A Stupid Yellow Invitation

CHAPTER THREE

She steps out of the car, and her eyes, like a magnet to metal, go straight to the front porch.

And he's standing there.

He's standing there.

Standing there.

There.

He's there. He's right there in front of her eyes, breathing, hair short, eyes wide, pretty face, perfect.

He is right there, standing on the porch, and he looks like someone just plugged him into an electric socket.

( • • • )

There she is.

There she is, half out of the car, her hair messy and curly and piled on top of her head, and fuck, she's still perfect.

He feels more alive than he has in years.

There's electricity shocking him with every second he looks at her and shock coursing through his veins and fuck, fuck, FUCK. She is still perfect.

( • • • )

She is alive.

She doesn't know why that comes to mind at this second, but here she is, fucking alive, bursting with every thing she's ever done and ever wanted to do, and here she is, fucking dead, ready to drop to her knees and die again.

Because he's engaged.

He's fucking engaged and it's not to her (it could've been, should've been) and if they hadn't done what they did that first night seven years ago then she wouldn't be standing here frozen about to go up in flames.

"Fuck you."

And just like that, she remembers Darren is here too, glaring at her and breathing heavily.

"What the fuck is in this suitcase, Lopez?" he scowls, and she could almost laugh, or maybe cry - she's not quite sure.

"Books," he says, and that's his voice. It rushes her mind like a whirlwind, teasing and laughing and singing and speaking the way he used to do. The way that drives her crazy.

She nods, then licks her lips, then remembers this is probably where she speaks.

"Yeah, books. You know I carried that through New York, right?"

Joey laughs and the tension kind of dissipates; it's not gone, obviously (she's pretty sure the only way to get that tension out of their bodies would be fucking), but it kind of feels a little bit like it used to.

Kind of Michigan days style, where they were all a bunch of drunken college kids scrambling through assignments and stupid plays. They'd all kiss and make up after all the stupid fights they had - Lauren remembers Joe arguing with Matt about 'potential damage to my balls' for a good hour with that cauldron scene.

And then it had been a taste of fame, and play, play, play, until too long, and she and Joey were over.

And then it had all kind of been over, and the fan base had shrunk, bit by bit. She hadn't been in a play for seven years. They'd done a few more until three years ago when there was a great collective sigh and everyone seemed to suddenly settle down.

And damn, but time's kind of frozen again.

It hasn't done that for a while.

And then Darren says, "Well, I hate books, fucking pointless. You're here for two weeks, how many books did you bring?"

Lauren shrugs, "A couple."

Joey breaks eye contact and goes over to help Darren, but she still can't take her eyes off him.

He's just so fucking perfect.

( • • • )

"I win," Joey smirks, flipping over his last card - an eight - and laying it on the pile, sending Darren into another bout of swearing and accusations of cheating.

Lauren laughs, and Joey grins at her. She raises her eyebrows and tilts her head at the pile of cards, and he half-nods and gives her a little smile before gathering up the cards and beginning to shuffle. Lauren bumps Darren off his seat.

"My turn," she says, and gives him that look that's half a dare and half a tease, and he swallows before dealing out the cards - three facing down, three facing up on top of those, and three in their hands.

"Okay, so this game is called Shithead. You put down cards in this pile and they have to be higher than the last card. Ace is the highest card. You can put down the same card as the previous one, but you can't go below. If you have a magic card you can put it down anywhere. Magic cards are two, seven, eight and ten. Two restarts the pile, seven means the other player has to play lower than seven, eight is invisible and ten burns the pile. With me?"

"I'm with you," she confirms, and his heart skips a beat. You're engaged.

He finds it somewhere in him to continue, "The least desirable cards in order - three, four, five, six, nine, Jack, Queen, King, ace, and then any magic card, although I think the best magic card is ten since you get to start the pile over. Oh, and the three cards in front of you facing up, you can swap those from any card in your hand now, before the game begins - say, magic cards, or a high card. But you can't look at the ones on the bottom. When this pile -" he taps the pile of the cards that haven't been dealt, "when that pile's finished, you play the cards down there. You can't play them before that. You play the ones facing up first, and then when it's your turn you flip over those cards one at a time and lay them. If you can't lay higher at any point in the game, you have to pick up the pile. If any of those three cards on the bottom aren't higher then the latest card on the pile, you have to pick the whole pile up. Got it?"

She's biting her lip, and he's pretty sure he gulps. "Yep, think so."

Darren stands up. "Here, I'll help. Jesus Christ, no one wanted to hear all that." He shoots a glare at Joey.

"Those are the rules, Darren. She kind of needs to know them."

Darren rolls his eyes.

"So the magic cards are..."

"Two, seven, eight and ten," Joey repeats.

She swaps out her Jack and Queen on the bottom for a ten and an eight, leaving her facing-up cards as two tens and an eight. Joey licks his bottom lip distractedly before switching his six for a seven and his three for an ace.

He looks up to find her staring at his lips, and though her gaze immediately snaps away when he looks up, he and she both blush and the atmosphere becomes tangibly awkward. Darren rolls his eyes and mutters, though it is more than likely that this is because he is looking at both of their cards and is now attempting to peek at the bottom layer. Joey hits his arm and Darren gives Joey a betrayed look before picking up the pile of cards that haven't been dealt and looking through, murmuring comments like, "Oh, I hope Joey picks this one up," and, "Hey, Lauren, pick up the seventeenth card down," which Joey ignores.

"Um, you can go first," he offers.

Seven years should not have led him to forget that Lauren Lopez could probably have out-played a Las Vegas casino.

After beating him in three games of Shithead, Lauren announces she's going to go to her room and stands up, hugging Darren and then leaning down before snapping back up. She mumbles a goodnight and practically runs off to Darren's spare room.

Joey claps Darren on the shoulder and says he's gonna make his way home too. Darren nods sleepily and begins to snore, which Joey takes as a 'the exit is this way' sign, and leaves.

( • • • )

Lauren can't take her eyes off him.

Especially his lips.

When he catches her just before they start playing, she's pretty sure her face is bright red.

When she hugs Darren before going to bed, she starts to lean in to kiss him.

Then the drumbeat in her mind that is only telling her one thing - that he's engaged (and he probably hates her) - starts up again and she jerks back.

She shuts the door and slides down it, letting out a long, shaky breath. The front door opens and closes not long after, and she stands up and pulls out her pyjamas.

The thing is, though, he's different. His grin is a little more subdued. The thing that hurts most is how he kept twisting his ring absentmindedly round his finger.

She gets into bed and turns the light out.

( • • • )

"Darren!" Lauren yells.

He pokes his curly bed-head out from his room. In lieu of replying with actual words, he lets out a loud groan.

"I'm gonna get coffee, okay!"

"Best coffee place is in the middle of Ass Square."

"I know, Darren, I lived in Ann Arbor for a fair bit."

"Can you get me a -"

"I know your coffee order."

Darren blows her a kiss, and she grins at him.

It's great to see him again. She didn't talk to anyone for almost two years after the breakup, and then when she did she hasn't been able to visit very often.

She steps out of her car outside their old haunt, in the place they nicknamed Ass Square because of the large statue. She remembers many a college morning spent here hungover and in desperate need of coffee.

She spots a car she hasn't seen in years, and walks over to it. Julia steps out.

It was hard to get back with Julia, who didn't forgive her for two years radio silence, but she did it.

"Doolia!"

Julia's face brightens and she runs round the car to hug Lauren. "Laur!"

Julia smacks Lauren upside the head. "Why didn't you tell me everything!"

Lauren slings an arm around Julia's neck as they walk in together.

"Two flat white lattes and a soy latte with a teaspoon of sugar," Julia rattled off at the counter.

"You know Darren's order?"

Lauren could swear that Julia blushes, but before she can question her about it, someone walks in.

"Shit!" Julia hisses, steering Lauren over to a table in the corner.

"Julia, is that you?"

Julia pauses, then slowly turns around. She looks nervously at Lauren before greeting the girl, "Hi, Brooke."

Brooke is tall, blonde, and pale. She has blue eyes and is wearing red lipstick and dark eyeshadow. She's very pretty.

Brooke walks over to them, saying, "It's great to see you, Julia! Who's your friend?"

Lauren thinks that it's sad that there's not even a hint of sarcasm in her tone.

Julia hugs Lauren to her tighter. "This is my ex-wife, Lauren Lopez. We separated - amicably, of course - about nine years ago, but she's one of my greatest friends."

Brooke looks startled, then nods. She laughs, a kind of giggly laugh. "Hi, Lauren. I'm Brooke. I assume you know Joey."

Lauren nods, mute, as this bombshell towering over her announces, "I'm his fiancée."