Of the 30 people I invited, everyone came. My parties had always been like that even since I was little. I loved the attention, but it annoyed the shit out of my mom. This birthday wasn’t a milestone one, but sometimes, you just have to throw a party when you feel like you deserve it. Out of all of the guests, one was a wild card.
I hadn’t seen Oscar in a while. We would text each other here and there, but nothing serious. After we stopped seeing each other, he moved out, and I stayed put. The only reason we weren't together was due to a difference of opinion. He was convinced I was in love with him and that we would spend the rest of our lives together, and I wasn’t ready to be that vulnerable. Not with him. not with anyone.
Even though the apartment was filled with people, I knew exactly when he arrived. I could always feel his energy the moment he walked into a room. It was like we fed off of each other. It was our Pisces connection. I heard Dy howl, “I didn’t know you were coming,” from the other side of the room. My body was buzzing.
We moved past and around each other throughout the night like dancers. We acknowledged each other a few times but never spoke. His sleepy eyes followed me from across my tiny living room. I caught him leering at me as he nursed a whisky sour while chatting with my co-workers. I watched him smoke with a few people on my fire escape. He moved so well in and out of different groups. When we were together, I could always leave him alone without incident.
At about 12:45, I turned the lock on the door as the last few stragglers left. I could hear plates and glasses clattering in the other room as I stripped off my sweater and threw it onto the clothes chair in my bedroom. I knew having only a lace tank top between us wasn’t a good idea, but the apartment was still hot after all of those screaming, sweaty bodies had vacated the space. I was hoping we could behave ourselves. I padded into the kitchen and headed to the sink, feeling that familiar stare from behind as I turned on the water.
“You don’t have to do that right now.” He said in a low voice, setting down a few things on the island that separated us.
I glanced over my shoulder to acknowledge his suggestion. Before I could speak, he walked back out of the kitchen. He knew I wouldn’t take his advice. Another difference of opinion—I couldn’t sleep with dishes in the sink. Since he wasn’t here to wash them anymore, I had to do all the work myself. I noticed he had turned on some James Blake as he continued to gather random items and trash from the living room. We worked in silence, tidying up and washing the dishes, until he returned to the kitchen at the sound of me turning off the water. Drying my hands, I finally turned to face him as he leaned his elbows on the island.
His hair was long the last time I saw him, but he had since cut it into a perfect fade. I always loved how his curls popped up in the front of his hairline. His temples were starting to grey, and his watch draped delicately across the higher part of his wrist, accentuating his forearms. He clearly had started doing yoga again.
“So,” I sighed, folding the towel repeatedly to keep my hands busy.
“So.” He smirked and looked up at me through long eyelashes.
“Thanks for helping me clean up. You know I…”
He cut me off, “You like to go to bed with a clean house. I know.”
He shifted, walking over to the sink. “It’s my birthday gift.” He smiled as he began to wash his hands. He let his hands drip into the sink, and I handed him the towel.
“Well, I really appreciate it.” I toyed with what to say next and weighed the outcomes before the words left my mouth.
“I haven’t seen you in a while. Your hair is…” “Almost white?”
He huffed. “I look like my father.”
“I was going to say, ‘distinguished.’ You look cool.”
His lips twitched at the compliment, and he stepped closer to me. It was the kind of closeness that only happens after you’ve both seen each other naked, and personal space doesn’t mean much anymore. This invasion meant more since we hadn’t been naked together in a few months. There was that buzzing again. He reached out to fix the strap on my tank top.
“This new?” He asked, admiring the detail at my décolleté while his fingers lingered where the strap met my skin.
“No.” I swallowed—hard. I wonder if he noticed.
“It’s nice.” His hand continued to travel down the back of my arm until he placed his hand in mine. Never looking away, he smiled softly at me. Wistfully.
You know how you have those flashes of all the places and times you’ve ever been with someone? That was happening to me right now. One right after another. Bam. Touching each other. Bam. His eyes and tongue lingering in the right places. He smelled like a swirl of whiskey, weed, and soap. I could see the sparkle of the gold chain he wore under his dark t-shirt, tracing his neckline. And then, in an instant, he squeezed my hand and began to back out of the kitchen.
He picked up his jacket and threw it on. Following him, I reached around him to unlock the front door. He paused in the doorway, seeming to gather up something he wanted to say.
“We should catch up.” He shoved his hands into his pockets.
I wasn’t sure if he meant that, but I didn’t want to read too much into it. The setting was too ripe for either of us to make a mistake. I tilted my head to the side and brushed a strand of hair out of my face. I considered his proposition but said the thing that everyone says.
“Sure.”
I wasn’t sure if he took me seriously or not, but it didn’t matter right now.
I reached for him, closing the distance between us. We held each other for just a moment longer than we needed to. I set my chin squarely in the crook of his neck and inhaled. His embrace was firm, definitely not friendly. I felt his bottom lip part at the top of my ear. His hand grazed the small of my back when he finally released me.
“I’ll see you.” I gave a small wave.
“See you.” He replied.
As he stepped out the door, he stopped and turned to check on me one last time. I didn’t look back.