Lasting Moment

one

Of all the thousands of places I could have ended up tonight, I was here. Again.

I guess getting over your ex is harder than I thought it'd be. Well, getting over Jason.

I know I'm hurting him, but he's familiar. I might not be in love with him anymore but he's safe, and even when I show up at his doorstep drunk, he takes me in. When I kiss him, even though I don't mean it, he holds me because otherwise I would shatter.

A part of me wonders why I ever broke up with him when I always end up back at his apartment trying to kiss his face.

The answer should be simple: I just don't love him like that anymore.

But it's not that simple.

I'm pretty sure he's still in love with me, and if he isn't he does still really care. Enough that he doesn't let me get carried away. Every time I'm sober enough to remember, he looks at me with broken blue eyes.

Maybe if he wasn't so nice, and didn't take care of me so well I wouldn't end up at his place over and over again. If he wasn't safe, maybe I wouldn't put him though this.

It's not that simple, because even though I know I'm over him, I have a hard time letting go of good things, and Jason was a good thing.

Leo's been mad at me.

He says I need to stop getting wasted. I was the one who broke Jason's heart, yet I'm the one getting drunk at the bar and crying on the bathroom floor. Leo's stopped talking to me.

It hurts, so I drink just a little more.

The truth is, Jason was my good thing. Leo was my best friend. Other than them I had nothing. I wasn't smart or particularly talented, and at some point everything just went numb.

I wasn't getting any offers to shoot lately, I hadn't had a gig in a month. Nobody DMed me, nobody texted or called. Nothing. So, I worked as a barista at a smoothie store called Smooth-E. Most of the customers were pre-teens and moms with young kids.

But right now? A bar. I'm scared the bartender recognizes me, maybe I've been here too often.

"You're really pretty," he says as he slides over my drink. I forgot what I had ordered. "Are you a model?" His green eyes sparkled in the dark bar lighting.

I nodded. "Not looking for a rebound."

The bartender smiled. "I'm asking for a friend, she's a photographer, and if you're a model, I'm sure she'd like to do something. Like I said," he shrugged, "you're pretty."

"She won't want to work with somebody like me."

"Okay, maybe, but give me your number?" He slid over a napkin and a pen. I felt like he wanted to get into my pants or scam me, but I wasn't thinking straight.

I wrote down my Instagram handle, not my number, but if he meant it, then this would be good. My profile was on public anyway.

"Thank you." The bartender flashed a grin, and went on to make someone else's drink.

I knocked on Jason's door. He was probably still awake, and I was sober enough not to do anything rash, but I couldn't believe I was here again.

He opened the door, in his pajamas but awake. Jason's face fell, and he ran his hand though his sandy blond hair. He opened the door and let me inside.

"Do you have coffee?"

Jason nodded, and went to his kitchen. I followed him. He made me an espresso in his small red Nespresso machine. "What's up, Pipes?" he asked sounding tired.

I shrugged. "I'm sorry," I murmured.

He gave me my coffee. "For what?"

I put down the cup and sighed. There was way too much to be sorry for. "I'm sorry I keep showing up, even though I broke your heart. Oh, and I'm sorry that I broke your heart. And... other things too, I think." I wasn't thinking perfectly, but it was better than usual.

"It's before midnight," Jason observed, like he hadn't heard what I'd said, "it's early."

"The bartender said he was going to shoot me." Jason looked alarmed. Oh. "Wait! No, he has a friend who does pictures and he said I was pretty. And I'm a model. I think he was lying."

Jason nodded slowly, like he only understood half of what I said. "Do you want to sleep here or do you want to go back home?" he asked gently.

"Home," I decided.

He got up and called me an Uber while I finished his coffee. It was good, bitter.

When the Uber arrived, he hugged me before sending me out. He was solid, and he used to be my good thing. He still is a good thing, just a different one. Maybe I should accept that.

The driver was silent, so I went on Instagram, looking at pictures of people that I hardly knew, jealous that they were okay. I was surprised when I got a notification.

a.chasephotography hi my friend gave me your insta. he said you're a model, and your pictures seem to say so too. sorry, guess i'm a bit of a stalker.

A possible gig. A photoshoot. Maybe that bartender had been telling the truth after all.

pipermclean95 It's totally okay

Is your friend the bartender?

Maybe I shouldn't do this while... not sober. I was too excited not to.

a.chasephotography yes.

would you be interested in doing a photoshoot with me?

It was incredibly direct. Maybe a bit too much so. I decided that maybe I should wait till tomorrow to make an important decision like that. Not that it would be life changing, but I did want to know that this 'a.chasephotography' was legitimate.

pipermclean95 I'm interested, but could we talk tomorrow please?

I could have been more eloquent, but I found that I didn't care.

a.chasephotography sure :).

I smiled. Things might be looking up.

_____

Hello, this is chapter one of a short Pipabeth fan fiction I am writing. 

Vote, Comment, and share with anyone you think would be interested. 

~Speedy