I smiled as I entered the loft, my eyes meeting the man standing in the bathroom doorway, his chiseled body covered only by a long white towel.

"Damn it, Riley," he muttered as I looked up, "You come home right as I was gonna call that hot Cuban coffee shop guy. There goes my fun for tonight," he grinned as he ran a hand over his wetted back locks.

Clark and Riley. We were a veritable Will and Grace. Best friends since high school, Clark and I had lived together in a roomy Manhattan loft for a little over a year. Life with him was…interesting to say the least.

"Thanks for the great welcome home, Clark," I laughed as I pressed a kiss into his cheek. "And come on, can’t you keep your hormones in check for like ten seconds?" I said as I set down my overnight bag on the marble tabletop.

"Psh, Ray, have you seen that man? That’s one fine piece of flesh. YOU wouldn’t keep YOUR hormones in check if he was straight, I can bet you that much," he scoffed as he wrapped his towel tighter and ventured back into the bathroom. He returned with an electric shaver in one hand and a toothbrush in the other.

"Speaking of keeping your hormones in check, how was your trip?" he asked, his green eyes twinkling.

"Funny, Clark," I muttered as I slid into my favorite chair, popping my feet up onto the coffee table.

"Let me guess," he said as he pursed his lips in thought. "JC professed his everlasting love to you and Justin’s slut stopped by to muddy the waters of you and Justin’s little paradise." He paused, thoughtfully, crossing his arms before looking towards me. "Yeah I think that’s all. You were only there for two days, what more could have happened?"

I laughed. "Right on target. How do you always know?" I asked, rolling my eyes. "Actually, this time I told JC I loved him too…"

"YOU DID?!" he exclaimed throwing both of his hands up. "Tell me everything!" he gushed as he plopped down across from me on the couch. "Are we gonna need popcorn? Tissues?"

I shook my head, letting out a chuckle before I began. "Um, well…" I said softly, my mind recreating the entire scenario. "It was all so awkward. He said we couldn’t have our little sessions anymore because it was tearing him apart and I freaked…"

"So you didn’t mean it?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

"I dunno yet," I muttered sinking down into my chair and crossing my arms over my chest.

He sighed. "I don’t know what I’m gonna do with you, Riley Jane Pierson. If I had a chance with JC Chasez I’d take it. I know he loves you. It’s almost sickening how much he adores you. It doesn’t get much better that this." He shrugged, rubbing his tanned shoulder with the face of his palm before he turned and went to his room.

"The blue, the eggplant or the burgundy?" he asked as he emerged and leaned against the door frame, holding each sweater up in one hand while the other two were held dormant in his other. He examined each carefully, then pressed them towards his torso, turning towards me for my expert opinion.

"Let me see the blue one again," I said as I watched him. He held it up to his chest for me to see, sticking his head through the gap in the hanger and letting it drape over his torso.

I burst into giggles as his eyes met mine, the absolute idiocy of the situation causing him to fall into laughter as well. "I like the burgundy the best," I concluded as I stood up from the chair and ventured towards the kitchen, pulling out a glass tumbler from the cherry cabinet.

I pulled out a bottle of white wine and poured it liberally, the opalescent liquid rushing into the glass rapidly, swishing to the other side and almost over the top. I glanced towards the phone on the cherry end table across the room, shuddering as I thought of him waiting for me with those sweet words of love. My entire adolescence, I had dreamed of someone to say those wonderful things to me. But now that he did, I didn’t feel exactly the way I thought I would. I wanted to be loved, but just maybe not by him.

I never ever thought of Justin as my perfect match. I just thought that if I could somehow duplicate what I felt when I was around him, that then I would be happy– it didn’t need to be with him. But the more and more I was around him, the more I got used to the feeling. I knew that I shouldn’t be around him, that too much of him would only leave me wanting more. More of that feeling. Of being completely alive. Free. He was addictive to me, his warmth and vulnerability attracting me, drawing me to him. And I needed someone like him.

But not him. It was too dangerous. And as long as I told myself that, I would be safe.

Or so I thought.

"Well look who’s back." He muttered, a slow grin sliding it’s way across his features as he licked his lips. My entire body of skin felt like it was slowly crawling over me, just the sickening sound of his voice was too much for me to take– especially this early on a Monday morning. I sighed, turning around to face my adversary, my eyebrow raising to illustrate just exactly how annoyed I was.

"Hello, Aaron," I replied coolly, my glance turning back towards the portfolios that were stacked on my lap. He looked at me with those eyes and I instantly felt degraded, disgusted– he did that to me.

"Riley, Riley, Riley," he tisked, shaking his sandy-blonde head. Without speaking, some considered him rather attractive. At 27, Aaron Michaels, the son of my father’s best friend and former business partner, Carl Michaels, was my new business partner at the firm our fathers had built– Pierson and Michaels Advertising. He was absolutely charismatic, his deep sea-green eyes and athletic build adding to the absolute appeal of him. If only he wasn’t such an ass.

"Riley Jane," he sighed, leaning back into the leather chair behind his desk, "what am I ever going to do with you?" He stood, his gaze bearing into me as he journeyed across the room, pouring himself a cup of coffee from his personal coffee machine.

"I so looked forward to our partnership," he continued, retaking his seat at the helm of his mahogany desk. "I wanted someone who I could count on. This company needs a foundation like that. But last weekend was unacceptable. Really, Riley, gallivanting off somewhere and turning your cell phone off. I had no way of reaching you…" He stood, venturing towards me, a smirk playing over his pink lips. "I’d always hoped that we could be more than just business partners…"

There was always something slimy about the way he moved. He slinked towards me, positioning himself in front of me at the edge of his desk. I crossed my legs and sunk further back into the conference chair, my eyes narrowing as he leaned in. I personified him as a snake, his tongue flicking back and forth, those creepy little beady eyes peering down at me as if I were his prey.

"You know, Riley. It really upsets me when I can’t see you," he murmured, reaching out to touch my cheek. I backed away, entirely disgusted. "I wanted to plan a little special meeting, just the two of us– but you were…unavailable."

"I keep telling you," I spat, "there will never be one of those little meetings. Never." I tried to remember why I took this job, why I stayed when I could have very well found another job. But I loved it. With a passion. The world of advertising was creative, manipulative, brutally competitive– my best skills combined into one. And I loved that my father had built it, it was a part of me…and if I had to withstand Aaron, then I would.

"We’ll see about that, my dear. I’ve heard that you’re not that hard to get." He fingered my hair, running his long fingers through my tresses. I shivered. "I always did love your hair, Riley Jane. Ever since I was a little boy." He pressed a kiss into my forehead, stroking my shoulder as he did so.

And I let him. Not because I wanted him to continue, or even because I liked it. But because I couldn’t say no. That had always been a problem of mine.

"Cut it off," I demanded, looking my hair-stylist in the eye via the mirror in front of me. I sighed. Six years of growing out my hair. God, I loved it. But apparently, so did Aaron. And I didn’t want him to like ANYTHING about me. Anything.

"Are you sure, Riley?" she asked, skeptically, eyeing the hair that trailed down my back. "I mean you love your hair. And it’s so beautiful. Can’t I say anything to make you change your mind?" I sighed, eyeing her again as she smacked her gum and cocked her hip to the side. She fluffed the bottom of her chestnut bob, pushing up the teased part of her bangs. I let a lady who’s hair looked like a rat’s nest, cut and style my hair. Sometimes, even I questioned my reasoning.

"Cut. It. Off," I repeated. "Damn it, Audra. You’ve known me for years, cut off the damn hair or I’ll do it myself." I dropped the magazine I was reading into my lap and reached over for the scissors before she stopped me.

"Fine, fine," she said shaking her head sadly, "just don’t hold me accountable if you hate it. YOU wanted it cut. What do you want anyways?" she muttered, "one of those pop star cuts? Like the one that… what’s that girl’s name in that pop group…the one who’s going out with that curly-headed Backstreet Boy…Justin?" she paused, contemplating. "Ashleigh. That’s right. Something like Ashleigh has?"

I almost laughed. "Something like that." She grabbed her pair of scissors and cut, just below my shoulders. I closed my eyes. It was almost painful. I felt her snip again, and again. She continued, shearing and layering, cutting up a storm until the linoleum below me was a sea of hair.

"Done." Nearly thirty minutes after the first clip, I finally raised my eyes. It was gone. All my hair was minimized and layered into a shoulder-length cut– the shortest of my life. But I almost liked it. It was fresh. Different. Almost beautiful.

Part of me blamed my father for this. He was the one who left me the company. Who left me with Aaron. I had four other brothers and sisters who were entirely– maybe even more– capable of the position, but being his favorite, I won.

I won everything with him, it seemed. But still, part of me, hated him. The child in me still didn’t understand. Why hadn’t he ever been home? Were we not important enough to save? It had all once been so wonderful. Perfect. Until this job, this company…it ruined us.

I sighed as I paid Audra and grabbed my things, heading out the front door of the salon. The wind lifted my hair. It was light, breezy. It made me feel naked. Exposed. Vulnerable. I looked at the people around me, as if I were paranoid, my head jerking aburptly, moving from one person to another. It was a scary feeling.

I started to cry. I thanked God that it was already well past eight, darkness had already overtaken the city– no one could see me cry. I fished through my purse for my phone, sniffling miserably as I dialed Justin’s number, waiting impatiently for his voice to answer.

"Hey, Ry," he answered. I could hear his smile, and it comforted me. I took a jagged breath and exhaled.

"Justin, it’s gone!" I wailed softly, aware that people passing by on either side of me were staring. I didn’t care. THEIR hair wasn’t gone.

"What’s gone, Sweetie?" he asked softly, his voice immediately turning from it’s usual jovial tone into a more concerned one. I could picture him, his brow creased as he gnawed on his thumb nail, that worried look in his deep azure eyes.

"My hair!" I cried, sniffling. I felt pathetic.

He let out a little chuckle and I frowned. How dare he laugh at my misery. "Why is it gone, baby?" he asked as he muttered something to someone in the background and chuckled again. I just prayed it wasn’t Ashleigh. If that Bitch was even laughing at me, I’d kill myself.

"Because, Aaron was gross and he touched it and said how he liked it. And then every time I saw my hair, I just hated it– it made me think of him. So I got it cut, Justin. It’s all gone," I rambled, deep sobs now racking through my body. "And if my stupid Dad wasn’t so stupid, this would have never happened."

"Ry, it’s okay," he laughed. "It’s just hair." Apparently he wasn’t listening. Did he not hear the part about Aaron?

"Easy for you to say!" I huffed, walking more briskly as I approached my building. I felt my face start to develop an attractive little sneer. "Have you seen YOUR hair lately?"

"Thanks, Ry. Love you too."

"BUT JUSTIN!" I exclaimed pathetically, (really it fell more into the category of a whine). "I’ve grown my hair out since I was like fifteen…That was SO long ago! And it was so pretty and I liked it so much and now because of stupid assholes like Aaron, it’s gone!" I huffed up the stairs that led towards the loft, deciding that I wouldn’t subject the innocent bystanders in the elevator to my wrath.

"Riley, I’m sure it looks fine, you’re beautiful no matter what your hair looks like," he muttered. Way to phone it in, Justin. I could almost hear him shaking his head. Asshole.

"Fine, Justin. Be mean. I don’t love you anymore. I’m going to call JC, at least HE loves me," I pouted, letting out an exasperated exhale. I hung up. And felt another pout spread across my lips. But I didn’t want to call JC.

Next
With You Main
Jess' Main
Home
Email the Author: Jess