0 9

v a p u s t a t u d

[Estonian]: To be shocked, surprised, or shaken by something very unexpected.

I OFFICIALLY STARTED to worry on the fifth day.

I knew fear quite well—the kind that progressively snuck its way under skin, eating away so slowly, you were blissfully ignorant to the first time it even invaded your insides. Still, when those death fangs finally settled, they just sunk in and never stopped drawing blood.

And then, of course, there was the immediate kind. The sharp, piercing bang that ripped all the way through your chest. Shaky fingers, wobbly knees, thundering heartbeats. The kind that disoriented vital organs into chaos, while the rest of your body just stood so horribly, horribly still. All frigid, and hot, and aching.

The kind that planted your feet in front of a speeding truck, instead of making them run.

I knew that this was neither of those.

It wasn't my usual fluctuating bouts of trepidation. This was just all due worry. And for myself.

Ever since Brian showed up at Haven and I ended up spending my lunch break with him, he'd repeatedly come by four days in a row. And I had had lunch with him for them all.

And counting.

I found myself falling into a routine I was a total stranger to. It was the sense of being pulled into a dance I had never even done before, and yet, somehow, my naïve feet knew all the steps.

Either way, it was something I was well aware I shouldn't be doing. And that was why I had to call things out, before I got anymore confused.

When I walked out into the open, I already saw Brian sitting at a corner table. By now, my break time was etched into his memory, and he was never late.

His dark hair was less styled today, locks falling over his forehead in a sort of messy round up; dark, slick, and slightly damp. His broad shoulders were nestled underneath a thick gray sweater—a perfect match to his eyes. And I didn't need to think far to know what lay beneath the table were dress pants over sleek shoes.

He looked like a breath of fresh air shrouded by looming clouds.

And he was waiting for me.

"You brought me coffee," he pointed out as soon as I was close. "Thank you."

I shrugged and gently placed it in front of him. "Figured I'd get it over with. At least, now I don't have to go back."

Once I settled into my seat, I took a large slurp of my smoothie, allowing the cool, thick liquid soothe the burning heat in my throat. Bolstering juice.

"So how's your day goi—"

"So what are we doing?"

Brian's brow slowly arched, but other than that, there was nothing hinting at the fact that he was surprised, or even taken aback by my bluntness.

"What do you mean?"

I took a deep breath, surreptitiously tucking my hands between my thighs so my shaky fingers wouldn't show on the table. Why couldn't I just get a damn grip?

"I mean, you coming here now, every day," I started. My words thankfully came out more leveled than they felt. "You talking to me like we're...like we're friends. Drinking dark coffee with me, and actually listening to me when I say you should try to stop working on your lunch break. I mean, I can see you trying." Brian's eyes were glued to my face, and I had to start tapping my foot on the floor so I wouldn't combust from the attention. "What's with you being casually dressed—an obvious sign you're not coming from work today—and then choosing to spend the afternoon with me all the same?" Finally, I let my stare meet his. "Why are you here?"

Brian heaved a sigh, and then took a sip of his coffee. It was scalding, bitter and as bland as could be, but he never wanted anything else.

"I like talking to you," he said at last, and I took a hard swallow at his simple confession. "It's...easier than with most people."

"But aren't you with someone?" I pushed. "It should be even easier for you to talk to her. And won't she mind this? Don't you care if she does?"

Part one of the sputtering program: why not just stomp all over to ten?

"No, I don't," Brian returned easily. "Because, like I told you, Kenzie and I aren't in a relationship."

"I just thought—"

"Cassidy, she could conveniently be sleeping with someone else right now. And I have nothing to say on the matter."

I chewed on my lower lip. "So the fuck buddy arrangement really is just that?"

Brian suddenly choked out a cough, and it might just have been my imagination, but I thought I saw the tips of his ears redden.

"Yes." He cleared his throat. "Yes, I suppose. It's just that."

But then...

Impulsively, I thought back to that day at his parents' mansion. Our third meeting, and the first time I met Kenzie—his not girlfriend. Like a glaring stop sign, I remembered the vibrant red color of her lips, and how her dark eyes looked me over. The possessive manner in which she clutched Brian's arm, like she wanted to steer him away from me so fast, we wouldn't even be breathing the same air anymore.

But despite her intimidating exterior, I also caught the certain glimmer in her eyes when she spoke about meeting his mother.

I had no idea about the technicalities of their relationship, and quite frankly, I would rather remain ignorant. But for her sake, I couldn't help but hope she saw this just as casually as he did.

I sighed. "Well, okay then."

Brian stayed quiet, but still, it only felt like a subtle nudge to let go and just spew out more of my rambling thoughts. Thankfully though, I knew much better than that. So I choked them down like rotten food, and just hoped this didn't end with me throwing up all over the table.

Thankfully, he let me.

After I had tried my hardest to stop acting weird, we slowly, progressively got back to the way things usually went. It still struck a cord that I could even associate the word 'usual' with Brian and myself, but I just went with it. And with time, the blaring volume of my thoughts reduced to a background echo. I felt better. Considerably, at least.

"So, please don't take this the wrong way," he said after a while, his already prominent baritone going even lower in an attempt to slow his words. "But...are you doing what you want?" Once I raised a brow, he continued, "Alright. Is waitressing where you thought you'd be at this point?"

I stopped short for a moment, his question duly catching me off guard. But thinking about it better, I wasn't surprised. I was used to this, after all. Used to people asking questions about my life: where I was, where I should have been, where I wanted to be. And with time, I had learned to decipher the good intentions behind most inquisitive stares. As well as the not so good ones.

Still, it didn't change the fact that even the best intentions, could feel like twisting the handle of a dagger already buried skin deep.

What's a pretty little thing like you not doing in college? You gonna be wearing a uniform for the rest of your life?

I let the straw fall from my mouth before gently pushing the cup away. "No, I guess it's not. Just like you're already thinking." I began chewing on my lip again as I mulled over my words, but then I decided to just be out with it. "Look, for me, it's been years and years of not knowing where I was headed at all. In a way, it felt like everything had been mapped out for me from the start. But since life happened, and that sort of blew over, I had to learn to build my own structure. Do it all from scratch. Alone.

And I know. I know where I am right now might not be as noteworthy as going to college, or pursuing a sky high career. It isn't what parents would love to brag about to their guests over dinner. But when I think about it—really think about it? I can still say more for my self than a lot of people have the means to. I get paid every month, I've got a bed and actual Netflix to go home to. I still have food on my table. I know what it's been like to both have, and lack those things. So I think I'm doing pretty okay."

Brian's gaze softened, and I stared at the wall behind him to avoid his eyes.

"I just figure, after all this time, I've got a picture in my hands now," I continued. "It should at least be worth looking at."

A few beats of silence passed, and my brain was on overdrive thinking I just spewed out unnecessary word vomit. The hairs on my skin prickled, and I felt my skin start to itch.

"It is."

Brian's voice snapped my attention back into focus, and I actually had to ask him to repeat his words.

"It is worth looking at," he said to me. Then slowly, hesitantly, as though I would retreat, his large hand moved across the table before it rested over mine. My breath hitched, and I could only hope he didn't notice. It was warm—warm. The air around him constantly seemed cold, and maybe even a little harsh. But getting closer, everything about him was always so deliriously warm. Like the slow heat from your first candle during winter.

Brian Willis had started to scare me. Much more than I would like to admit.

And it took a lot, but this time, I fought the urge to pull away. Instead, I focused on the increased thrumming of my heart in my ears, and the patches of red steadily creeping up my neck.

"You're back on the clock." Brian shot me a miniscule smile soon after, and then tilted his head a fraction to the right. My eyes whipped to the large wall clock immediately. My thoughts were screaming so loud, I couldn't dare hear anything else.

"Oh, shit." In a swift second, my hand was back at my side, the traces of his heat disappearing as I welcomed the cold. I got up, quickly gathered both cups from the table, and then spun on my heel, now shuffling towards the kitchen.

"Cassidy."

I briskly turned around, my face, no doubt bearing a scowl. On the other hand though, Brian sported something short of an amused look, a faint glint in his cloudy eyes. I grew confused, but then it all made sense when my focus strayed to his outstretched hand—precisely the bank notes in his light grasp.

I all but huffed and plucked the money from his fingertips.

"And by the way—" At the unexpected sound of his voice, I stopped in my tracks.

"Just because you have a picture in your hands now, doesn't mean you don't have all you need to paint something new."

__________

What Brian didn't know, was that his statement packed a literal punch.

And maybe that was why I was here.

Everywhere.

The evening breeze swept through my hair and clung to the skin on my face. It was colder than usual. Bleak shades of purple painted the sky overhead, along with smears of pink and burnt oranges—the darker hues of the approaching night adding a dull disposition to the entire scene. Kind of like the dull, throbbing ache I could almost feel in my chest.

The celestial picture was a sublime reminder—quite as rare as the chances of me being here, of all places, right now.

Suppressing a shudder, I took a deep breath outside the glass windows, my feet painfully rooted in their spot. I could see nearly everything inside. I knew nearly everything inside.

I-I'd like to buy a...paintbrush? A pencil?

God, I was so stupid.

And I must have looked like an absolute creep. 

With the background buzz of the street in my ears, I shakily placed a palm flat against the glass windows, and just went on standing there. Hovering. Hovering and yearning for and wanting the life beyond the simple barricade. Of colors and patterns and rough, ashy streaks. Of lines and arcs and life on paper. A life I once had; a life I could have wanted.

And a life I could have recovered if only—if only I wasn't such a freaking coward.

It was almost funny how I always found myself at this very point in my life. How I always ended up hating everything I once loved.

"Hey, 'xcuse me?"

I turned around immediately, and came face to face with a guy in a black t-shirt—some band logo splashed right across it's center. His lengthy, dark hair fell over his shoulders in minimal waves, and I could effortlessly spot the swirls of ink curling around his arms, leading all the way up to the curve of his neck.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you," he quickly apologized, discreetly taking a step back. "I was just wondering if you were gonna go in?"

"Oh." My senses quickly caught up to me and I shoved my hands in my pockets, afterwards briskly shaking my head. "Nah, I'm not. Sorry, you can go right ahead."

He arched a brow, twirling the keys hooked around his index finger. Then he slowly looked me over. I all but snapped at him because of it. "You sure?" he finally asked. "Call me forward, but you don't look like you came here by accident. Just sayin'."

I couldn't help a self deprecating snort.

If you only knew, buddy.

Biting my lip, I stepped aside. "Like I said, you can go in. Sorry for stalling you."

With one last look my way, he shrugged and walked ahead. I watched him reflexively push his body forward before he yanked the door open with one hand.

And as soon as he was inside, I walked away as fast as my feet could carry me. Like a coward and like a failure, my shoulders sagging with nothing but the heavy weight of fallen dreams and even heavier memories.

__________

"Well, look at you. Both horribly early, and treachorously late."

Brian's arms remained folded on the table as he shot me a tiny smile. "Yeah, I was out of town for a few days. It was an unexpected trip, so I'm sorry I couldn't say anything."

"Hm." I pursed my lips as I tapped my fingernails on the smooth mahogany between us. "Work?"

"What else?"

I couldn't help a little chuckle. "What else." It's...good to have you back.

After my rhetoric remark, Brian took hold of the mug in front of him. Dark coffee, as usual. I watched him take a gulp of the piping hot liquid, before he faltered for a second, and then downed it all in one go.

A slip of his tongue darted out to catch the last traces of bitterness from his lower lip, and I arched a brow, just as he set the mug down and roughly cleared his throat.

Slowly, I discovered we'd slipped into silence; the background noise of everything else suddenly amplified. More distinct murmurs from conversations around us accompanied Brian's foot tapping on the floorboards. There was the clinking and scratching of utensils against plates, and the occasional chime indicating a new order was ready to be served. It was as quiet as it was loud, and when it hadn't ever been exactly awkward between us before, this time around, the word was almost too meager to describe how it felt. Almost like a faint tick tick tick indicating a time bomb was soon to erupt.

In all fairness, Brian wasn't ever chatterbox, but then again, he was never this eerily mute.

Something was wrong.

Did it have to do with his impromptu work trip?

"Is something wrong?"

He looked up at me, and I kept my gaze lowered to match.

"It's not your break yet, is it?"

I spared a glance at the large wall clock, and then turned my attention back to him. "It will be in a minute. I've got time."

He heaved a sigh, while I took the lead and sat down. It was then I took the opportunity to get a good look at him, studying him closely. Not like it wasn't already becoming a habit. There were dark circles under his eyes, and it looked like he skipped a day's shave. It was nothing alarming, just a five o' clock shadow with a tale. One I wanted to hear.

Once again, tired. He looked nothing but tired.

"You can tell me what's wrong, you know?"

Brian's lips curved into a wry smile. "You're not going to like it or me after that."

"I'll take my chances."

His index finger traced the slope of the mug's handle, and I could tell he was stalling. But regardless of all my waiting, I still didn't think I would ever have been prepared for the words that came flying out of his mouth.

"Have you ever wanted to get married?"

I didn't have a straw full of liquid in my mouth, and for that I was glad.

"W-what?"

"Marriage," he repeated. "Have you ever wanted to do it?"

I let out an uneasy cough, my thoughts suddenly all muddled up and distorted like shattered glass.

"I uh, I don't know? Not really? Maybe?" I answered, still as confused as ever. "I mean, dating someone is one thing, falling in love is another. And then marriage. That's...that's a whole other universe."

And I hadn't managed to accomplish even step one of three.

"Then how about marrying without love?" he asked. His gaze was bolder now, gray eyes boring into me, while mine had immediately grown weak. "How about marrying for convenience?"

"Brian, I don't understand. Why're you suddenly so interested in whether or not I—"

"Would you marry me solely for business purposes?"

And then, the coughing started.

My chest heaved as I struggled to keep breathing amidst the outburst of wheezing. Brian looked alarmed and he swiftly rose from his chair, proceeding to ask for water. My eyes were burning, and I knew they were beginning to tear up. It was so ridiculous and embarrassing that I'd started causing a scene, but neither Brian, nor apparently Jen seemed to worry about that, seeing as out of nowhere, she showed up with a glass of water and a hand deftly rubbing my back.

"Drink up. Hurry," she instructed.

The fluid was soothing as I gulped it down, and I felt the uncomfortable itch in my throat slowly subside.

"Th-thanks, Jen," I rasped. "I've got it."

She only nodded before leaving to continue with her rounds.

"Oh God, I'm sorry. I didn't think I'd cause all that," Brian said to me, silently urging me to drink more water. "Your eyes are so red."

"Yeah, it's fine." I finished the last contents of the glass, afterwards taking a deep breath. Then I let out a short, scratchy laugh. "Well, it's actually quite embarrassing, considering I chose to choke on your joke instead of laugh. Got a whole restaurant of eyewitnesses and puffy eyes to testify."

Brian's concerned look only grew worse, and I already had a bitter taste in my mouth before even knowing the root cause. Well, before admitting to knowing.

"Cassidy," he started, "I was being serious."

"But how—" I stared at him as though he'd grown three extra heads. "What're you even—you can't be serious. You just can't. Cut it out."

"Listen, I know it's a risk, and really, I hate that I'm asking this of you," he said, "but my hands are tied. I've got limited time, and limited options, and I'm just really stuck at this point, Cassidy. I can explain, but I only need your help, and for you to please listen."

There was a foreign lump in my throat where I was supposed to swallow, and when I spoke next, I already knew a familiar, cold fury had snuck it's way in.

"You have five minutes."

Brian gave a nod. "Well, as you know, I work for my family's company," he began. "I've done so full time for about five years now, and overall, for eight. I've worked my ass off to be where I am—to prove to everyone I deserve to be where I am. That I'm capable as my own man, and not just my father's son."

His demeanor had taken a solemn turn, and I crossed my arms on the wooden table.

"I thought it would be enough. That slaving for the company would secure me the position as CEO, and that I'd rightfully take over the reins from my father—well, officially, seeing as I've already done that." He shook his head in mirth. "I was wrong though, and now it's about to crash and burn in my face. You see, there's a deal. A big one. There're these prospective, Italian partners we've been looking forward to working with for a while now. We'd gone so far with the propositions, and the details. It was happening. It was in our hands."

"What happened?"

He raked a hand through his hair, and then I saw his rueful smile. "They're old fashioned. That's what happened. After all my achievements and everything put out for them to see, they've rather decided to equate my experience to the ability to put a ring on someone else's finger. To have a family of my own. And apparently, it's a skill I lack," he said, and I observed his expression turn rather bitter. "But one my cousin's managed to ace."

Oh.

"If I don't produce a potential bride in the next month, it'll be the end of the road for me, and only the beginning for Theo. He'll spearhead the deal in the very seat I've spent my life trying to occupy."

I shook my head and sat up straight. "But your dad. Doesn't he see how hard this is for you? I mean, he's the owner, right? He must be able to do something."

At that, Brian almost laughed. Like, a full laugh. The kind that would've sent his rich chuckles bouncing off the walls of the restaurant, and then right through my ears.

Apparently, today wasn't the day though, and somehow, I preferred it that way. There was already so much to wrap my head around and I didn't need any more unexpected happenings.

"My dad's tired of my shit, Cassidy," he told me, his tone lidded with resignation and faint mockery. "He's been wanting a daughter-in-law and grandkids for years now, and it turns out I'm an irresponsible twenty-six-year-old man for still not seeing that as a short term goal." He scratched the back of his neck, and it unnerved me in an instant to realize this was the least guarded I'd seen him. "In his words, this is my last chance. And I'd better take it."

"Brian, I—"

"I already took it."

My brows knitted in confusion. "What do you mean?"

Brian paused for a moment. "I'm sorry, but I already lied about you." At my dumbfounded look, he went on, "I lied we were already together."

Together. Together?

"Are you—Are you insane?" I blinked. No, this was too much. This was too much, too fast. It felt like I'd slowly, carefully been cornered until I'd inevitably fallen into this—this trap. "How could you lie about me—about us? For fuck's sake there is no us!"

"I know that, Cassidy. I know that," he whispered. His stare was pinning, and for effect, I knew he was trying to tell me to calm down. But how on earth could I? This was crazy. He was crazy.

And I felt used.

"It'll only be for a year and a half, I promise," he continued. "We'll have a contract with legal terms that'll work for us both. And I can give you anything you want. Any amount you care for. Just help me out."

Looking back, I'd agree it was then the twig snapped.

"You know what," I said slowly, "it all makes sense now. This little week-long friendship and all." I released a sardonic laugh. How could I not have seen it?  "I passed the interview, didn't I? I didn't kiss your feet or offer to jump your bones. And all of a sudden, I'm the perfect candidate because I'd want you for just your money, not the ring."

"Cassidy, stop. You know that's not—"

"Well, I'm sorry to disappoint, Brian. But it's a no for me. And really, I feel for you. Hopefully, you can bounce back from this." I tipped my empty water glass in his direction. My voice was cold, biting, and I felt invisible needles prick my skin in all the places I wasn't supposed to feel. It was my fault. "Oh, and for your sake, I really hope you didn't give your folks a name, because there'll be no Cassidy in white. Or wait—" I snapped my fingers. "Why don't you see if Kenzie would be willing to support you in more ways than one, this time?"

Brian's sour expression was all I needed to feel even more pathetic. I stood up as though the chair had been lit ablaze, and grabbed his mug along with my empty glass.

I turned to leave, but then thought better and stared him down as hard as I could muster.

"And please," I said, "please don't come back here. I'd honestly prefer it if I didn't see you again."