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When there’s nothing left to burn you have to set yourself on fire!
God that was strange to see you again
Introduced by a friend of a friend
Smiled and said yes I think we’ve met before
In that instant it started to pour
Captured a taxi despite of the rain
We drove in silence across Pont Champlain
And all of the time you thought I was sad
I was trying to remember your name
This scar is a fleck on my porcelain skin
Tried to reach deep but you couldn’t get in
Now you’re outside me you see all the beauty
Repent all your sin
It’s nothing but time and a face that you lose
I chose to feel it and you couldn’t choose
I’ll write you a post card I’ll send you the news
From the house down the road
From real love
Live for this and you won’t look back(x3)
There’s one thing I want to say so I’ll be brave
You were what I wanted
I gave what I gave
I’m not sorry I met you
I’m not sorry it’s over
I’m not sorry there’s nothing to say
I’m not sorry there’s nothing to say
Your Ex-Lover Is Dead - Stars
“Petey! For Christ’s sake what time is it? And tell whoever she is to come back later!” He yelled, sitting up slowly. His head was pounding from an enormous hang-over and he was only wearing boxers. It was nothing out of the ordinary for Nick; he was accustomed to spending his nights in bed with women he picked up at parties and then being alone the next morning when he woke up. What he wasn’t used to was the voice of his hyper best friend waking him up at the hour of… what time was it anyway? He heard the front door shut again and knew his friend was back in the building. “Petey? The time!”
“Alright! Alright! Don’t get your knickers in a huff! I sent the girl on her way.” Petey responded. He came in from the kitchen, mug of coffee in hand. “Drink this love; you’ll need it after the wallop you took last night. If that prick Eric had just buggered off when I bloody-well told him to, neither of you would be in such… delicate condition.” He grimaced.
“How are you supposed to show up at the business meeting with Charles Holden now? Need I remind you that this is the most important business deal of your career? If you two would just settle your differences without having a roe we wouldn’t be so,” the younger man was so upset he couldn’t even think of a word. “Flustered! Right now!” He leapt up at the intensity of his word choice and settled back on the bed, embarrassed. His large brown eyes looked about ready to jump out of his head; the whites of his eyes standing out from the black canvas of his face.
“Easy Britain, I’ll be fine.” Nick said, patting his friend on the shoulder and getting up slowly, again. Petey was his college-friend from Oxford and who Nick frequently referred to as Britain. “Thanks for the coffee though, I need it.” He chuckled with a shake of his head. His unruly brown hair flopped in his face and almost immediately he shook it away, he really needed to get it cut.
“Well, you need to hurry up! The meeting is at eleven and right now it is currently,” Petey looked at his watch. “Ten thirty.” He watched the look of panic scurry across Nick’s face as he rushed to the bathroom, cursing the whole way.
Nick was in and out of the shower, shaved, and dressed, in under fifteen minutes. “How do I look?” He asked Petey, popping his collar and spinning on his heel to face the other man.
“Like Armani threw up on you.”
He grinned, laughing. “That’s a good one, thanks, thanks.” He came down to the kitchen and stuffed a piece of bacon in his mouth.
“Oh! And in more exciting news! Europe’s favorite party-girl landed herself on the cover of Lifestyle magazine today.” He said, dropping the magazine on the glass table. “Attacked a photog,” he whispered dramatically.
Nick groaned and pushed it away, he had no desire to see stupid air-head’s fucking themselves up this early in the morning. “I still don’t see why you care about this girl so much. She’s nothing but a bimbo anyway.” He muttered, downing the rest of the mug of coffee.
“My, my, my! Aren’t we Mr. Grumpy today? You’ve never even taken the time to look at this girl! She’s bloody hot! What’s eating you?”
“Nothing, I just,” he sighed. “I was thinking about her again today.” He rubbed a hand across his tired face.
“Oh,” Petey replied, in interested understanding. The nameless girl, her. Petey had heard everything about her; he’d just never pulled a name out of Nick. He didn’t talk about her much, only when he was drunk did he ever really get random blurbs about her that weren’t even enough for Petey to piece together. So far, he knew she had sparkling blue eyes and brown hair, she grew up in the Blue Ridge Mountains where he’d once spent a summer, they’d fallen in love, and then something had gone wrong and he’d hopped the first plane to Oxford that morning where he’d met Petey the day after.
“You won’t even let me tell you the name of the beautiful dame, trust me, you’ll love it. It’s Aren –” A roar cut his sentence off.
“Shut up, Petey.” Petey took one look at Nick’s face and in that instant he knew that had been her name. The possibility of them being the same person never crossed his mind, she was a quiet hometown girl who was going to be a teacher; she would never do this.
Nick was trembling with anger; just the name of his beautiful starlet was enough to cause every memory to come back. In fact, the first day they met had been in a kitchen of a friend’s house after a party. The memories came at his beck-and-call, sifting dangerously through his head like a renegade file cabinet.
A loud laugh cut into his thoughts. He turned to see who made the noise and his heart stopped; a beautiful girl stood against the wall, laughing with a group of friends. Their eyes met and she winked at him, laughing when he gulped. Nick wasn’t used to the girls being so forthright, but he couldn’t help being instantly attracted to this unknown girl.
He turned back around to the table and laid the magazine down – London could wait. He went to the fridge and grabbed a beer, opening it; he took a long drink and threw it in the trash. By the time he looked up again, the girl was gone. His heart sank; he had really wanted to meet her. Sighing, he settled back against the couch, bored. “Miss me?” A voice asked. Nick turned to see who it was and his heart leapt in his chest, it was her.
“Like a two year-old misses his teddy bear.”
“Well, I don’t quite know how to react to being likened to a germ-infested safety net for a molly-coddled infant, but whatever.” She muttered, wrinkling her nose.
“Wow, harsh. Siblings?”
“One. His name is Brent. He’s two.”
“Oh, and what’s your name?”
“Aren Diesel,” She shook his hand with confidence, her green eyes sparkling.
“Nick Cambridge,” he replied. Sparks jumped up his arm and filled his body with a pleasant warmth. He was insanely attracted to this girl, Aren. She was wearing a green and blue mini skirt and a black, low-cut tank top. His heart skipped a beat when she absently licked her lips.
She grinned at him, showing pristine, white teeth. “You’re Eric’s best friend, the one he talks about all the time.” Nick nodded, confused. “I’m his girlfriend.” Nick felt like ice-water had been dumped on him. This was the infamous Aren-bear he always talked about. “Aren-bear.” He whispered.
Her face instantly brightened. “Yeah! So you have heard of me!” Her French-nails dug into his arm, but he didn’t say anything. He was really annoyed to learn that this was Eric’s girlfriend.
“Yeah,” he muttered, looking away from her.
Aren’s face fell and she sighed dramatically. “You’re mad because you really liked me and wanted to get to know me and date me and now you can’t because you figured out I’m your best-friend’s girl.”
He looked back up at her sullenly, she was chewing on her bottom lip and for the first time Nick noticed that she didn’t look as confident now as she had a few minutes ago. “How’d you know?”
She smiled shyly. “Well, number one, it’s classic movie plot; second, it happens to me all the time. But,” she took his face gently in her hands. “That doesn’t meant we can’t still be friends.”
The way she said ‘friends’ made Nick’s stomach turn to knots, he didn’t want to just be her friend, but he didn’t have a choice. “Yeah,” he pushed her away and got up to grab another beer. But Aren wasn’t going to be deterred that easily, she followed him in to the kitchen.
“Hey! Just because I’m your best friend’s girl doesn’t mean you have to be rude!” She leaned against the counter and glanced at the magazine, grimacing. “That London sure did a number on herself didn’t she?”
He scoffed, not looking at her. “Yeah, she did.”
“So,” she started, flipping the magazine absently. “What are you doing here in Georgia? You don’t seem like the type.” She licked her lips again and her green eyes flickered for a moment. He stared at her, trying to read her expression. She was self-confident, but teetering on the edge of self-consciousness.
“Well, I’m not actually. I’m from New York originally, but I came her to be with Eric for the summer. What about you? You don’t seem like the type either.”
“I am actually, but I’ve always felt that I should’ve been born in Europe, gallivanting across the continents, partying in a different city – country – every night,” her eyes shone like emeralds as she told him of her dreams. “But,” she sighed, coming down from her emotional high and looking up at him sadly. “I’m just a small-town Georgia girl, I’m probably gonna end up being a school teacher or something boring and quiet like that. What about you? What does your future look like?” She asked, flipping her dark brown hair over her shoulder.
“Well, I’m going to Oxford to study Marketing and Business at the end of the summer.” He looked around the room; the party was starting to trickle down to a dull roar. “Listen Aren,” he started, reaching for her hands and looking seriously into her eyes. “If you have these hopes – these dreams – you should go for them. Eric would never hold you back, he loves you.”
Her eyes flickered painfully for a moment before she looked back up at him, and even then what she said was at such a soft whisper he barely heard her. “I’m unhappy, with Eric,” she clarified. “He could give me everything I’ve ever wanted…”
“Except, you don’t want it.” He said slowly, the realization just dawning on him that this was a cry for help, to give her something better, more exciting than what she currently had. Eric was just planning on taking over at his father’s company; he wasn’t doing anything exciting like going to Oxford. Nick immediately banished the thought from his mind, he couldn’t do that; he couldn’t be that guy that plotted taking away his best friend’s girlfriend.
“Right,” her thumb gently rubbed slow circles on his palm. He jerked away and focused his eyes on the yellow spill on the counter. It was slowly inching their way like ‘death’ in Final Destination. A shiver ran through him, he wasn’t sure if it was from Aren or from thinking about that movie. He looked back over at Aren, who was looking away from him, tears glistening in her eyes.
“Aren,” he started slowly. “This,” he gestured at the space between them. “Can’t happen, whatever it is you want… Eric would never forgive you… or me.” He grimaced as her face transformed from vulnerable to stony and miffed.
“Fine,” she spat, releasing his hand and storming away. Now he felt bad, he’d never meant to hurt her, he just wasn’t about to betray his best friend like that. But the vulnerable girl that had all but begged for his help a few moments ago was stuck in his head and wouldn’t let go.
“We just named you head of this corporation and all you have is a ‘yes sir’?” Charles Holden asked; arms folded over his chest, miffed.
It took approximately five seconds for the words to sink in. Head of the corp.? Head of Holden Enterprises? He’d wanted this job since he was a little boy. It was a dream come true! So, why on earth did he not feel more ecstatic…? He blinked a few times, trying to make himself appear shocked and then excited. “Holden, sir.” He said, getting up to shake the man’s hand. “Thank you, thank you. This is an… honor. Thank you, everyone.” He said, going around to each person at the table to shake their hands, whether they had something to do with it or not. Most looked back at him, jealousy visible in their eyes, but a few actually looked happy for him. He longed to tell the jealous ones that they could take his position, take it all, but he didn’t dare; opportunities like this one did not come knocking again if he were to turn it away.
He walked away from the office feeling like a lead weight was tying him down. He shouldn’t be feeling like this, he should be feeling like he was on cloud nine! He hailed a cab and once back at the loft, he shared the good news with Petey. “Fantastic! That’s just wonderful!” He said, over-enthusiastically clapping him on the back in a hug, jumping up and down.
“Yeah, yeah, just great,” he sighed and flopped down on the couch, looking miserable. It was this time especially, when a success like this came to him, that he longed to call Aren and tell her, but of course he couldn’t do that, not after what happened.
“Baby! Look happy!” Petey chattered, sitting down on the couch next to Nick and patting his knee. “Nicky, come on! We should throw a party! In fact,” he jumped up at the idea. “That’s just what we’ll do! Oh yes, it’ll be the biggest party of the year! And maybe I can…” he trailed off, biting his nail apprehensively. “No, I won’t tell you about that yet.”
Petey was trying to bait Nick into begging him to spill his secret, but he was having none of it. He just didn’t care about whatever it is that Petey had going on for the evening. He just wanted to lie down and sleep or something. It didn’t make any sense, Aren had been out of his life for six years and though he’d thought of her every night since he left her back there in Georgia, he had only recently begun to get depressed. It didn’t help that Petey had an unhealthy fixation with some stupid European skank that he would never shut up about.
“Okay whatever, I’m going out.” Nick muttered, grabbing his coat, swinging it around his shoulder, and slamming the door behind him.
Petey stood there aghast for a few seconds before brightening up and licking his lips excitedly. “Well! Must get working!” He said, dashing off to find Nick’s data book.
“Sorry. Nick Cambridge.”
At his name her eyes immediately lit up with more interest. “Like, the Nick Cambridge? Head of Holden Enterprises?” She immediately clarified when he looked at her confused.
How had word gotten out so quickly? “Uh, yeah. You’ve heard of me?”
“Yeah,” she said dreamily. “I’ve always wanted to be a lawyer.” At a sudden gust of wind, her blonde hair flew in her face and she brushed it away; dainty fingers wiping her forehead.
Before he could respond, a man walked up behind Jen and put his arms around her, kissing her neck. “Mike,” she gasped, startled and embarrassed. “Stop,” her face went red instantly and she giggled, pushing him away and giving Nick a sheepish look. “Bye Nick thanks.” She waved to him and headed off with Mike to the edge of the fountain. Nick watched bemused as they looked out over the water, then turning to look at one another dreamily, kissed. He looked away, half in awe, half bitter. He really missed Aren. It didn’t help matters when Mike tickled Jen’s sides, holding her there as she screamed and tried to wriggle away, and then as suddenly as he’d started, Mike let go of her and went dashing away. After proclaiming that she, Agent Mena Slef was going to bring him into headquarters and sic Jack Bauer on him, she ran after him, laughing the whole way.
Several minutes later Nick got up and kept walking. He breathed in the frozen, rich smell of the air around him. It was winter here in New York. He walked a few miles to where a pizza vendor sat and ordered a slice of plain cheese. After he paid, he went on his way, alternately taking bites of the pizza and looking in window shops. He found himself in front of a candle store and before he could stop himself, walked in.
The atmosphere of the shop was comfortable and homey. The walls were painted a rich golden yellow, the ceiling a calm off-white. Mahogany shelves lined the walls and held dozens – hundreds even – of brightly colored candles, all ranging in fragrances.
He walked over to a row of butter-colored candles and picked one up, gently sniffing it. Homemade Vanilla Ice Cream,he guessed. He turned it over carefully. He was right. Next he picked up a pure white candle and put it to his nose, inhaling. The smell brought a stinging sensation through his body. White Tea and Ginseng, the candle read. Next, he moved on to a row of candles all varying in shades of red. He picked one up called French Apple Pie and sniffed. It brought back memories, but he forced them down.
“Excuse me, sir. Would you like some help?” A perky girl with spiky blue-tipped hair interrupted his thoughts.
He shook his head, desperately trying to clear it. “Uh, yeah,” he looked back over at the candles he’d picked up. “I’d like to have these,” he gestured to the candles that he’d subconsciously put all in a row. “Plus,” he walked over to a shelf bearing brown candles. “This one,” he called. It was named Chocolate Desire. His head throbbed painfully at the word choice but he forced himself not to think about it.
After he’d paid for the candles and put them in a bag, he walked back to his apartment. When he got there, Petey was out. It was just as well he figured; he didn’t want Petey wondering why he bought candles in the first place. He got a can of beer from the fridge a sipped it. The cold liquid felt good going down his throat. Next, he set to work putting the candles around the loft.
On the kitchen countertop he put the White Tea and Ginseng. The Chocolate Desire went in his bedroom, he tried not to think of why he’d put it there. French Apple Pie went on the kitchen table; while the Homemade Vanilla Ice Cream went on the little table next to the doorway to the apartment.
Finally, when he was finished, he stood around observing each one to make sure it was safe, and then breathed in deeply. He immediately felt a pang in his chest; everything was reminding him of Aren these days. It wasn’t just this week though, it was every day since he’d left that he thought about her; dreamed of her face in his nightmares.
Sighing, he sat down on the couch and lazily clicked the news on. They were running some story about a mugging down on 57th; he flipped channels.
“Oh Raul! Don’t leave me! –” Click.
“A witness said two armed men –” Click.
“A hug and a kiss –” Click.
“Two cups of sugar –” Click.
“I hate men –” Click.
“In recent news, European socialite, Aren – “ definite CLICK!Wait. He turned it back just in time to hear the front door open and Petey stumbled in, bags in hand.
“Chum!” Petey shouted happily. “Give me a hand with these bags will you?” He stumbled backward and hit the table. Nick swiftly cursed. The candle had almost fallen. Petey sniffed the air confused. “What smells like Yankee Candle died and left you the proprietary goods?”
“Aren,” he said simply. He grabbed three bags from Petey and pushed past him. He didn’t want to talk about it, and frankly, he was happy the Petey just dropped it. Speaking of, Nick turned around, confused. Petey was picking up every candle, reading their names.
“Boy, these do have some strange names. Furthermore, why do you have them all? And why do they remind you of this Aren chick?” Instantly Petey knew he’d used the wrong expression.
“She wasn’t just some chick,” Nick said angrily. “She was my Aren-bear.” A strange look came over his face. “Aren-bear,” he whispered to himself.
“Uh, sure, what do you have?” He followed her to sit on a stool next to the counter.
“White tea,” she answered; sticking her tongue out at him.
He burst out laughing at her answer. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
Biting back a burst of laughter he agreed.
“Yeah, and it has ginseng in it too. To give it that extra kick!” On the word ‘kick’ she popped her leg in the air, simultaneously pulling her arms up in a boxing gesture. Nick burst out laughing again, almost falling off the chair in his hysteria. Aren stared back at him, mock horrified. “Meanie,” she pouted. She went over to the opposite counter, opened a plastic container, and pulled out what appeared to be a pie.
“What’s that?” He asked, taking a sip of his tea.
“None of your business,” she responded curtly. But she threw him a glance over her shoulder; her green eyes dancing in delight. “Want some?” She asked, in high-pitched squeal.
He struggled not to laugh again. “Uh, what is it?” He asked, clearing his throat.
“French Apple Pie. From France.” She clarified.
“Really?”
“Yes, stupid.”
“Hey! Just because you found out I’m your boyfriend’s best friend, doesn’t mean you have to be rude!” He mocked, paraphrasing her words from several weeks before.
Aren grinned up at him over her bowl of pie. Her eyes met his for an instant before she went to the fridge and opened the freezer. “Wanna know what tastes good with apple pie?”
“What?” He inquired, taking another drink of his tea. It was almost empty, he knocked back the rest while her back was turned.
“Homemade vanilla ice cream.” And just when he was about to compliment her, she spoke again. “From Blue Bell,” she added, whirling around to face him, carton in hand. Nick was almost speechless as her near-black hair twirled around with her; her face breaking into laughter.
“You didn’t think I actually made that did you?” She asked, wrinkling her nose and dishing out some for both of them.
“Well I don’t know, what do you… small town Georgia girls do all day anyway?”
She looked at him and then licked her spoon, tiny pink tongue darting out like a whip and then disappearing. She smiled at his glassy expression, then looked at him seriously. “We flirt with our boyfriend’s best friends.”
His heart sunk again. He really, really liked her, but he knew he couldn’t do that to Eric. “Aren, I thought I already explained that…” He trailed off, frustrated.
“Eric isn’t here,” she said in a quiet, yet seductive manner.
“But he could walk in any minute.” He reasoned, getting up and going over to sit on the couch. As if to warn him somehow, out of nowhere, a blast of thunder was heard and then the heaven’s opened up, rain pouring down from them. He involuntarily shivered. She came over to him and sat too close to him on the couch.
“So,” she started. “Let him see,” she ran a hand through his hair and down his neck. “I don’t want to be with him anymore.” She whispered.
“Yeah, I know. But I’m not ready to give up a friend yet. And that’s what I’ll be doing if we do this.”
“He doesn’t have to know.” She said. “It can be our… secret.” She bit her bottom lip and for the first time Nick was very conscious of the fact that he could very strongly smell chocolate; and that her lip-gloss was a bright, shimmering pink that faintly smelled like cherries. Also, the air outside had a yellow tinge to it, but he really wasn’t paying attention to that, only the fact that her hand seemed to be steadily inching its way down his chest until it rest at the seam of his jeans. His heart was pounding in his chest, as he imagined hers was too. This would only work if no one found out. Who was he kidding? Everyone would know eventually!
“Aren,” he started, subconsciously nearing her lips. What was he planning to say? There was nothing to say. Only that… that what? That he was sorry? That he wanted her? He didn’t know. The heat in the air crackled around them, like static electricity that bubbled constantly.
Slowly, as if time had stopped Nick leaned forward until their lips were touching. He kissed her, slow and soft, running his tongue over her bottom lip and sucking on it gently. It tasted like cherries, and she smelled like chocolate. Aren’s heart was pounding so fast that he could swear that he heard it too, or maybe that was his own. When he felt Aren’s tongue in his mouth he gasped. Suddenly, a loud clap of thunder startled them both, but instead of springing apart, they clung to each other even tighter.
Aren’s hand found its way to his belt and she started to unbuckle it. But before things could go any further, they heard the back door open. Then, they sprang apart and Aren flipped on the TV. COPS was on; a crack addict was getting arrested. “Hey Aren-bear. Hey Nick.” He called, lugging in a few bags of groceries.
“H – Hey baby,” she cleared her throat nervously. Nick looked at her, his face pale. Before she could sit there any longer she ran over to Eric and kissed him. Nick turned away, stomach twisting in knots. “Nick, help him with the groceries.” She chirped looking at him; she winked at him and giggled when he blushed. He did have a reason! They’d just kissed! His stomach clenched painfully. This, whatever this was, hurt so badly. He felt crushed.
Aren, however, didn’t look phased at all. She pranced around them both of them as if nothing had happened at all. It was like a slap in the face. How could she do that? How could she just pretend like nothing happened?
They were in the mountains before he ever got the chance to be alone with her. Eric had gone ahead to get the picnic ready and Nick had agreed to stay behind and help Aren get the rock out of her shoe. After she did so, she walked over to him. “Gimme a lift?” He nodded and grasped her hand in his, she put her foot in his stirrup and flung herself up and over her horse, Kitten’s back. Kitten grunted in shock and bolted a few steps before Aren reined her under control. “Whoa, baby. Calm down, girl.” Aren cooed soothing the great bay Hunter with a pat on the neck.
“You ride horses much?” Nick asked her.
She looked over at him, breathless. “Yeah, I used to compete in High Division Hunter classes, but I had to give that up when my parents got divorced. Dad was always the one with the money and the horses, and mom, well she prefers finding her way to the bottom of a bottle.” She sighed.
He was startled to learn all of this. In the few weeks that he’d known her she’d never given Nick this part of herself. Her favorite colors where black, silver, and navy blue; her birthday was on December 7; and her favorite flavor of lip-gloss was apparently cherries, and she also wore chocolate scented perfume and loved candles.
“Wow, I’m sorry.” Nick said, rubbing the back of his neck, embarrassed.
“Yeah,” she said sadly. Then, in an instant she was fine. “Sorry about earlier. I like you, a lot. I just don’t want him to figure this out.”
“This…?” He was deliberately being vague, trying to get some type of clear answer about whatever it was that they were doing.
“I told you, our secret!” She laughed, then urged Kitten into a gallop up the mountain.
“Aw damn it Aren,” he swore, urging his mount, a roan mare named Spice, into a slow canter as they flew over a log. Spice grunted at takeoff but landed sweetly on the other side with a crunch of the leaves underfoot.
A shock of cold fear stabbed through him. Diesel? He turned to look at the screen. On it was a video of a girl dancing wildly in some club, she was completely drunk and staggering around, laughing like an idiot. She turned to face the camera and her blinding white smile struck the screen. Could it be? Could it really be his Aren-bear?