That summer I expected things to change between Elle and I. We were alone so many times on the bus, but the friendship wall was up, and it was too tall for me to climb. I’m not sure a ladder would’ve helped. After that, I sort of went with the flow and followed her lead, until it ended us up in my bed and our friendship severely damaged. Hindsight is fifty-fifty. I should’ve told her no.
The warm feel of a hand pressed into mine brings my thoughts back to the present. I look down to find Talia, smiling up at me with dreamy eyes. It would be so easy to kiss her right now or even when I stop outside her door later, but emotions mess everything up. Instead of letting go of her hand, I hold on a bit tighter until our round of drinks show up, and I have no choice but to let go.
We each grab a shot glass and hold them high in the air. “To the most amazing set of interns who are going to take New York by storm!” Ashley shouts. Our hands meet in the middle and liquor splashes everywhere, some slipping down my arm. I’m a little annoyed at the mess, but I can’t let it bother me. Not right now, not in front of my peers.
The liquor goes down easy, way too easy for my liking. I order the next round almost immediately. I know my limits, but sometimes it’s nice to forget, and this might be one of those times.
I lose count of how many rounds we end up drinking, although I’m pretty sure I bought two. On our way home, my arm is around Talia and hers is hanging onto my belt loop. We’re closer than we should be right now, but I like it. I like feeling the heat from her body and the reverberations of her laughter.
The six of us decide to stop for pizza. It’s a necessity in the city, and the little mom and pop places that you pass by have the best pizza. Inside, the standing room only parlor is warm. The older lady behind the counter serves each of us a slice. At a dollar, you can’t go wrong, and after all the alcohol we’ve had, we need it.
The girls are laughing. At what, I have no idea. Talia keeps falling into me, and when I’m not eating my pizza, my hands are on her hips, holding her steady. She put away more booze than I thought she could and I’m hoping tomorrow isn’t a bummer of a day for her. Thankfully, we’re ahead on our project so we can take a day off.
Ashley and Roy want to hit another bar, but after another slice of pizza, I’m ready to head home. “I’m going to head home,” I tell Talia. She sets her hand on my chest and looks into my eyes. I can’t read her, not like I can Elle. I close my eyes and will any thought of Elle away. “Are you going to stay?”
She shakes her head slightly. “No, I think I’m going to go home with you.”
We tell the group we’re leaving, and we’ll meet up with them Sunday morning for coffee. Outside, we go our separate ways, with Talia and I heading toward the subway, and again, my arm is around her and she’s leaning into me. Part of me is tempted to see how we fit together, but I’m not in favor of rocking the boat or sleeping with a co-worker.
In a few weeks though, she may not be a co-worker. There’s nothing saying we’ll win the competition, and if we do, if both of us take the job. However, it would be nice to be with someone who cares for me… as long as she’s not drunk.
21
Elle
It’s true, Brad Miller and I haven’t been the best of friends. Sure, we both could say we haven’t been friends at all. Back in high school, the rumor was Brad had a crush on me. For a brief moment, I had given him some thought because he was the leather-wearing motorcycle-riding bad boy that every girl dreams of. My dream lasted a whole two minutes or so. As hot as he was, and let’s be honest, still is, because the Miller men have amazing genes, he wasn’t the one for me. As odd as it sounds, I didn’t like the way he spoke to me or other girls, for that matter, always putting us down and acting like he was better than the rest of us. The bad boy image has always been alive in our home, and I can’t imagine my dad saying anything rude to my mom.
And maybe that’s why Brad hates me and is trying to keep me away from Ben. I don’t know for sure, but it makes sense, at least to me. What I do know is Ben’s hiding something. Granted, we both have secrets. Everyone does. And lately, I’ve probably kept my fair share of things from him. Looking at my current situation, this is the cruelest form of payback. Ben is essentially being me, which is really uncharacteristic of the man I know and grew up with. He’s always been the type to wear his heart on his sleeve, and making sure I know exactly what he’s thinking. Of course, over the years, I’ve been able to read him like an open book, but since his birthday… well, everything’s changed since that night.
Which, is why I’m standing in front of a plate glass door with my hand on the brass door handle, willing myself to push down on the lever so I can open it. The word hypnotherapist keeps my feet grounded on the sidewalk and my thumb from pressing down to release the lock keeping the door shut. After hours of research on how to relive memories, I found Dr. Sanders, who seems to have a five-star rating on every review site, with accolades of how she’s helped people recover lost and suppressed memories.
Truth be told, I’m scared. I’m afraid to find out I’ve done something horrible to Ben, even though deep down I know I have. There’s a reason I don’t remember the night of his birthday, and today I’m hoping to find out what that is.
With a deep sigh, I muster up the courage to open the door and step in. The hallway is drab and dark with hardwood floors that slope. My flip-flops smack loudly through the corridor. I expected this building to be bustling with people coming and going. Not quiet and void of life.
At the end of the hall is where I find Dr. Sanders’ office. While my nerves may be getting the better of me, I don’t hesitate to twist the doorknob and enter. The office is warm and inviting with its muted blue walls and plush beige carpet. The receptionist smiles at me. “You must be Elle.” She stands and holds out a clipboard.
“Yes, I am.”
“Please fill this out. Dr. Sanders will be with you momentarily.”
Taking a seat, I look over the attached papers. All the questions are common: name, address, and person to contact in case of an emergency. It’s when I get to the question asking me why I’m here, my hand stalls and my mind starts to race. Do I put the reason? Do I tell the receptionist that I screwed up and I need to find what’s going on?
The door of what I’m assuming is Dr. Sanders’ office opens, saving me from having to fill out the loaded question. I stand and meet her halfway.
“Elle, why don’t you come right in,” Dr. Sanders says, motioning toward her office. Inside, the walls are a darker blue, and I already find myself at ease. Can the color of a room really make someone feel differently? “You can sit on the couch.”
I do as she suggests and immediately sink into the plush cushions. I could easily see myself taking a nap here, and it makes me wonder if Dr. Sanders snuggles up in between clients.
“Before we get into the reason you’re here, let’s talk about you for a minute. Tell me about yourself.”
“I’m nervous.”
“I understand, but there’s nothing to be nervous about. We’re going to talk, and I’m going to try and help you.”
“Okay,” I say with a deep breath. “Well, I’m an identical twin, a senior at UCLA and last winter my sister was almost killed in an auto accide
nt. Since then, I haven’t been the same. When my sister and I were five, a drunk driver crashed into our father’s truck, and he died, and his accident was very similar to Peyton’s – that’s my sister. Our mother sort of remarried a little over a year after my father’s accident. As of late, I haven’t made the best decisions, and I fear I’ve done something to hurt my best friend, which is why I’m here.”