“I suppose you’re right. I’ll be here if you call.” I rolled out of bed, kissed her on the top of her head, and walked into the bathroom to take a leak. I heard the door shut.
I tried to keep my mind away from Livvie by keeping busy. I read a book. I returned the Lamborghini. I ate. I searched through local and international news. Regardless of my intentions, it wasn’t long before my thoughts veered toward Livvie again.
I thought about the night before and her hasty exit in the morning. One set of thoughts made me smile; the other had me on high alert.
Livvie’s apartment was near her school. I researched the campus and neighborhood. Crime was relatively low. The internet wasn’t flush with stories of sexual assault at her college. However, I doubted the university would willingly offer such information. I made a mental note to investigate for myself at a later time. Livvie had a tendency to trust too easily.
I’d already done my due diligence and researched her neighbors. The man across the hall from Livvie had been arrested for domestic violence the year before but hadn’t been in trouble since. He’d been living with a female student at the time. I’d be keeping a close eye on him as well.
I showered around ten-thirty.
I had champagne brought up an hour later.
By midnight, I was expecting the phone to ring at any moment.
With each passing minute, I realized the void inside me was alive and well. It was thriving. It had a taste for a new sort of misery—hope. It had been a long time since I had allowed myself such an emotion. The void feasted on it while old memories reminded me how dangerous it could be. Hope and fear are different sides of the same coin. I had gone from missing Livvie to hoping I could be the man she wanted. I didn’t know which was worse.
I had gone through all sorts of scenarios in my mind prior to making contact with Livvie. However, her passive aggressive behavior toward me was not one of them. My mind is much more problem/solution oriented. Mad at me? Scream at me. Punch me if you’re up for it. Please don’t smile at me sweetly, act like nothing is wrong and then leave me disillusioned. And before you say anything, yes—I realize how fucking ironic my words are. I have played my fair share of mind games with Livvie. It doesn’t mean I liked being on the other side. No man does.
I took a cab over to her apartment. There was a wall of buttons and a speaker panel just outside the door. I ran my finger down a column of buttons until someone buzzed me in. I ignored the groggy insults coming through the speaker. I made it a point to ignore the button marked “S. Cole.”
The elevator to the fifth floor moved at a glacial pace. Thoughts raced through my mind, each bombarding me with different emotions. In the time it had taken to arrive on Livvie’s floor, I had changed my mind about what to say or do a dozen times.
I could turn around, change hotels, and let her wonder where the hell I’d gone. I could pound on her door and make a scene in the hall. I could push my way past her when she opened the door and refuse to leave until she gave me answers. I could tell her to go fuck herself and then leave.
I could.
I wouldn’t.
I took a deep breath and knocked. My heart beat a staccato rhythm and my breaths filled in the gaps. I’d been in more than my fair share of perilous situations, but few had the ability to affect me so physically.
After a few seconds, the door opened. A small chain prevented it from opening fully. Livvie’s tear-stained face looked at me through the gap. My anger evaporated and fear blossomed.
“Are you okay? You didn’t call.”
Livvie glanced away and shut the door in my face. I heard her dealing with the chain just before the door reopened and she motioned me inside. I stepped slowly and carefully. As I let my eyes wander around her apartment, I realized I’d never walked in Livvie’s world. I didn’t know all the different sides of her. There was a blue sofa and a coffee table in the shape of a splat. Fake orange daisies stuck out of a vase filled with clear marbles. Framed posters adorned her walls: Interview with a Vampire, The Crow, The Social Network, Inception, a poster of four different colored records, and a half-naked man whose virtues were compared to chocolate.
I felt conspicuously out of place. Livvie was young. She cared about movies, music, and boys. She preferred bright colors. I smiled when I saw her PlayStation. A set of drumsticks, a microphone, and a plastic guitar were crammed up against the TV stand. I wondered if Livvie liked to sing or if she preferred one of the instruments. I wondered who she played with and decided the couple she was always with seemed the most likely. They knew her in ways I didn’t. It made me jealous.