Take It to Heart

Jimmy Zuhl’s green eyes gleamed in the light of the disco ball. I studied his face in slow motion. My mind was chugging along trying to process the current situation. His lips parted slightly, the sides threatening to turn up into a smile. Red from my lipstick faintly smudged his bottom lip. The taste of alcohol and mint still fresh on my tongue. Zummie didn’t understand why there was suddenly a third person in our personal space bubble. He’d pulled away from kissing me as party poppers burst with confetti and noise twirlers howled into the air. If our current situation was normal—like everyone else celebrating in the room—we would have continued to kiss, giggle, and drink.

Instead of any of those things, we awkwardly shuffled as I leaned away from Zummie’s body. Oliver was a few steps away, exactly where he’d been when he had called my name. The space around us seemed oddly quiet. The awkwardness muted the party. Jimmy had no idea what was going on when Oliver threw his hands up into the air. Defeated.

“Right, bloody brilliant,” Oliver grumbled. He was sloshed. His words slurred. He pointed at me. “You. You’re a piece of work.”

I pursed my lips into an angry frown. “Oli—”

He waved me off and turned to disappear in the crowd. My stomach churned. The look on his face stuck in my mind. How was I supposed to know he would be here? He didn’t even text me back the day after Christmas—not that I deserved a text after ignoring him. Was he even allowed to be mad at me? No. He wasn’t. He’s the one who still has the girlfriend, or whatever. How dare he scoff at me and walk away. My cheeks burned red with anger. Frustration boiled over my senses.

I was a step away from catching the back of Oliver’s jumper to turn him around and tell him what was what. I watched his body slip out of my reach. Zummie stepped in front of me first. He put his palms on my arms, stabilizing me.

“You a’right?” he asked. “Who was that?”

“A right prick, he is,” I spat.

Zummie whistled slowly. He let go of me. “An ex then?”

“What? No,” I tried to defend. “Look, it doesn’t matter.”

“If it didn’t matter, then you wouldn’t have that look on your face,” he said.

My buzz was long gone by this point. Out of my brain at least. My legs still wobbled like the floor was spinning. Zummie wasn’t even being mean about the situation. He just pointed out a fact. I didn’t want to fight with this kid, who I hardly knew. Who just kissed me at a party the second time I met him. I also didn’t want to have to defend myself to someone who didn’t know me. By the time I got the chance to look again, Oliver was nowhere in sight.

“Right, well, I’m not having this conversation,” I took a drink from one of the bottles Zummie set on the coffee table. “It’s not important, alright?”

I must have sounded convincing enough because Zummie dropped the topic. Or I sounded desperate enough that he didn’t want to push the subject. Either way, he didn’t kiss me again. I thought he might for a moment, but the lull in conversation only resulted in us leaving to find Naomi. It wasn’t awkward. He was just very drunk and my mind was very sober.

What a great way to start the New Year.

The two of us parted ways soon after to find our friends. I was actually relieved to be on my own. I didn’t have to explain myself to anyone. The stairs groaned from over use when I walked up them looking for familiar faces. I found Naomi in line for the bathroom on the second floor. She leaned on the wall next to a hanging picture frame with her arms crossed. Her expression was tart. She scooted over when I approached so I could rest on the wall with her.

“I’m going to leave,” I announced.

“What? It’s just getting started!” Naomi said. She pouted. “You can’t go.”

“Oliver is here.”

The door to the bathroom opened so Naomi pushed off the blue wall and grabbed my arm, pulling me into the room as the last person exited. A tacky, purple shower curtain guarded the tub and toilet paper littered the floor.

“Where is he?”

I shrugged and nervously played with a bottle of perfume I found in the medicine cabinet. “I don’t know, somewhere downstairs.”

“Did you talk to him?” Naomi asked.

“If talking is him telling me off after your friend kissed me, then yes.”

Her eyes widened. “Jimmy kissed you? Was it good? Did you like it? He’s been interested in you all night.”

“Naomi, that’s not the problem here.”

Someone started to bang on the door. Naomi used her fist to knock back. “Give a bird some time, dammit!”

“Some of us have to piss out here,” a voice yelled back.

Naomi yanked the door open and a boy stumbled in, alcohol drenched on his shirt and his eyes were nearly shut. We slipped past the drunken mess back into the hall. I opened the closet door and fished around for my coat. Naomi appeared in the doorframe so she could block my sprint back down the stairs.

“You shouldn’t leave just because he’s here.”

“I’m not in the mood for a party anymore.”

She sighed. “Do you want the keys then? Anna and I can get a cab home. Or we could all leave.”

“No, you guys stay. I’ll call a cab.”

If possible, even more people were in the living room by the time I descended the stairs. The countdown brought everyone together, meshing them into a drunken cluster that swayed under the disco ball. Dots of colored light lit up pieces of the room. I was nearly out the door when Zummie caught me by the elbow. His warm fingers slide from the top of my forearm down, pulling away.

“Are you leaving?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“Can I ring you sometime?”

I nodded and reached for the doorknob. “Yeah, I’ll see you around.”

Suddenly I could breath easier outside the house. My lungs hoovered in the refreshing night like ice tea in the summer. I dug in my purse for a stray cigarette and walked out to the curb. The corner was quiet and lit by a lonely, yellow street lamp. Music thumped inside the house, but was just a muffle outside. I was happy to be in the silence. At least, for a moment.

“What happened to your bloke?”

Oliver stepped out of the shadows. If he had come from inside, I hadn’t heard the door open. If he had been out here before, I hadn’t noticed his laced Vans on the icy lawn.

I glanced at him but didn’t answer. Instead, I took a drag from the cigarette and exhaled slowly, averting my gaze to a red car across the street.

“If he’s why you said you didn’t want to see me anymore, you could have just said so,” Oliver continued. His feet shuffled on the cement.

There were a million things I wanted to say. Accusations fired off in my brain, hypocrisies that went unmentioned. I even started to open my mouth, ready to spit scorching comments. I didn’t want to have this conversation, but I needed to. Oliver now leaned against the lamppost, watching me through his thick lashes. His hazel eyes stared straight into mine. I aggressively ashed my cigarette into the gutter.

“You know, I think your girlfriend played more of a role in that than some guy I hardly know,” I said. Steam probably came out of my ears.

“I don’t have a girlfriend—”

I rolled my eyes and waved off his sentence before he was finished speaking. “I saw her Christmas Eve when I was going to your flat. Your Facebook. The pictures in your apartment.”

“It’s a long story.”

“Well I wouldn’t want to make it any longer.”

“Oh, come off it.”

I threw the cigarette down onto the cement and put it out with the bottom of my boot. The movement was dramatic; it made me feel confident. “You act like I’m in the wrong, but I’m not willing to play whatever game this is. Girlfriend, fuck buddy, just a mate. Whatever you want to call her I don’t want to be in that mix. I understand that you have your stupid, edgy persona, but that’s bollocks and it doesn’t give you the right to act like an arsehole.”

“You don’t even know what you’re talkin’ about,” he said through gritted teeth. I must have hit a nerve.

“I’m not daft, Oliver!” I yelled. My voice echoed into the cold, still air. Naomi’s words from the other night swam through my head. “Or maybe I am because I don’t know what you’re playing at. I don’t care if you fancy me or not, but it’s hardly fair to lead me on one night and change your mind the next. We shagged and we had fun and that’s great. I’m just not looking to be someone’s girl on the side who gets invited ‘round when it’s convenient, but doesn’t fit into your lifestyle.”

I paused when the cab I called earlier rounded the corner onto the street. It stopped at the curb in front of Oliver and me. I took a few stumbled steps to the car and grabbed the handle. My heart pounded through my chest.

“I want us to be mates, but I can’t do that if you aren’t honest with me,” were my parting words.

When I pulled at the handle, ready to swing the door open and slide into the back seat, Oliver appeared next to me and extended his arm out in front of the opening. The movement was so quick I walked right into his tattooed arm, a small oof escaped my lungs. He pushed me back away from the door and stood in the way. I could feel his warmth through my thin coat and smell the cologne that lingered on his skin.

“You can’t just run away without hearing my side,” he said, sternly.

“Meter is ticking, lad,” the driver called from the front seat.

Oliver peered into the cab. “We won’t need a lift after all.”

“Speak for yourself,” I cut him off. “I want to go home.”

Oli blocked my path again. He stepped right in front of me, his chest nearly to mine. I never noticed how much taller than me he was until his shoulders towered over me.

The cabbie piped up once more. “You two alright, then?”

Oliver reached back with one hand and slammed the cab door, signaling his answer. I crossed my arms and narrowed my eyes at Oliver. Behind us, the cab slowly started to crawl back down the street. I breathed heavy now, a mix of adrenaline and anger. If he wouldn’t let me take the cab, then I chose to walk. I turned on my heels and attempted to strut off in the other direction.

“I’m drunk and tired and I don’t want to talk to you anymore!” I said, refusing to turn around and look at him.

“Like you’re being a real peach to be around,” he replied.

“You could have let me get in the cab, then.”

I continued to walk and Oliver continued to follow. He was a few steps back and to my left. Like the blind spot in a car I couldn’t see him but I knew he was there, ready to quip back at whatever I had to say. We passed a few outdoor cats. They were the only eyes that watched us in the dark,

“We could just stop and have a conversation like normal people,” he said.

“Well we could, but that would require open, real dialogue from both parties,” I replied. “But oh, that’s right, I forgot we don’t ever talk about you.”

He puffed out a breath of air. “Why don’t you tell me how you really feel.”

I knew he was being sarcastic, but technically he asked for it, so…

“You’re actually a really terrible liar and your band personality is so fuckin’ cliché. You have a stupid pout and puppy eyes when you want something or you’re trying to flirt—like a lost grammar school boy. Your nostrils do an ugly, weird flare when it’s cold out. I absolutely loath how you’re always in control of situations and conversations because you feel the need to manipulate how people view you. You limit what people know about you even if it’s not fans or the public. I know more about you from what comes out of Google than what comes out of your own mouth—”

“Rose—“

“And I’m not an aggressive person so I’ll be damned if I can get any truth out of you.”

“Rose!”

“What?!”

“Shut up.”

I shot a glare over my shoulder, seeing Oliver for the first time since power walking away from the corner of the street. We passed another block of houses. My skin started to heat up from both from walking and ranting. I wondered whether or not I had another cigarette in my bag. I wondered if Oliver had any, but I didn’t want to break the streak to ask him.

“Just telling you what you wanted to hear,” I grumbled.

“Well what do you want?” he asked.

My walking slowed down. “I don’t even know anymore.”

“Some bloke to kiss you on New Year’s Eve?”

“Sod off! This has nothing to do with him. Quit bringing up something that doesn’t matter.”

“Maybe it matters to me,” he said. I couldn’t believe he continued to follow me down the street. “Maybe I’m jealous.”

I scoffed. “You are not allowed to be jealous when you’ve been in two different girls’ knickers in a single week.”

The sound of his flat Vans stopped echoing on the pavement behind me. I kept walking, my heeled shoes clacked alone. Then I made the mistake of pausing and looking back; the mistake of caring too much about my words and needing to see someone’s reaction. My chin met my shoulder as my eyes locked on Oliver a few feet away. He had a sour look plastered on his face. Up until now, he’s probably been a bit amused with our liquor and tension fueled banter. Now, the seriousness shined in his eyes.

“I didn’t sleep with her,” he said quietly. “I saw her, you know that, but I didn’t shag her.”

I blinked, not sure what to say back. Was I just supposed to go, oh, okay, that makes everything alright now?

Oliver took one step closer. “We were trying to patch things over a month ago, but there were a few problems.”

Another step. “I started spending time with you. I remember what it was like to have easy conversations and comfortable silence. I didn’t have to play the role of a nice and fun, yet cool and daring, boyfriend.”

A third step. His long, thin legs made the space quickly disappear. The warm air from our breath twirled into one cloud. There were no lamps to illuminate his face, but I could see his Adam’s apple swallow nervously.

“I didn’t sleep with her—I couldn’t. Since the wedding I can’t stop thinking about you: the smell of your shampoo, the salty sweet taste of your skin, the curves of your waist, the softness of your thighs.”

Oliver’s words washed over me, first as a pink blush that tinted my skin from head to toe and then as an intense heat melting me from the core of my chest. I breathed heavily and my mind spun like the alcohol I drank earlier decided to make a dramatic reappearance. Nothing provided a distraction for me: not the cold, the quiet homes, nor the flurries in the air.

“But I am jealous,” he said and inched closer. Our chests touched. He used his right hand to slowly brush hair behind my ear. “So jealous to see some prick get to kiss you: the bird I was looking for, hunted all over town for all night. He got to feel the smoothness of your perfect lips, literally soft as rose petals.”

Oliver’s thumb caressed my bottom lip as he spoke. I almost liquefied from the feeling bubbling in my stomach. My heart pounded loudly. I don’t think I blinked the whole time he talked. Oli moved his hand to cup my chin. He kept me steady, exactly where he wanted me. He dipped down to kiss me. First he ghosted the edge of my mouth and then placed a gentle kiss to my bottom lip. I breathed in sharply, willing him to give me the real thing. When he finally kissed me, really kissed me, my whole body went limp. His free arm curled around my waist as a support. Our tongues mingled. I forgot about Naomi and Anna and Zummie at the party. I forgot about the fighting and the hateful words and the frustration. All I could do was kiss him back on the sidewalk of some random street. I braced my palms against his chest and gripped his coat like he was the only thing keeping me from floating off into the Sheffield night sky.