These Are the Fast Times

Lila

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There’s too many people in my apartment that I don’t recognize, but I’m drunk enough that I don’t mind so much anymore. Victoria and I had decided to throw a party, just for something to do.

Mostly to keep our attention from the fact that we’ve both been dumped within a week of each other.

I head for my bedroom and kick out a couple hooking up on my floor. I go out on the tiny balcony off my room, using the cold as an excuse for my watery eyes and red nose. I wipe my eyelids with my sleeve. I close them, feeling the cold get to me, making my head ache, or maybe that’s just from the crying.

“You okay?” a voice startles me, causing me to jump and my shin to collide with the metal railing.

“Fuck!” I swear, at the abrupt pain, turning to see who it is.

Fuck...

“Are you okay, Lila?” Gabe repeats cautiously, and I know he’s not asking about my shin. I don’t reply; just stare up at him hopelessly. I don’t notice that frozen tears are dripping down my cheeks until he’s suddenly hugging me, my face pressed into his jacket and his long arms holding me.

“Where’s…uh…” I interrupt, breaking off the hug and wiping at my eyes again, embarrassed. I don’t remember his girlfriend’s name.

“Carmen? She’s…gone.”

“Gone?” I repeat, not comprehending. “Where?”

“I don’t think she’s coming back this time,” he clarifies.

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well. You know. You do what you can.” He shrugs. “It was my fault, anyway. How’s Andy?” he continues, out of politeness. Changing the subject, at any rate.

“He…” I begin, trying to think of something to tell him. “I don’t know. He broke up with me.”

“Sorry. That’s…”

“I’m so fucking sick of this,” I blurt out, interrupting, my eyes tearing up again, half from the cold and half from the reminders. I wipe my eyes again in annoyance at myself.

“Of what?” he asks, his chocolate brown eyes watching me carefully. It’s when I realize Gabe’s never seen me this vulnerable. Never did I show him this side of me when we’d dated over a year ago.

“Caring,” I bluntly reply, shivering.

“You’re freezing,” he states.

“I don’t care,” I counter, but I let him usher me inside anyway. He slides the door shut, and we’re in my bedroom in the dark. “Gabe?” I say, abruptly, uncertainly. I’m still shivering.

“Hmm?” his voice comes from a few feet away, keeping careful distance, but I don’t know why. I move closer, letting my pupils slowly adjust to the lack of light.

“I’m tired of feeling like everything is moving and I’m just static.” Now he’s close enough that I can feel his body heat, or maybe I just didn’t notice how cold I was before. “Do you know what I mean?” His hands move to my waist almost hesitantly while mine slowly inch up his chest. We stare at each other like this for I don’t know how long, each waiting for the other to make the first move.

I cave first, pulling him down to me by the collar so I can reach his lips. I find his tongue to be just as willing as mine, tangling together to forget our problems.

His hands still grip my waist, closer now, pressing our hips together urgently while still kissing. His mouth moves down my neck to gently bite and suck at the skin at my collarbone. I unintentionally moan.

He breaks away when I start to unbuckle his belt.

“Lila,” he says, “Are you sure about this?”

“I want to forget,” I say, as I slip out of my dress decisively. He nods, understanding, leaning down to press his mouth back on mine.

“Me too,” he mumbles against my mouth. He briefly pulls away to remove his shirt. His bare skin is hot against mine, and I get a sick sense of familiarity when he gently pushes me backwards, towards my bed. His large hands roam my body until we’re rid of our remaining clothes and my fingers are pressed into his back.

“Fuck,” he mutters, against my skin, once we’ve started moving against each other. I gasp and bite back tears, because it’s not supposed to feel this good with anyone but Andy.

And then I don’t know what to feel, because I’m sad inside while my body is telling me this feels great, even though I haven’t been emotionally tied to Gabe for at least a year.

I concentrate on the sounds of our labored breathing until that’s all I can hear.

“Tell me about her,” I say, when we’re mostly dressed again but still under the covers. He’s running his hand through my hair absently, and I close my eyes, laying my heavy head on him. He lets me, resting an arm around me, reemphasizing the sentiment that neither of us wants to sleep alone tonight.

He exhales, and I feel his chest rise with the next breath.

“She’s amazing.” He laughs. “Beautiful and stubborn as fuck.” He shakes his head. “Kind of like you.”

“I’m not beautiful,” I mutter in disagreement.

“You can say that a million times, and it won’t make it remotely any more true,” he replies, and his tone is neutral so I can’t really say anything against him since I know he’s just being honest.

I don’t have an answer for him, so I just close my eyes and struggle to fall asleep.

I wake up early in the morning, when Gabe’s still snoring.

I cry in the shower.

It scares me, since I don’t cry over boys.

I just don’t.

But I’ve cried over Andy more times than I can count just this past week alone.

I guess the old Lila never cried.

She wasn’t this pathetic.