Chapter 2
1356 Words
The metallic clang of weights echoed through the gym, steady and familiar. Sweat rolled down his temple as he gripped the barbell, knuckles white and pale from the strain, though it wasn’t the deadlift that had him twisted up. It was her. The girl with the sharp mouth and eyes that lit up at the slightest provocation, who has managed to make his apartment feel more like a place worth returning to.
She had slipped out that morning without a note, without a word, leaving behind only the faintest trace of perfume clinging to his sheets. And here he was moving through sets, trying to find answers in the rhythm of his muscles.
He was the kind of guy people noticed even when he wasn’t trying. The one who drew eyes in a room without needing to speak, broad-shouldered and self-assured in a way that made others lean towards him, want to be around him. Dark hair falling loosely across his forehead, always one careless shake away from his eyes. When he smiled, if he smiled, it revealed the sharp cut of his canine teeth just enough to give him an edge.
Women liked the curve of his grin. Men respected the quiet command he carried on his frame, he’d gotten used to being the one who walked away on his terms.
But she cracked that with ease. There was something about how she spoke, sharp, quick, like she didn’t care if her words cut, that cut under his skin. Her brown eyes gave too much away, burning with every emotion she refused to say out loud, and when she tossed her hair back with a careless flip, he noticed how glossy it was. Did she just get a wash? Lips parting just slightly, he found himself caught off guard in a way he hadn’t been in years, or ever, as a matter of fact. She unsettled him simply by being real, and he couldn’t stop replaying it.
Now the barbell felt heavier as memories from the previous night flooded him, each repetition weighed down by thoughts of her departure. He racked the barbell hard, startling the guy on the next bench.
He told himself it didn’t matter, because it didn’t. People left, that was the natural order of things. Still, when he reached for his towel and caught that faint trace of her perfume again, something pulled tight in his chest. He hated that. The scent could do what words wouldn’t.
He sat on the edge of his bed in his home, elbows on his knees, palms pressed together, eyes fixed on the floor. The gym noise was crazy, he had to leave. He should’ve known better than to let her stay. She’d walked in like she belonged, even though, while drunk, she still carried herself with grace.
She talked too much, was curious about everything, and he’d let her. He didn’t even know why. Maybe it was because she asked questions nobody else dared, dragging answers out of him with a half-smirk that made him feel vulnerable.
He exhaled, dragging a hand down his face. The apartment was quiet again, just how it had always been. He let the silence settle, then reached for his phone and checked the time. Late. Too late to think about her.
*******
He moved around his penthouse like someone who owned more space than he needed. Floor-to-ceiling glass framed the city’s skyline, the kind of view people paid fortunes for. He barely even noticed it anymore.
His suits hung in neat lines, his watch collection glinted under soft light, traces of a man molded by precision and pedigree.
The house had been his father’s gift, one of many attempts to keep him close. He hated it at first, the constant reminder of everything he was expected to be. Over time, he learned to fill the silence with control: meeting, precision, routine. Nothing slipped through the cracks.
He poured himself a drink, red liquid catching the light as he leaned against the counter. Another contract closed that morning, another set of numbers was added to the ledger, another enterprise crushed. From the outside, everything about him was stable.
He had earned that image.
He protected it.
And yet he stood there, glass in hand, the faint trace of a woman’s perfume drifted through the air, vanilla? Floral?
It was soft, fleeting, and impossible to ignore.
*******
“Now wait there, back track a little. WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE TEXTED YOU!!” Grace asked, bewildered.
“Yes, he did,” said Ruby, solemnly.
“And then you guys met up.”
“It’s not even like that.”
“All right, tell us,” Grace said motherly, with a hint of warning. Ruby knew not to try.
*****
Ruby stared at her phone as it had just spoken a language she didn’t know.
“We need to talk. Tonight.”
Her fingers hovered over the screen, typing and deleting replies she’d never sent. Her heart felt like it was trying to escape through her ribs. Six months…six months of silence, of convincing herself it didn’t matter, and now this.
The city outside was loud, but the apartment felt too still, too aware.
She got up, pacing. Her reflection in the window looked foreign, the same face, the same eyes, but a crack somewhere underneath.
“What do you even say to someone you thought you would never see again?” she muttered, though the truth caught her off guard.
She did know him. Everything about him, in fact.
She scrolled to the message again. No name. No greeting. Just need.
He wasn’t asking. He was telling.
Ruby’s pulse kicked. Every instinct said to ignore it, block it, move on, but her thumb betrayed her, clicking call back before her brain caught up.
The phone rang on the other end, once. Twice. Then a voice, low and calm:
“You remembered.”
Ruby froze.
The sound of his voice, real, not a memory, pulled everything back at once. The room felt smaller.
“I shouldn’t have called,” she said quickly, trying to sound detached, but her voice cracked on the last word.
“You shouldn’t have left,” he replied.
Silence. The kind that hums between two people who both know they should hang up but don’t.
“Where are you?” he asked finally.
Ruby hesitated. She didn’t know why she gave him the truth.
“At home.”
“Good, he said. “Don’t go anywhere.”
The line went dead.
Ruby stared at her phone, heart racing.
“What the hell does that mean?” she whispered.
Then a knock.
Three sharp taps against her door.
Her stomach dropped.
******
“Yeah, he did…”
“Wow, I never knew this day would come," Betty muttered ‘’I mean, I had a feeling, but it's been six months.’’
“I know," Rose said.
“How do you feel, though?” Grace asked quietly, inching closer.
“What can I say? Nothing actually happened. I asked him to leave. Not like I'd ever see him again, he's leaving the country.”
“Well, that's good to hear, right?” Grace asked, searching Ruby’s face.
“Right,” Ruby answered too quickly. At least I don't have to worry about him anymore. She thought to herself.
Even though the thought of him still stings, and not in a bad way. Although she still couldn't get over the fact that they almost kissed, why would she even want that? “Ughhh,” she thought to herself.
“Ruby, Ruby, are you okay?” Betty asked, pushing her slightly.
“Huh? Yes, yes, I'm okay, why wouldn't I be?”
“You spaced out for a minute there. Are you sure you're good?” Betty narrowed her eyes.
“Oh yes.”
“What are you going to do about it?”
“It? Who?”
“You know who.”
“Well, nothing. He's leaving town, that's about it. No continuation.”
“If you say so.”
“Yes, baby, now what would you like to eat?”
- Writer
