Stacy— We Went Live

"You sleep on your tummy, never any other way, unless I'm holding you. Does he know that? Parties make you uncomfortable, but you'd never know it because people love you. Does he know that? You have a photographic memory and consume textbooks at an alarming rate, hence the near perfect GPA. Does he know that? You suck at being a barista, but you keep getting jobs at coffee shops. Does he know that? The closest thing you've ever come to seeing a rom com is literally The Dark Knight Trilogy. Does he know that? You think ice cream cakes are stupid and refuse to have them on principle even though that's just ice cream, you freak. Watching movies with you is a nightmare, because you know the ending within minutes of it starting. Does he know that? You are the smartest, most fun, most beautiful girl in any room."

I was absolutely floored. As he took a deep breath, I risked a look at him, trying to get myself to be rational. He was staring right back. He was my best friend. Knowing all of these things about me was nothing to write home about. In all the time I had known him though, he had never looked at me like he was now.

"Does he know that?" he asked softly, his voice almost a plea. "If he doesn't know all those things, he's not the guy, Stace."

What I did next was probably the worst thing I could have done. Leaving was always going to be hard, but what I did next would make it impossible.

"No," I whispered, taking his hands into mine. "He doesn't know any of it."

Some things in life you decide to do. Others are simply unavoidable. We were drawing closer to each other like magnets.

The last thing he said to me before my eyes closed and our lips met was, "Then don't go."

A few hours earlier...

There's this joke that goes, "I asked God for a bike, but I know God doesn’t work that way. So I stole a bike and asked for forgiveness."

If daddy was God, then Scott was my bike. And every single time I went back home was me asking for forgiveness for knowing him.

Waking up in Scott's arms was bad for my resolve. I tried so hard to tell him last night that I was leaving, this time for good. But when I looked into his warm brown eyes and his goofy smile revealed his dimples, I lost my nerve. Now here I was, lying in his bed next to him, gently brushing his dark curls with my fingers, thinking about how much time we had left before my flight tonight.

"You've accomplished absolutely nothing in the last seven years. It's time to come home," daddy had decreed.

I couldn't exactly say he was wrong. With my father uprooting me every couple of months to come home and "Take care of business", I still hadn't declared a major. If I had, NYU likely would have academically excluded me by now. My life was such a mess of going back and forth that I couldn't even keep my job at a coffee shop. A fucking coffee shop.

There was no point in telling daddy that he was partly to blame though. In the end, I was always going to have to live the life daddy had planned for me. At least when I left tonight, I could finally let go of the guilt that I might be endangering Scott's life every time I walked back into it.

"I'm leaving, Scott," I said, the words finally slipping out my mouth.

He was just beginning to stir, but he heard me.

"Grab a shower first. I'll make pancakes, then I'll drive you to class," he said groggily, thinking nothing of my words as he unwrapped his arms from around me for the last time, got up and stumbled towards the kitchen.

"Scott we need to—"

"Blueberry. Dusted with powdered sugar instead of syrup, because you're a freak. I know," he called back and I lost my nerve once more.

An hour and a half later, we went out to meet Kenny, who was stuck covering another puff piece for his news station.

"Come on, it's the largest cookie in New York City. How cool is that? I'm excited. And there's plenty of time before your first class," said Scott, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, waiting for me to agree.

"You're a good friend. The best," I said, glancing at the large coffee in the cup holder. "Kenny's still down about being passed over for the promotion?"

"Little bit, but also giant cookie," said Scott, like showing up for his friend on his day off was a no brainer.

It probably was. I was really going to miss our adventures. We got out of the car and headed into a little bakery to meet Kenny and the cameraman.

"Stacy Kendrick, as I live and breathe. I guess that answers the did you go home last night question. I'm going to start making you pay rent," said Kenny with an easy smile. "Or I could take you out on a date and we can call it even."

"He's not down enough to stop hitting on me," I whispered to Scott.

"Exactly why you're the right person to bring along," Scott whispered back. "Men forget all their woes around you."

He said this without even looking my way. I felt a blush creep up to my cheeks. Kenny had a conspiracy theory going about Scott and me having a secret relationship. Sometimes, every once in a blue moon, I couldn't help but think that Kenny made some valid points.

"I already have a friends with benefits thing going with Scott. As long as you don't mind that, we can talk," I joked, batting my eyelashes at Kenny.

Kenny took a moment to absorb this information.

"You're not getting me this time. That's not true," said Kenny, looking doubtful. "Is it?" he leaned in and asked. "No, it's not. Scott would have told me. Right? Right Scott?"

"Shut up and drink your coffee," said Scott, pushing Kenny away from me before handing him his coffee.

After some small talk, Kenny reluctantly left us to go and speak to the owner of the bakery. It was just Scott and I, looking around the place. Somewhere in the background, Kenny and the cameraman were getting ready to go live.

"Anything look good?"

"I'm going back to Chicago," I blurted out.

Saying the words was like taking a thousand tiny daggers to my heart, and this wasn't coming out the way I wanted it to, but at least the words were out there now.

"Again? You just got back a few weeks ago. It's the start of the semester, Stace. Just last night you were saying you wanted to finish school. How is that ever going to happen—"

"It's not. I'm going back home to get married," I said meekly to a frustrated Scott.

"What are you talking about?" Scott said, his voice rising in pitch. Realizing he was being loud, he lowered his voice and tried again. "You're not getting married."

He said it like it was fact. Like there was no conceivable way it could be true. I wanted to remain calm as we stood before the display case next to other customers. He had earned the truth after seven years of friendship and I wanted to give it to him. Instead the moment overwhelmed my senses.

The near dead silence in preparation for going live, the smell of freshly baked bread and sugary frosting, the slight coolness coming from the display case, the taste of bile rising up in my throat. Finally, the feeling of his hand cupped around the side of my neck.

"Stacy?" he said, sounding less certain than a moment ago.

I could hear my pulse pounding noisily in my ears. Never in the last seven years had I felt more compelled to tell him the truth about who I was than in that moment. Instead, something else tumbled out of my mouth.

"What, because no one would want to marry me? I'm hot, Scott. I have people looking at me wherever I go. Both sexes, not just men," I said, unable to make sense of what had come over me.

"I never said no one…" Scott stepped away and turned his back on me.

I missed him. He was two feet away and I missed him. I missed his eyes on me. I missed the way he smiled at me. I missed the warmth of his hand on my neck from just a moment ago. Here I was, on the verge of putting hundreds of miles between us and I couldn't even handle two feet.

Scott turned back around and walked up to me.

"I know that. Why do you think I'm always looking at you? From the moment I first laid eyes on you, I've been committing you to memory. I have never once forgotten how beautiful you are. Inside and out. You're the most inspiring photograph I've ever taken. Can he say that?"

"You can't say shit like that," I snapped. "I'm your friend, Scott. Friends move away. Friends get married to other people," I said with a shrug.

Daughters of powerful men don't get a choice. I wanted so badly to tell him, but at this point I felt like it would only make things worse.

Scott nodded his head, looking like I'd just punched him in the gut.

"You sleep on your tummy, never any other way, unless I'm holding you. Does he know that? Parties make you uncomfortable, but you'd never know it because people love you. Does he know that? You have a photographic memory and consume textbooks at an alarming rate, hence the near perfect GPA. Does he know that? You wear socks to bed even in the summer because your feet are always cold. Does he know that? The closest thing you've ever come to seeing a rom com is literally The Dark Knight Trilogy. Does he know that? You think ice cream cakes are stupid and refuse to have them on principle even though that's just ice cream, you freak. Watching movies with you is a nightmare, because you know the ending within minutes of it starting. Does he know that? You are the smartest, most fun, most beautiful girl in any room."

I was absolutely floored. As he took a deep breath, I risked a look at him, trying to get myself to be rational. He was staring right back. He was my best friend. Knowing all of these things about me was nothing to write home about. In all the time I had known him though, he had never looked at me like he was now.

"Does he know that?" he asked softly, his voice almost a plea. "If he doesn't know all those things, he's not the guy, Stace."

What I did next was probably the worst thing I could have done. Leaving was always going to be hard, but what I did next would make it impossible.

"No," I whispered, taking his hands into mine. "He doesn't know any of it."

Some things in life you decide to do. Others are simply unavoidable. We were drawing closer to each other like magnets.

The last thing he said to me before my eyes closed and our lips met was, "Then don't go."

For the next ten seconds, everything and everyone but Scott didn't exist to me. Hesitance and light kisses soon turned into something deeper. Then he was stealing my breath, sealing my mouth with his again and again. In the back of my mind, I could hear applause. His tongue slipped into my mouth and I actively resisted the thoughts gradually trickling back into my mind. He pulled me close, his body heating mine up. I grabbed onto his shoulders, holding on for dear life as he cupped my cheeks, drawing me in even closer. It was only when I heard Kenny's voice that my eyes flew open.

"That's Metro Two News, making love connections baby. Back to you, Sandy," he said and I immediately pushed Scott away.

Everyone in the bakery was still applauding as I got my bearings, air slowly filling my lungs. The first thing I saw, post kiss, was Scott touching his lips with his fingers, followed by the camera aimed at us.

My brain completely malfunctioned, this time in a different way. I walked over to Kenny and grabbed him by the collar.

"Did that just go live? Are you out of your fucking mind? Do you have any idea what you just did?" I yelled at him, the ramifications of what had just happened sinking in slowly.

"I boosted our ratings?" Kenny said sheepishly.

"Stace, it's okay," said Scott, joining us and taking me aside. "Look, it's not a big deal. No one even watches the news."

"Not a big deal?" I hissed, trying to ignore the anger that was bubbling up inside me. That kiss was seven years in the making and he thought it was no big deal?

"I am the engaged daughter of a don, Scott." I huffed, no longer caring what he did or didn't know. "My fiance is the son of the second most powerful don in America and I was just seen swapping spit with someone else. This is absolutely the furthest thing from being okay."

Scott looked at me like I was an alien actively growing additional heads.

"I'm sorry, what? You're who now?"