Lost in Us (35 page)

"I just… I did it on a whim," I mumble, "and then didn't know how to get out of the whole thing."

"Why didn't you just tell me the truth?"

"I was ashamed, I guess."

"Well, don't be next time. I like to think we're friends.” I snap my head up because his tone takes me by surprise. It's no longer reprimanding. It's playful. The ear-to-ear grin matches it perfectly. Right now, he looks more like James than ever.

"We are," I say.

"Come on, let's grab something to eat. I'm famished."

My stomach protests in a loud grumble at the word famished. "So am I, it seems." I chuckle.

Parker opens the glass door and I step inside. It immediately becomes apparent that our group occupies the entire place. The place is posh, all right. I haven't been here before, but I saw it in one of Jess's magazines. It looks as sleek as it did in the photographs—the white marble floor, simple wooden tables, and violet-cushioned chairs give the place a very royal air. The only difference from the photographs is that the small tables aren't scattered around, but arranged in four long tables, two at the front and two at the back. It's a tad too chilly, thanks to the air conditioning. But it smells heavenly. Of coffee, sugar, and cinnamon. There is a glass of untouched champagne in front of everyone. I look for empty chairs and find a few at the second table on the right. I quickly locate Ralph a few seats away, with Ana next to him, who couldn't look unhappier. I decide to search for a chair at another table. With a jolt in my heart, I spot two empty seats elsewhere: one next to James, one in front of him. Parker elbows me, nodding in James's direction.

Parker starts toward the seat opposite James, but I whisk in front of him, walking to that seat with a determined strides. Parker shakes his head slightly then proceeds to sit next to James. I couldn't bear sitting next to James the entire time. But sitting in front of him isn't much better. He fixes me with his gaze the second I slump in my seat. I pretend not to notice, smiling at my neighbors as I introduce myself to them—Nadine, to my left and Tom, to my right. But I can feel James's gaze on me, and I wonder if he's going to keep this game going the entire time we're here. My cheeks are burning already. I don't want my whole body to be ablaze by the time we leave this place. 

"So you were waiting for us to toast?" Parker says, raising the glass of champagne in front of him.

"Exactly," James answers, not taking his eyes off me. I raise my glass too. Relief floods me when James rises from his seat. "Everyone, thank you a lot for all your effort last night. It was really more than I could ask of anyone. Special thanks goes to our hero, David," he points his glass to the table at the back where Ralph sits. The black-haired guy with glasses who found the bug is there too, blushing furiously as everyone starts to applaud.

"I need to order something to eat, like, right now," Parker says, and snatches one leather-bound menu from the heaps of menus at the center of the table. I follow suit, and in the next half an hour or so everyone is busy ordering and then devouring their order. I finish my chocolate pancakes in record time then drink an elephant-sized cup of coffee.

I skillfully avoid even glancing in James's direction this entire time, and thankfully, once he starts talking to other people, his gaze drifts from me. I listen to Nadine's story of her job search, which sounds a lot like mine, the only difference being that she's looking for a job as a programmer. Lots of applications, dismal performances in interviews; it's nice to know I'm not the only one with a chronic inability to bullshit my way through interviews. I tell her she will find a job eventually, that if it all worked out for me, then for sure it will work out for her. Parker overhears us and tells her they are looking for interns, and her helping them out last night more than qualifies her for the internship. Nadine's eyes lighten up so brightly I think she might kiss Parker out of sheer joy and relief. 

"So, Serena," Parker says to me, "I never got to congratulate you on your job offer in San Francisco."

I blush. Parker would know all about the nightmare that has been my job search. I drove him crazy all those days he wandered around with me after Jess got out of the hospital and we found out the mess she was in. 

"What happened with your interview in New York?" he asks. "Did you hear back?"

I bite my lip. I didn't want to say anything about New York, but now that he brought it up I can't downright lie to him. I peek at James, who's discussing something with my other neighbor, Tom, and gesticulating energetically. But I know he's paying attention to what Parker and I are saying. "I've actually gotten a job offer in New York." Since I'm going down the path of truth, I might as well spit everything out. "I'm flying there tonight, and will look at apartments tomorrow."

James's arms freeze in the air for a second, and he breaks off mid-sentence. Then he starts talking to Tom again, as if nothing happened.

Parker looks crestfallen, his mouth hanging slightly open. "So you accepted the job offer?" I can understand his confusion, since I always claimed I applied everywhere to keep my options open, but that I really want to stay in San Francisco. 

“Yes.”

James drops all pretense of not eavesdropping on our conversation. "I thought you wanted to work in San Francisco." His voice drips with accusation.

"I did."

"So why the sudden change now?" James asks.

"Nothing beats having a Wall Street bank on my CV," I say weakly.

Not that it's not true. I knew that all along when I sent applications, but I also knew that Wall Street banks were so competitive, I never thought I'd get in. Still, I know that that's not the only reason I accepted the job. And I think James knows it too.

"You are right, Parker," James says in a glacial tone that rips through me. "Congratulations are in order. Should we order another glass of champagne?"

"That won't be necessary," I say quickly.

His eyes don't match the cold tone. Something else lingers behind the blue in them. Something worse. Hurt. So deep and so intense that it smolders its way into me, enveloping me in a veil woven of guilt and regret.

"I propose that we finish off our breakfast and then go get some sleep," Parker jumps in, looking wearily from James to me. "I already told everyone from the office they can take the day off."

James scoffs, then his lips curl into a grin as he turns to Parker, breaking off eye contact. I let out a breath of relief; I hadn't even realized I was holding in my breath. I lower my gaze to my empty plate, tracing the contour where my pancake was with my fork.

"And I already told them that sleep is overvalued," James says. "I organized an outdoor day for the entire team and everyone else who helped."

"Oh," Parker says in surprise. "But everyone is so tired." 

On my left and right, both Nadine and David sit up straight. I have a hunch they, too, think that sleep is overrated.

James grins. "Trust me, what I planned will shake them up for sure." He stands up and clears his throat. "Everyone, listen up. Two buses will arrive in about ten minutes. If you're up for some well-deserved fun, make sure you get on one." His voice vibrates with excitement and the promise of an adventure. I'm tempted to look up and check whether his eyes glint with the same excitement, but I'm afraid the flare of pain still lingers in them. It didn't look like the kind of pain that can be wiped out by the mere prospect of mindless fun.

"Hell yeah," someone chants and others cheer as well.

"I hope they hire me after the internship. They sound like so much fun to work with," Nadine whispers only for me to hear, and I launch into another discussion about jobs with her, glad to have a legitimate excuse to avoid looking at James. No one asks James where the buses will take them or what the plan for the day is as they down the last drops of coffee and gobble the few bites of breakfast left on their plates. The promise of fun seems enough for them to want to go. If I'm honest, even
I
would want to go. But I know better. The buses arrive shortly afterward, pulling in front of the restaurant.

In the mayhem that ensues, I leave the restaurant along with everyone else, as James pays the tab. Outside I squeeze my eyes shut because the sun is already high, blinding and burning me. The first breath of hot air sets my lungs on fire. Two lines form in front of the two buses. But I don't plan on getting on either of the buses. Instead, I head off along the street, hoping to find a cab before anyone realizes what I'm up to. I risk a glance over my shoulder. James is nowhere to be seen among the crowd in front of the buses. Parker is there, and with a pang, I realize I haven't said goodbye to him.

It's cowardly of me to take off like this, but I know this is the easiest way. No goodbyes, no more paralyzing, shattering stares. A burning sensation starts behind my eyelids that I know precedes tears, but I try to ignore it, as well as the painful knot in my throat. I have to ignore them, at least until I get away from here. When I'm at a considerable distance from the buses, I start looking for a cab. None in sight, of course. Just my luck. I decide to walk until I find one, though I'd like nothing better than to seek refuge in one of the air-conditioned shops I'm passing. I'm sweating already. I stop at a cart to buy some water, because as usual, I had too much coffee and not enough water, and between that, the heat and the effort of not crying, my throat is so dry that every breath feels like swallowing a handful of razors.

"Water, please," I tell the vendor.

After he hands me a cold plastic bottle, I walk a few feet and then step into a very narrow side street. It's a little cooler in here, thanks to the draft forming between the two concrete buildings. I pinch my nose as the stench of trash reaches me. Sure enough, I spot some dumpsters at the other end of the street.

I lean on the wall, hoping to find some relief from the heat, but the wall isn't as cool as I want it to be. I open the bottle and take a sip, closing my eyes. The cold liquid calms my throat, like a balm, and crushes the razors. But I know the razors will come back before long, not to attack my throat, but my heart and my core. All of me. Tears burn at the inner corner of my eyes as it all sinks in. That was the last time I saw James. Heard his voice, gazed into his smoldering, blue eyes. His image plays behind my closed eyes, and I can't help but smile. I could stay forever like this. In my mind, there are no cold stares and harsh words. There are no words at all. He's smiling and his eyes have that playful twinkle that drives me crazy. The smell of him lingers on me, and I wonder how this is possible. I hadn't been near him more than ten minutes, and that was hours ago. Perhaps his smell imprinted in my memory.

Or perhaps not.

"So first you drop the bomb and then sneak off?"

I jump so fast that I drop the cold bottle from my hands. "Damn it," I curse as I launch forward to catch the bottle in a lousy reenactment of a high-wire artist. I catch it as it almost hits the ground. Taking a deep breath, I stand up. James stands not two inches in front of me, every bit the anti-image of what I'd built in my daydream. His lips aren't curled into a smile. They're pressed together in a harsh line of disappointment and frustration. A hell of a match for the hurt in his eyes. 

He presses his hands on the wall behind me, caging me in on my left and my right, leaving no way out. He's too close to me. Far too close. "I never took you for a coward," he says.

"Then I guess you don't know me well enough," I mumble, wishing he'd show me a whit of mercy and distance himself from me. The scent of his skin and his warm breath on me are almost too much to bear now that I had begun struggling to put up bars and chains all around me to protect me from his absence.

"I know you well enough to know that you want to move to New York to get away from me."

"I don't—"

"Is that how much you hate me, Serena?" He takes a step back, his arms hovering in the air, amplifying his horrible, slashing question. 

"I don't hate you," I answer, stricken. "I could never hate you."

"Then why does it feel that way?" His arms fall by his side. "Like I forced you to do something you hate and you couldn't wait for the right moment to run away?"

"I wasn't running away. I just decided it'd be easier if I left without any goodbyes."

He lowers his head, shaking it slightly. When he looks up again, my heart gives a jolt. A hint of a smile illuminates his features. It's not reflected in his eyes, but still it's a smile. A much better parting image than the one I had before. "Well that was one piss-poor idea."

"I thought you might say something like that." I smile back. "Hence the sneaking off. Besides, I really need to get going. I've got a ton of things to do before leaving."

He frowns. "You seriously—"

"I'm not leaving because of you, James."

"Really?"

"Really," I say, looking away from him, certain he will guess the truth if I don't.

"Then you won't have anything against joining me and the others for the rest of the day."

I fix my gaze on the dumpsters at the end of the street. "I told you, I have things to do before I go to New York."

"When is your flight?"

I bite my lip. "Eleven o’clock tonight."

"What can you possibly have to do that will take you the whole day? It's not like you're moving right now. Are you?" he asks, his voice shaking. I'm not sure if with uncertainty or distrust. I wouldn't blame him if it were the latter. After all, I did give him an array of reasons to distrust me in the past half hour alone.

"Of course not. I still have one month until graduation."

"You remember the last time we were like this, among dumpsters?"

"How could I forget?" I ask weakly. "It's where we had our first reunion, before leaving for the chocolate factory."

"I'm sorry I couldn't keep the promise I made you that night. I'm sorry I hurt you again. I didn't mean to. I wanted to fix everything at Royal Garden, and I only managed to fuck it up even more. I don't know how to be around you without hurting you." He pauses, his eyes now the color of the clear sky above us, scathing me, sending shivers of ice and fire through me. "I'm sorry I'm too messed up to tell you what you need to hear."