Craving Conrad

AMELIA SIMMONS I'm not exaggerating when I say Knox Stevens will win the 'most-melodramatic-post-breakup-meltdown' award if there is one. It's well over six months after the breakup and yet here we are spending a Thursday afternoon in my boutique's workshop— with the third, or maybe fourth box of Kleenex. I'm surprised his nose hasn't fallen off his face from all the blowing. I try my best not to dry-heave when I feel his snot slowly dripping down on me. Gross. "It's over Amy." Knox whispers wiping his tears before they leak onto my dress. He readjusts himself on the brand new couch I snapped up last week at Natuzzi; which despite the sale was a bit on the dear side. I hand Knox another box of tissues as he tosses the empty one away and defeatedly slumps against the backrest, contrary to the previous head-on-my-shoulder. He snatches the box out of my hands almost immediately and sobs into the tissues. Seconds ago he was crying, now, he is bawling. A little too loudly at that. My eyes snap worriedly to the wide open door connecting the workshop to the main boutique when Knox wails like a siren; absolutely dreading the possibility of customers overhearing our conversation. And as I expected, I'm on the receiving end of curious and confused stares of clients, who're probably wondering why I'm comforting this man coming apart at the seams. Voicing a few apologies and 'I'll-be-backs', I close the door behind me before joining Knox on the couch again. "Amy." My eyes meet Knox's, and for a moment I have a vague recollection of when we first met four years ago. New to the fast-paced city, you could say it was a typical fish out of water scenario for me. I was a newly recruited assistant for Laura Meyers, the most 'in-demand' fashion designer in the country, and Knox was the photographer for the gig. Although I was Laura's protégé, there were clouds in the horizon — I did have clients, but none of them could boost my sales. It wasn't until Knox advertised my designs that I got recognized. His contacts are in high places in the industry and till date have been loyal customers here at Butterfly, my boutique. Today, Laura is one of my competitors and a good friend of mine. All thanks to Knox Stevens. Trust me, Knox is on the more attractive side of the spectrum. Albeit he is a fashion photographer, modeling can fetch him a fortune. He can cut a dash in any piece of fabric. His soft brown eyes make him easy to trust and his designer stubble is drool-worthy. Not to mention his Samson figure, it was rocky valley all the way down. So naturally I caught feelings. "I loved him so much Ames." Of course he turned out to be gay. The one guy I genuinely thought wouldn't end up cheating on me — is gay. Nonetheless, the unduly emotional lad is my best friend and I will do anything to keep him happy; come rain or shine. "He was perfect." Knox sniffles as his torturous lamenting comes to an end. I roll my eyes in vexation as he proceeds to describe the whole nine yards of his failed relationship. "Alright. That's it." Yanking the tissue box, I pull him by the arms forcing him to stay on his feet. Boy he’s heavy. I grimace in disgust when I see five boxes worth used tissues topple onto my freshly vacuumed carpet. "But-" I slap my hand to his mouth before he utters another syllable. I can't risk him launching into one of his heartbreaking episodes. Ever since Jonah Kline broke up with him, Knox has been dragging his feet. Today, I'm going to put an end to my misery. I mean, his misery. "You've been crying for six months and not once has he called you or asked about how you're doing." I withdraw my hand to grab a couple of fresh tissues to get rid of the tears-snot mixture off my palms. "That's not true. He did text me once." Knox defends the hard-hearted bastard. "Yeah. To tell you he'll be donating all your stuff to charity because he didn't want to see your face again." That comes out a tad bit more harsh than I intend it to be. Knox starts tearing up again and bites his lip in an attempt to keep it together. A beat sigh escapes me while I rub his back in support. "It's okay Knox. We'll get through this." I say in a much softer and apologetic tone than before, comforting him. His phone lights up in his hands and Knox answers it; taking deep breaths prior, playing it cool. The call hardly lasts for thirty seconds and Knox is quiet for its entirety excluding the first 'hello'. It's dead silent for a few minutes following the call and the tranquility is the workshop seems somewhat eerie. Knox is as still as the mannequins in the room. There were no whines or weeps coming from him anymore. He straightens up abruptly and disappears into the attached washroom. I wrangle between following him or not and decide on the latter. Maybe he needs some space. I hear splashing before he comes out drying his face with a paper towel. I notice how his nose and ears are shades lighter after the face wash. His eyes no longer hold remorse and any evidence of crying is almost non-existent. The fresh face catches me off-guard. I would resemble a tomato for an entire day if I were in his place. Knox shoves his phone into his pocket before taking hold of my handbag on the center table. "Let's go." He announces dangling my bag in front of my face. What now? "Go where?" I ask addled. The boy is acting as if he wasn't losing his marbles five minutes ago. "Lunch. I'm starving." Bipolar much. He holds the door open for me and we walk into the boutique. His surprisingly calm and collected demeanor is making me question whether or not this is indeed happening. I pinch myself when we reach the main exit for a reality check and wince in pain. This is happening. Knox has a weird smile plastered on his face while he drives us to... wherever he is. My brain is preoccupied, coming to terms with how the man behind the wheel is behaving, that I'm not even paying attention to where we're headed. Knox is the type of guy to shed tears watching Ice Age. Granted, the first part's ending is kind of emotional, but it surely doesn't lead to a full-on squalling session. I'm speaking from personal experience. And don't get me started on what episode four from season five of Brooklyn Nine-Nine does to him. "Amy." Ladies and gentlemen, that was the night I spent on the couch in spite of the fact that I had a very comfortable queen size bed awaiting my arrival in the bedroom, simply because Professor Butter Fingers spilt beer all over the sheets gushing over 'Peraltiago'. "Amy." Watching anything with Knox is digging a grave for yourself; given his history of dealing with feelings. "Amy!" So yes. The care-free version of Knox Stevens after a nasty breakup is confounding in a manner. The phone call definitely has something to do with his relaxed attitude. "Amelia!" Knox vigorously shakes my shoulders snapping me out of my daze. "What?!" I scream right back at him, annoyed he interrupted my monologue. "I've been calling you for two minutes! I thought you fell asleep with your eyes open." That's when I realize we're already at the restaurant and Knox is holding my door open, waiting for me to step out. The sound of impatient honking reaches my ears and I look at the reflection of the long line of cars in the mirror. "Right." Unbuckling myself, I get out of the car straightening out my sun dress. Knox throws the keys to the valet who is busy drilling holes into my head. He is distinctly upset with how long I took to exit the vehicle. I return his glare with one of my own and give him the stink-eye as I follow Knox into the eatery. "Stevens! There you are!" Nick, Knox's boss, calls out his name when we reach the hostess. I didn't know he is going to be here. The way he is motioning for us to come join him at his table only means he is expecting us. Nick waves at me with a content grin, happy that I am present too. I raise my hand to wave back when it hits me. A couple days back, Nick told Knox about a Paris gig which he wanted him to take up. "You got the promotion?!" I spin Knox so he's facing me and he shushes me pointing in all directions letting me know we now have an audience. He excuses us, apologizing to the guests and pulls me into a corner. "Yeah. I told you about it in the car. Nick invited me to lunch for a celebration." His eyes twinkle as though he won a million dollar lottery. "Why didn't you tell me dumbass?" I punch his arm playfully with a genuine smile. "I wanted it to be a surprise." He kisses my cheek. "Now c'mon. Nick's waiting for us." My phone starts vibrating against my butt cheek just as I'm about to go with Knox. My eyes widen in realization when I see the contact pop up onto the screen. I quickly check the date and mutter a string of curses to myself. Fuck. I forgot the dog's birthday.