The Layers of His Mask

10. Who is Your Type?

It has been thirty minutes. Thirty minutes since I arrived at my parents’ house.

I just can't seem to muster up the courage to get out of this car. I thought that maybe if I blasted the music on the way over here the vibration of the bass from my speakers in addition to the loud lyrics floating throughout the car would somehow drown out my inner dialogue. Long story short, it was no help, I continued my internal battle, producing numerous reasons as to why I shouldn't walk into that house.

Reason number one being the fact that he hates me. Number two is the fact that we haven't uttered a word to each other in three days. Number three being he simply doesn't want to see me. All of these things combined, added to the increasing anxiety growing within me was enough to make me want to peel out of this driveway.

Just do it Rebecca! Just walk up to that door, ring the doorbell, and pray that he wants to talk to you.

I highly doubt it will be that simple.

Turns out my inner b***h was right. The few steps it takes to get to the front door feels like the longest and I want to throw up from the nerves.

"Rebecca, sweetheart, hi." My mom pulls me into a hug, my arms refuse to wrap around her - I let them hang by my sides. I suppose I'm still hanging onto some sort of resentment towards her. I clearly need to let it go, I can't.

Within these three days my hate had decided to switch victims. It shifted it's focus from me to my mom, making her this week’s new sole proprietor for my brother and I quarreling.

I don't think this was exactly what Alex had in mind when he told me not to blame myself, however, it helped for the time being to not feel any guilt of any kind even if the focus was shifted onto someone else.

She pulls out of the embrace and a twinge of hurt flashes across her face before it disappears just as swiftly as it came and is replaced with a forced smile.

I need to get out of this room.

"Hey mom, where's Tim?"

"He's out back on the patio. I don't think he really wants visitors right now, he's been in a bit of a mood this week."

"I know, but I really need to talk to him." Without another word to her, I'm out the back door and staring into the eyes of the one person I have missed the most. The person whose problem with me needs to get resolved.

Tim.

His eyes follow my every move while I drag myself over to the bench that he is seated on, taking a seat beside him.

I fumble with my fingers, searching for the correct way to begin this conversation. My mind finally lands on a neutral conversation starter. “How have you been?”

“I've been alright, better than I was. How have you been?” He’s being so short with his answers, I can’t help but think that he’s still hanging onto his anger against me. He’s no longer looking my way, instead he chooses to focus on the beautiful landscape in front of us while I keep mine on him.

“Okay, I guess. I've missed you,” I tell him quietly.

There is no dancing around it, I truly have missed him. I had gotten so used to him welcoming me when I got home from work - and cooking for two - that suddenly my tiny apartment felt incomplete, felt empty without him. There were no more jokes from him about the asshole that I work for or how many dishes I managed to screw up in one day. My new roommates had become silence and loneliness.

These three days without him have been the most torturous, dragging by with no sign of ever ending. Eventually they did and now here we are, on our parents patio - face to face having an actual conversation.

A deep sigh escapes his lips. “I've missed you too.”

That's all I've been wanting to hear from him - that he doesn't hate me, that he has missed me just as much as I have missed him.

“You don’t hate me?”

“No, I don’t hate you.”

We talked for a while after that, mostly differences in opinion came out, but you have to agree to disagree. In the end, we came to a compromise about the whole ordeal and we are now on better terms because it.

It will take a while before my mother and I actually talk to each other normally though. Until then I'll continue to treat her with the utmost respect.

I'm about to leave my parents house when a thought comes to mind. "Hey, Tim?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you," I tell him with a grin.

The corner of his lip lifts up ever so slightly before he says, "I love you too, you dork."

***

"Mom, no. This dress looks horrific." I eye the Canary yellow floor length gown warily.

Canary yellow is definitely not one of my favorite colors.

Why did my mother have to come with me to go dress shopping? I could have very well done this with just Violet, Hannah, and I. I chose not to invite Hannah along because that would mean too many hands in the cookie jar, too many opinions flying around.

"Why not? It's a beautiful dress, Becca." She picks the dress up off the rack, twisting and turning it in her hand then pressing it to my front. "You only have two days before the gala."

"I know mom, it's just I'm already pale and this color isn't going to help. Don't get me wrong, I love the dress..." I shake my head slowly, "just not the color."

"Violet? Would you mind seeing if you can find this dress in another color for me please?" my mom asks my best friend.

"Of course," Violet replies, then walks off to find a sales associate.

I continue to browse around for the few minutes of her being away. I find one dress in particular that catches my eye.

"Oh. My. God. Mom! Look at this dress, it's absolutely perfect!" I squeal. I press the dress to my front, quickly examining myself in the mirror across from me.

"Oh, Becca! It's beautiful! Go try it on, I want to see how it looks on you." She's grinning from ear to ear, her smile is quite contagious so I can't help when my own shows up.

I rush off to the dressing room and emerge five minutes later with the dress that fits so perfectly to my body already that I don't think it will even need to be tailored. I walk to my mother and just as quickly as I exited the dressing room tears are already pricking her eyes.

"Now all we need is to find you a date," she playfully teases, dabbing at the corners of her eyes. "I heard that Alex is supposed to be attending the gala," she whispers coyly.

“Don’t even think about it mom.”

My face falls and I already know where she is going with this. She is going to call him up or either invite him over to her house and practically beg him to be my 'date' for the Annual Grand Chef Gala.

Knowing Alex he will probably say yes just because he knows that I won't want him to. However, we are on better terms now so I wouldn't completely shut down the idea.

Just admit it, you would say yes too. You have always wondered what he looks like dressed up in a suit and tie.

Shut up.

***

Alex POV

"Come on mate, you've been running for the past two hours. Don't you want to take a break?" My best friend Tom is leaning over the front of the treadmill, women's eyes on us two. I hate that he decided to join me at the gym today. I wanted to be alone with my thoughts and now all I hear is his constant bitching in my ear and whispers of how hot we look.

I wish they would all shut the f**k up.

"Tom...if you are not going to workout why the f**k did you choose to tag along?" I ask him, a tad breathless.

"Why would I not?! Pick of the lot my friend, beautiful women with extremely tight short shorts and sports bra numbers everywhere. What have you become blind to the opposite s*x?"

"Trust me...they're not my type."

A sly grin comes out to play on his face and I want to punch him in it. "Oh really? And who is your type mate?"

"None of your damn business," I answer shortly.

"Sure," he laughs. "What problems are you running from this week?

"What are you talking about? I'm not running from anything."

"Of course you aren't. I know you, mate, and the only time you've ever ran eight miles was to train for a marathon. What gives?" Do I even want to tell him? Knowing him I'll never hear the end of it. He has been a great friend over the years and if anything I know he can keep a secret. He's in the news just about every damn week once they find out who he's banging.

What the hell.

"There's this girl...that got newly hired at Romano's and she just irks me. It's like she knows what buttons to press in order to make me bat-s**t crazy. We recently came to a compromise about my behavior towards her, but...I’m friends with her dad and I don’t know if I want to take our relationship to one beyond work related."

"Is she hot?"

"Is that all you think about?"

"No, well, mostly."

I roll my eyes. Hopping off the treadmill, I make my way to the shower room, shower quickly and change into a set of basketball shorts and a plain white t-shirt. I walk to the restroom afterwards and find Tom taking a literal s**t in one of the stalls.

"Dude...are you f*****g kidding me right now? Hurry the hell up!" I yell at him, banging my open palm on the stall door.

"My dear friend, you can't rush a s**t!"

"You have five f*****g minutes or you're getting left. And yes, I'm timing you." I walk out of restroom and out to my car. I pop in an old Linkin Park CD, turning the volume up fairly high on ‘Paper-cut’. Maybe it will help eliminate the smell and feel of her etched into my memories.

Ever since that night at IHOP I can't shake her from my thoughts, everything I do always seems to lead back to her. It's like she's constantly with me, invading my dreams, my daily thoughts. She's f*****g everywhere and I couldn't get rid of her even if I wanted to.

Do I even want to?

Tom climbs into the passenger seat five minutes later. He barely made his time limit I had given him. "Alexander - " I hold my hand up to interrupt him.

"I don't want to hear about your s**t. Keep it to yourself."

He grins and shoots me the middle finger, I fire one right back at him.

Fifteen minutes and we are pulling into the parking lot of Men's & Women's Formal. I need to try on my suit one last time before this weekend.

We head inside the small, intricate shop, I make a beeline for the front desk. I'm greeted by an overly flirtatious female who immediately asks if I need any help while adjusting her already revealing top.

Obviously, I wouldn't be standing in front of you, in this moment in time, if I didn't need any f*****g help.

"I know a way you can help him," Tom interrupts, raising one finger. I smack it right back down.

The female - who Tom and I are going to nickname “Desperate” because her first name is too difficult to pronounce - doesn't catch on to the joke, however, I do.

"What do you mean?" She inquires, eyebrows pulling together in confusion.

I place my hand against my forehead while muttering, "He's just being a jackass, please ignore him."

"Okay," she giggles.

Fuck, her voice is annoying.

"What's the last name?" The oddly attractive brunette named Desperate asks.

"Brooks."

"Okay, I'll go and get your suit. I'll be right back sir," she tells me with a wink. That little gesture throws me off and I jerk my head back, blinking rapidly.

"Take your time," I mutter under my breath. I think she hears me because that annoying ass giggle of hers echoes throughout the hallway she swished her hips down.

I turn to glare at Tom who is patiently waiting by my side, acting as if he had done nothing wrong just now. "Dude...what the f**k?"

"What?" He shrugs nonchalantly. "I figured you had some pent-up s****l frustration that needed relief because of your excessive female mood swings lately, and Desperate there seems like she's willing to give you said relief."

"I hope you end up with diarrhea, you dick."

He begins to laugh uncontrollably but stops it to try and get his point across. "Diarrhea is not something to joke about Alexander. When you are woken up at three in the morning by your own bowel, it is not fun."

"Maybe it's karma for all the women you try and seduce on a daily basis," I retort.

Tom has always been the lady charmer because he thinks his English accent is one hundred percent irresistible and a fool-proof panty-dropper. Being his friend had its perks back then, seeing as women thought: he has a friend who is just as attractive, minus the accent, I'll f**k him instead since I can't have Tom.

Until ‘her’...No. Stop, don’t go there.

I shake my head, trying to not go back to the memories from the past.

"I swear, sometimes you need to get back with your dragon tamer. At least she kept you fairly happy in and out of the bedroom."

"You know nothing about my s*x life, f**k off."

"True, but I do know all about your social which is pretty non-existent."

"Shut the hell up, we are not getting back together."

Tom begins belting out the lyrics to Taylor Swift singing, “we...are never ever ever, getting back together," walking around like he’s holding a mic and contorting his face as if he’s giving an actual performance to every customer in this shop. I want to kill myself when all eyes land on us. They even clap along to give him a beat to work with.

I keep my head lowered - covering my eyes with my right hand - praying that he will shut the hell up sometime soon. But he doesn't stop so I end up using brute force, jutting him in the gut and patting him on the back when he’s bent over - hands touching his knees. I wanted to give the illusion that I was helping, not hurting.

‘Desperate’ returns minutes later with my suit in hand. Her smile never fades from her red lips when she tells me she's going to place my suit in the dressing room for me. I tell her thanks and that I'll be there in a few because I need to find a tie.

"Now all we need is to find you a date," I hear a woman say.

If I'm not mistaken that voice belongs to none other than Natalie Daniels. Sure enough when I look to my right, there she is and her daughter is standing right next to her, looking like a splitting image.

Rebecca...wow. She looks...wow.

I wish I could have mentally prepared myself for this moment, but I think fate was inevitable.

"Who is that little song bird?" Tom inquires beside me. He's staring at her like she's a damn piece of meat. I've noticed that just about every man that we've come in contact with when I'm with her seems to stare at her in this way. I will not take it from Tom, although she's strong enough to hold her own with him. She will surely have some sort of witty comeback for his antics I'm sure.

"Dude...what the f**k are you even talking about?" My face twists into one of head scratching uncertainty at the term he decided to use to describe her.

"She's beautiful, yeah?"

"Yeah, and she also happens to be my ex-boss’s daughter."

Did I just call her beautiful.

"Is that the girl you mentioned earlier? Mind if I have a little chat with her?" I wait for her mother to walk away before I decide to let him approach her. I’m pretty sure her mother would kill Tom and me if she could hear the things that come out of his mouth sometimes.

"By 'chat' do you mean flirt? If so, be my guest." I wave my arm in her direction, a triumphant smile already in place. From what little I know about her, I know she won't go for any cheesy pick up lines. But I know Tom, and he's very persistent. I join him just to have a front row seat to his downfall. Some popcorn and a drink would be perfect right now.

"Excuse me miss, I know it's cold out, but if we take off our clothes maybe we can create some friction."

She snorts and then laughs in his face. "Okay, one, it's not cold out, it's ninety degrees. Two, there's no way in hell I'm taking my clothes off with you or for you. And three," she holds up her third finger, "you need to find better material because that accent doesn't work on all women. Oh, and maybe you could look up some new cheesy pick-up lines? I heard Google has some pretty good ones." She smiles at him, nods her head once, and turns back to the mirror. Her eyes land on me, behind him and her eyes widen a little in what I presume to be shock, surprise? I don’t know, but she doesn’t move, she’s like - frozen or something.

"Well...I'll just be outside Alexander. Enjoy your fitting." He begins pointing toward the door nervously and then makes his way out of it.

I have no clue what to say after that, that was pretty epic. Seeing Tom walk away like he'd just been told he's not getting presents for Christmas was all I needed to boost my mood.

I toy around with the tie in my hands whilst saying, "You look beautiful by the way."

"Thanks," she replies, twisting in the mirror. She really does look beautiful. The powder blue - almost teal - color of the dress brings out her eyes and somehow the redness of her hair.

Her eyes meet mine in the mirror once again and I smile, she genuinely smiles back. There are no words needed because this woman is absolutely breathtaking right now and with that I return to the dressing room where ‘Desperate’ placed my suit. Once inside I slip on the suit - tie and all - and I let her to examine me in it while she looks for any kinks in the tailoring.

Nothing else needs to be altered so I take the suit and tie, purchase them, and head home to my apartment after I drop Tom back to his hotel.

The night was filled with one thought until I fell asleep.

I can’t wait for the gala...