The Wicked

Tuesday morning is grey and depressing. The sun is hiding behind storm clouds that accurately represent what I’m feeling deep in my soul. I want to curl up in bed and suffocate in a tub of Ben and Jerry’s, but duty calls.

As rain falls outside, taunting me with sadness, I organize the kitchen in the back of the restaurant. By noon, I feel drained. I think everyone on staff can tell I’m having a bad day, because no one asks for anything, and they leave me to hide.

Sliding some AirPods into my ears, I step into the walk-in refrigerator and start rearranging all the food. After I’m satisfied with the dairy shelves, I move on to the vegetables. I’m stacking bags of carrots and celery when the refrigerator door opens behind me, flooding the space with fluorescent light. I turn, almost knocking over some tomatoes, and find my assistant manager standing at the door, her arms stretched out as she holds on to the frame.

Pulling my AirPods out, I give her my best smile.

“You’re going to freeze if you’re in here much longer.” She drops her head to the side.

“I’m fine. It’s a fridge, not a freezer.” I turn back to the produce.

“Well,” she says from behind me, “someone just dropped something off for you. Just wanted to let you know. It’s at the host stand.”

I roll my eyes, muttering under my breath, “More flowers?”

When I turn around, she’s gone, but the refrigerator door is propped open with a jug of oil. I sigh, brushing my hair from my face and walking out into the kitchen. After kicking the oil to the side so the door shuts, I head out to the host stand.

There’s a small white box on the countertop, a big black bow wrapped around it. I sigh as I grab it, tearing the card off.

When the skies are grey,

And everything feels dark,

I think of you,

And the sun starts to shine again.

H

A wave of heat rushes from my head to my toes, and I put the card down on the counter to pick up the box. Sliding the bow off, I lift the lid off. On a thick layer of black velvet, a bracelet with heart-shaped diamonds sits, the light glittering as it hits the gems.

I brush my fingers over the diamonds, then sigh.

Slamming the lid back down, I slide the bow back into place and grab the card before I head to my office. Anger has started to form in my chest, and I need to let it out.

I grab my purse and keys, tell the assistant manager I’m taking my break, then storm out to my car, throwing the box into the passenger’s seat. It feels as if I blink and I’m parking my car outside Hayden’s hotel, my blood boiling with frustration. Taking the box with me, I walk into the hotel, through the lobby, and get into the elevator, pressing the button for the penthouse.

I rehearse what I’m going to say the entire ride up, imagining myself yelling and throwing the box straight at Hayden’s smug face.

When the doors open, I step into the lobby outside the front door for the penthouse and take a breath. My hands shake as I move to the door and knock, then I take a step back and wait.

As he pulls the door open, I push it and storm into the suite, making Hayden stumble back. “You think you can buy me?!”

“What ar—?” he starts, but I put a hand up to silence him.

“This is how you’re going to try to get back into my life?” I hold the present up, and he looks at it, his eyes wild. “Expensive jewelry? I don’t need gifts, I don’t want gifts, and they certainly aren’t going to make me fuck you!”

“Whoa.” He holds his hands up in surrender. “Where did you get the idea that’s what I’m trying to do? If I wanted to pump and dump into someone, I certainly wouldn’t buy them fucking diamonds.”

I toss the box to the floor at his feet, trying to keep myself calm. “I don’t want gifts, Hayden.”

“Okay,” he says, kicking the box to the side. “Forget it.”

“Okay. Thanks.” I roll my eyes and sigh as I turn and head for the door, and he chases after me.

“Penelope, wait.” He grabs my arm, and I turn to look at him. “Can you stay and talk? Can we have lunch? You left the other day before I woke up, and I have so much I still need to say to you.”

Scanning my eyes over him, I admire his perfect face, his thick arms and wide chest, and I hate how much I like what I see. I want to hate him so fucking bad, but I think there’s always going to be that part of me that reacts like this when he’s near.

“It isn’t a good idea,” I say, meeting his gaze.

“Why not?” His fingers slide down my arm to my hand, and he threads his fingers through mine.

I squeeze his hand, unable to stop myself. “Because I don’t trust myself around you. I don’t like the way you make me feel.”

His brows pull down, and I feel like with two simple sentences, I’ve ripped myself wide open and shown him everything that’s inside. I feel raw and exposed, and I want to close up like a dying flower under his gaze.

“What do I make you feel?”

I shake my head, pulling my hand from his. “Crazy.”

He presses his lips together in thought, then steps toward me. “You got into bed with me the other night… Why?”

“I don’t know,” I whisper, my heart racing under my ribs.

He tucks my hair behind my ear. “Come in and sit down, we can order room service. I promise I’ll behave.”

“Okay,” I answer without thinking, nodding, and my stomach fills with nerves.

He smiles, holding out a hand for me to grab. When I slip my palm in his, he runs his thumb over my knuckles. And as soon as he freezes, I know the error I’ve made.

“You aren’t wearing a ring.” He looks at me, his eyes wide.

Pulling my hand back, I clear my throat. “I ended things with Gavin.”

“Because of me?” he asks, his lips twitching.

I shake my head, taking a breath. “No, Hayden, because of me. Now, if you want me to stay for lunch, let’s stop talking about this.”

He nods, and I don’t miss the little smile that touches his lips as he turns to lead me farther inside the suite. Somehow, I came over here to yell at him and give him hell, and I ended up showing every card in my hand. I shouldn’t be surprised, though. If there’s anything he’s always been good at, it’s stripping down my walls.

Hayden and I order lunch, then sit out on the balcony to stare at the beach and listen to the rain as we eat in silence. When our plates are empty, I curl my feet under myself and get comfortable in the seat.

“Tell me something good.” I swirl my finger around the top of my water bottle, looking out at the ocean.

He’s silent for a moment, then he takes a breath. “The summer between my sophomore and junior years of college, I went to Zambia with this volunteer group that works with UCLA. I needed the volunteer hours to graduate and getting out of the country to get some distance seemed like a good idea at the time for my recovery. I worked mostly with a group of students who helped elementary-aged kids – tutoring, sports, arts and just giving them someone to lean on, I guess. There was this one day, we took all the kids out on this safari type tour. We were on this bus with no windows or doors, just giant holes in the side of the metal.” He laughs, shaking his head in thought, and the sound warms me.

“The driver was confident.” He laughs again. “Easily reaching 40 miles per hour through the damn park. No real road, just tracks in the grass to tell them where to go, and all the kids were having the time of their lives, laughing, looking at the animals, joking with each other. Well, the volunteers were in the seats in the back, the ones without seatbelts, because this bus was probably older than me. So I’m grabbing onto the back of the seat in front of me for dear life, trying not to fly out the side of the bus, trying to stay focused on the kids and the wild animals all around us, and the driver hits a bump in the road.”

He laughs again, waving his hands as he talks for added dramatic effect. “And I fly out of the side of the bus, landing in the grass and breaking my arm.”

“Oh my god,” I gasp, laughing.

“And the driver doesn’t notice until he’s far enough away that I’m convinced I’m going to be trapped out in the fucking wild for the rest of my life. I’m sitting in the grass, holding my broken arm, shouting for them to turn around and come get me.” Laughing harder, he looks at me. “And I turn to my left, and there’s just a fucking zebra sitting there, staring at me.”

I laugh harder, imagining the Hayden I know out in the wild. “You’re kidding.”

“Not even a little. And listen, I was a business major, so I don’t know anything about wild animals, only the bare minimum they taught us before we got there for safety, so I don’t know if this zebra is looking at me like I’m on the menu for lunch. I’m full on panicking, holding my broken arm, scared for my life, afraid to keep shouting just in case some other animals pop out and decide to take a bite of me.”

“Zebras are herbivores.” I laugh, shaking my head in disbelief. “Did you learn nothing in school?”

He laughs. “Well, I was a little busy falling for my teacher.”

My eyelids flutter, before they roll. “You learn about animals in elementary school.”

Chuckling, he runs his hand through his hair. “Anyways, the bus finally turns around, and it took three other volunteers to get me back into the bus so they could take me to the medical center.”

I smile at him. “Well, I’m glad you didn’t get eaten by a zebra.”

He laughs, his chest shaking. “Yeah, I got really lucky.”

I can only stare at him, before words I shouldn’t say fall from my lips. “I love your laugh.”

He smiles at me as his gaze connects with mine, and a thick layer of tension falls over us, making me shift in my seat and clear my throat. Standing, I brush my hands down the front of my jeans. “I should probably get back to the restaurant.”

Standing up as well, he puts a hand on mine. “Come back tonight?”

I start to shake my head, and he squeezes my hand.

“Don’t say no, just think about it.”

“Okay, I’ll think about it,” I whisper, meeting his eyes. “Thanks for lunch.”

I spend the rest of my workday thinking about Hayden, imagining him in Zambia with kids around him. The vision in my head looks so out of place. I never knew a version of Hayden that did anything like that. The closest he ever got to volunteering when we were together was writing a check.

It isn’t something I can see him doing, and the thoughts swirl around in my mind, making me feel like I’m on a rollercoaster.

When I get off work, the sun is long gone and the rain has dried up, and I decide not to go back to the hotel. I need to get some clarity, some distance from the image of Hayden I’ve created in my head, because right now, there’s a large part of me that’s aching for him. I feel like my mind is fighting me, telling me it’s okay to believe the pretty words he says to me, even though once upon a time, he destroyed me so easily.

Do people ever really change? Deep fucking down? Can they really go from being villains to heroes? Or is that bad person they were always at the base of their personality? And when is it the right time to take the risk and leave it all to chance?

I’ve started to give myself a headache by the time I’m getting into bed, so I turn on the TV to drown out the burning thoughts inside my mind.

It barely helps, though. Every time I try to focus, I end up zoning out and seeing Hayden in the shadows of my vision, clouding everything and making me feel even more confused.

All the bad parts are blurring at the edges, merging with the good he’s showing me now, and it feels unfair. But maybe what’s truly unfair is the fact I’m holding him to the label I gave him over four years ago?