The sun had risen around 7:30 that morning as I lay in bed, watching Mr. Universe sleep. Yes, I was biased, but I really did believe he was the sexiest man alive… so perfectly put together. There must have been divine intervention in his making. And if it were really true, was a life of unspeakable pain and impounded innocence the price to pay for such unworldly attractiveness?

Who was to blame for the ghosts of his past that still haunted him like restless phantoms? I don’t believe that God had a hand in this. There was nothing cruel or vindictive about God’s love. Evil just existed in the world. Evil had planted its seed inside the womb of an unknowing, vulnerable woman twenty-nine years ago. Evil had half contributed to the creation of a charming child that would grow up to become the most broken being ever.

Yes, it was corruption at its worst that had fathered the flawless man sleeping next to me. The irony was that Jay was extremely flawed, except no one could see those flaws on the outside. They were hidden on the inside. Deeply submerged beneath his subconscious. If the human brain functioned through the engineering of mechanical wheels, then I could confidentally say that every gear in his mind was turning like it was supposed to… counter clockwise. My point is that Jay was nothing like the average person, and he wasn’t born this way either. If you can picture evolution for a moment, then picture the evolution of childhood innocence… lost.

No one knew how fragmented Jay was—and of course they wouldn’t. He was amazing at concealing every crack that would show on the surface. He appeared as though he had it all; a beautiful girlfriend, a promising career—I don’t think I ever mentioned what he did for a living. He was an investment banker in New York. I lived there too. But neither of us had grown up in the Big Apple. I was born and raised in Labrador, Newfoundland, and Jay was raised in Chicago, Illinois. I had made the move when I got a job offer to work at a publishing house. Honestly, the only reason why I packed up and left “the true North strong and free” was because I needed to put an ocean of space between me and my ex-husband.

I hadn’t met Jay at a nightclub or a bar. I’m sure if I had, he would have taken me home, banged my brains out, and left it at that. But that’s not how we met. Our worlds had collided in the most unexpected way, and sometimes, only sometimes, can happiness manifest in the most unexpected circumstances.

***** 

A year and a half ago- December 10, 2013

There was something peaceful about waking up to the city coming to life. The sun would rise, and with it would come morning traffic, angry civilians honking and cussing, pigeons purring by my window… I wasn’t used to living in such a busy environment, but it was better than silence. All that I was trying to repress would resurface during moments of still, calm, quietness, which was why I welcomed any form of distraction, even if that included noise pollution.

I was living in a small, one bedroom flat on Broadway downtown. It wasn’t anything fancy or luxurious, but it was cozy. The walls were painted an ordinary white. My landlord had said that if I wanted to repaint, it would have to come out of my own pocket, including painting it back to white when I moved out, so I didn’t bother to personalize the space.

It wasn’t like I could really afford to make my apartment emulate the Home & Style catalogue. My ex had left me with nothing. I hadn’t claimed for alimony or spousal support, even though it was my right. I had never married him for money, and that was the point I was trying to make when I waved my rights and signed those separation papers in tears two years ago.

Nope, he wasn’t rich when we got married. He was dirt poor and so was his family. I was the idiot for following my heart when I really should have been following the money trail like every other soulless gold digger. This was the price I had to pay for having a functioning conscience, and for chasing fairy tales that only existed in leather-bound books, stashed away in dust covered shelves of every public library. They were deceptions of love. How foolish of me to believe that I, Maya Rivera, could have my own “happily ever after.”

Something had warned me right from the start to rethink my decision before pledging myself to a lifelong commitment, call it intuition. I was the dumb one who ignored it because I desperately wanted to believe that I could truly trust and give my heart to someone who would love me forever. Marriage was supposed to be forever. How naïve I was. Love never lasts. Love is an illusion, a fantasy that people make up to romanticize the act of sex, otherwise we would be no different than animals.

Moving to New York was supposed to be my fresh start. All my family and friends were back in Canada, but it wasn’t like I had many friends left, so I really wasn’t missing anyone. My mother had the hardest time. She was worried that I was going to have a huge melt down while living on my own. But I was doing just fine. I had to spread my wings and find my independence again. I couldn’t press pause on life and wait for the damage to heal. I had to keep going and hope that somewhere along the way, the pain that I felt inside would become nothing but a dull ache, until it was completely gone. Numb. That’s all I wanted to become.

***** 

It had been a week before New Year’s when I received a formal invitation to my co-worker’s annual New Year’s Eve bash. Skylar Rodin was a gorgeous redhead with soft brown eyes, the sweetest smile, and quirkiest personality. She had immediately befriended me when I started working at The Passionate Pen Publishing Group, three months prior. I was hesitant to attend this party because I had extreme anxiety around unfamiliar people, especially men. I didn’t want to find myself in a situation where I’d have to talk about myself and open up. My emotions were still a mess post-divorce, and I had lost a lot of my self-esteem because of that lying, cheating asshole. But Skylar wouldn’t take no for an answer when I’d tried to politely decline.

She had drilled it into my head, telling me that I was a beautiful woman who should not rob myself of the opportunity of meeting someone who could be “the one.” It’s funny when I think back on it—she’d been secretly planning on setting me up with her best friend, Oliver Griffin. He was a thirty-one year old family and divorce lawyer. As soon as Skylar had shared this information with me, it immediately turned me off. I kept associating the poor guy’s profession with the heart wrenching ordeal I suffered during my divorce. Just the mention of “lawyers” made it harder for me to breathe. Skylar hadn’t known about my failed marriage. I never told her. I hadn’t shared what happened to me with anyone. It was too painful.

How does that famous saying go? “If you can’t beat’em, join’em”? Well, I ended up buying a short black cocktail dress and an expensive pair of heels when New Year’s Eve came around the corner. Skylar forced me to get my hair and nails done with her. I guess this was her way of “grooming” me before advertising my single status to every available bachelor. I was perfectly fine with my non-existent love life. In fact, it’s what I preferred. There was no way I would have been able to jump right into another relationship, let alone hop into bed with some guy just for fun. Any sort of intimate encounter made me uneasy.

So, when I showed up at her party (which she hosted at her lavish condo), I was immediately dragged around like a dog on a leash from person to person as she introduced me to anyone and everyone. The whole ordeal was like socializing a scared little puppy around strange groups of people—me being the puppy, of course. I was nervous and trying so hard to keep it together, but I remained calm and sociable as much as I could. At that point, I couldn’t really understand my social anxiety. All I knew was that it would sky rocket around attractive men.

Oliver didn’t exactly fit under that category of what I considered attractive, but he was funny and friendly. He seemed harmless, which didn’t make the alarms go off in my head, and that was a good thing. The guy was an inch taller than me, and I was 5’7. He had buzzed blonde hair, blue eyes, and a dimple in his chin. I’m sure he could have found his ideal match at that party, but he wasn’t my type.

After about an hour, there were at least fifty people mingling around me in suits and colorful dresses. It was a good thing Skylar’s place was big enough. Her family was wealthy, which was why she was able to afford pretty much anything she wanted, and that also explained the ridiculously expensive condo she was living in (on the rich side of the city). This lucky redhead could have lived entirely on her daddy’s payroll, but she wanted to make a career for herself and state her independence. Obviously it didn’t hurt to have extra help when it came to self-establishment. I was envious of her that way. My family wasn’t rich, and I was estranged from my father. To say that I had underlying daddy issues was a huge understatement.

I felt like an outcast among these cultured New Yorkers… the immigrant Canadian standing in the center like a loner, holding a pathetic red maple leaf that was supposed to represent “nationalistic spirit.”

Yeah, I’m Canadian, big whoop! To be more accurate, I felt like a nomad. There was no place that really felt like home to me. If only I could have clicked my heels and found myself standing in a reality that far resembled the one I was living at present. I was willing to settle in a land full of munchkins and a lollypop guild.

While I was well on my way to drinking my second glass of wine, I noticed someone walk through Skylar’s front door, and I froze like a statue, glass in hand, fixed in place.

Warpaint’s Emily Kokal, was singing “Love Is to Die”, and strangely I felt like an extra standing on the set of a Hollywood chick flick. This would’ve been the part where the handsome hottie would enter the scene, greet the friend, and lock eyes on his potential love interest. And then it occurred to me that I didn’t want to be a nameless extra or supporting actress. I wanted to be the female heroine, his gorgeous co-star radiating with star quality. I wanted him to lock eyes on me. But nothing of that sort happened between us. The fantasy only played out in my mind for less than a minute as I tuned out Oliver’s droning chatter, unable to cast my eyes away from him.

Skylar kissed her friend’s cheek and gave him a hug before she took the bottle of wine out of his hand and motioned him to the kitchen where she poured him a drink.

All I could do was stare (much to my embarrassment). The handsome stranger was dressed in a black tux, and black leather smart shoes. He looked sexy in formal attire, but I was sure it was because he was mouth wateringly attractive underneath all that designer fabric, which was why the tuxedo looked amazing on him. He had short brown hair that looked like it had been styled by a professional barber who possibly… overcharged? It seemed silly to dwell on such detail. I was just so curious about him.

“Personally,” Oliver stated, “I would have loved to have told that old blow-fish to go screw himself. Do you know how hard I worked on that case?” He scoffed. “He calls himself a judge? The man is clearly incompetent! Goldman probably bribed him. Yep. I bet that’s exactly what he did. That good for nothing son of a…”

I could hear what he was saying, but my silent thoughts were predominantly louder.

“… I see Casanova has caught your fancy, Madam,” Oliver mimicked an English accent, breaking the spell I was under.

“Huh?” I turned my head.

He grinned and pointed in the distance. “We call him Casanova because he’s basically a ladies man. Though, I don’t think Casanova quite fits him. You see, I think he’s more of a hybrid between Cas and Don Juan. That man could seduce a straight man to go gay for him.”

“Are you admitting that you’re gay?

“What?” He looked mortified. “No!”

“Don Juan was gay?” I laughed.

Oliver squinted. “Haven’t you heard of the famous Don Juan and his tireless pursuit to seduce every woman he came in contact with?”

Of course I had heard of him, but I let Oliver humor me.

“That man never discriminated, and he never had a type. For Don Juan, it was all about the act of seduction. Every woman was fair game, and it didn’t matter if she was engaged or married. He got off on his ability to make a woman drop her panties and spread her legs.” Oliver paused and sipped his drink. “And that guy right there, he’s a self-proclaimed panty dropper.”

I laughed, blushing a little. “What’s his real name?”

He was about to answer when he stopped and stared off at something behind me. “Why don’t you ask him yourself?”

Heart attack and die moment? Or panic attack moment? Both? That was all I could think about as I slowly turned around and stared into a pair of shiny brown eyes. My God, he was a hundred times more handsome up close. I was at risk of melting into a puddle of ooey gooey mushiness on Skylar’s parquet flooring.

“Jay Conway”—he flashed a dimpled smile—“delighted to make your acquaintance.” He extended his hand and waited for me to shake it.

I was in such state of shock that I left him hanging for a few seconds.

“Would you prefer a fist pound?” Jay laughed. “I get it if you’re OCD.”

“Oh gosh…” I blinked. “I am so sorry.” I shook his hand, blushing ridiculously like a fifteen year old. “Maya Rivera, nice to meet you.”

His smile never left his face as he released his firm grip.

“My head’s all over the place when I drink,” I admitted.

“I can somewhat relate.” Jay raised his cocktail drink. “Non-alcoholic for me tonight. You’re not a lawyer, are you?”

“Me?”

“Who else would I be talking to?”

That was a dumb way for me to respond, considering the fact that he was looking right at me.

“I’m a junior editor at a publishing house—sort of always been the nerdy girl type.”

“Interesting. You don’t fit the profile.”

His eyes cascaded over my body from head to toe, and I was sure he made that assumption because of the tight and revealing dress I was wearing.

Oliver soon joined the conversation. “He asked you that question because apparently I never stray from my social circles.”

“Nope. You rarely ever do.” Jay grinned, and I wanted to release a lovesick sigh because that smile….

“Okay, so what?” Oliver defended. “You’re guilty of doing the same—oh look, there’s your little trio of Scrooge’s. You better go deflate some egos while the night is still young,” he said with sarcasm.

“You’re a class act, Oliver.”

“Thanks! You know, I did consider stand-up comedy before law school.”

“I’m so glad you graduated,” Jay mumbled and sipped his drink.

“Yeah, me too. Taking the Bar while mourning the death of my hamster, Genghis Khan was not easy.”

Genghis Khan? I stifled a laugh.

Skylar soon appeared next to us. “Stay away from this one!” She stood in between me and Jay, protectively guarding me. “She’s taken! I’ve already matched her up with Oliver, and if not Oliver, then Carl—or Sanjeet.”

“Sanjeet?” Jay quirked an attractive eyebrow. “Sanjeet Kumar?”

“Hey, don’t hate!” Skylar turned to me and said, “He’s just pissed because he can’t get over the fact that San schooled him in the boxing ring last summer. He honestly looks like a Bollywood movie star! You’d love him!”

“Hey!” Oliver exclaimed. “I’m still very much here and very much interested!”

Jay boxes? No wonder he looked like a gym buff.

“Did I also mention the fact that he’s a surgeon?” Skylar continued to rave about this elusive friend I hadn’t met but was actively being paired with.

Thankfully Jay interjected. “I think you need to quit your job as a match maker for your friends and consider focusing on your own love life, or should I say, lack of a love life.”

Skylar regarded him again. “I’ve sworn off men—at least for three months.”

Jay snickered. “Right, because you’ve suddenly caught a contagious case of cock fright.”

Oliver laughed out loud in a really goofy way, which caused me to laugh along with him. “Good one, bro…. cock fright.” He chuckled, shaking his head.

“You guys can make fun all you want,” said Skylar, “but I’m perfectly capable of staying single. I don’t need a man to make me happy.”

“Switching teams, are we?” Jay teased.

“Very funny, loser!” She smacked his arm. “I bet you’d love to watch!”

“Nah—not really. I don’t want to imagine you naked.”

“Bastard!” She slapped the same spot even harder this time.

“Because you’re like my sister!” Jay reasoned. “Jeezuz, woman. Fiery temper or what?”

“You’ve known me since college. You should know not to piss off a red head. Ever.” Skylar beamed. “So, since Maya’s already promised to another… shoo! Go frolic among the fifty other people here and try to score a number, because you’re not getting this one.”

“Gladly,” he declared nonchalantly.

Oliver raised his beer. “Take one for the team, buddy!”

Jay clinked his glass against Oliver’s drink, winked at me, and disappeared.

Skylar folded her arms in her chest and glared at her friend.

“What?” said Oliver. “I live vicariously through that man!”

She rolled her eyes. “You need to grow a pair and just ask a woman out.” She hooked her arm around mine, and led me toward another group of eccentrics to socialize with.

I should have been grateful that she had cock blocked Jay, but all I wanted to do was shoo her away and pull that sexy man into a dark corner and make out with him, even if there was no rhyme or reason behind it.

~oOo~ 

Present day

So flawless. How could he look so perfect, even when he slept? I smiled to myself and touched his face. He didn’t stir from the contact. On the exterior, nothing seemed to weigh him down. No one would have ever suspected that Jay Conway was so twisted inside. I don’t mean evil twisted—that would be my ex-husband.

In my opinion, passive aggressive people are a hundred times worse than aggressive. They can be so sneaky, two-faced, excuse me—triple-faced. They’ll wear a certain mask around you, a different mask around family, friends, the general public, and the last mask is the one they wear when they look in the mirror. The most dangerous people are the ones who lie to themselves and believe it. They get so wrapped up in their web of lies that they can no longer distinguish fact from fiction anymore.

There was a moment in my life where I had questioned my own identity, but my ex won the trophy for that category. It’s kind of ironic that I had to live with the world’s most confused person to find out who I really was.

Jay didn’t hide his darkness. He hid nothing from me. My ex-husband, however, hid so much. I can never forgive him for the injustices he did to me and my family. But in a way, I’m thankful that he broke my heart, because now I’m bullet proof. Pure titanium. Nothing can pierce my heart anymore. Nothing can penetrate me, unless I open my legs. Sorry. I have my satirical moments.

At present, all that was left of me were pieces of who I used to be, all scrambled and glued together in a rush. Everything looked misplaced. Imagine a glass vase in your mind; a beautiful one. Reflect on that image and try to personify it. This crystal antique represents everything that makes you who you are, every piece of you crafted into one complete and priceless creation.

Now, imagine that that vase breaks; glass exploding like fireworks. Slow it down and watch every shard, big or small, somersault and scatter all over the surface. You are literally in pieces. Every part of you is broken and taken apart. How can we fix this? Well, let’s reverse the effect and see what happens. Rewind in real time, fast or slow, and you’ll find that the vase is perfectly intact, as if it had never been broken.

Unfortunately, we can’t reverse decisions and experiences or go back in time. And when things get broken, we can’t restore them completely to what they once were. All we can do is try our best to piece ourselves back together, find the places where each piece is meant to go, and glue it in place. It’s sort of like creating a mosaic. My mosaic was extremely flawed.

I had successfully reversed my breaking point, but was unsuccessful at restoring my vase correctly. In a state of panic, all I could have done was gather whatever I could and try to fix anything that was salvageable, even if the pieces didn’t belong, at least they wouldn’t have been on the floor, at least I wouldn’t have had to admit that I was broken. All that shattered glass… and nothing had adhered where it was meant to. Jay seemed like the only person who understood that because he was able to relate. We were both imperfect but embraced our imperfections.

I had given myself to someone who was so sexually dominant in nature. I never expected him to open himself up to me and let me look inside the broken window of his soul. Yes, he was broken too, despite the perfect impression he gave on the outside… on the inside, it was a completely different truth. Jay’s world was desolate, a drifting place of desecration. It was cold, gloomy, and grey, like a lifeless land that was once lush and green, but ruined by disease, plagued and condemned by the wrath of God.

This was what it looked like to step into his world. But there was a reason for everything. He was not placed into this darkness by the divine hands of justice. In fact, it was a severe injustice. This wasn’t God’s punishment. This was the prison Jay had built for himself. This was the place he hid the little boy who had never grown up.

Somewhere in the center of his personal limbo, sat a crying child, hugging his bloodied knees to his chest, hiding his face and lowering his head like a turtle seeking the safety of its shell. If only he really had a shell to protect him. If only he had a pair of loving arms that would wrap around his fragile body and shield him from the horrors of what he had been exposed to. If only… if only.

There were moments when I’d look at this complex man, and all I could see was that ten year old boy begging for love, desperate for understanding, and dying for compassion. Jay constantly tortured himself. And that little boy, that innocent child, always paid the price.

Every time I felt that I was getting closer to reaching that damaged part of him, he would put a great distance between us so that I couldn’t hold the boy and comfort him. His cries would echo in my ears, my heart would break, and as fast as I would run, my efforts were pointless. He was the creator of this reality, after all. He made the rules.

There are many children in the world who go to sleep, wake up screaming from a horrible nightmare, and are quickly consoled by their loving parents, happy to have woken up from such states of terror. Their nightmares only exist when they close their eyes, and some rarely ever reoccur. Beyond the world of slumber, they are safe, loved, happy, and nurtured. But for other children, children who are just as innocent and deserving of love, their nightmares are not limited to the hours of sleep. Their nightmares exist in every waking hour of every day. Their demons are very much alive and chase them down every hall way, into every bathroom, bedroom, closet, car… their demons take the shape of humans. Their monsters take the form of fathers and mothers, sisters or bothers, neighbors and strangers.

They can fool the entire world, but behind closed doors, when they are alone with these trusting, naïve little children, their masked humanity melts off their faces and their true form is revealed. They are the most perverse beings. They are Satan’s soldiers. They are demons who will scare you to death and tickle you at the same time, just to strengthen the effect of the mental trauma.

How cruel it is for a child to endure such realities, to live a nightmare, a living nightmare day in and day out. Some people step into adulthood, mercilessly robbed of their childhood. My boyfriend was one of those people.

Just when I thought I was alone in my own thoughts, a pair of brown eyes finally opened.

“You’re awake.” Jay’s voice always sounded so deep in the mornings.

“So are you.” I smiled, resting my head in my hand and stroking his face. “You didn’t hear me thinking about you, did you?”

“Fortunately, no.” His lips curved up into a lazy grin. “I’d hate to have to hear what you really think of me.”

“You already know how I feel about you, but if you heard my thoughts on a regular basis, you’d be a hundred times cockier than you already are.”

He laughed. “I guess you should be thankful that I’m not telepathic.”

I smiled once more.

“I’m still so exhausted,” Jay expressed.

“I don’t blame you after last night’s activities.”

He painfully groaned, hiding his handsome face in his pillow. “Don’t remind me.”

“Sorry.” I giggled softly, completely unbothered by the fact that he had sex with another woman in this very bed.

“How long have you been watching me sleep?” He met my eyes again.

“Um, long enough.”

“I really don’t get why you do that. That’s got to be the most boring pass-time ever.”

“Please, it’s the only time you look so peaceful.”

He paused a moment, reflecting on my words before saying, “I’m at peace when you’re in my arms.” Jay reached for my waist and pulled me toward his body. We were spooning now, and I was just happy that he was touching me. “What were you thinking about?” he asked.

“The first time we met.”

“If you were wise, you would have listened to Skylar’s advice. I’ve ruined you.”

I rolled my eyes. “That’s not true and you know it.”

“You made me break my rules that night.”

I couldn’t help but smile. “I didn’t make you do anything. You had freewill then, and you still do. This is a non-caging relationship.”

“I know that. I guess I just couldn’t resist you,” he murmured in my ear. “Your personality was captivating.”

“Ah, yes, my personality—never mind the fact that you were totally checking me out at every given opportunity.”

Jay chuckled. “I’m a man, what do you expect when you strut around wearing a sexy dress? Your breasts was just begging to be groped by me.”

I laughed at the memory.

A moment of silence lingered between us as he kissed my shoulder and caressed my body.

“Maya?”

“Yes?”

“You know that I love you, right?”

I smiled. “Of course I do.”

He kissed my neck and cuddled me close to him. Jay had never been the cuddling type. But he was with me. He was always affectionate toward me. “I was having that dream again.”

“The one where I’m pregnant?”

“Yes.”

“Well, you know that’s not possible.”

“I know, Maya. I just—you looked so happy holding your baby in your arms.”

It always stung me a little every time he’d say your baby, a part of me wanted it to be our baby.

“She was beautiful, just like you. She always is when I see her in my dreams… big blue eyes.”

“Jay—”

“I feel guilty every time I wake up. I can’t help but feel like I’m robbing you of motherhood.”

“It’s my choice.”

“I know that. But—”

“No but’s,” I adamantly stated. “If it’s not meant for me to be a mother, then so be it.”

“You’re a valuable person, baby. You’d be doing the world a huge favor by giving birth to a child wonder. You have that motherly instinct, Maya, not to mention fantastic genes.”

“You keep saying that like your dream is an omen that I’m going to leave you.”

“I’m scared to death that you will.”

I closed my eyes, remembering our conversation on New Year’s Eve last year. Who he was then was so different than who he was now. It was a night and day difference.

***** 

New Year’s Eve-10PM

Those dark brown eyes had been following me around the room all throughout the evening. Skylar made it impossible for me to interact with her handsome friend, but I could feel his energy. It was almost as if he had changed the atmosphere of the party as soon as he’d entered. He noticed my secret smiles, I caught his secret glances, and the sexual tension just kept on accumulating as time passed.

There were plenty of people talking to me, but it was so difficult to stay present in the conversations when my mind was somewhere else. I was feeling overwhelmed by the rushed interaction. Part of me just wanted to leave, head home, curl up on my comfy couch in my PJ’s with a glass of wine, and watch the New Year’s Eve broadcast live from Times Square. But that wasn’t going to happen.

Skylar had made me sit next to her on a white sofa while she chatted with some other women who were unfamiliar to me. I kept sipping on my wine, smiling and nodding every so often, saying things like “Oh, really? That’s wonderful! No, I didn’t know! Shut up, when did that happen?”

I was playing my part, pretending to be so invested in the conversation, when that song started to play.

No… Not now, not here… no, no, no…

Tears began to quickly flood my eyes as I blinked them back and stood up. Every melody, every beat was causing a filmstrip of memories to project in my mind. The music took me directly back to that resort in Belize. I didn’t want to remember. I didn’t want to feel everything that I felt that night. I had to leave.

Skylar was too sucked into socializing to even notice that I was walking away, heading straight toward the front door with my jacket in hand. This song, I just couldn’t listen to it. It triggered too much pain inside.

How can you see… 

***** 

The cold December wind blew through my hair as I stepped out on the roof of the building. My ears had finally found some sanctuary. Now all I could hear was the cheering crowds in the distance, musical performances by mainstream artists singing from Times Square. Snowflakes began to fall from the sky, melting as they landed on my face and hair. I was safe up here. This place was so far away from that tropical paradise. I didn’t have to remember it.

Repress the memories, Maya. Repress them until they no longer exist.

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. A bass drum started pounding in the distance as a song I recognized began to echo in my ears. Daughter was performing their single, “Touch”. I loved that indie band. I had their latest album. They sounded amazing live.

In the night… 

“What are you doing up here?”

I instantly turned around and found myself face to face with the hottest guy at the party.

“I… was just getting some air.”

He flashed that charismatic dimpled smile and stepped closer toward me.

“What’s your excuse?” I asked.

“Something told me a really beautiful woman was standing all alone on this deserted roof, so I thought I’d make the effort of going up those endless flight of stairs and keep her company.”

I gave him a queer look. “Be serious.”

“I saw you walk out. You seemed upset.”

“I’m fine.”

Why does he even care? I asked myself.

“Good. Suicide rates tend to be high around this time of year.”

“I’m not suicidal.”

“You sure about that?”

“I think I would know if I wanted to kill myself. How can you make such an assumption? You don’t even know me,” I said with attitude.

“I have a suicidal sister.”

How I was supposed to react to that? “I’m sorry.”

Things got awkward fast.

“It’s cool, I didn’t mean to weird you out. I just saw you standing close to the ledge, so I—”

“It’s okay. I understand now.”

“If you ask me, I really can’t comprehend why anyone would want to take their own life. It’s straight up cowardice. I’ve been through hell and back, and back again. But I’m still standing, surviving.”

I reflected on his words for a moment. “Maybe some people are just in so much pain that they—”

“Please spare me that speech. I’ve heard it all before.” He sighed deeply. “We’ve all got our demons. Some learn to live with them, some don’t.”

This I could agree on.

Jay shoved his hands in his pockets and stood next to me. “New Year’s is so overrated.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Every year it’s the shame shit.”

“Sometimes,” I added.

“People constantly change, and nothing stays constant.”

“You sound so philosophical.”

“I can be.” Jay glanced at me, flashing a flirtatious smirk. “Who are you, Maya Rivera?”

“I ask myself that every day.”

“And?”

“And just when I’m sure I have it all figured out, I realize…” I stopped abruptly.

“Having an identity crisis?”

I shook my head. “Nope. Nothing of that sort.”

“Then why question yourself every day?”

“Because I’m not the same person I used to be.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“I think it’s good.”

“Uh oh… who broke your heart?”

Was I that transparent? I looked at him inquisitively. “I’m going to spare you the pathetic sap story.”

“We all have them.” He exhaled and said, “I’m going to tell you a little secret, Maya.”

“Do you always share secrets with strangers?”

“No, not exactly. You’re an exception.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because I noticed that you and I have something in common.”

What does he mean? I wondered.

“We both want to be anywhere but here tonight.”

Right at this given moment, I didn’t mind so much.

“I hate these social gatherings,” Jay continued. “Mostly because every woman I talk to feels she has the right to put her hands on me.”

I was confused.

“It’s how they flirt with me. I don’t like it. I don’t like being touched—by anyone.”

This was hard for me to believe. He was extremely good looking, yet he had an issue with physical contact. If any other man were in his body, they would have loved the attention. I was curious as to why it bothered him. Was he a germaphobe?

“I’m picky about personal space,” he said. “That’s why.”

“So how do you react when someone touches you?”

“I don’t make a big deal out of it. If anything, when they touch my arm it just lets me know that they’re down to fuck.”

Wow, okay, so he was the arrogant douchebag type. “That’s pretty judgmental. Maybe they’re just extremely extroverted women who are only trying to be gregariously friendly.”

“Gregarious?” He laughed out loud.

“I have an extensive vocabulary,” I countered.

“You don’t need to touch someone to be friendly.”

“Are we really going to have a debate about this tonight?” I laughed, blushing slightly.

The crowded streets were filled with thousands of people waving glow sticks in the air, glittering in the nightlife.

“So, what’s your secret?” Jay asked.

“Excuse me?”

He stood closer beside me and leaned over the concrete railing. “You’re more guarded than I am.” Jay chuckled. “Relax.”

“I am relaxed—I don’t have secrets.”

“Lies. We all do.” His eyes were like onyx glistening in the darkness. “I won’t tell anyone if that makes you feel any better.”

“I’m not drunk enough to start spilling secrets.”

“I don’t drink, hence the virgin cocktail you saw me drinking earlier—and no, I’m not a recovering alcoholic. Liquor just tends to bring out the ugly in me, let’s put it that way.”

“I’m more of a social drinker, and it’s usually wine I prefer.”

“You’re dodging the subject.” He grinned in a sexy way. “Tell me something you’ve never told anyone before. Be spontaneous, Maya.”

I loved the way he said my name.

“Love isn’t real.”

There. I said it. Out loud.

“We’re going to be best friends you and me.” Jay chuckled. “I was wondering when I was going to find my cynical fraternal twin.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. He was just so charismatic.

“Tell me why you don’t believe in love.”

I paused a moment, listening to the music that echoed from the streets below. “I think it’s funny how we idolize love as if it’s some great feature of our humanity.”

“Isn’t it, though?”

“Love is sex. We are driven by natural forces to reproduce, so we create this illusion of love to cloak the reality of what is actually happening. Sex and happiness do not require one another. People tend to think that they have all the right reasons in the world to pursue love, but the truth is that it has control over us. The entire universe is compelled by this will power. We are controlled by will. There is no notion of rational force.”

“Will you marry me?”

I giggled. “Definitely not going to suffer through another failed marriage.”

Shit. Why did I say that?

“Whoa, you were married?”

There it was. The shock.

“Now you know my secret. You’re the first person I’ve told since the divorce.”

“It’s usually the cougars at these parties that are divorcees. You look so young. How old are you?”

“Twenty-four.”

“Damn… how long has it been since the—”

“Six months.”

“I’m sorry. Everything must still feel fresh.”

“Don’t be. I’m not sorry. I think of it as a blessing in disguise.”

“How so?”

“That is a secret I’m going to have to tell you another time—that is, if you’re lucky enough to find me on a roof of a building next New Year’s Eve.”

We both exchanged a smile and looked out at the city.

“Thank you,” I murmured.

“For what?”

“For not saying something insincere like, ‘It’s his loss’ or, ‘If I were I him, I’d never let a woman like you go.’”

“Is that what you were expecting me to say? I’m not your typical conventional guy, and I don’t give out empty compliments just to please people.”

“I’m starting to see that.”

“Besides, I don’t need to sweet talk you to get you to come home with me.”

“Is that what you’ve been planning all along? What makes you think that I would even want to go home with you?”

Okay, so I was completely hiding how I really felt. But he didn’t need to know all my private thoughts. And he certainly didn’t need to know that I was sexually attracted to him.

“I can see it in your eyes,” said Jay.

“Oh, please. Now I have to laugh.”

“Even lesbians want to fuck me.”

“You have got to be the most arrogant man I’ve ever met.”

“Does that turn you off?”

“I wasn’t turned on to begin with,” I declared.

We locked eyes for what seemed like forever.

“I’m not going to kiss you, Maya, so don’t get any ideas. It’s not going to happen.”

“You wish I’d kiss you.”

“I don’t kiss on the first date,” he expressed.

“This isn’t a date.”

“I don’t kiss strange women on a roof.”

“No? Then where exactly do you kiss strange women?”

“I’m not going to answer that, out of fear of sounding too vulgar.”

“Hah!” I snickered loudly.

“We should head back to the party before Skylar starts to freak out and think that I kidnapped you.”

“She can be a handful.”

“Does she know that you’re divorced? I’m sure if she knew she would lay off on playing Cupid.”

I shook my head. “I just haven’t been comfortable telling anyone.”

“I hear that.” He held out his hand. “Let’s go.”

I stare down at his open palm and then met his eyes. “I thought you didn’t like to be touched.”

Jay’s lips curved up into a half smile. “This is me giving you permission to touch me.”

My heart skipped a beat, and without further hesitation, I slipped my frozen hand into his and let him lead the way.

***** 

“Where have you two been?” Skylar exclaimed.

“Having hot sex in the stairwell,” Jay replied. “I’m surprised Maya’s sex hair hasn’t given us away.” He squeezed my hand, smiling mischievously.

My face went flush as I ran my fingers threw my windblown hair.

Skylar folded her arms in her chest and said, “Judging by your jackets… oh my God! Were you planning on leaving my party?” Her mahogany eyes burned right through me.

“I just needed some air,” I replied.

“And I had to make a phone call. I couldn’t hear myself talk in here,” Jay explained.

I was about to say something, when Jay dropped my hand and frowned at someone in the distance.

“What the hell is she doing here?”

“Who?” Skylar questioned.

“Ellie! What the fuck is she doing here? Did you invite her?”

He sounded so angry and I couldn’t figure out what he meant until I carefully looked in his direction.

There was a blonde woman in a red dress staring right back at him.

“Jay, I—I just thought.”

“You thought wrong, Skylar!” He yelled. It wasn’t like anyone could really hear his angry outburst. The music was too loud.

“I can’t believe you did this to me!” Jay turned around and was about to reach for the doorknob when Skylar blocked his way. She looked at him with pleading eyes and tried to convince him to stay.

I began to connect the dots and concluded that the blonde was an ex-girlfriend—she was very beautiful.

Oliver soon showed up out of nowhere and tried to get Jay to calm down.

“Will you just cool it?” Sky continued to fuss. “She’s getting married! She’s not here because of you!”

Whether that was true or not, it appeared to give him some peace of mind as he composed himself and moved away from the door.

“That’s right, you heard me! Not everyone’s life revolves around you, Jay!”

Skylar was pissed and I felt helpless. Mediating arguments wasn’t a strong point for me lately.

Jay looked at Oliver and said, “I need a drink.”

“Let’s go in the kitchen and I’ll get that taken care of, huh, pal? You’re okay, just keep your cool.” He patted Jay on the back and motioned me to follow them.

I guess my ex wasn’t the only one haunting me that night.

MUSIC APPENDIX:

Warpaint- Love is to Die

Pascal Junior-My Eyes

Daughter- Touch