Fixation

It’s 8:15 p.m., and I’m ready to head out. I decided to walk to the bar and get a taxi back. It will take me a half hour to get to the Pidgeon, and I’m hoping the walk will help me calm the nerves that were racking me all day long.

I calmed myself last night with half a bottle of wine, and then did something I’m less than proud of today. But all that repressed sexual energy had to be dealt with. After my orgasm, I felt ashamed of my weakness. Vernon’s very limited interest in me shouldn’t be something that I get off on. Several times today, I regretted my decision to accept this stupid “reunion,” but canceling it now would just make me look like a coward. Which, apparently, I am when it comes to him.

Not at all happy with myself, I tug down the hem of my black velvet wrap dress, throw a glance at myself in the mirror, and head out. The night is balmy and warm, and the city is bustling with people. The last days of summer are too precious to be wasted indoors.

I arrive before him, park myself a short distance away from the door, and busy myself with people watching. A familiar face catches my attention. Gordon. Another ex.

When it rains, it pours.

“Fucking hell,” I mutter and look away, but not before I catch him plodding through the crowd toward me.

“Mae, hey, Mae,” he yells, and I have to look up. He knows I saw him. With a fake smile plastered on my face, I wait for him to reach me.

“Hello, Gordon,” I say when his now slightly bulkier frame stops in front of me. His plaid shirt is casually untucked, offering a view of a black T-shirt underneath. With glee, I notice his belly spilling out of the waist of his tight trousers.

“Oh my God,” he starts, his hawkish green eyes that I once found mesmerizing creasing in corners. “I can’t believe it’s you. I haven’t seen you in ages.”

“Yes, well…”

He continues excitedly. “I thought you moved away. I asked Teresa about you, but she told me you don’t really hang out anymore.”

“Yes, that’s true. I am still in the city, though.”

His eyes widen like he finds it unbelievable. “Where are you hiding, then? Are you not going out at all anymore? Did you marry and have heaps of children?” He laughs, caressing his belly.

“I’m just, you know, around. I work a lot.”

Not really. I’m just a homebody now, addicted to film review podcasts and home improvement shows, but I’m not going to share anything personal with yet another ex. Vernon is more than I can manage for one night.

“Oh well, we all do,” he agrees, “but I used to run into you all the time before. It’s like you vanished.”

I want to say, I saw you more often than I preferred for years as well, but I bite my tongue.

“As you can see, I am alive and well.”

He looks around as if searching for someone.

“Who are you with, then? Don’t tell me you’re alone.” He gives me a pitying look. I want to slap him.

“She’s not alone,” comes Vernon’s voice before he stops next to Gordon. I wish for the ground to open up and swallow us all.

Gordon’s eyes widen to an almost comical degree. He glances at me then back at Vernon, who is not even sparing him a cursory look. How the tables have turned, I think.

Gordon and I broke up because he planned to leave the country for work. I suffered silently, not wanting to ruin his opportunity with my boring infatuation. The deal fell through, and he wound up staying, but he didn’t ask me out again.

Vernon and I started dating two months later, after I realized that I moped and waited long enough and needed a distraction. Which he was, Vernon. In the beginning.

Gordon and I had some mutual friends, so he saw us around. He always acted like he had a stick up his ass, and whenever I was alone, he treated me with disdain, like I was something he had to endure. He probably thought Vernon was picking up his scraps. But after a few months, he became downright mean.

Once, he overplayed his hand and tried to put me down in front of Vernon. It was about something stupid, something no one in their right mind would find fault with, but Gordon did. The speed with which Vernon was on him, grabbing him by the neck and lifting him off the ground, is still a treasured memory. Vernon said, “Talk to her like that one more time, and I’ll shut you up forever,” before dropping Gordon like a sack of potatoes. It fixed Gordon’s attitude toward me instantly.

“Oh,” Gordon says now, stumped. “I didn’t know you two… I mean, I heard you broke up.”

“We did,” I say quickly, because Vernon is looking like he’d offer something else. Something that matches his wrathful expression. “We’re friends.”

Vernon raises an eyebrow at me. I give him a stern look.

Gordon opens up his arms. “Well, isn’t that nice? Old lovers turned friends,” he snickers. I wonder yet again why I fell for him in the first place. “Oh, are you here for the Smiths cover band?”

“Yeah,” I say tentatively, praying the smugness in his expression is just a mirage.

“Well then, you’re in for a treat. I play the bass.”

Vernon’s face tightens.

“You… You’re still playing?” I ask, trying to hide my disappointment. There goes my fun.

Someone calls Gordon’s name.

“Yup, yup.” He turns away and nods at a guy holding a pair of drumsticks waving at him. “I have to go. We’re about to start. I’ll see you inside then, yeah?”

“Sure,” I say, deflated, feeling like a truck ran me over.

Vernon shifts to my side and leans against the wall.

“You still want to go inside?” he asks casually, but there’s a strain in his voice.

“God, no,” I rush out, massaging my temple. I feel a headache coming on.

Obviously that is the right answer, because he proceeds in a much lighter tone.

“Want to grab a drink somewhere else?”

Alcohol. Yes. I perk up.

“Let’s go to Agatha’s,” I say as I point down the road. Luckily, almost all of our old watering holes are on this street.

He pushes off the wall and merges with the crowd, expecting me to follow like I always did. It seems ungentlemanly, but it’s the opposite—the only way to fight through the crowd on this narrow street is for him to make the path for me. As I trail behind him, I notice his light yellow shirt is just short enough for me to casually observe his sculpted bum, and maybe appreciate the way his black, washed-out jeans hang off his hips just right.

Women give him appraising looks as we pass. Then they give me a look, a more judgmental one. I know I don’t compare.

Objectively, he is better looking than me, not that I’m some troll. I have several good features of my own. Wavy, thick, mocha light hair, cut to my shoulders that always looks like it has a bit of wind in it. A narrow face with high cheekbones. My nose could be straighter, but with age, I’ve learned to love the touch of severity it adds to my face. I used to be very thin, but now I’ve got curvier hips and a softer belly, giving me a more feminine shape. My ass is still perky, and my boobs were always on the smaller side. Luckily, I was never insecure about the way I look. Men liked me well enough.

I excel at other things. One of which Vernon wants. I shiver slightly at that thought.

Vernon wants me.

I stop walking, dumbfounded again, then rush after him.

“You coming?” He glances back at me and, seeing me further back than he expected, stops and offers me his hand. “Take it, so I don’t lose you.” He winks at me, as if saying it’s just for convenience.

I scoff at it and push past him, the crowd thinning on this part of the street.

“I know our destination. You can’t lose me.”

He chuckles, amused.

“You say so now, but we won’t know until the night ends.”

A hot rush of excitement rolls through me. I walk faster, badly needing that drink.

I finally make it to the entrance and wait for him to catch up. With an amused expression still on his face, he strolls toward me, not wasting an opportunity to give me a bold up and down.

“After you, miss,” he drawls and puts his hand on the small of my back to usher me in. I swallow a sigh.

We find a table on the first floor. I wave down a waiter and order a vodka spritz. Vernon shoots me a look, then gets a beer.

“Don’t tell me Gordon rattled you,” he says, his entire face twisting into a grimace of disgust. “He’s a bug. You know that.”

“Not at all. I’m just annoyed we had to miss the gig because of him.”

It’s only partially true. What worries me more is that I am stuck in a much quieter place with Vernon, a place where I will have to make conversation. An entire minefield of questions and answers without the helpful, loud noise of a band to thwart the more inconvenient topics.

He looks around, taking in his surroundings.

“I haven’t been here in years. The place didn’t change at all.”

“You don’t go out as much?” I ask, grasping at this change in topic.

He gives me a mild smile.

“No. Don’t have the time. Or the will.”

“Yes. I guess our years of partying are over. We got old.”

“Some of us aged better than others,” he says, his playful gaze slipping over me. God, I wish I had a better defense against those bedroom eyes than simply wanting to hide under something.

“No need to butter me up with compliments, Vernon. We both know you’re the beauty in this story.”

He starts, then breaks into a genuine, throaty laugh. I jerk in surprise.

“You’re funny. I forgot how funny you are,” he says, delighted. “Sadly, you’re also quite delusional.”

“Please. I’m realistic. And don’t think I’m fishing here. It never bothered me.”

He gives me a thoughtful look. Opens his mouth to speak, then closes it. Shakes his head before leaning in.

“Fuck it,” he spits out. “Do you know how much shit I got for breaking up with you?”

“Oh, no, did you?” I mock, rounding my eyes.

“I sure did. Even my friends thought I’d lost my mind, and they weren’t the most loyal bunch of guys back then. They still love to remind me how stupid I was to fuck it up with someone so far above my league.”

I roll my eyes. “Oh, come on. You can’t expect me to believe that. The girl you dated after me, the blonde, she was a freaking bombshell.”

He looks up, trying to remember.

“Georgia? That’s all she had going for her. Jealousy bordering on pathological, whiny like a toddler. We lasted like, two months, all of it a nightmare.”

“Sure. Not that you were the problem, the pure perfection that you are.”

He smirks, accepting this little jab with good humor. “Maybe you set such high standards that other girls couldn’t compare.”

Not taking the bait. I dismiss his words with a wave of my hand.

“How do you even know about Georgia?” he asks, genuinely interested.

I shrug, taking a sip of my drink before answering. “We had some mutual friends,” I say vaguely before adding, “I’ve heard…stuff.”

His eyebrows draw close. “What kind of stuff?”

I cut my gaze away, letting him squirm a bit. He kicks me under the table to get me to look back at him.

“Mae, what kind of stuff?”

“Oh, just, you know… She said some things to people, and then those people told some other people, and then someone told me,” I say, drawing it out.

“Yes, I get how rumors spread,” he says impatiently. “What exactly did you hear?”

Finally having some fun at his expense, I lean in, prompting him to do the same. My voice lowers into a conspiratorial whisper.

“Georgia apparently complained that she had to pursue you. And then, that you took your time to…well, you know what. And that she never had to work so hard to get a guy to sleep with her.”

I expect him to get offended at this, but his eyes widen just for a fraction of a second before he sits back in his chair, staring me down.

“Georgia was a mistake. Sex with her was a fucking chore,” he says pointedly, like he’d like me to connect the dots.

“Don’t be rude,” I say, both offended on Georgia’s behalf and troubled by the effect the unspoken part has on me.

His bottomless eyes narrow at me, pulling me in.

“As I’ve said, I’d developed high standards by that time,” he says, his mouth twisting in a sly smile. “If anyone is to blame for Georgia and me not working out, it’s you.”

I give him a withering look, battling away the spell those eyes try to put me under. The game he plays has an obvious goal, and I’m sure he’ll say whatever is needed to reach it.

“Careful, Vernon. All this praise is getting awfully close to something you’d say to a date,” I say sarcastically.

He laughs again, wicked appreciation cutting across his gaze, like he’s satisfied I remain stubbornly deaf to his compliments. Slightly worried this might become some weird challenge he’s about to undertake, I decide to cut it short by excusing myself to go to the ladies’ room.

When I come back, I find him scrolling on his phone. When he sees me, he turns the screen to me.

“There’s a night bazaar going on at the square. Want to go?” he asks as I check out the open info page. I quickly agree, almost grateful for the opportunity to be in a less personal setting. We rush to finish our drinks. Vernon pays the bill again, but only after giving me a murderous glare when I reach for my wallet.