Arsen: a broken love story, стр. 37

I clear my throat because all of a sudden it feels as if I have swallowed cotton balls. “Ben, this is Arsen Radcliff. Arsen, this is my husband, Ben Stanwood.” The two men stare at each other without saying a word. The tension is so palpable in the small space between us that I can feel the hair on my neck rising. Arsen doesn’t make any move to stand up. He just stays rudely sitting on the couch while Ben and I stand over him. I’m about to drag Arsen’s ass off the couch so that the two men can shake hands or something, when Ben stretches his own. “Nice to meet you, Arsen. Cathy has spoken very highly of you. She seems to like having you around.”

As they shake hands, I notice that the knuckles in Arsen and Ben’s hands are turning white.

Men.

A fake smile that makes Arsen look almost ugly taints his features as he replies, “Yeah?” Turning to look at me, his eyes warm for a second before turning cold again. “I like being around Dimples. She’s nice to look at,” he sneers.

What the hell?

Where did that come from?

Flattening his lips, Ben ends the handshake abruptly. With the greeting over, I’m about to walk around the table to sit back on the couch when I feel Ben’s hand wrap around my elbow possessively, halting me mid-step. Puzzled, I turn to look at him.

He takes a step closer to me and leans down to whisper in my ear, “One drink and we are out of here, got it?”

My eyes widen at the sharp tone of his voice and his words. His jaw set, I know there’s no room for a rebuttal.

I guess one drink it is.

I nod as I free myself from his hold and make my way to the couch. Ben seems to have other ideas about seating arrangements because he pulls a chair out for me right in front of Arsen so that the table is in between us.

What the hell is going on?

An unsmiling Ben looks as hard as a rock as he waits for me to be seated. On the other hand, Arsen, with eyes so cold they look like shards of ice, flashes a hard smile at us. One that reminds me of the night we met. With a sinking feeling in my stomach, all I can do is stand there and hope that tonight doesn’t turn into a big ugly mess.

Arsen spreads his arm in an inviting gesture, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “Please, do be seated. I can’t fucking wait to hear what else Dimples has said about me. I hope it’s all good.” He leans forward and looks me straight in the eye before continuing, “Because we’re good together…very good together. Aren’t we, Catherine?”

What is Arsen trying to do? More importantly, what is he hinting at?

When Ben is seated, he reaches for my hand and brings it to his lips, kissing it once before lowering it to his lap. Our fingers intertwined, I stare into his scorching eyes for a moment longer before facing Arsen once more. There’s an indecipherable air surrounding him. I feel like I don’t know this Arsen.

This Arsen is a stranger to me.

After the waiter leaves with our order, we sit in a triangle of tension without saying a word. If it weren’t for the music playing in the background, you’d probably be able to hear a pin drop. My attention is focused on Arsen’s long finger tapping the table-top in between the couch and chairs.

Tap.

After a few seconds, I can’t take the silence anymore. Swallowing hard, I tuck some hair behind my ear; the silky threads running between my fingers calm me down.

“Uh, so, babe…” A flash of anger crosses Arsen’s eyes but it’s gone in a second, replaced with a nonchalant one. “I’m so jealous of Arsen. There’s a possibility that he’ll be attending the premiere of Melissa Stewart’s new movie as her date! Are you dying of jealousy?” I bump his shoulder in a teasing manner. I want to pretend that I brought Melissa up just because it was the first topic to pop in my head, but it isn’t.

I brought her up so that Ben knows Arsen is with someone.

His muscles relaxing, Ben smiles at me for the first time since he arrived to the bar. “I could never be jealous of anyone. I have you,” he says as he squeezes my hand in his before addressing Arsen. “That’s awesome, man. She’s gorgeous, and the movie looks good. Cathy has a sick obsession with gossip magazines, so the trash they publish tends to rub off on me.”

As he leans carelessly on the back on the couch, he stares at us for what feels like forever. It’s like he’s memorizing the way Ben and I look together. “Save it. We’re over. I won’t be surprised if tomorrow she is photographed with some other unsuspecting fucking loser.”

When I hear this piece of information, I don’t feel sorry. I’m happy. The realization stuns me.

“Anyway, I’ve just remembered a previous engagement. Sorry, but I’ve got to jet.” Arsen takes his wallet out to pay when Ben stops him.

“No, please. Let me get the bill. It’s the least I can do.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Are you fucking shitting me? I can take—”

“No. I’d like to get the bill. You’ve done so much for Cathy already. I want to get this.”

Arsen stares at Ben with dislike in his narrowed eyes. Just when I think he’s going to reject his offer once more, he tilts his head to the side and pins me down with his gaze. Slowly, a smile appears on his face. “You know what? Go ahead. It was a pleasure to meet you, Ben. Cathy,” he runs a hand through his hair, “I’ll see ya around.”

Standing up, he grabs his suit jacket that was lying on his side of the couch and says his last goodbye. He doesn’t shake hands with Ben, and he doesn’t even turn to look at me as he walks away.

It hurts.

I don’t know why, but his indifference hurts. It shouldn’t because he’s nothing to me, but it still does.

I’m about to excuse myself to Ben saying that I need to use the restroom, when I feel a tap on my shoulder. I turn around in my seat to find Arsen standing behind my chair. Ready to stand up and ask him what the matter is, he leans down and plants a lingering kiss on my cheek. His warm lips make my skin tingle.

“I’m sorry, Dimples,” he ruefully whispers in my ear, then moves away. I lift a hand to my cheek to rub the exact spot where he kissed me, not sure if I’m rubbing the tingling sensation away, or if I’m trying to seal the kiss within my skin.

He walks up to the bar to say something to the bartender, a model perfect Asian woman who smiles and writes something on the palm of his hand. When she walks away to serve other clients, a smiling Arsen turns to look at a group of young women sitting together, admiring him. He hands them what looks like a business card and kisses each one of them on the cheek. The flirting doesn’t bother me, but when he kisses them on the same spot where he kissed me, it feels as if he is punching me in the gut.

It feels like betrayal.

I’m still watching his retreating figure when he reaches the entrance to the bar. Inside me, a strong voice is begging him to turn back around once more, to let me see him one last time.

And then everything becomes a blur.

Ben lets go of my hand.

Arsen turns around.

Our eyes connect for a moment.

I see something in his eyes that resonates deep inside me, but I don’t understand it.

I don’t think I’m ready to understand it.

Then he is gone.

I feel bereft. As if some basic living part of me has gone with him, leaving me incomplete, lacking. Perplexed and uncomfortable with my own feelings, I remember that Ben is here with me. Turning to look at my husband whose presence I completely forgot about, I feel shame scorching my skin an angry red.

“I think we should go,” he says tonelessly.

The ride home is quiet.

No hands are held, no laughs, no questions about how our day went...maybe everything has already been said, or nothing needs to be said at all. When we get home, our cat is the only living thing there to welcome us.