Second Chance

A low groan of satisfaction rumbles from the back of my throat as I imagine her like she was the other night, laid out for me and bared to me in every way. I’ll never have my fill of her.

The memory vanishes as I take in my empty room and have to swallow the fact that she isn’t here; she wasn’t on set and I have no fucking clue where she is.

I don’t like it. It’s none of my damn business, but that’s the very reason I don’t like it. I don’t have a claim to her and the instability between us makes me cling to her … and usually her to me.

I’m quick as I unbutton the shirt completely, feeling suffocated by the crisp linen for the first time all day. I toss it carelessly on the floor and swing the door open on the armoire, looking for a plain cotton t-shirt and sweats to change into. I need a shower first though, something to relax me.

I need Hally.

It’s when I toss the change of clothes across the room and onto my bed that I see what’s changed in the dressing room.

Another article sits dead center on the coffee table. Right where Mark leaves my schedule every day.

I don’t give a shit what it’s about or what it says, since I’m sure Mark will tell me regardless, but the picture is enough to make me pick it up.

The memories come back to me as I stare down at an old picture of us, although I don’t know how they got it. It’s of us in school, in the cafeteria. Maybe a photo shoot from the yearbook, I don’t know. But she’s so happy sitting next to me. What’s more is the smile on my face. She made me so happy. No one can deny that.

* * *

November 30

* * *

“I’ll see you after class,” I tell Hally and kiss the side of her head quickly, letting her waist go and watching everyone else file into class.

I’m supposed to be down the east hall for gym, but I like walking her here to the north hall for her algebra class. It’s a little more time to hold her, to hear her babble about whatever’s on her mind. I don’t have to say shit; just being with her is enough to make her happy. And that alone makes me happy.

“I love you,” she tells me, gripping onto my one hand with both of hers.

I haven’t told her how I feel since that night, our first night.

I almost tell her I love her out of pure instinct, but it’s hard to say the words. They lose their meaning when you say it too much. If my parents’ split taught me anything, it’s just that. I won’t waste them in between classes and throw them around so easily. I’ll show her how I feel, that matters more anyway.

“You make me so happy,” I tell her and then feel like a dick. It’s the truth, but she wants more.

“Please,” she says and looks at me with a pleading expression in her eyes and I let out a sigh. “I just want to hear it,” she tells me. I hate the hurt look on her face.

I give her a smile, the one she wants and bend down close to her ear, brushing her hair away and whisper, “I love you.”

It makes her smile and then she gives me a quick peck on the cheek before running into her class. That’s enough to keep the trace of happiness on my face, but it’s not what I feel deep inside.

It’s like I’m pretending to be someone else when I’m with her.

The bell rings as the thought hits me, and I turn to find myself alone in the hallway and late for class.

This version of me is someone I want to be. Someone not afraid to tell her what she wants to hear. They’re just words anyway.

But it’s not who I really am.

* * *

“Finally,” I hear Mark before I see him, turning around with the article still in my hand. My heart races as if he’d caught me back then, lying to myself and to her and trying to be someone I wasn’t.

“We have to talk,” Mark says, shutting the door and I take the moment to release a breath I didn’t know I was holding and toss the article onto the desk.

“Have a seat,” Mark says and it catches me off guard. That sickness comes back to me as I pull out the chair from the vanity and he takes a seat opposite, dragging the chair for the desk over to me and quickly sitting down.

With his elbows on his knees and his fingers laced together, his thumbs tap against one another as he talks. It’s a nervous habit I’ve noticed he has.