The Fragile Line: Part One (The Fine Line #2) Page 4

  Instead, we pulled into the parking lot of a multi-unit apartment building located in the heart of town just behind Ricci’s, a casual Italian restaurant. The mouth-watering aroma of bread and garlic in the air reminded me that I hadn’t eaten in a while, and I made a mental note to stop there to get some take-out after dropping Chloe off.

  “The garage is over there,” she pointed to an overhead door at the side of the building as she reached for the sun visor above my head and clicked the button to open it.

  The underground parking garage extended the length of the entire building. I parked the car where Chloe told me to, shut the engine off, and gave her the keys. Then, I made the mistake of glancing at her. I say mistake because when she looked at me with her sad eyes in the dim orange light, I swear my heart stopped for a second. Not just because she’s pretty as fuck, but because for the first time ever, her resting bitch face was gone. And replaced with a vulnerability that I had never seen in her before.

  Shit, this thing with Logan must’ve really bothered her if she’s cracking like this. Who would’ve thought she actually had any real feelings? Hell, who would’ve thought that the last thing I wanted to do right now was say goodbye and leave her alone?

  I looked behind me, toward the apartment entrance door. “Do you have a roommate?”

  She shook her head. “Nope. Just me. It’s better that way. No one else’s shit to deal with.”

  No roommate means that if I left her now, she’d be all alone to wallow in her shit. And for some strange reason, I felt a responsibility to not let her wallow in shit. So, I made it my mission for the night to get a smile out of her before letting her go home to an empty apartment. Maybe I could even make her laugh. I snatched the keys out of her hand and grinned like a damn fool. “I smell garlic bread. Let’s go eat.”

  In an instant, she pounced on me, trying to get the keys back. “I’m not going anywhere with you…you freak. Give me my keys.”

  Not gonna lie, the surprise of her on top of me, clawing at me, felt pretty damn good. Until she elbowed me that is.

  “Stop smiling, you perv, and give me my keys!”

  “Stop attacking me and maybe I will!” I laughed and winced all at once.

  She plopped back down in her seat with a huff. “You don’t have to steal my keys to force me on a date with you, Matt. You could’ve just asked.”

  A date? With her? That was an interesting concept. “Who’s asking anyone on a date? I’m hungry. You’re not in the right state of mind to be left alone. So I’m taking you with me.”

  I didn’t need to see the defeated look in her eyes to know that my idiotic statement affected her. “Shit.” I held the keys out to her in a lame attempt at a truce. “I’m an asshole. Sorry, Pink, that came out wrong. I didn’t mean it. Your state of mind is just fine.”

  She took the keys. Instead of jetting out of the car like I thought she would, she remained seated, staring blankly at the keys in her hand. A short silence ensued, but it was nowhere near uncomfortable. Just as I was about to say something, she beat me to the punch. “I don’t need to be rescued, you know.”

  “Clearly.”

  “I’m not some project to be fixed.”

  “Understood.”

  “I don’t need your pity.”

  “Okay! I get it!”

  “So, do you want me to go to dinner with you or not?”

  Huh? “Oh. No—I mean, yeah—but—” What the hell was wrong with my speech? I guess she caught me off guard with the one-eighty. I took a second to pull myself together. “I don’t want to date you, Pink. I just want to…break bread with you.”

  She smiled. She finally fucking smiled. “Garlic bread?”

  I chuckled as the entire world became brighter. “Yeah, garlic bread. That’s the best kind.”

  ~~~

  “Is it everything you hoped it would be?” Chloe asked, as I took a bite of the most delicious bread I have ever tasted.

  This bread was so good that the garlicy, buttery, orgasmic masterpiece of flavor in my mouth forced a long moan out of my throat. “Oh, yeah.” I mumbled with the bread still in my cheek. “This is fucking incredible.”

  The dark wooden table of our window booth was dimly lit by an overhanging lamp with a red shade. For a small restaurant, Ricci’s had an inviting, casual atmosphere complete with old-time Italian music. At this time of night, there were only a few other diners scattered about. I would imagine the place would be closing up soon for the evening.

  She leaned in and whispered, “What if I told you I know how to make it?”

  That caught my attention…enough to stop chewing. “Don’t tease me, woman.”

  She leaned back and huffed in exasperation. “God, why are you so macho? The name’s Chloe. CH-L-O-EEE.”

  I chuckled. “If you say so. I’ve gotta hear this. How do you know how to make the bread?”

  “I dated one of the cooks when I worked here.” She shrugged and took a bite of bread.

  Should’ve known that. But really? Was that all she was going to give me? “And…did the recipe just osmose from his brain to yours on a date?”

  She gave me the stink eye. “I told him I’d only go out with him if he gave me the recipe. So he did. And we went on a date. And that was it.”

  “Lemme guess. He wasn’t your type.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t really have a type. I like variety.”

  I nodded with raised brows, keeping my mouth shut about the fact that she just fed into her promiscuous reputation. Was she doing it on purpose? Did she actually want people to think she was easy? She seemed okay tonight. Why did part of me want to believe her rep was BS?

  “What about you?” she asked. “How come I never see you with any girls?”

  “I could ask you the same thing. Why no steady boyfriend? You’re sexy as hell. If you dropped the bitch act, you could easily land some dude if you wanted to.”

  There went my word vomit. So much for keeping my mouth shut. Luckily, she didn’t seem offended this time.

  Instead, she forced out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, just not the one I want.”

  I cocked a brow.

  She rolled her eyes and took a sip of her lemonade.

  “Maybe it’s not an act,” she continued.

  I nodded in thought. “Or, maybe it is. You seem pretty cool now. Not clingy or—” What’s a nice way to say 'easy'? “—overly accessible. It’s a nice change. You should do it more often.”

  Her face scrunched up. “Maybe I just don’t like you.”

  “Or. Maybe you like me more than you think.” I winked.

  The waiter came with our plates, a Sirloin Marsala for me and a spaghetti with meatballs for her. After grating Parmesan cheese over her plate, he asked the typical waiter question, “Is there anything else I can get for you two?”

  I answered instantly, “More bread.”

  The kid, who must’ve been fifteen or sixteen, eyed our full basket of bread, then looked back at me with a quizzical look on his face which kind of pissed me off. I mean, I would’ve eaten it all up already if he wouldn’t have been so quick with our meals. And I wanted leftovers.

  “Please,” I said calmly.

  “O…kay? I’ll be back with that in a minute.”

  Dipshit.

  The steak was even better than the bread. It literally melted in my mouth. Chloe laughed when I moaned again at the taste, and I smiled, knowing that my mission for the night had just been accomplished.

  We savored our meals quietly for a few minutes before she broke the silence, continuing our conversation. “Maybe I’m not interested in anything serious with anyone. Maybe taking what I want and being…less than nice…is the best way to make sure they don’t get all googly with me.”

  “What the hell does ‘googly’ mean?”

  “Come on, you know.”

  I shook my head no.

  “It’s the lovey-dovey look in someone’s eyes. Whether it’s a boy or girl, man or woman, w
e all do it. It’s the way someone looks at you when they want you to think they’re falling for you. They look at you with ‘googly-eyes.’”

  “Ha! You seem like an expert. Maybe your nickname should be ‘heartbreaker.’”

  “Yeah, right. I’ve only gotten that look from one person. And I’m not the one who did the heart breaking in that situation.”

  I nodded in understanding. It couldn’t have been Logan. He’s never felt that way about her. My curiosity piqued. “First love?”

  “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

  She continued stuffing spaghetti into her face as if this conversation were over. I cleared my throat to get her attention. It worked because she looked up from her plate with a WTF look. “Go on, Pink, spill it. You know you want to.”

  She laughed again. Just a small one, but a laugh nonetheless. It took her another moment before she finally started to talk.

  “Fine. I was young. Still in high school and living at home. He said he loved me until he...well…until he didn’t anymore. After that, I left home and never saw him again. And why am I telling you this anyway?” She picked up her lemonade and peered into the glass. “Did you put some kind of truth serum in my drink?”

  “Yes, now tell me all your secrets.”

  “Very funny.”

  I thought about what she said for a moment and then blurted out the obvious question, “Why keep doing something that’s not working, though?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, all of it. Using the bitch act to keep from falling for someone or having them fall for you. Clearly, you have a thing for Logan or you wouldn’t have gotten so worked up tonight. But I’m not sure he’s ever seen you act normal like you are now. Like you could be more than…you know…what you are to him. And he loves Liv now, anyway, so it’s basically a lost cause, and—“

  “Stop!” She banged her hands on the table, causing the few patrons in the restaurant to glare in our direction. “This topic is off limits. Okay?”

  “Hey, I’m just telling it like it is. You don’t have to get all crazy.”

  She continued to scowl at me.

  “Fine!” I complied with hands surrendering in the air. “I will never bring it up again.”

  She sighed and started twirling a spaghetti noodle onto her fork. “You might just be the bluntest person I have ever met.”

  “At least with me, what you see is what you get, Sweetheart.” I wiggled my brows.

  Her face softened. “I don’t have a thing for Logan. We just give each other what we need without—I don’t know—needing too much, I guess. It’s the perfect relationship, actually. Anyway, I think you’re just avoiding my question.”

  “Hmm?” God, this steak is amazing.

  “Look at you.” She glanced at my biceps. “You’re ripped. Tattooed.” She looked directly into my eyes. “Handsome.” Wow. I never realized how crystal blue her eyes were. “And I hate to admit it, but a little bit fun too, when you’re not being so blunt. And annoying. And macho. And stupid. Other than that, you’re pretty much every girl’s wet dream.”

  I’d be lying if I said that the last part of that comment didn’t affect me or make her seem even hotter than she already was.

  Her expression changed as we made eye contact and something shifted in the air that made her begin excessively cutting her meatballs into tiny pieces. Was she embarrassed about something?

  “And I’m only saying that because I’m not interested in you. Not like that, anyway.”

  “Uh-huh. But wait. Girls have wet dreams?”

  “You know what I mean. C’mon, let’s hear it. Why no girlfriend?”

  “Oh. That question.” I used my fork to stab the last bite of sirloin on my plate and proceeded to slide it all around to make sure it was thoroughly drenched in every last drop of Marsala sauce before placing the bite ceremoniously in my mouth.

  “Yeah.” She rolled her eyes. “That question.”

  I shrugged. She told me ‘hers.’ I guess I’d have to tell her ‘mine.’ “I loved someone once too. I decided to join the Army right out of high school, but I didn’t talk to Maya—my girlfriend—about it before signing up. I just wanted to serve my country, and I thought she’d be cool with it. Maybe even proud. She wasn’t. She was actually pretty fucking pissed. We didn’t speak much during my basic training, and when we did, we argued about the ‘choices I made.’”

  “By the time I left for Afghanistan, I was tired of hearing how much I fucked up our relationship. So I told her not to wait for me if I made her so unhappy. Truth is, I didn’t want her to spend our time apart being miserable, so I told her to just live her life and do what she needed to do to be happy while I was gone.”

  Chloe’s eyes were on me, waiting for me to finish.

  “So, that’s what she did. She was already engaged to some pansy computer geek when I came home a year later. I mean, talk about making a statement? This guy is the complete opposite of me. So…I guess in the end, she told me.”

  I took a drink of water. “I was an idiot to assume I could try to pick up where we left off when I got back. I mean, it’s not like we had kept in touch after we broke up or anything. The thing is, when you’re over there, away from the life you used to know, it’s almost like time stands still. Logically, you know your loved ones lives are going to change, but since you’re not there to witness it, or hear about it, it almost doesn’t seem real.”

  I wasn’t about to tell Chloe that all the months I spent overseas, without the woman I loved, put my feelings for her under a microscope and into better perspective. That when I came home, I was ready to make Maya my wife. That the same day I got home, I went to a jeweler to look at engagement rings. No way, Chloe didn’t need to hear that. Nobody did. “So why no girlfriend you ask? I guess it’s because I haven’t felt that way about anyone since. And I don’t want to or plan to. Because love bites big sweaty balls.”

  She kept quiet, as she absorbed my long-winded answer, until her expression gradually morphed into a grin. Then, she slowly nodded in agreement. “Word.”

  My laugh escaped immediately. “Word? Did you just say ‘word’?”

  “Yes. Word. To your mother. It means I get it, you dweeb.”

  Damn, this girl was cute as hell when she let her guard down. “Okay, let’s forget the fact that you just explained ‘word’ to me like I don’t know what it means, and let’s focus on the fact that you also just said ‘dweeb.’ Have I been transported back to eighth grade?”

  “Only cool people say ‘dweeb. ’”

  “Well, that sucks. Now I know I’ll never be cool.”

  “To each their own,” she teased. “It’s not for everyone.”

  ~~~

  I didn’t speak to Chloe for months after our night at Ricci’s. Not on purpose…I just never tried to contact her and vice-versa. I had no idea that I’d keep wondering about her, though. No clue she’d find her way into my dreams…

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  ~Chloe~

  Present Day

  The cold had chilled me to the bone, and all I should’ve been thinking about was taking a long hot bath. Yet I couldn’t get the expression on Logan’s face out of my mind. Disappointment. Pure hatred. He had never looked at me like that before. Never. What the hell had I done?

  Pandora cranked through the speaker plugged into my phone. Hot water gushed into my bathtub while I took a long look into my bathroom mirror. Eyes smudged and bloodshot. Lips dry and cracking from the cold. Nose still bright red and runny. I looked like a freaking heroin addict.

  Why the need to throw myself at someone who doesn’t want me? I’m not an idiot. Regardless of the unique and pretty damn perfect connection we have, I could clearly see that Logan’s heart didn’t belong to me. I’d never chased a boy in my life. Well—not after Ryan anyway. Since him, I’d made a pretty bold point not be one of those needy girls who bases her level of importance on whatever guy she happens to be with.

  But no
w that’s exactly what I was.

  The mirror began to steam up. The hypnotic beat of Tove Lo’s “Crave” came through the speaker, the lyrics mirroring my thoughts. Thoughts of mistakes worth making. Thoughts of waiting for the opportunity to make the same mistake again and again just to get that feeling he gives you when you’re with him. But today, Logan didn’t give me what I needed. He didn’t give me what I expected.

  Today, he made me worse.

  My finger found the mirror and began to write letters into the condensation.

  F.M.L.

  Yeah, that summed it up pretty well. Fuck my life.

  I turned off the tub faucet and tested the water with my toes. Way too hot. The music from my phone paused to alert me of an incoming text, the sound of it freezing me colder than the winter air ever could. It caused my stomach to rise to my throat and my heart to stop beating.

  Now I don’t know how many people actually do this, but I like to assign specific text-tones to each individual contact. At least for the ones I used frequently. And the specifically-assigned text-tone that I just heard was one that hadn’t graced my ears for over two years.

  I looked at the phone for a moment, not wanting it to be real but knowing it was. The fear and hurt that the ringtone unleashed quickly bloomed into a growing cloud of anger. Did he seriously have the audacity to try to contact me? Was she making him do her dirty work, or was it his bright idea?

  I grabbed my phone to check the text.

  Ryan:

  It’s been long enough Chloe.

  She misses you.

  Let’s talk.

  “No,” I said aloud in an immediate reaction of skepticism and contempt. They didn’t get to decide how long ‘long enough’ was. As far as I was concerned, my time away from them would never be long enough.

  “No!” I shouted this time as my phone wailed across the room, landing between the toilet and the wall, tiny glass and metal cracking as the battery flew out of it.