The Inevitable Fanfiction

Chapter 11- In Honour of Goodbye
I lie in bed, looking up at the ceiling trying to process everything that’s happened in this one day. It seems that there have been more than twenty-four hours that have gone by, and I am surprised to say the least that Sinitta and I got back from dinner an hour before midnight.

***
“Simon… Paula is alright yeah? Since you spoke to her, you haven’t been yourself,” Sinitta says as we walk into the restaurant.
“She’s fine. I’m fine. Let’s just enjoy tonight, okay?” I ask, placing a warm hand on her lower back.
“Do you have a reservation?” The man at the counter asks.
I nod. “Cowell,” He looks down at his paper and points to where we should go. He is biting his lip trying to be professional but he is just dying to ask for an autograph. Sinitta notices and giggles as we head to the back of the fancy restaurant, in a more private area.
“Will this do?” The man asks. I nod and pull Sinitta’s chair out for her.
Her eyebrows rise in surprise and amusement while I just wink.
We talk for a long while, just enjoying each other’s company. I feel so strange, having to remind myself that I’m supposed to be nudging her to my direction. I am just so comfortable with the way we are now, as best friends, it’s scary to think that should we break up, we might never get back to this place. It would be like amputating my arm off and giving it to some random stranger. I can’t lose her – she is essential in my life.
She looks up at me as she sips her red wine and chews her salad, her black diamond eyes glittering. My eyes scan her face briefly, and then move down to her neck and a little lower. The dress she is wearing gives me a good view and I do like what I see, I admit. My eyes scan upwards and stop at her lips this time. They are dark and full, I remember many years ago, around twenty actually, kissing them thoroughly.
If it had been anyone else, by now they would have called me out on staring so long. But Sinitta loves it, thrives on it even. So she just smiles to herself until I meet her eyes again.
“You look lovely,” I say, making her flush.
“Thank-you.”
“You want to share a dessert?” I offer.
“Sure.” She picks up the menu and we decide on some chocolate cake.
“Simon?” Sinitta asks softly, after a while of silence.
“Yes, love?”
“Does this, um-” She stutters. “Never mind.” Her cheeks tint pink again.
Maybe she is catching on? I take her hand from across the table and stare at her deeply, trying to affect her. It works, without a doubt.
“Tell me,” I speak slowly.
“It’s nothing. Just my imagination going crazy,” She admits. I stroke her fingers, but I am almost surprised at the feel of them on my skin. I look down and realise there is nothing wrong with them, but I simply expected to feel Paula’s smaller, thinner fingers instead.
Instead of saying anything though, I lean in. I lean slowly and surely, glancing at her lips. I blow warm air out and her lips part slightly. I give her time to pull away but she doesn’t, so I brush my mouth against hers. I stay there and in a second she responds, kissing me back. I take her bottom lip and suck at it softly.
She is a good kisser. Really good in fact, and maybe twenty or even ten years ago – I would have thought her amazing. But I kissed Paula less than an hour ago in her dressing room, and I feel like I’ve had the best and I can never settle for anything else anymore. Like drinking a bottle of the finest vintage wine, and then having to settle for mediocre champagne for the rest of your life. That’s what it feels like. Good, but not quite good enough.
Her hand comes up to the side of my face, fingers shaking as they trace my jaw. Slowly, I pull away.
“Been a while,” I say.
“Yeah.” Her breathing is heavy. Her brown skin is tinged with red and her hands are shaking as she hides them under the table.
When the dessert comes, we share it with two tiny forks. I feed her with my own fork and she bites at it, keeping it in her mouth. I poke her side and she giggles, letting it go.
After dinner she slips her hand in mine and I hold on tight. We are getting somewhere finally.
At home, I walk her to the guest bedroom. I stand facing her outside the door, and my hand lifts to brush the bangs out of her eyes. My fingers trace down to her chin and this time, it is her lips that touch mine first. I linger for a moment, not letting it get too far. When we were together, everything was rushed and it didn’t work out for us. This time, there are many more things to consider – Zac, Maggie, and Paula – we should take it slow.
***
“Morning,” Sinitta says, far too chirpy for 10a.m. as she walks into the kitchen.
“Morning,” I reply and she kisses my cheek. She is on the top of the world this morning. I can only imagine why. I smirk. “Slept well?”
“Better than I have in a long time,” She admits. She pours herself some juice and steals some toast from the toaster.
“I’m glad.”
She makes a sound of agreement.
“What are your plans for today?” She asks, before biting into her bread.
“I’ll have to go to the office for about an hour and run some errands. Should be back before too long. Some Susan Boyle thing.”
“Ah, the singing sensation. Well, alright.” She grins.
“Laze around the house for a while, and we can go out later if you’d like,”
“With the kids?”
“Sure, whatever you want.”
“Alright. Bye.” She lingers close to me. I know what she wants. Smirking, I lean down and place a kiss on her lips.
“Bye.”
At the office, Lisa greets me shyly. I raise an eyebrow at her.
“Someone has been talking to someone else’s people, I see,” I grin devilishly.
“Just in passing!” She protests but I know that she and Paula’s people get on famously.
“Of course, darling,” I laugh.
Inside, I take some calls, schedule a meeting and discuss the topic of Sinitta with Max, my publicist.
“I want no paparazzi and should they spot us somewhere, we are strictly friends.”
“Simon, this has always been the case. Why are you reaffirming it now?” Max questions.
“You know what people are going to think.”
“Since when does it matter to you?” He asks. I might just have to be honest about it.
“Since they would be getting closer to the truth than they realise.”
“I… uh-” He is gob smacked, no doubt. I can’t blame him really. I’d have never thought of this happening had I been asked just two months ago. “Right then.” He clears his throat, trying to remain professional.
“Thank-you,” I say and hang up.
The door opens and Lisa pops her head in. I signal for her to enter and she leaves some papers on my desk. I pick it up with a sigh as she leaves the room. The fine print is difficult on my eyes, forcing me to hunt for my reading glasses in my drawers. I don’t particularly like wearing them, they make me feel older than I usually would – especially with Terri’s teasing – but work has to be done.
As I am bored out of my mind, reading the ridiculously long and formal text, the intercom beeps beside me.
“Mr. Cowell?” Lisa’s voice comes through the line, at a high octave. “Ms. Abdul is here to see you,” She says, wearily. I blink once. Twice. I must have heard wrongly. Surely she isn’t here?
Needing to see it for myself, I get out of my seat and open the door, bracing myself to be both disappointed and relieved. But surely enough, a tiny brunette is standing there, sunglasses blocking her eyes.
We don’t say anything for a while – we just stare. Paula is clad in jeans and a black T-shirt with the words of Shakespeare printed on, ‘If music be the food of love, play on’. She is wearing minimal make-up, and does not look the glamourous TV-star that she usually does. Still pretty though. Lisa clears her throat awkwardly, making us snap out of our trance.
“Come in,” I say and my voice sounds weird to my own ears. I hold open my office door for Paula but she makes no attempt to move.
“Actually, I was hoping you’d join me for coffee downstairs,” Paula tells me. I nod slowly.
“Sure.” I oblige and follow her out.
We take the lift down, the silence deafening my ears. She seems to be transfixed on my eyes for whatever reason - Oh hell. I realise then that I am still wearing my glasses. I consider taking them off, but decide against it, not wanting to show my embarrassment. If I remember correctly anyway, she told me I looked ‘cute’ in them just last year. Fine, I can handle being cute.
We walk to Starbucks, Paula’s favourite place in the world after the gym. There is one just across the street from my workplace. There I order my coffee and wait for her to order hers. She looks around at the different choices blankly; she never knows what to order. So I simply rattle out her most common request, one I am accustomed to.
“One decaf triple grande, nonfat, extra hot, stirred, no foam, caramel please,” I request.
“Thanks,” She says softly. I don’t reply.
We sit at a table to the far end of the room, away from most people. She sips her coffee vigilantly, eyes down. I can actually see them now, after she took her huge black frames off her face.
“Were you planning on keeping silent the whole time?” I ask. I am not the most patient of men when I am feeling vulnerable.
“About yesterday, Simon…” She trails off, flustering. “It was a mistake and it shouldn’t have happened.”
“That’s not true.” Only when I see her wide questioning eyes do I realise what I have said. I have a sudden need to rush and explain. “I don’t regret what happened. I just wish it were enough. I wish I understood why it isn’t enough,”
“A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush, Simon,” She says. I can’t decide whether it is a compliment, an insult or simply a fact. “I actually came here because I think it’s obvious this isn’t working,” She gestures between the two of us with her finger. I stay quiet. “I don’t think we can stay friends under these circumstances.”
“You’re breaking up with me?” Something tightens in my chest, painfully.
“Well, I wouldn’t call it breaking up…”
“But you’re breaking up our friendship.” I sound like a whiny five year old, but I don’t care. Losing my best friend? What is she trying to do to me? This is like amputating an arm and a leg, bloody hell.
“Simon, you know it’s for the best. I just think we need some time to move on.”
“Why is it so damn difficult now? I’ve been able to be friends with all of my exes; this shouldn’t be so different.” I rub my face and pinch the bridge of my nose.
“I guess that means I’m special.” She smiles halfheartedly. “Seriously though… I’m not saying let’s start hating each others’ guts; I’m just saying we need some time apart and maybe we can fix things up-”
“What, when you’re married and don’t have an excuse to kiss me anymore,” I spit out, with more venom than I feel. I have no anger in me – at least, not directed at her. All I feel is dejection.
“I’ve never had an excuse to kiss you,” She mutters, turning away. She runs her fingers over the rim of her coffee cup.
“I’m not used to not getting what I want. With hard work, I have always gotten what I wanted,” I mumble.
“I’m just special.” She cracks a small smile.
I don’t feel like smiling back and so a long silence hovers over us.
“So this is it then?” I ask after a while, fed up with the awkwardness. She meets my eyes again.
“Yeah it is.”
“We keep saying goodbye, but it doesn’t seem to work,” I point out.
“We’re going to have to make it work then, Simon. I can’t handle the guilt of cheating – You know that’s not who I am.” She shakes her head. A million differing comments sit at the tip of my tongue, all directed at the fact we had cheated when I was with Terri, though I suppose that would be the only time. Now I’m the one feeling special – I have been the only exception to her morality. As special as you can feel in a heartbroken state, I suppose.
Heartbreak? Is that what this is? I know losing someone your supposedly in love with is suppose to be devastating but more than just that, I feel like I’m losing a console. The console. I try and understand why this seems so difficult to picture – a world without Paula by my side, and then I realise. It’s because when I would think of the future, she would always be there, but now, there is an empty space in this vision, a hole waiting to be filled again. I suppose if that is considered heartbreak, then I am indeed a man without a whole heart.
“ – I would still like you to come for the wedding…” Paula says, bringing me out of my thoughts. I meet her eyes.
“You make it sound so easy,” I tell her.
She closes her eyes for a moment and takes in a deep breath.
“It’s hard for me too, you know. I don’t want to lose my best friend,” She admits.
“I know you’re right, Paula, with all this. But, life is… dull without you around. Like in England, when I don’t see you – it’s frustrating. And then when you visit, I don’t want you to leave because you brighten everything up.”
I don’t know why I am saying this now. I don’t think I’ve even thought about it in so many words before. But I feel like she should know – like this might be my only chance to ever say it.
When I look up again, she is welling up and sniffing, willing the tears not to fall.
“I know,” her voice rings out, crestfallen. “I know exactly what you mean.” Because she feels the same way, I presume. She stands up and walks to my side of the table. Her arms reach out for me as they grasp me in a tight hug. She sits on my lap and I can’t help but hold her. With her, willpower does not exist for I can’t resist even if I wanted to try.
“It gets harder and harder, doesn’t it?” I whisper in her ear, my lips brushing the shell of it. She nods, burrowing her face in my neck. “This is not forever, right?” I ask, almost frightened. A month or two without Paula, I can deal with – I do have to in England sometimes. But forever is asking too much of me. I would end up just crawling back and charming her to the best of my abilities.
“No,” She protests quickly. She meets my eyes again after scanning the room to see if anyone is looking. I suppose they aren’t because she doesn’t attempt to move from her sitting position. “Just until we can handle it, okay?” She strokes my unshaven face, with her smooth fingers. I know she’s always liked that feeling, especially in the bedroom – but that’s beside the point.
I will us to stand, not wanting anyone to recognise us. But there is a lot of reluctance of both our parts. Paula walks with me to the other side of the street, where my office is, her untouched coffee in hand. I hold mine too, with little care. The only thing in my possession I am acutely aware of is Paula, who has me by my waist. Her head is pressed firmly into my chest, and I guide her to our destination.
I bring her up the steps, away from people that may or may not want to invade our privacy.
Slowly, I begin to pull Paula’s arms away from me, but instead she holds on tighter, a small puppy-like whimper in complaint. I kiss where her hair meets her forehead, ever so slightly. But her fragrance intoxicates me – makes me feel like an addict, and I can’t help but kiss her there again, this time lingering.
“Is this a proper goodbye?” Paula asks, after a long silence. She angles her head so she can see my face, but does not make any attempt to let go of me.
“I don’t know. If it works, then yes it is. We’ll have to wait and see, I suppose,” I kiss her hair again, this time several times. I sway her from side to side, loving the feel of her against me. I need to remember every single moment of this.
“Okay…” she pulls away and I narrowly avoid taking her into my arms again.
“Okay,” I repeat. This time, it is my turn to touch her face, trying to memorise the feel of her.
We stand there, having nothing left to say but goodbye, but we don’t. It seemed like time had stopped for us – at least it would have been if there weren’t cars on the road, honking the horn, busy with their lives while we stand idly.
If it were a movie, there would be no noise, but in its stead a love song playing in the background. And the moment would never end. But now, Paula’s phone rings and she takes it from her pocket. Her eyes look back up to mine, pained and I know who it is.
Jeremy Hunter.
She flickers her glance between me and the ringing phone, undecided as to which is more important at this moment. I brace myself to be disappointed and not to expect me to come first. She chose to be with him over me, after all. But, always the one to surprise me, Paula turns the ringing on silent and places her arms around my neck. She rests her forehead on my chest and kisses over my heart, just once.
“Bye, Simon,” She whispers, pulling away. I can still feel her lips there, tingling and warm.
“Bye, Paula,” I whisper back.
We were running away from each other again, with as much dignity as we pretended to have. But were we running in opposite directions, or simply in circles?