Purple Haze (Blue Dream Book 2) (5 page)

“Why are you drinking?” She snaps. “Designated driver. Remember?”

“That means no beer?”

With sarcasm in her tone Jovi snaps, “Yeah.”

He grows a cocky grin. “As in...
absolutely
no beer?”

“Merrick.”

On another laugh he surrenders a hand. “Chill. I'm just having the one. H20 after this.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Watching the easiness of their relationship stirs the longing in the pit of my stomach. What if Xander was ready to move towards something more natural? Something more compromising? Something filled with kisses rather than excuses?

Clearing my throat I ask, “What's got you stressed?”

“My professor is a dick,” she casually answers with a shrug. When I smile she declares, “Seriously! He called my last assignment a waste of canvas.”

“Ouch.”

“He is a dick,” Merrick backs her up and asks the waitress for a glass of water.

An easy promise kept. Uncomplicated communication. It should be that easy. That's not to say relationships won't have their problems or battles. Humps or hiccups. They should just be smoother sailing in between. There's definitely a difference between smooth sailing and just coasting. One you're still giving your attention to.

“Sounds that way,” I agree. “I'm not a professor, but that doesn't sound like the way I think you're supposed to talk to students.”

“They call him Lucifer.” Jovi giggles and has another sip of her drink. “His first name is Lucius and that's the only thing we're allowed to call him because he wants us to know he's
one of the small people
too.”

In disbelief, I simply shake my head.

“He used to do something in a high end gallery for someone important in New York,” she continues. “Or so he says.”

“Yet he's now teaching a class at an art college down south,” Merrick snidely states. “His life is definitely going places.”

After we laugh together, the woman who lives in Jovi's apartment complex announces our lanes are ready.  We all stand and even in doing so, the two of them barely separate. I fight the urge to give into the ache in my chest.

Merrick tosses a bill on the table big enough to cover their drinks and mine.

Quickly I object, “I can pay for my own drink.”

“It was just one drink, Boss Lady,” he insists as he tugs Jovi in closer to him. “And if you really think about it.
You
paid me, so technically you did.”

His logic has me shaking my head again. We relocate the lane where everyone begins to put down their belongings before heading for the shoe counter.

Merrick offers softly, “Want me to grab your shoes, baby?”

She gives him big smile. “Yes, please.”

“Boss Lady?”

“I'll come with you,” I deny the offer. “I don't mind.”

He gives me a small smirk before tossing a nod over my shoulder. “Looks like my roommate made it here just in time.” Having completely forgotten we were expecting more people, I post on the most convincing friendly smile I can, the one I save for work tours, and prepare to turn around. “Boss Lady I would like you to meet my roommate, Ryder.” The name drops my mouth at the same time my body angles to see a face that makes my knees buckle. “Ryder I'd like you to meet my boss-”

“Pres,” my name is dropped like an invocation coated with enough intensity to knock the air out of my lungs.

In a whirlwind, echoes of the past fill my mind, courting me to come back to them.  To hold their hand. To relive the emotions that have been waiting for this precise moment. For the most minuscule glimpse that fate exists.  Disbelief shuts my eyes only to be bombarded with our every kiss, every laugh, every praise and promise to ever exist between us.

Affected even greater by those memories, I pop my eyes back open, and barely whisper, “I have to go.”

Without waiting for the rest of my body to agree or object, my feet flee in haste. The sound of my name being called by multiple voices from behind me only picks up the celerity until I'm running away from everything that used to be, everything that I've been wishing that could've been, that should've been, and everything that terrifies me as much as it galvanizes me. I keep running until my hands are wrapped around the steering wheel of my car and I'm headed to the safety of solitude.

Ryder

There's no way that just happened. It can't be possible. Life may be forgiving, but it's not...just
giving
. When you're as broken as I am it doesn't hand you the only thing you think about, the very thing you secretly keep breathing for, right to you. Fate is an idiotic notion consisting of childhood hope and untarnished dreams. Fate...fate can't actually exist. Fate can't bring two people back together after a decade because it's not real. Because it's falsified faith. And I lost most of my faith a long time ago. Or...at least I thought I had.

My pocket vibrates most likely from a text message or missed phone call. Finding it easier to deal with than what just happened, I pull it out to check.

Kara: It doesn't have to be pancakes. Could be waffles. I like those too. I just like pancakes more.

Annoyed more at the fact I was wrong about my phone being painless to deal with, I roll my eyes and slide it back in my pocket. Suddenly I'm eighteen all over again. The fun party girl texting me and my girlfriend pissed off for not being there when I should've been. Except she's not my girlfriend. She's not mine. She's...well she's still as fucking beautiful as I remember.

“Why did she run away?” Jovi squeaks pulling my eyes away from the direction Presley ran. “Is she coming back?”

“I don't think so, baby.” Merrick folds his arms across his chest. “How do you know my boss?”

Repudiation furrows my eyebrows. “She's your
boss
?”

“Yeah,” he nonchalantly replies.

As in the woman whose stuff I helped him move about a month ago. She's the lonely woman with a huge house and only a handful of shit to go in it. How the hell was I so close yet so far from her? Was I in one of those boxes? Anything from our time together? How fucking foolish is to even consider that a possibility?

My roommate pushes again. “How do you know her?”

On a lost sigh I concede, “I'm in love with her.”

“What?!” The two of them loudly question in tandem.

Jovi jumps to her feet. “You're in love with her?”

“Yeah.”

Her voice hits school girl high pitches. “Like in love, love with her?”

“Yes.”

“You're the asshole she was moving away from?” his accusation tenses more than my chest.

The familiar recognition of my body's immediate pugnacious response spins my already reeling mind into overdrive. Slowly, I sit down on the leather bowling couch. “No.”

Merrick leans against the edge of the couch opposite of mine with confusion clearly on his face. “Care to explain?”

No. I don't. Talking to Doc about all this shit was hard enough. It shouldn't be a social topic. Being around new people is arduous enough without adding the trauma of a lifelong fuck up.

One of the other people in the group asks, “You guys bowling or what?” 

Merrick pins me in place with a hard stare as he answers. “We'll bowl the next game.”

There's mumbles of a response, but it's lost to me. His infuriated demeanor is prevalent even if the reason why isn't. They didn't date. They weren't ever involved. While my life may not be easily accessible, it hasn't stopped Merrick from trying to connect by revealing parts of his. He moved here to be with his girlfriend. Or fiance. The term he uses for Jovi varies. I would ask what that's about, but it's not my business. Just like it's none of his what went down between me and his boss.

Jovi drops back down into the seat beside him. “Tell us what happened.”

Sensing I'm not going to be getting out of this without speaking at all, I chose my words carefully. “We dated in high school. We broke up. Haven't seen her since.”

For a moment neither one of them says anything. Surprisingly, Jovi leans forward and says, “Thank you. We have your statement. If we have any further questions someone from the precinct will be in touch with you.”

Her unexpected sassy sarcasm lifts my eyebrows.

“Her dad's a cop,” Merrick brushes off and sighs to her, “That jokes not funny.”

“It's hilarious,” she argues back.

“About as hilarious as you find my ghost joke.”

Thankful the conversation has momentarily lifted away from me I drop my head, shock and sadness rummaging through my system in a twisted tag team.

“Ryder,” Jovi's voice calls to me.

I hesitate before I lift my head.

“Can we hear the not well rehearsed version?” The innocent, unwarranted kindness in her tone is hard to resist. She's not asking so she can over analyze every decision I've made to better attempt to guide me through my future. She's not asking because she wants to pin a text book excuse to my chest. She's genuinely curious. Genuinely refreshing in an overly critical world. “Please?”

This time, I rest my forearms on my legs. As I prepare to carve her a better picture, Presley's face from ten years ago rolls through my mind. Her beautiful, bold brown eyes hidden behind glasses. Her playful smile. Her abundant bliss from just the sight of me. The longing for those things causes my mouth to betray me. “Pres was my whole...fucking...world...”

I lift my eyes to theirs at the confession to see the reaction of two people who might have an inkling of the adoration I've only felt for one person.

“Pres...” Just saying her name places an authentic smile on my face. There's no forcing. No pulling. I don't have to count to three in my head to make sure people buy the bullshit gesture. It's completely natural.

“Oh my gosh, you're smiling!” Jovi coos sweetly. “You have such a nice smile.” Instantly there's a clearing of a throat, which causes her to roll her eyes. “It was just a compliment, Merrick.”

Before he can overreact further, my disloyal mouth moves again. “Pres was the best part of everything. She made the good shit, spectacular and made the bad shit, a level above tolerable. There wasn't a goddamn thing I wouldn't have done for her. Not one...”

“Then how'd you lose her?” Merrick's speech is shaky.

My father's smug voice whispers the words I wished I would've refused all over again. “I made a mistake.” Doc's advice and scolding to take responsibility for my decisions overpowers the guiltless one I'm trying to use. “
I
made a mistake.” Owning the repeated phrase, I clasp my hands together. “It cost me everything.”

“This sounds like you need a drink,” Jovi quickly sighs flagging down the bartender. “First shot of whatever is on me. Even if it's top shelf.”

“How can you afford top shelf?”

“You're not the only with a job,” she snaps.

“I don't drink,” I deny as the waitress stops to take our order.

“This seems like an okay reason to have just one,” Jovi tries to encourage as Merrick tries to stop her on the cool.

“I'm an addict.” My admission is met with a slightly slack jaw. Continuing ownership over my past is already an endless, fucked up punishment. Having to blatantly state it in a cordial setting just adds to the shame. “So no. I can't have even one.”

“Shit,” her weary voice whispers. “I'm sorry. I didn't know...”

I lift a hand. “It's fine.”

Awkward silence starts to settle when Jovi blurts out to the waitress, “Get him a root beer in the bottle. If you don't have it in a bottle put it in an ice cold beer mug. Present it
like
a beer.”

The waitress doesn't argue. “And for you?”

“A tequila sunrise.”

“At this rate you're gonna miss more than the sunrise, baby,” Merrick jokes and slides down onto the couch beside her.

With a playful elbow to his side she demands, “Shut up.”

Our server smiles and dismisses herself after Merrick denies needing anything.

Once she's disappeared, Merrick questions, “So you haven't spoken to her since you were in high school?”

I nod. “Ten years ago.” Helplessly I unload, “Ten years and I haven't so much as seen her face outside of my own head. In all this time there hasn't been a single fucking day that I've woken up and didn't regret what I did to her. How things fell apart between us. How...how I betrayed her in ways I'd rather give my own life for than speak about.”

Merrick's face twitches and looks away.

His girlfriend slides a comforting hand onto his leg.

We all have regrets that linger. Secrets that have torn us apart. That's what the expression on his face is. He hates being able relate to what I said. He hates he's hurt Jovi. His self-hatred is irrelevant because he's forgetting one vital fact. She's still by his side. She's still with him. She
forgave
him.

“The only reason I started doing drugs was to numb the pain of being without her. Ultimately it became my outlet to kill the pain of everything that was wrong in my life. Before I knew it, it was the only way I could exist in my own skin. Eventually I was barely even doing that.”

“You should talk to her,” Jovi quietly encourages.

Instantly, my head falls forward again. “She doesn't wanna talk to me. Hell, she can't even stand the sight of me.”

“Hate to break it to you, but you're wrong.” The words shoot my eyes up. “I'm not an expert in relationships. Or love. Or anything really outside of art and knowing what it looks like when a girl is terrified of how deeply she feels about you despite what you've done.” She leans back against the couch. “I'm an
expert
on that look. You need to talk to her...”

There's no way Jovi's right. It's not possible. Hell none of this should be possible. We should've never crossed paths. I should've never seen her face again. I should've never been
allowed
to see her face again for the grief I put her through. With the second chances I've been granted since I stepped outside of rehab, I can't fathom pushing the envelope extra. I don't deserve the right to nudge that line. But what if...what if...what if there's a fraction of a possibility Jovi is right? Doc had me write that letter to say everything I needed to. I swore I'd never stop chasing her. That I wouldn't give up hope. And I hadn't. I had just figured hope had given up on me. Yet, here I am with another choice to make. Here I am given a chance at possible absolution. I can't help the emotional dispute brewing. I barely survived the first time things fell apart. What if I screw this up a second time? Can I live with myself? Doubtful. But more importantly, I don't think I can live with knowing I had a chance to make things right and didn't. Choices. It's always about fucking choices.