LATER THAT DAY, Hadley waits for his ex-girlfriend in some Mediterranean grill place.
Does he remember Tamara? Of course he does. He remembers how she was practically a rebound, after he'd been dumped—or cheated on, by his previous girlfriend of maybe two years, Angela, with the light hair and the dark eyes—and how she knew this but was nice enough not to mention it. Remembers her surly face, serious and set in stone, whenever Hadley would look at her. The startling blue of her eyes, the way lines would appear around her mouth when she deigned to look at Hadley and smile, something that clearly indicated she used to be in the habit of smiling a lot. (Just not around Hadley, for some reason.) Her quiet, dry and husky voice, crackling like leaves in autumn. Dark, stuffy clothes, even in spring. She had a habit, too, of just gazing at Hadley like he was a puzzle to be put together, something that initially set his stomach on edge. But then he got used to it. Would stare right back, into her, at her. Fix me, he'd think. I dare you.
Why did Angela cheat on him? Because it's hard to love someone who isn't there. it's impossible. James, this isn't right. When you're looking at me, you aren't. I don't know. I can't do this anymore. It's like you don't even exist. Why aren't you angry? Do you even feel anything? Look at me. Look at me. Look at me. Please. Jesus fucking Christ, just look at me.
And that was that. When Tamara showed up, it was perfect. She spoke little, asked for little, expected little. Perfect for a boy who could apparently only exist very little.
It's not a very busy day, patrons come in and out, and idly, Hadley watches customers order food, appraise the menu, talk to each other. Be human. He turns the pendant over in his fingers, lifts it to his mouth and gnaws on it, mindlessly. It's warm, glowing with heat from within.
And Tamara shows up, a little breathlessly, looking like she walked here. Her eyes scan the place, and when she catches Hadley, she smiles—Jesus, was she always this beautiful?—and makes a beeline straight for him.
Hadley sits up straighter, drops the pendant from his mouth like a dog guiltily spitting out something that shouldn't be in its mouth.
"James!" Tamara exclaims, and Hadley has to resist the urge to get up from his seat and take her coat off for her. "So good to see you. You're looking a bit under the weather, though. Everything fine?"
"Just peachy," he answers.
She knows exactly what's going on with Hadley, and they both know this. Despite the fact, she still asks after Hadley, Gregory, Morgan, Sebastian. Asks after his plans for college, his choice in a major, keeps the word curse out of her mouth. Eyes the pendant resting at the dip of his throat.
Her eyes flicker up to meet his. She reminds him of someone—not David—and Hadley has this someone's identity right there, right on the tip of his recognition but he can't say it, or think it, for some reason. Preventing him from making that leap from suggestion to fact.
"Is something bothering you?" she asks.
Hadley taps his temple. "What did you do to me?" he asks, simply.
Tamara's gaze goes a little soft, full of fondness. Hadley wishes she wasn't so goddamn beautiful, that she didn't tug at his gut like this, just with a look.
"That's why you're here, no?" she says, and suddenly Hadley is aware that her knee is pressing against his. "To find out what I did to you."
