Thomas sighs, long and hard, and shifts in his chair. I know he doesn’t believe me, but it’s so obvious.
“We both understand one-sided love better than anyone we know,” I explain. “And I know you don’t like to hear about it but the other night, when I saw you through the window—for which I apologize once again, by the way—the expression on your face, it was like…I was looking in the mirror. It was like I could read your every thought. I could feel your every thought. I felt it in my stomach.” I clear my throat. “So you see? We’re soul mates.”
“You’re right.”
Excitement bubbles inside me. “I am, aren’t I?”
“Yeah. I don’t like to hear about it.”
“Oh.” I swallow and deflate against my pillow, staring at the white ceiling.
He shifts in his chair again and I imagine him mimicking me, head pushed back, staring at the blank ceiling. I don’t know how long we stay silent this time, hearing each other breathe. I can’t let him go though. I can’t be the one to break this connection.
And neither can he, apparently.
It’s such a soothing delusion that he wants me to breathe in his ears so he knows he isn’t alone. Maybe it isn’t a delusion at all.
“Do you know what a vestigial organ is, Layla?” he asks, after I’ve made countless patterns around my belly button with my middle finger.
“What?”
“It’s an organ that’s useless. It serves no purpose. It’s defunct, extra baggage. It’s just there because we haven’t evolved enough.”
“O-kay.”
“But they are quite capable of giving you pain. Oh yeah, they might even kill you…slowly, until you’re begging for it.”
“Why are we talking about useless organs?”
“Because unrequited love is like a dead, useless organ. It’s functionless. It’s sicker than a disease. You can cure a disease, but you can’t fix a defective soul. That’s the most frustrating thing in the world, to be that powerless.”
I’m all dried up. Parched. Every cell in my body hurts for him. For me. For us. His pained words haunt my insides.
“Why aren’t you home, Thomas?”
“Because it’s not home when she’s not in it,” he admits quietly.
I dig my nails into the soft flesh of my belly, trying to translate his emotional agony into my physical discomfort.
And I’m struck by another epiphany.
I don’t know what he is to me, but I know what I am to him.
He needs me. He needs to exert his power over me because his love has made him powerless. He needs me begging because his love has made him a beggar himself. The lust he feels for me comes from the love he feels for her.
A thick tear skates down from the corner of my eye to my hair. I bite my lip to keep from making any sounds.
“Go to sleep, Layla.”
I wipe my nose with the back of my hand and swallow the jagged lump in my throat. “Will you stay on the phone while…while I sleep?” His breath slips before getting heavier. “Please?”
“Yeah. Okay.”
I sigh in relief. “Thank you.”
He hums his assent.
“Good night.”
He hums again. I close my grainy eyelids, feeling comforted. I hope he does too.
Time passes. Questions flit through my mind. Where is Hadley? Is that what I heard through the window that night? Where’s Nicky? He’s my soul mate too.
“You know, we should get matching bracelets or something. Soul mates should definitely have a matching something,” I mumble, warm and drowsy.
“Okay, but I don’t like purple.”
A weak chuckle escapes me and I burrow my nose in my purple blanket. “Don’t worry, it’ll grow on you. I’ll get one for Nicky too.”
He grunts, as if he’s falling asleep right along with me.
As I slide deeper into sleep, I feel it in my resting and cozy heart. Thomas and I are meant to be. This thing between us was supposed to happen.
Because I’m a girl who’s not supposed to be the love of someone’s life, not with my selfishness. I was meant to live in the shadows and secrets. I can be Thomas’ secret, for a little while, at least—until I absorb all of his pain and set him free.
________________
It’s well after midnight, the exact time I spoke to Thomas on the phone a couple of days ago. I should be staying in bed, trying to sleep. I shouldn’t be running toward him, but I am. I have to show him something, something I got for him in a very impulsive decision.
Oh well, when am I not impulsive?
The Labyrinth is quiet and sleepy when I enter with a swipe of my ID card. This is the first time I’ve seen it so empty, without its noisy activities. The walls feel intimate, carrying a million secrets, or maybe it’s just me.
I climb the stairs and walk down the hallway until I’m standing in front of his office door, panting in the cold. My nose is running in a very unflattering manner. I get a handle on my reaction to the freaking winter before I turn the knob; it gives with a soft click.
He is here.
My gut told me he would be and there he is by the window, illuminated by the lamp sitting on his empty desk. He turns, a cigarette in his sexy mouth, as he hears me enter. He looks exhausted, his energy extinguished in a certain way I can’t explain.
He sucks in a drag and blows out a long strand of smoke. In the dismal lighting of the room, with shadows flickering on the wall, he doesn’t even look like he belongs in this world. He is too beautiful, too haunted to be human.
I swallow, a lengthy shiver rolling through my body as I enter and close the door behind me. My hair must look windblown after running through the streets to get here. My cheeks must be red and flushed, and so must be the skin of my thighs where my fur coat and knee-high boots don’t meet, leaving them bare and unprotected.
“I want to show you something.”
I lick my lips and lock the door with a click.
I’ve always thought of my body as a curse. It has incessant needs, the wrong kind of cravings, but after meeting Thomas, I realized my body could be a tool. It could be his tool.
So there is no shyness in me when I open the buttons of my coat, staring into his unblinking, unmoving eyes. I watch for his reactions. Does he like my boldness? Hate it? The color of his face is heightened and the lean muscles of his chest twitch as he looks on. It bolsters my courage, gives me reassurance that this is the right thing to do. I part the lapels and roll my shoulders to take the coat off me. It falls to the floor and I jerk at the sensation of my thick curls teasing my naked back.
Um, yeah…I’m naked—except for the black knee-high boots and, of course, the ankle-length purple polka dot socks under them.
Goosebumps coarsen my skin as I stand in front of him for his perusal. My curves are slight. My breasts are small and my waist is tiny. In preparation for tonight, I shaved everything so my skin is smooth and pale, and my cunt bare.
His gaze sweeps over my face and then skates down, down and down, and then he stops. I know what he’s staring at. I did it for him.