Illicit Affairs ~ A Chris Motionless Love Story

Chapter Twenty-Three - Frozen in Time

Song: Right Where You Left Me by Taylor Swift
SCARLETT'S POV
I straightened up my shop for my last client of the day, who, frankly, had the fakest name I'd ever seen. I'd think it was a set up if they hadn't paid me the deposit of $80 for my design time on the piece they wanted. Maybe they just wished to remain anonymous.
Or maybe it was Chris trying to pry his way back into my life after two months of being clean from him.
I sanitized the pink chair, and had began my prep when the door chimed. The clock read 8:00 P.M.. They were thirty minutes early, making me relieved I had started to set up early.
"Hey, Johnny, come on in! I was just setting up!" I shouted as I continued to pour ink into caps. My ears perked as I heard footsteps slowly approach, and my skin bumped up as the energy shifted.

"Scarlett, we gotta talk." I turned to face the man with blond hair and blue eyes, dressed in blue slacks and a white button down that fit him like a glove. Leo.

"Are you my last appointment of the day?" I asked him, crossing my arms. He looked down at the ground.

"Yeah, I uh—I am." I rolled my eyes and shook my head. "Scarlett, please, just let me take you to dinner and we can talk over dinner."

"You paid me a deposit and wasted my time on a design—"

"Scar, please. I'm begging you. I will pay you the cost of the full tattoo, just please. Come with me." Leo held out his hand for me to take, and I groaned. I didn't take his hand, but I did grab my bag and keys and began to lock up.

"You have thirty minutes at dinner and you're buying my drinks," I gave him my conditions and he nodded his head rapidly in understanding.
I sat at the high tabletop, stirring the cocktail sword in my pink cosmopolitan as Leo rambled on and on about how sorry he was, and how he was just so wrapped up in work at his fathers law firm that he didn't have time to call me. That was months ago, though and a simple text would have helped.

"Scar, really, I am sorry. My father is having me take over the firm, and as a business woman yourself you must know how difficult it can be to balance life and business." Flattery. Wonderful. Even as a business woman I still found time to make dates and meet-ups with Chris work. I still had time to contact him and let him know I was swamped at the shop. I still had time to get under him or over him multiple days in a row. But that was a bridge burned now. I should stop comparing this to that.

"Leo, I don't think I'm ready for anything. I'm young and, as you mentioned, I own a business. I can't make time for it."

"But you made time for Chris." Exactly. I grabbed my bag and hopped off of the tall chair, and made my way to the door, leaving Leo sitting at the table by himself. I could only hope he feels a fraction of what I felt after he, as Hailey had so elegantly said, "hit it and quit it".
I found myself parking outside of the bar. The same one Chris and I met at. The same one our friends all gathered at. Maybe subconsciously I was hoping to see him there. Maybe it was a comfort place. Regardless, I walked through the doors and immediately was surround by the sound of heavy bass and loud music. People yelled over it, ordering drinks, laughing at jokes, giving out phone numbers. I sat at a table in the back with my margarita. All alone. I was the only one sitting by myself, but I could feel eyes on me. Not a strangers gaze, but a familiar one. I was hesitant to look and see where the gaze led me, what pair of eyes I would find at the end, but I did. And regret it, I also did. Chris was leaning on a table, chatting up another girl as his eyes occasionally shifted to me. He was moving on, and in that moment I realized I hadn't moved at all. I was stuck right where I left us.
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"So you're telling me that you are exactly where you were two months ago? Longing after Chris?" Hailey asked, applying another coat of paint to the baby pink walls of Feyre's room. I was working on adding small vines and flowers to the finished walls. A task to keep my mind busy after seeing Chris a few days ago.

"Yup," I said, popping the "P". "I don't know what to do. I feel like no matter where I go something or someone reminds me of Chris. I mean, it's a problem. I saw someone in line at the store the other door and almost embarrassed myself because I thought it was him. I'm chasing people in grocery lines. It's not okay. It's psychotic." Hailey laughed, but I was actually worried I was going insane.

"It's not psychotic. You're perfectly normal. Have you maybe considered calling him?" Now she was the crazy one. "Listen, the man was in love with you enough to propose, surely he'd take you back." Hailey poured more paint, and I squeezed more acrylics onto my palette. "And," she pointed the roller at me, "you're the one that left. I love you, but shit, Scarlett. Take some accountability. He proposed, but when you denied it he didn't tell you to leave. Scar, he would have begged you to stay had you given him the chance." Hailey was no stranger to giving tough love, especially now that she was pregnant. I pulled my knees up and rested my arms on them as I sat on the plastic covered floor. She was right. "Scarlett, all I'm saying is that, despite all the shit talking I did, I hadn't seen you so happy and healthy in all my life. And Bryan had never seen Chris so happy and healthy in all his life."

"Has Chris said anything to Bryan?" I asked, resuming my painting.

"Chris called a few nights ago, but what he said you need to hear from his own mouth. You need to hear from him how much you mean to him. You don't need to hear it from the grapevine."
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I was stuck in that same bar stool at that same high rise table in the bar. No one else was there aside from two people who had just sat at a table across the way. It was dead silent, yet I still couldn't hear what was being said. All I heard was a ringing in my ears, the kind that fills in when silence is around. The male stranger looked up, his brown eyes going right to me as he smiled wide. He wasn't a stranger. Not at all. I was stuck, watching him leave with the woman. I couldn't move. I couldn't say anything. I couldn't beg him not to move. The door to the bar slammed shut, thudding in my ears.
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I sat straight up in bed, breathing heavily as I tried to fill my lungs back up with air. It was deathly silent in my house, and dark, save for the nightlight wall scent that was illuminated near my door. It was the second night in a row with that same dream. Same place. Same routine. Same silence. I looked at my phone and realized it was only 3:00A.M. But I couldn't go back to sleep. No matter how exhausted I was. No matter how badly I wanted to see if I could change the course of my dream. I couldn't.
I rubbed my eyes and swung my legs out of bed, then walked into the kitchen to get some water. The glow of headlights shone through my blinds in the living room, probably some kids that were out partying late. But then, there was a knock on my door. I froze in my kitchen, clutching the glass. Thunder sounded and rattled my walls and windows, and the rain began to pour. Another knock. I crept to the door and looked through the peephole at that familiar stature. His black hair messy, his shirt wrinkled and disheveled from sleep, or lack there of. It was only when he turned to walk away that I opened the door.