first american title | tenya iida

twenty-seven

~*~

iida's pov

I suppose I didn't really expect myself to actually text Lydia. But expectations are meant to be broken, right? Because suddenly I found myself struggling to word a simple text asking if she wanted to grab coffee sometime.

How odd it was to see myself rehearsing the steps I had already performed. I mean, dear god, we were still married. Regardless if we had separated, Lydia was still legal my wife, and I was her husband. Once upon a time, we were in love. It remains to be seen if that statement was true. If we were still in love. 

I think I'm jumping ahead of myself. 

So still I'm staring down at the keys on my phone. The words glared back at me, daring me to hit send. I sighed, thought, 'fuck it' and sent the message. 

A reply was sent far too quickly for comfort. Was she waiting for me to text her? Was she just bored and not busy. 

Regardless of what the case might be, she agreed to get coffee with me this afternoon. Despite being at work, I focused more on Lydia than the actual task at hand. Somehow I couldn't wait for my shift to end and be able to rush to the cafe and sit down with her. 

She still captured me with her beauty; her subtle glances and soft giggles sent my heart flailing, my head spinning, and my brain a cloudy mess. But still- I needed to keep myself worrying. Everything felt amplified with her; the good was fantastic, the bad was- well, it was destructive, to say the least. Maybe I was just obsessed with her, not in love. Obsession is, unfortunately, not love. And that hurts to know. 

When the clock ticked three pm, I was out of the office as quick as I could and down a few blocks in ten minutes tops. When I got to the cafe, she sat down at a booth in a corner, hair pulled into a low bun and glasses concealing her eyes. 

I casually strolled inside and slide into the seat next to her. "Hey," I say in a whispered tone. 

She lifts her coffee to her lips, takes a sip and sets it down. "You still get off work at three hmm?" 

"Yeah, you remember."

There's a pause, and underneath her glasses, I can see she's looking down as a smirk has grown on her lips. "Of course I did," She says leaning closer to me. Her finger moves up to the edge of her glasses and she pulls them down, just enough that I can see just a fraction of her eyes. "I remember everything, Tenya. Especially when it comes to you," she breathed. 

I blinked a few times. She was so- so sexual- to the point it felt like she was trying to cover something. And she was hiding something. This coveted secret was simply this: that she was nervous. Her secret, in reality, was just the uncomfortable truth that we had so much history and we were revisiting that spark, that chemistry. 

I couldn't help but cough. "That's surprisingly sweet of you." I pause. "You never answered me."

"Hm?"

"Why is it Ruth Abstract and not Lydia Merrick?"

She simply shrugs. "Ruth was my mother's name, Abstract is how I felt at the time. It worked for me." 

Sometimes I liked to stare down at my cup of coffee and ask it for a bit of reassurance. I would pray that maybe it would give me the confidence to push aside the problem and move forward. This was one of those times. 

"It's pretty," I simply reply, not quite knowing what I should say.

Her hand is suddenly on mine, but she's not holding it. She picks it up by the ring finger, observing it like a child. I don't rip it away, simply because I trust whatever shes doing. She rolls my hand over so that my palm is facing upwards and then traces the lines on my hand. "You're what- thirty-two now hmm?" she asks. 

My eyes move from my hand to her eyes. I observe that behind her ear is a tattoo of shooting stars. "My star," I mumble.

Her head shoots up from my hand to my eyes. "Don't call me that."

My eyebrows furrow. "Why not?"

She rolls her eyes. "Because I'm not your star. At least not right now," she grumbles.

And then I feel cocky. God- I'm only like this around her. "Really? Not right now? So maybe you'll be my star again?"

The silence that comes over us is weird. But soon enough she starts laughing and shakes her. "This is so stupid," she groans, running a hand over her head.

"Why? Because you want to play up this snarky, passive-aggressive character because you're more insecure than ever? And you don't like that I'm not responding to it like the people who are obsessed with your famous facade are? You keep saying things to come off open and honest and like you're not being defensive- and yet you are. I don't know what you want. It's like you want me to be here and you wish I was dead all at the same. It's confusing. You and I both know that. Talk to me because I'm not a manager, or a record label, or Gray, or a fan, or an interviewer. I'm Tenya, so fucking treat me like it."

She scoffs. "You wanna be treated like Tenya?" 

"Yes," I grunt. 

And then suddenly her lips are own mine, strong and passionate. When she pulls off, she pushes me off, but then pulls me back by my tie so that I'm only a few inches from her. "Don't threaten me with a good time babe." And then I'm back on my ass. She sits down and takes a sip of her coffee. 

"What are you trying to instigate?"

She shrugs. "Tenya I truly don't know. That's the most honest opinion I could give you. I don't fucking know what I'm doing. Do you ever- do ever get sick of your own fucking thoughts? Your own fucking person? Cause I do. And I'm getting sick as we speak."

I sit back. "I'm sorry."

She laughs. "What am I doing?" she asks herself. "Tenya," she sighs. "I've been tearing apart at the seems for so fucking long."

She really knows how to change the mood, doesn't she?

"Lydia, what do you mean?"

She removes her glasses and looks me in the eyes. "Have you ever been scared of yourself? She asks. I don't reply, and so she goes on. "Tenya. I-It's so scary. It's so awful. I feel like I could destroy anything and reap no reward nor consequence. I feel like I couldn't die in a way that would matter. I'm so used to disappearing. I can't anymore. I miss being normal. And god- god I miss us."

Now, that's a word I like: us.

"I miss us too."

"Do- do you think we could do that again? Be us."

I take a moment to think. "I feel like it depends on you, Lydia. I think we could do us again. I mean- I'd like to do that again."

Her hand goes back to mine, except this time she does hold it. "Can we try again? Maybe this time we can do it."

I can feel myself smiling at her touch. "Lydia?" Her eyes met mine. "You do understand how many steps it would take to be us again, right? I'm not going to lie to you. I think you need therapy. And maybe a break from fame."

There's a chuckle and then a nod. "I do. I need both. My mood swings are getting worse by the day." I can't help but feel my heart ache. How long has she been suffering? Her damage seems far more than mine. "I want to take the steps. I want to fix things. I want it to be how it was before."

"I feel the same way."

"So then it's a deal?"

I nod. "Its a deal."

~*~