Score: A Song For You - Amy Winehouse

Mark

My heart is trashing against my ribcage like a trapped animal. Gloria swings the door open, and all I can do is just stand there, craning my neck, trying to catch a glimpse of my girl.

She's right there, standing in the doorframe, with that dickhead by her side. I would gladly land my fist between his eyes, but I know I'd better behave. Violence isn't exactly the way to make a good impression.

"Hey, babes," Gloria says, stepping aside for Lydia and Ass-hat to walk in. "Lydia, please, don't freak out, but..."

And then, her eyes meet mine. Her gaze glides through the room as if she'd been expecting to see me there, and, once her eyes lock with mine, a frown takes over her features.

"What the fuck is he doing here?!" She bites out, visibly frustrated.

Not exactly the welcome I was expecting, but, not entirely a shocker, either.

"I just came to talk..."

"About what," she says, folding her arms over her chest.

"Us," I say, sincerely. There's no point in holding back now. This time, it's all-or-nothing.

'There is no us,' she says, unfolding her arms and clenching her fists at her hips. She shoves Asswipe with her elbow and starts walking, passing me by, and heading toward the kitchen island.

I turn around, to follow her.

"Lydia, please, babe..."

"Leave me alone, Mark," she says, assisting Assbite with arranging the groceries on top of the counter.

"Fine," I say, leaning on the counter. "Just give me ten minutes. Ten minutes, and I'll leave you alone after that, OK?" I never thought I'd be begging, but, here we are.

"I do not negotiate with terrorists," Lydia says, daggers shooting from her eyes. She says this in a completely serious voice, but the absurdity of her statement gets to me and I crack up, laughing. Amused, I'm relieved to see that she's trying to suppress a smile, herself.

"OK, give me your terms, then."

"Just leave, Mark. Go back to where you've come from, and don't come looking for me again."

A sharp pain stabs at my chest and I feel like the air is knocked out of my lungs. She hates me. She really fucking hates me. Seeing her like this, in her new life, all put together and...and happy feels like a punch to the guts. She looks beautiful, as always, but there is something about her now...like she's more mature...

She's always been emotionally and intellectually ahead of her peers, but now it's like her entire personality has caught up. She looks like a grown-ass woman, even in her cheap dress and schoolgirl braids, a reminder that she's still just eighteen. Her eyes are even more mysterious than before, and I can't help but wonder, have those eyes cried after I left? Has she shed a single tear for me?

"I'm not leaving until we speak." The words escape my lips without me realizing it.

"Maybe you should listen to him, babes. He's come all the way from America," Gloria, whose presence I have completely forgotten about, jumps in.

Lydia moves her gaze over to our best friend and squints her eyes at her.

"You," she begins, her voice dripping with disappointment. "Don't even get me started...How could you?!"

"I just wanted to help, babe," Gloria says, folding her arms over her chest.

"Help? And this is your idea of "help"?"

"Well, I couldn't look at you both, pining after each other and wasting away..."

"I'm not pining after her," I say, at the same time, as Lydia says:

"I'm not pining after him!"

"OK, OK," Gloria lifts her hands in front of her chest in a gesture of resignation. "Go on being miserable, then. I couldn't care less." And then, she pulls her eyebrows in and points a finger first at me, then at Lydia, saying,

"Just don't you dare ruin Liam's party!"

I turn back to Lydia and I try to reason with her.

"Please, babe, just let me talk to you, for five minutes, and then I'll be out the door."

Lydia slaps her hands on the countertop and looks right into my eyes.

"Fine. Five minutes. I don't have any more time to waste on you."

She grabs a grocery bag off the counter and turns around to start walking. 

And then, something absolutely unbelievable happens. It all happens so fast that I barely have time to process it. Assface grabs her by the hand and says:

"Are you sure, babes? Do you want me to come with you?"

"No, it's fine, it won't take long," Lydia says. And then, that prick pulls her in and kisses her lips.

I blink, not wanting to believe my own eyes. What the fuck just happened?

Before I realize it, my legs walk me right next to him. I grab him by the collar and push him against the countertop.

"You put your hands on her again and see what happens!" I bare my teeth, getting so close that our noses are almost touching. I hear screams in the background, but I don't care. All I see is red, and I want to rip this motherfucker's head off.

"That's enough!" I hear Gloria's yell behind my back. "All of you, get out, now! I told you, I don't want any trouble tonight."

I take a step back, letting Asswad go, and I stomp my feet toward the door, not looking back, not even to check if Lydia's coming behind me. I don't stop until I'm out the door and in the hallway. Once outside, I lean against the wall, trying to relax my breathing.

What the actual fuck just happened in there? Is there something going on between Asslick and Lydia? Did she get over me this quickly? Is it simply rebound, or does she have feelings for him?

I feel like my head is going to explode...I shouldn't have come here. It was all a big, fat mistake!

No more than a minute passes, before Lydia appears in the hallway next to me, carrying her grocery bag in her hands. She walks past me without saying a word and stops in front of the lift. She presses the button. I just stand there, unable to move. Did I blow my chance to talk with her? I wouldn't blame her if she doesn't want to talk to me anymore. Even for five minutes.

But then, she turns her head slightly, so that I can see her delicate profile, and says, her voice merely a whisper:

"Are you coming, or what?"

I blink, not able to process the situation for the second time tonight. Am I going insane?

She doesn't say anything else, and, when the elevator chimes, indicating that it's arrived at our floor, I hurry up to get in, afraid that, if I hesitate for a little longer, I might miss my chance.

We ride the lift in awkward silence. The air between us is so loaded, that it crackles with tension. There's so much emotion in the small space, so many unspoken words. But, unlike before, it's not the familiar desire, sparking electricity between us. It's frustration, and anger, and hurt. Thank God it is a short ride, as her studio is right above.

Lydia unlocks the door to her studio and steps in, finding the light switch and turning the light on. I step in, right behind her, taking my surroundings in. It is a small place, but she has put it to life, leaving her signature style in every minute detail. She's even put a corkboard with Polaroid photos of her and her friends on the wall right next to the door. I take a brief look, seeing the familiar faces of Alex, Gloria, Nate, and Liam, staring right back at me. There is even a photo of Patrick and Lydia together. But none of me. None of us.

Even I am surprised at how hurt this is making me feel.

"You've got a lovely place, Lyds," I say, trying to sound calm, but just sounding like an idiot.

You've got a nice place?! Seriously?!

She puts her grocery bag on the island and turns around, leaning against the countertop, to face me.

"Cut the crap, Mark," she says. "Why are you here?"

"I've been dying to see you..."

"Why, Mark? What more can you possibly want from me?"

"Lyds..." I start, but my voice breaks. She does fucking hate me. And, why have I returned, really? What did I expect - that, when she sees me, Lydia will throw herself into my arms, declaring her love for me and begging me not to leave again? That she'd desperately need me to help her get her life back together? Bullshit! It turns out Lydia's way more resilient than she ever thought possible, and, even after what happened over the summer, even after her life went completely off the rails, she's managed to pick up the pieces and build a new life for herself, all by herself, and all for herself. There's no space for me in it. And why should there be?

I spent the past three months trying to get as close to her as possible, from afar. I agreed to stay in America, overseeing the merger, as my father had asked me to, and he promised to help me transfer schools and arrange for me to come back to London. I didn't reach out to Lydia, after I left on that plane, because I wanted to give her enough time and space to heal and to be able to forgive me, but not enough for her to move on and forget about what we had together. Turns out I've misjudged her on that last point there, though...

Gloria agreed to help me, giving me information about Lydia, gently pushing Lydia towards forgiveness, and arranging the meet-up, when the time was finally right. She never told me about Lydia seeing somebody else...

"I came to tell you that I'm coming back to London, for good," I begin, deciding to thread with caution. Seeing Asssucker kiss her really hurt and, suddenly, I don't want to expose myself too much. This whole plan seems like a really bad idea with every second that passes..."I transferred schools. I'm starting the new semester here."

She covers her face with her hands.

"Why?" She whispers through her fingers.

"Because I can't be separated from you. Because I love you, Lydia, I always have, I just hadn't realized it for a long time, babe. But I know it, and I need to be with you, as much as I need to breathe air..."

There goes threading with caution and not exposing myself...

She lets go of her face and lets her arms drop at her sides. Then, she peels off the island and starts walking towards the front door.

"Time's up," she says, reaching for the handle.

I grab her by the arm and spin her around so that she's facing me.

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

She wriggles her arm and I let her go.

"What did you expect, Mark? That I'd throw myself at your feet and let you carry me to the sunset?"

I feel like my chest is entrapped in shrinking iron hoops, slowly writhing the air out of my lungs.

"I guess I just wanted you to know that it was all real, Lydia," I start again, taking a one-hundred-eighty turn for what feels like the hundredth time in a single night, and deciding to be as honest as possible, right there, on the spot. "All the kisses...the I-love-yous. They were all real, and I want to give you every second of real I can, babe..."

"Yeah, it was all real, Mark. As was the pain and trying to move on from that. So, now that I have finally stopped feeling like I want to die every single day, please, spare your words, Mark. I've been trying to forget how real it all was. Let's just pretend it was all just a stupid summer fling and leave it behind us," she waves her hands at her sides.

Her words are burning holes in my heart. Suddenly, I feel a very welcome distraction. An emotion, taking over, more powerful than all others: anger.

"If you've come back to London just for me, you shouldn't have done it, Mark. There's nothing for you here. However, what's done is done," Lydia continues. "I guess we'd just have to avoid each other till I leave for uni next year."

My anger grows stronger, fueled by the realization that I'm completely at her mercy. I'm so weak when it comes to her, it's sickening. I've been replaying our meeting in my mind, over, and over again, for the past three months, until, this past week, it nearly drove me mad. There was no scenario, though, in which she didn't take me back in those little role-plays I had going on in my head, and now, that she's doing just that, I feel frustrated and angry. With myself, for being so cocky and foolish, and with her, for...well, for not wanting me back. For not needing me the way I have been needing her, like I'm underwater and she's oxygen.

What kind of spell has she put me under? How did I let her entrance me like that?  It's like Lydia has been created for the sole purpose of taking the piss out of me...

The pain in my chest spreads to my whole body. To my fucking soul. I feel angry, and hurt, and irritated, because whatever I did, is nothing compared to what she's doing to me right now.

I ball my hands into fists by my sides.

"Fine," I say, squinting my eyes, the anger bubbling in my chest, threatening to burst out. "I can see you've done a good job, moving on. But, what did I expect? After all, when we hooked up you still had a boyfriend you thought you'd marry one day...It should be no surprise to me you've been screwing someone else in no time, after a simple summer fling..."

Lyfia winces and takes a step back. She really looks taken aback by my words.

Good. I want her to feel the pain I've had to live with for the past months.

Her face turns red, and she stomps her foot, yelling at me.

"You've got the nerve to come to my place, and beg me to take you back, and then insult me? Get out! Get out, fucker!"

I take a step forward, feeling the anger completely take over me.

"Don't worry. I'll be on my way. As you've said, there's nothing for me here. I'll be out your door, and you'll never have to see me again, ever!" And then, blinded by rage, I spit out:

'"Slut!"