From the Inside Out: The Compilation (Scorned, Jealousy, Dylan, Austin) (39 page)

I’m in the office an hour later. I don’t have any messages from her, but I do from Jacqueline wanting to go over the latest financial reports. It’s the middle of the night in America, so I can’t talk to her until the afternoon sometime. I get lost in papers and reports, suggestions for tightening up expenditures in the South American markets.

During my late lunch, I stare out the window, eating mindlessly. Food has lost flavor, my motivation for work shifting as well. It used to be easy before Jules came along. I worked.
A lot.
I played.
A little.
I got by, not content, but moving forward, my work dictating my direction. That changed with a chance encounter in an elevator and spending time with her at a pub. For me, she finally broke her own rule of not dating clients, but maybe we were only meant to be for a brief time. Maybe she was right and she’s too damaged to love me the way I love her.

My phone rings, and I glance toward it. With half my lunch still untouched on the desk in front of me, I answer and hear, “Austin, good afternoon, it’s Jacqueline.”

“Hello, how are you?”

“Well, and you?”

Avoiding the question, I say, “I looked over the report you sent. I have few questions.”

“Great. Is now a good time to go over it?”

“Yes.”

“Before we get started, I wanted to let you know that Dylan Somers has stepped down from your account. His workload and other clients were not permitting him to stay on top of the requirements needed for your company. We want you to have the best team in place, but we agreed for the sake of quality and accountability. On the plus side, I have freed up my client list to focus fully on your account.”

“Thank you,” I reply, feeling my jaw tighten just from the mere mention of Dylan. “Shall we go over the reports now?”

“Yes…”

I spend the next forty-five minutes looking at financial reports and forecasts for the first quarter of next year with her.

When we’re wrapping it up, she asks, “Business keeping you in London for much longer?”

Business?
No.
Personal.
Yes.
“I’ll be here another week or so.”

“That’s too bad. I was hoping we could do lunch or a drink and catch up sooner.” My pause must make her anxious because she adds, “Anyway, maybe when you return.”

“Oh, um, yeah, maybe when I return,” I say. “Thanks for the update and make sure to go over everything with my CFO. We’ll be in touch soon, Jacqueline.”

“You’re welcome. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye.” When I hang up the call, I lean back in my chair, lifting my feet up onto my desk. The Gherkin building stands spiraling outside my window and I follow the lines. I’m reminded of Jules’ body and the times I would run my hand from her breasts down her side to the dip of her waist and over the curvature of her hip. Sex with her was phenomenal. For someone with so many walls built up, she had none when it was the two of us alone. She made me feel something more significant than the sex itself, something I hadn’t felt in a long time.

Christina is the only other woman who has done that…

We were young. Too young. Everyone always said that, trying to convince me that our love was meant to burn out. I don’t know if I believe them or not, but I try to as if it will justify why things happened the way they did. It’s easier not to think of her. The last time I saw her flashes through my head and I stand up abruptly, wanting the image to go away. “Sophie?” I call to my secretary. “Call for my car and cancel my four o’clock.”

Rushing out the door, I hear her say, “Yes, Sir,” as I pass.

The car is at the curb waiting for me when I reach the sidewalk. I hurry inside and am driven straight home. I waste no time throwing on my workout clothes. I’m on the street running shortly after. It looks like it’s going to rain, but I need this release. I run with speed, trying to wear my mind out as much as my body. I reach Hyde Park in record time. I cut down the path and through the park just as the rain begins. No sprinkles today. The heavy drops cover me, coating my outside while I wish it could do the same to my insides as flashes from a once buried memory come back to haunt me…

Christina lay on the bed—perfect and beautiful, like she always looked. She wore the garnet earrings I had given her just that Christmas. It was her birthstone. She usually wore pastel colors, but she started wearing clothes in the same shade of red just to match the earrings. “I love them, Austin,” she said every time she wore them. It was the most expensive jewelry she owned and the most expensive I had bought. Two hundred dollars that I had saved in increments of twenty from each paycheck. It was all I could afford to set aside. We were nineteen and in college, both of us living off loans and part time jobs at the local sandwich shop. Christina was naturally smart, never having to study, which was the opposite of me. I worked for every A I got. She was carefree, but not frivolous, possessing an enthusiasm for life that most would never appreciate. I did though. She brought out the best in me, made me see life in a new way.

She once told me that she saw me doing great things in life and I was naïve enough to think she would be there with me…

I stop at the edge of the water near a bench, bending over to catch my breath that puffs like smoke before me. I sit on the bench, then lie down letting the rain hit my face, drenching me, taking me back, hoping it can save me somehow. Closing my eyes, every drop reminds me of Jules’ tears. I should be angrier, but with each day that passes, my anger morphs into a weaker version of itself. She’s temptation at its finest. I drape my arm over my eyes and let the pain wash over me.

Opening my mouth, I catch the rain, swallowing before sitting up and taking off again. Weakness is not what Christina or Jules were attracted to, so I refuse to become less of who I am, running home and taking the longer route to push myself.

A WEEK AND
a half later, I hadn’t given in. I didn’t want to. I thought about calling Jules, emailing her, texting her, but I didn’t. She didn’t either. I’ve been left to assume she and Dylan are together. And yet, I can’t seem to stop thinking about her and what went wrong and when? Sitting at a pub, I watch people—men, women, couples as they come and go, drink, get drunk, go from quiet to loud, the alcohol determining their tone. I finish my second beer, pushing away the fish and chips that remain in the basket in front of me, then look out the window.

“Hello.”

Turning, I see a pretty blue-eyed blonde standing there smiling at me. Her accent is clean.

“Hello,” I reply.

“Sorry to bother you, but my friends have a bet going.” She’s flirting.

“Oh really? And what might that be?”

“You’re American?”

“Yes.” I signal to the seat on the bench next to me. “Would you like to join me?”

“Yes, I would. Thank you.” She sits and then tilts her head just slightly to the side.

“So what’s this bet about?” I ask.

“If you’re single. You don’t wear a ring, you’re dressed nicely, handsome.” I smile as I listen to her continue, “So this may sound silly, but you seem to be a rare breed in London if you are indeed single.”

“Are you asking for you or to win the bet?”

She pauses, then smiles. “Both.”

“What’s at stake?”

“Two hearts and a round of drinks.”

“I’m single, but my heart stayed behind,” I reply before taking a long pull of beer.

She sits upright and taps my forearm. “Are you always this honest?”

“There’s an art to flirting that I’m not very good at. So I err on the side of being direct.”

Amused, she giggles, then looks briefly back to her friends who are staring at us. “Honesty can be called a rare breed as well. Are you in London on business or pleasure?”

“Was it for business or pleasure when you bet on me?”

“Touché.” Adjusting to sit back, making herself more comfortable, she says, “I’ve been rude. My name is Louise. No jokes please,” she says, holding her hands up in surrender. “It’s a family name.”

“I would never mock someone’s name.” A small, but genuine smile shows she believes me. I offer, “Would you like a drink?”

“Yes. A beer would be lovely.”

I get the waitress’s attention and order a pitcher and two glasses.

When we’re alone again, Louise says, “To answer your question, both.”

“So I’m both business and pleasure to you?”

With a laugh, she replies, “I take bets very seriously.”

“So what do I have to do for you to win?”

“Kiss me.”

I do a double take. “Just like that. You walk over here and kiss a single, non ring wearing, nicely dressed, handsome, but total stranger and you win?”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” I say, moving closer. We look into each other’s eyes and I touch her cheek. Her breath shortens and the smile is gone. When I get even closer, her eyes close and I close mine, leaning in. Just before our lips meet, I reopen my eyes and slide back abruptly. “I’m sorry.” I gulp. “I can’t kiss you.” I refuse to betray Jules like she did me.

“You really did leave your heart with someone else.” She looks stunned. I’m sure this is a first for her.

“I did. As for the bet, your group’s drinks are on me tonight. I’ll make sure the waitress knows.”

Staring at me a moment longer, I expect a comment rooted from her rejection. But instead, she collects herself and says, “She’s a lucky girl.” Standing up, she adds, “Thank you for the drinks.”

“You’re welcome. Have a good night.”

Minutes later, I pay my tab and set up Louise and her friend’s drinks to be added later, and leave. When I walk into my apartment, I head straight for the shower. As the water pummels down on me, I mentally reprimand myself for being an idiot. I had a beautiful woman hitting on me, making it pretty damn obvious that she was into me, and I think of Jules.

“Turn over.” Not asking.

Jules lifts up, her eyes locked on mine, the devil inside them. She likes when I fuck her from behind. I like it, so we both move swiftly. Her long, dark hair drapes over her shoulders revealing the curve of her neck and the enticing line of her back. I push into her, my eyes closing as I let her engulf me body and soul.

This feeling of ecstasy wraps my mind up in all that’s her—her hazel eyes that brighten when she sees me, her hair as it tumbles from a style that kept it confined all night, and the way she likes to pleasure me first, then comes when I do. We’re great together and I think about attaching myself to her more than sexually. I want her, all of her as my own, wanting to possess her in ways I’ve never felt before.

As I dry off, I realize I’m fucked up. She has my insides twisted and my mind conflicted. After putting on a pair of boxers, I climb into bed and pick up my phone to look at pictures and check for texts. A missed call takes me by surprise, a voicemail beeping to be heard. After taking a jagged, deep breath, I listen to the message Jules left, “Austin, please call me.”

It takes me another week before I finally do.

WHEN I SEE
Austin’s name flash on my phone screen, I answer quickly, “Hello?”

“Hi. It’s me.”

I get up immediately and shut my office door. A bit nervous, I say, whispering, “Austin, I’m so sorry.” I try to stop the tremble in my voice. “I want to see you. Where are you?”

“I’m still in London.”

Disappointment fills me. Trying to regain my composure, I ask, “How are you?”

There’s a short pause, then he says, “I’m okay. Maybe not as good as I should be.”

I gulp from hearing his voice. It’s deep, somewhat withdrawn. Not the voice I know at all, but I’ll happily take what I can get. “Me either, but I guess I deserve it.”

“Sometimes I wonder what we deserve and who decides. Just something I’ve been thinking about lately.”

“Yeah, do we choose our own fate or it is predetermined?”

“I get mad at myself for missing you, Jules.” His confession hurts my heart when it should make me feel good.

“I’m mad at myself for so much more.”

I hear him sigh into the receiver, making me remember how his breath felt against my skin. He whispers, “Why did you call?”