Mad Valentine: A Bad Boy Romance (Mad Valentine Trilogy Book 1) (10 page)

XXIII. Messages

I heard from Victor over winter break, but it was only over text messages. The day I arrived at home, my parents and little sister, Juliette, asked me all about life during my last year at Merritt. I told them about classes, the newspaper, Maggie, and Archie, and for some reason, I found myself talking about Victor too. That night, I lay in my twin bed in my old room, thinking of him. That was when his first message came in:

Thinking of you, friend.

I read the message over and over again, my heart pounding in my chest. Maybe he was lying in bed thinking of me too. The thought of Victor in bed thinking of me made me blush.

If I was going to be perfectly honest with myself, I hadn’t really stopped thinking about Victor since we left Merritt. As soon as Maggie and I boarded the train that whisked us away to our hometown, I had had a heavy heart. Maggie noticed and asked me about it but I shrugged it off. The truth was, I was already missing Victor so badly that it hurt.

I tried to type a clever, casual response, but it was like my mind and my thumbs refused to work. In the end, all I could type out was my honest reply:

Thinking of you too.

The second message from Victor came on Christmas morning.

Merry Christmas. Did Santa treat you right this year?

The message came at the perfect time: We had just finished opening presents and I was laughing with Julie on the couch as the smell of cinnamon rolls came wafting out of the oven. The message from Victor made my happy morning even more perfect.

Merry Christmas! Santa took good care of me. I worked hard at being good all year. You?

A few minutes later, my phone dinged with his reply:

Pretty sure I’m always on the bad list, but Santa’s a generous guy. Brought me the books I asked for. I got you something.

My smile widened. Victor had gotten me a present! Of course I’d gotten him something too. Excited, I typed back:

Yesss! I got you something too. Let’s exchange after break.

The third message, of course, came on New Year’s Eve, a minute past midnight. It was uncharacteristically sweet. He was usually not one to use exclamation points, but he wrote:

Happy New Year!! Hope all your dreams come true.

I chuckled and figured he was probably out celebrating with the boys, drunk as a skunk. I was also at a bar with my friends and standing in a chaotic din of cheering, noisemaking, and shot drinking. Maggie was next to me and I made her take a quick selfie with me. We had party hats on, drinks in our hands, and Maggie also had on a fake monocle. I had no idea why. I checked the photo to see if it was decent. We looked drunk, but very happy.

Happy New Year to you too! Sincerely, The Shit Show

I attached the photo, sent it, and went back to partying.

The final message came a few nights later while I was in bed again, and it was a video. Victor was not in it. It was of The Slings, his friends’ band, playing at Lucky 13. At first I didn’t hear the song because I was hoping and waiting for Victor to appear in the video. I was disappointed when he didn’t. But as I replayed the video, I heard the lyrics and stopped breathing. This song was unlike the band’s other rock songs—it was soft and lilting, played acoustically. Dustin sang into the microphone:

“Standing in the morning light

Wearing nothing but the memories of last night

You take my breath away.

You take my breath away.

Drinking your coffee black as tar

Laughing with your friends in the back of my car

Boarding the train that will take you far

Far away from me

You take my breath away.

So very far away.”

The video stopped abruptly and I sat there, staring at the screen. I clutched at my chest as my heart beat hard enough to break my rib cage. Did Victor write this song? Was this the new song he said he had written? The one that he said I needed to hear?

Did he write this song for me?

My mind raced as I placed myself in the lyrics…Drinking my coffee black, drunkenly laughing with Maggie and Archie in his car, taking the train home, and standing in my underwear by the bed the morning after…Then the most significant line in the song suddenly registered: “You take my breath away.” That was what Victor had said to me in my dream. It was uncanny that we had both thought of the same phrase. But of course I could be reading too much into all of this. The song could have been about anyone. Besides, maybe Victor hadn’t even written it. But then why would he send me a video?

My phone dinged with another message, and I almost jumped. The display read:

P.S. Jose wants to know if he can get Maggie’s number.

I laughed out loud, knowing Maggie would be pleased. She had a thing for Jose. But again, I didn’t know what to write back. After thinking for a long time, I finally managed to type:

I’ll check with Maggie but all signs look good. P.S. I like the new song. Did you write it?

It was inelegant. As a writer, I hated it, but I had to know. I hit send and waited for his reply. I didn’t have to wait long.

I write all their songs. They’re a lazy band.

I laughed again. At least Victor could be lighthearted about this. But I couldn’t. This just meant too much to me. In fact, it seemed to mean everything to me. I wrote back:

It’s beautiful. Who is it about?

In a moment, I received this message:

A friend.

I sat stock still, staring at the two-word message. Then another message came in:

Good night, friend.

I didn’t write back to Victor after the last message. I just lay back, lost in thought. In the darkness I let a picture show of memories play in my head. I saw Victor sitting down in the seat next to mine on the second day of class. I saw him pushing down the top of his car with Maggie. I saw him cooking scrambled eggs and laughing at my mushroom joke and reaching out to touch my face at the coffee shop. Many hours later, with these memories on replay, I fell asleep to the question that was still haunting me:

Did he write that song for me?

XXIV. Gifts

The rest of winter break passed by in a cheerful blur, and when Maggie and I returned to Merritt, I was ready to get back to work. This was the year I was going to graduate and go to New York, come hell or high water. This was the year I was going to join the working world. It was everything I’d been dreaming of all throughout college. But recently, every time I thought about New York, my excitement was tinged with melancholy. Somewhere at the back of mind, I kept hearing the lyrics of Victor’s song:

You take my breath away

So very far away.

When I arrived at my apartment, I put a kettle on the stove and began unpacking all my things. At the bottom of my duffle bag, I found Victor’s present. I had wrapped it in paper with snowmen on it. It was a little book of puns and corny jokes I’d seen at a bookstore. It was just a silly gift, but I thought he’d like it. I’d also gotten Stu a present—a space heater for his studio. It was a bit of an awkward present to carry around, but I thought maybe Victor could give it to him the next time he visited.

Suddenly, looking at Victor’s present in my hands, I wanted to see Victor as soon as possible. I wanted to see his crooked smile again, to watch him open his present and to maybe give me that soft look in his eyes that I’d come to cherish. It was hard to fight the impulse, and I found myself grabbing my scarf and pulling up Uber on my phone for a ride.

I’d never been to Victor’s apartment, but I knew where it was because he had told me about it. It was the green apartment just outside the northeast corner of campus. He had never invited me over because it looked like it was “leftover from a 1950s nightmare,” he had said.

Excited to finally see where Victor lived, I watched the houses and apartments go by from the car window. It only dawned on me then that I should check to see if Victor was even home. Cursing myself for my thoughtlessness, I called him. He picked up after the third ring.

“Well, if it isn’t my good friend Ellen,” he said. “How are you, angel?” I closed my eyes at the sound of his deep voice. I hadn’t heard it in almost three weeks and I savored every syllable. He sounded happy to hear from me.

“Hi, friend,” I replied. “I’m great. Hey, are you home right now?”

“Uh,” he hesitated for a moment, but continued, “yeah, why?”

“I have a Christmas gift for you. And a gift for Stu. I want to bring them over.”

“You got a gift for Stu?” he sounded incredulous.

“Yeah, it’s a little space heater! It’s got a dial, you know, and you can make it oscillate. Since his studio’s so big and drafty.”

“Ellen, that is fucking brilliant. Why didn’t I ever think of that?”

“It’s good, right? And I have something for you too.”

“All right, why don’t you come to the bar tonight? We’ll get a beer, relax—”

“Oh, but I’m already in a cab on the way to your house!” I bit my lip, worried that it sounded stupid.

“You’re on your way here now?” He didn’t sound happy, and my heart sank a little.

“Yeah, I know, it was a little impulsive. But I swear it’ll only take a minute. I’ll just drop them off and we can meet at the bar later.”

“Uh...”

My heart sank deeper at the sound of his hesitation. “I’d really like to see you,” I said softly.

“Okay,” he said after a pause. “I want to see you too. But sorry, it’ll have to be short. I’m—I have to do something.”

I brightened. “Okay, I’ll be there in five minutes. What’s your apartment number?”

“3C. Just buzz at the door.”

“Okay!” I hung up, fully recovered and happy again.

When the cab pulled up to Victor’s apartment, I could see why he called it a 1950s nightmare. It was an avocado green building, a two-story mid-century structure with a flat roof. I could easily imagine pink plastic flamingos jabbed into the lawn in the summer.

“Yikes,” I said. But who was I to judge? My apartment smelled like boiled potatoes.

I pressed the button for 3C at the door and immediately got buzzed in. I made my way up the stairs, smiling all the way, excited to see him after three long weeks. At 3C, I stopped for a moment and ran my hand through my hair. I thought of putting on some lip gloss, but I was impatient to see Victor and just knocked instead. He opened the door, and when he saw me, his handsome face broke into a sunny smile.

Oh, my god, that smile.

“Hi, friend,” he said. “I’ve missed you.”

At those words, I wanted to rush straight into his arms and hold him, but I was arrested by how devastatingly sexy he looked in his dark blue mechanic’s suit. The top half was tied around his waist, just as I had fantasized, and he wore a V-neck undershirt that exposed the tattoos under his collarbones. He must have just come home from work.

“Hi, friend,” I repeated weakly.

But Victor cast a glance down the hall. He seemed nervous, and he didn’t invite me in.

“Right,” I said, coming back to reality. “I’m sorry to burst in like this, but here’s Stu’s present.” I wrangled with the awkward package and handed it to him. “I thought maybe you could give it to him since you see him more than me.”

“Ellen, this is amazing. You really didn’t have to,” Victor said, taking the package easily in one arm. “But you should give it to him yourself.”

“Well, then, I don’t know, maybe we could give it to him together.” I felt timid for some reason.

“Okay. Let’s do that.”

I stood there, entranced by his dark brown eyes. I had to mentally shake myself and focus.

“And this one,” I gripped his present tightly in both hands, “is for you.”

Suddenly, something caught Victor’s eyes and I heard a voice come from down the hall.

“Baby? Baby, what’s she doing here?”

I closed my eyes as that familiar voice knocked the wind out of me.

Mimi.

When I opened my eyes again, Victor was staring at me with a pained look.

I gazed at him, then turned to see Mimi standing at the top of the stairs. My mind moved in slow motion, trying to process everything. Mimi looked perfectly beautiful in tight black pants, a white cashmere sweater, and a black leather purse over her shoulder. She had a bunch of keys in her hand, with one key prepped and ready. Victor hadn’t had to buzz her in. Of course, she had his keys. Of course, she must be staying here. With him. They were back together. Of course.

In slow motion still, I looked back at Victor. There was an ocean of regret in his eyes.

“I didn’t realize you were back together,” I said, my voice hollow.

“We’re not,” he replied. “This is something else. That’s why I didn’t want you to come over right now—”

“Am I interrupting something?” Mimi’s irritated voice cut him off. She walked quickly towards us.

I looked down at my feet. I shook my head.

“Ellen—” Victor said. He looked so hurt. But why should he be? Good for him for working it out with Mimi. Good for him. My face felt numb.

“Here’s your present,” I said, thrusting the package in his hands. Then I turned to Mimi. It took all the strength I had to smile at her. “Happy new year,” I said.

“You too, hon,” she replied with a fake smile. She was now standing close to Victor, as if she was warding me off with her body.

“Anyway. Good to see you, Victor. See you later,” I said numbly.

I turned and walked down the hall, down the stairs, and out of the 1950s nightmare. Numb all over, I walked all the way home without realizing it.