, only faded jeans and a black t-shirt. Simple and yet everything I remember. Running his hand over the back of his head, he ruffles his hair before tossing the keys down on the counter… right next to mine.

The memories come back. Memories of how we used to do just that and it never felt wrong or off or confusing. Not like it does now.

“Of course you made yourself a key… I’d ask how, but…” I leave the thought unfinished and lean back into the sofa, gathering the throw blanket to pull over myself.

“You look good,” I tell him offhandedly. Seth looks down at himself and then back at me. I cut him off before he can say a damn word. “I look like hell because that’s how I feel.”

“Long day?” he asks and stalks into the living room. Stalking is exactly how he goes about it too. Careful steps as he eyes my loft.

“Yeah,” I answer him and then watch him. “Like what you see?” I ask and my tone hints at how pissed off I am. It’s late, I’m tired, and he’s come here unannounced.

“Twentieth floor loft with floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the park,” Seth says and glances outside, but it’s so dark that you can’t really see a damn thing. He has to pull back the thick curtains and stare for a second and then another until he concludes the same thing.

As he takes a casual seat in the dusty rose velvet chair across from me, I tell him, “Never thought of myself as a city girl but when I moved here… I wanted a change.”

I mindlessly pick at the throw blanket, as if there are little fuzzes to be plucked but there aren’t.

“Dyed your hair, got your dream job and an upscale place,” Seth speaks and looks anywhere but at me.

“Hey, a girl who changes her hair is a girl who’s changing her life.” Why does it hurt so much to say a simple quote? Is it the unspoken judgment Seth reeks of? Or is it the shame that I did just that: I ran away and changed my life.

“You’re still the same girl,” Seth comments and leans forward in the small chair. With his elbows on his knees he asks me, “You like it here?”

“Yeah,” I answer him honestly. “It’s small, but I like it a lot.”

He only nods, leaning back in the chair and I have to let out a long yawn. Seth looks so out of place in here. My décor is feminine and chic. His rough edges and masculinity stand out in this room. They’d stand out anywhere though.

He’s busy staring at the flowers and that’s when I remember he didn’t answer my text. “Hey, the number you messaged me with the other day… that’s yours, right?” I ask him and he nods once. “I um… thank you for the flowers.”

“I got your text,” he answers and that hard lump in my chest grows. He stands from the chair and walks past me to the kitchen. I don’t bother to look and I’m not surprised when I hear the sound of the fridge opening.

“Make yourself at home.” My comment is complete with a full-on eye roll and then I lay my head back, resting my eyes.

“You want a drink, Babygirl?” Seth asks and I tell him no.

“If I have one, I’ll pass out,” I say.

When he comes back empty-handed I tell him he’s welcome to whatever he wants and that I was just joking, but he shakes his head, slipping his hands into his jeans.

“If I’d known you were coming, I’d have gotten you IPA.” I hint at the reason I’m a little miffed.

“See,” he says as he gives me a weak smile, “same girl.”

The way he looks at me melts something inside that hurts. Something that’s not meant to burn. “Not all the same,” I murmur, pulling my legs into my chest. I’ve fallen asleep here too many times to count. Work’s draining and the long shifts are hard on me some days.

Days like today.

“They remind me of the flowers I got you,” he says as he steps slowly toward them and pauses to observe the bouquet.

“They are them.” I can practically hear the simper that lingers on my lips in my voice when I tell Seth, “I’d never forget.