Like You to Me

A shrill, repetitive beeping caused me to wake up with a start. I clutched at my chest, trying to stop the erratic pattern my heart had begun beating in, and glanced over at Mike. He could sleep through a goddamn tornado; my alarm didn’t even make him stir. Neither did my sudden movements. I groaned and threw my body backwards, back onto the array of pillows. During the night I had wound up on the outside of the couch. Mike had buried himself between the cushions and the back. He looked absolutely ridiculous: his head was hidden underneath a pillow, one of his legs was strewn over the back of the couch and his arm was dangling over the arm. I rolled my eyes at the sight of him.

“Mike.” I grabbed onto his shoulder and gently shook him. “Mike, wake up.”

“What time is it?” He grumbled, not bothering to take his head out from where it was. I could tell he was hungover. After a night of such heavy drinking I would’ve been shocked if he wasn’t.

“Nine,” I answered. “I have to go to the shoot. Are you coming with me or are you staying here?”

“Do you have coffee?”

“Of course I have-”

“Then I’m staying.”

I mumbled an angst-filled whatever before throwing the blankets off of my legs and trudging to the bathroom. Exhaustion overtook every limb in my body and it took every bit of strength I had to force myself in the shower. The warm water didn’t help at all. All it did was make me even more tired. I longed for a few good hours of sleep in my own bed where I wasn’t crammed on a couch with barely enough room to exhale. On top of that, Mike snored. He snored so loudly it took me a few hours to fall asleep and, once I finally did, I was awoken every time a particularly loud one occurred.

My back was screaming in pain. Photo shoots were definitely my least favorite part of owning a clothing line. I much rather would’ve been behind the camera, directing it or playing dress-up with whoever was dumb enough to let me take their picture. I guess it would’ve made me look bad if I didn’t take pictures in my own clothes, though, like I didn’t stand by my designs. At least that’s what Adele said, and she was always right about everything. That’s why I’d hired her; I wouldn’t have been able to run my business without her.

Adele Bauer was my lifeline when it came to Nova. Her brother, Darby, was in my brother’s band. That’s how I met her. She was attending a community college at the time as a business major but had no real direction in mind or longterm goals established. We got to talking one day and the rest was history. Without her and her brilliant ideas I would’ve never made it as far as I had. It was her idea to get my brother and his bandmates involved. They’d gained a decent-sized fan base by the time I launched Nova and it was her idea to sell the t-shirts at the boys’ shows.

My brother’s band was a pretty big deal in San Diego. They hadn’t caught on quite as quickly everywhere else but they were well on their way. As much as Saxon, my brother, and I didn’t get along when we were in our awkward teenage years, we were as close as we could be after I turned nineteen. He was younger than me by a year and a half and it wasn’t until he turned eighteen that his band finally started getting somewhere. He’d been in bands all throughout high school but none of them really seemed to stick. However, when he met Darby, everything afterwards seemed to fall into place. They started booking shows out of town, started getting recognized when they’d go out in public, and Saxon signed his first autograph on his nineteenth birthday.

Because of Adele, I was able to accompany the band on tour in order to bring attention to Nova. It was extremely difficult traveling the country in a van with a bunch of boys who could barely wipe their asses on their own and I absolutely hated doing it most of the time but I did it for the sake of my business. There was no hope of Darby and Adele getting along in such close quarters so I was always the elected representative. It was much easier for Adele to function close to home, where she could wake up to the sound of seagulls and the waves crashing onto the sand. And god forbid she couldn’t have an iced latte within the first twenty minutes of being awake. If she ever woke up while driving through a cornfield in Arkansas, the world would never hear the end of it. Although she was a fantastic businesswoman and an excellent colleague, she was a bit of a diva.

Even over the sound of the water pouring down on me, I could hear my phone ringing from downstairs, where I’d left it on the coffee table. I could also hear Mike groan in frustration and throw it across the room. In a huff, I turned off the shower and wrapped a towel around my body. I flew down the steps, anxiety oozing out of me due to the fact that my phone was still ringing and Mike was still bitching. Once I finally reached it, it was somewhere in the kitchen. I rolled my eyes when I saw Adele’s name flash across the screen.

“Yes?” I snapped. In my opinion there was no need for her to be calling me unless I was running late, which I wasn’t. There rarely came a time when I ran late; it was usually the other way around, with me calling Adele twenty minutes past her anticipated time of arrival.

“Well,” she huffed, “good morning to you too. Someone obviously woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”

“Couch, actually,” I corrected her. I glanced over to the couch I’d just referenced and laughed softly at the sight of Mike sitting there staring at me. He mouthed the words what the fuck? to which I just shrugged.

“The couch? Are you out of your mind? Do you know what sleeping on couches does to your back?”

“Yes, Adele. I’ll have scoliosis by the time I’m thirty, I know.”

At the mention of Adele’s name, Mike threw his hands up in the air and slapped a hand to his forehead. They weren’t one another’s favorite person. Most of the time Adele was too high-energy for him to handle. Mike was a very calm and mellow person so it was easy to see how someone like Adele could wear on his nerves. She was constantly going from one thing to another and always had her hands in something. She also never shut up. There was nothing quiet about her; her whispering bordered on shouting and, even when she slept, she talked in her sleep so loudly you would’ve thought she was having a fully conscious conversation with someone. Aside from Adele’s boisterous personality, she liked to poke fun at Mike for whatever reasons she had to justify her actions. They liked to fire insults back and forth until I finally stepped in to referee. I’d always assumed it was all in good fun until she stormed out of the office one afternoon after he’d slung a particularly painful one at her.

“Anyway,” she continued, “what time do I have to be at the office?”

“Ten-thirty.”

“Oh, good! I have a whole hour to get another coffee!” At this point, I held the phone away from my ear so it wouldn’t cause any damage to my eardrum. “Do I need to bring anything with me? Shoes or make-up or anything like that?”

“Bring whatever you want, Adele,” I replied dryly. I was still clad in only my towel and Mike wouldn’t stop staring.

“That’s perfect! I got these new heels I think would go good with-”

“I have to go,” I interrupted. “I’ll see you soon.”

With a sigh of relief, I disconnected the call. As much as I loved her, she was enough to drive a san person absolutely mad. She attributed her love of talking to the fact that she was often overshadowed by Darby when they were kids. Darby was older than her by three years and was probably the greatest guitar player in all of California. That’s what Adele meant by overshadowed: everyone knew Darby because of his music while she was struggling just to make friends. I’m sure you can imagine my shocked expression when I’d learned we graduated together.

“Does she ever shut the fuck up?” Mike asked me and I shook my head. “Jesus Christ, I’m hungover as fuck and she wants to talk about skulliosis.”

“Scoliosis,” I corrected him and he merely stared at me with a blank expression. “You know, curvature of the spine-”

“Whatever,” he dismissed. “Scoliosis isn’t going to get rid of this hangover so I don’t really give a fuck what it is.”

“You know where the aspirin is so feel free to stop bitching at any time.”

He gave me the finger before returning to a position in which he could sleep. I considered offering him my bed but decided against it. There had only been two occasions I’d ever let Mike sleep in my bed. The first was when he’d been kicked out of the house he shared with Vic because it was a week before they were scheduled to record and Mike had come down with an awful stomach flu. Vic didn’t want to catch it so he brought him to my house. I felt so badly for Mike that I didn’t object when he went straight to my room and slept for three days straight. The second time was after my ex-boyfriend had broken up with me. I was in “mourning” as Adele had so compassionately dubbed it and Mike offered to stay over and keep me company. Since I hadn’t left my bedroom in days he didn’t have much of a choice but to stay locked in there with me.

After tossing my hair into a messy ponytail and throwing some clothes on, I bid Mike farewell and started the drive to my office. It was only fifteen minutes away but Saturday mornings in San Diego were never free of traffic. People from all over California flocked to the beach no matter the weather and just found the city to be utterly fascinating. After living there for twenty-three years I didn’t think it was so great. Sure, it was home and I wouldn’t want to live anywhere else, especially after traveling the world with my brother’s band. I could understand that people wanted to go to the zoo, be a part of the big city feel, and pollute our beaches just because they could, but other than that I didn’t see the appeal.

When I finally pulled into the parking lot of my office, at twenty to eleven, I knew I was going to be in trouble. Adele’s car was already there, as was Adam’s, meaning I was the last to arrive. I groaned. For the first time in seven months (and yes, I kept track) I was late. Adele liked to get on my case about every little thing I did wrong -- another quirk of hers that I absolutely could not stand. It was all in good fun but, after an hour or two of hearing how late you were, even if it was just by five minutes, it grew bothersome.

I pushed the heavy glass door open and made my way to the back, where I was sure Adam had set up his equipment. I heard him and Adele talking amongst themselves about what their ideas were regarding the shoot and I decided to stay quiet. As long as they had more important things on their minds they were sure to ignore my lateness. However, once I tripped over one of Adam’s extension cords, my plan was soiled. Adele’s eyes lit up like the fourth of July and it was my turn to groan.

“Well! Look who finally decided to show up!”

“I’m ten minutes late, Adele. Shut up.”

“Still in a bad mood, I see.” I glared at her and she recoiled. “Okay, okay. I can see your sense of humor woke up on the wrong side of the bed as well. Anyway, Adam wants to shoot on a white backdrop. We think it’ll look cleaner, you know? The designs are pretty loud on this line, so-”

“White backdrops are fine.”

“Okay,” she said slowly, “I think I’m going to go change then.”

Once she disappeared from sight, Adam turned to me and raised an eyebrow. It was obvious I wasn’t in the greatest of moods and it wasn’t anyone’s fault in particular, I was just exhausted and didn’t have the patience to deal with Adele’s chipper personality. Especially at ten forty-five, after a long night of babysitting and barely any sleep. I hadn’t even had a cup of coffee, and there I stood, staring at Adam like he had five heads.

“I’m tired,” was all I needed to say for him to understand.

“Try to look alive.”

“I’m alive, I’m just not awake.”

Adam chuckled. “For it only being eleven-o’clock, you sure are philosophical.”

“You’re a photographer, Adam, not fucking Plato or something.”

He chuckled again before telling me to get changed so we could get the shoot over and done as quickly as possible. I crossed paths with Adele on my way to the bathroom but she didn’t say a word. The silent treatment was her way of expressing displeasure. Since I hadn’t been exceptionally kind to her all morning, she was giving me the silent treatment. It didn’t hurt my feelings, albeit I did feel a bit guilty, because she chose such childish tactics to get her points across. If she didn’t agree with an idea that got thrown around she’d cross her arms and pout until we came to some sort of happy medium. That was just the way she was, and I had to accept it whether I liked it or not.

After having Adam boss me around and blind me with flashes for a solid hour and a half, I was ready to go home and never leave my bed. I wanted to apologize to it for all the nights I left it empty and alone. I wanted to bury myself in the comforter and never come out, no matter what the time or date was. It didn’t help that one of Adele’s friends had shown up halfway through and insisted on doing our hair and make-up. Make-up wasn’t my thing. I didn’t like walking around with an alter ego attached to my face nor did I like it melting off whenever it was too hot or it was raining.

Adele and Adam left as quickly as possible, probably because what was left of my decent mood had completely deteriorated by the time the shoot was over. I wasn’t the easiest person to work with, I’d admit that openly, and I didn’t blame them one bit for leaving. I, however, volunteered to clean up everything that was strewn around from the shoot. Even though I was beyond tired I needed time to clear my head before I returned to my apartment only to be bombarded with questions from Mike. It was inevitable that he’d fire questions at me left and right before I even got a chance to shut the door. Then again, that’s exactly the same scenario I found myself in when I’d see him after a show.

I heard the front doors open and close. A sick, nervous feeling filled the pit of my stomach; I didn’t want to deal with Adele. It was common for her to return to the scene of a dispute only to explode and completely lose her mind. Although I could’ve held my own against her, I wasn’t in the mood. I was just exhausted. I didn’t want to fight, I just wanted to get my cleaning finished and go to sleep. However, I was pleasantly surprised when I saw Mike standing in the doorframe.

“You need any help with that?” He asked me, diverting his eyes between the black garbage bag I was hauling around and my new appearance.

“No thanks, I’ve got it.”

“Well, is there anything I can do?”

“No, Mike. I’ve got it, really. I think I can throw stuff away on my own.”

He cracked a smile and took a seat on the swivel chair that was set up at the desk. Out of pure boredom he began going through all the pictures from the shoot, occasionally looking over at me like he wanted to tell me what he thought of them but never spoke a word. Once I was finished cleaning up, I took the garbage back out to the dumpster and washed my hands. When I went back inside, Mike hadn’t moved. He looked up to acknowledge my presence and that was it.

“Are you feeling better?” I asked as I appeared behind him. I leaned over him, looking at the screen over his shoulder, and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.

“You don’t have any aspirin left, just so you know.” I groaned. “Damn, Shea. This picture is sexy as fuck-”

“Mike!” I scolded him and returned to an upright position. My hands were immediately on my hips and I pouted.

“What?” He asked incredulously. “It’s not my fault you’re wearing nothing but a t-shirt and-”

“Then stop looking at them!”

Honestly, I didn’t care if he looked at the pictures. They were eventually going to be plastered all over Nova’s website so he would’ve seen them anyway. What bothered me was how vulnerable I felt when I knew he was studying each one, critiquing them, judging me. I never felt self-conscious around anyone other than him because his opinion meant the most to me. He had no idea, either; he was completely oblivious. That was to be expected, though. Most males didn’t have a clue, but Mike was different. As long as I didn’t make it even slightly obvious that he had such an effect on me then he wouldn’t know. However, the minute I let it slip that I had somewhat of a romantic interest in him, my plan would be ruined.

Aside from the fact that Mike wasn’t stupid, he had a sixth sense when it came to me. He knew what I wanted and needed at all times and he always knew the difference. We hadn’t been friends since we were kids but we may as well have been. He could read me like a book and that’s what scared me the most. It wouldn’t take him long to figure me out and I couldn’t let him do that. If I did, it would all go downhill so quickly I wouldn’t be able to stop it. I’d rather keep my feelings a secret than ruin our friendship.

“Aww, come on, Shea,” he cooed. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t,” I lied, “I just didn’t want anyone seeing them until they were on the site.”

“Oh,” he mumbled before shutting the laptop without another word. “You should’ve just said that then. No need to flip shit.”

There was a humored look on his face because he rarely got angry with me. The only time he’d legitimately spent a few hours hating my existence was when he invited his girlfriend at the time to a party I’d thrown in celebration of Nova’s latest line being launched. I hadn’t invited her -- I didn’t know her, and I never invited people I didn’t know to such personal gatherings -- and I asked Mike as politely as I could to see her out. It wasn’t because I didn’t like his girlfriend or because I was jealous, I just didn’t think it was very nice of him to bring her when she wasn’t invited. To make a long story short, it quickly escalated into some bogus argument, resulting in a very spiteful “go fuck yourself” getting thrown at me and Mike storming out of the office. He apologized the next morning.

I didn’t realize Mike had gotten out of the chair and was standing in front of me. Through the smog I had plastered on my face and all the hairspray clogging my brain function I was surprised I still knew how to walk and talk. I didn’t like being so made up but the pictures turned out better than expected so I couldn’t complain. He moved a few inches toward me, never once slowing down or showing any sign of caution, before finally stopping. We were so close that not even a slice of paper could fit between us. He cupped my cheek and stared down at me; all I could do was stare back and try to get my breathing steadied.

“Mike, what are you-”

“You’re beautiful, Shea. You don’t ever have to be embarrassed of that.”

I wanted to ask him what he was talking about. I wanted to know where his sudden kindness had come from. I wanted to ask him a lot of things but I didn’t. Instead I just stood there and let him stare at me. Eventually my hands moved to his waist and my fingers wrapped around his belt loops. At that point I wanted to ask myself what I was thinking. Mike and I had been in such close proximity of one another before but never like that. We hugged, we cuddled, and we occasionally kissed one another on the cheek but that was it.

Well, that was it until Mike pressed his lips to my own roughly, and I knew where it was going to end. I was ready for that to happen, I think, because I didn’t do anything to stop it. At that point I’d successfully convinced myself that he’d never feel the same way about me as I felt about him that I was willing to take anything he was going to give me. Consequences seemed few and far between; they wouldn’t have stopped me even if I had stopped to think about them. There was no stopping it after it started. Everything happened so quickly: the falling upon the couch, the touching, the removal of clothing... the beginning of the end.