Sucker (ON HOLD/INCOMPLETE)

4: Almost

I really encourage at least looking up the lyrics to this song, if not listening. It really fits the tone of the chapter. I originally was going to use Joan Jett's "I Hate Myself for Loving You," but I think this one fits better.

Happy hurting, everyone!

Song: "Almost" by DNCE

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Luke

I had never liked change.

More often than not, I found myself running off to process change when it came. I was never one to face change head-on.

There was no place to hide from this.

She was here. She was real. She was standing in front of me, looking every bit like every daydream she had starred in in the three years since I met her.

Except for the wig. That could go.

I remembered it all. I remembered her laugh, the way her eyes would flutter shut as she envisioned our dreams, the glint of mischief when I dared her to do some foolish thing. The way we did it all together. I remembered the way she fit in my hands, like a puzzle piece, the thing in life I'd always missed but never knew until I had her. The way our fingers intertwined on our first date, shyly, hesitant, yet so right.

I remembered the way she left, with that stupid note, promising she loved me but couldn't stay.

I remembered crying, confusion, pain. Trying to dull it all, never succeeding.

And here she was, right in front of me, looking like she'd rather be anywhere else.

I always wondered what would happen if I saw her again. My dreamscape had imagined everything. She'd explain, she'd cry, she'd run into my arms.

I'd imagined everything but this: the darting eyes, crossed arms, pursed lips.

I was snapped from my reverie by her voice. God, that voice.

"Alright. Let's begin."

Mr. Blackbourne – Owen, I told myself. He no longer held any authority over me – replied. "Are you sure, Miss Sorenson? I'm sure we can find another bird to carry the operation if you are uncomfortable."

A twisted, wry smile took to her lips. I didn't like the look on her. She shook her head. "No, if they're calling me onto a big job, it's usually for a reason." Owen looked like he wanted to interject, but she held up her hand. "And I believe they must have a reason for bringing this team back together now. No, I think we're stuck."

Sean spoke, a curious look on his face. "Well, why do they want you?"

Sang caught my eye and began motioning a sign with two ASL f's, her left palm facing up and right down. She shimmed her right hand upward, and my eyes grew wide. "You can't be serious."

She nodded, and my mind whirled.

"What the fuck is that? Why does Luke look like he's seen a ghost?" I let out a mirthless laugh at Gabe's question.

Owen straightened his tie and cleared his throat. "Perhaps we would be best served learning your skillset, Miss Sorenson."

"I'd like to learn your team's as well. I'm aware of your team's previous expertise, but I imagine having been apart for so long, you've picked up some new skills."

Owen replied, "What else do you know about us?" I glanced at his face; anything to stop myself from staring at Sang like she would disappear again at the drop of a hat. His brow was raised, just so, and I knew it was the most emotion we would see from him all night. Still Mr. Perfect.

Sang sighed, and I looked back at her, still drawn like a moth to a flame. "Probably not as much as I should. I suspect certain elders are..." She paused, her brow furrowing as she searched for the right word. "Well, I think they may be using this situation for amusement." She began mumbling. "Mrs. Rose is probably tired of the soaps... need to get her in a cave with a bear..."

I couldn't stop myself from the grin growing on my face. I was hurt, unbearably; that was for certain. But something about being here, with her, in this shitty little strip club was like a balm to my ailments.

I couldn't resist the feeling of love overflooding my senses.

I'd tried dating other girls since her; makeup artists, models I met at my part-time gig. I'd had some fun, too. But after her, I was certain I was ruined for the epic kind of love. It would be Sang, always and forever.

"But here's what I do know." A little wrinkle appeared at her brow as she thought, and I fought my every urge to smooth it gently with my fingers. She wasn't mine anymore, and I had to respect that. A pang shot at my chest as I reminded myself she had chosen to leave. "We went to high school together. Apparently, I lived on the same street as a couple of you." She laughed bitterly as that damn finger flew to her lip. "Not that you would've known. I was pretty good at hiding myself away."

I recalled the stories she had told me about her childhood, the shadows in her eyes which I always tried to ease with kisses and laughter. She never said much, always brushing off everything. But the pain was there. I knew her family was horrible and that her stepmother had died of cancer when she was seventeen. She just never wanted to discuss it, refusing to live in the past.

I supposed I was part of the past she liked to ignore now, too.

"Anyway, I guess I'll start. Sang Sorenson, for those of you I don't know." The same bitter laugh escaped her lips. "I'm twenty-three. Recruited at seventeen. I do... a little bit of everything. Sort of whatever they ask me to. I'm told my senses of direction and smell are particularly useful assets. I'm competent at languages and useless at anything related to art, except the violin."

I replied, "'Competent' is an understatement, and you know it, Sang." When we'd met, she was working as a freelance academic translator, translating scripts for professors at UCLA. She modestly hid her head when she said she could pick up languages relatively quickly – I pulled it out of her colleague at a dinner we attended that she, in fact, was a true whiz at languages, picking them up like she was riding a bike.

She blushed prettily, and another pang shot at my chest. Not mine. Sang waved her hand shortly in front of her. "Please, someone else go." Still shy as ever.

The others spoke, but I barely paid them any mind.

My mind was absorbed with the girl in front of me. My heart ached as my mind whirled, consumed with dreams of a past we shared and a future we designed.

And a small part of me wondered just what I would have to do to get that back.