Page 6 of Five Years
“Hi,” Leah smiled.
She was curious, perhaps more apprehensive, but definitely curious as to why Ariana was at the same fundraising event. There was a moment of hesitation before Ariana decided to approach. It didn’t feel entirely awkward for Leah, not anymore. The passage of time left her with a sense of acceptance.
“Erm, hi,” Ariana gestured towards a group of people entering a cab. “I need to go—” she trailed.
Leah nodded. She stared at the smattering of freckles across Ariana’s nose. She used to count them, a long time ago. The freckles softened the angular cut of Ariana’s cheekbones, making her beauty feel both sharp and disarming at once.Ariana’s natural beauty remained, despite the difference in age; if it was at all possible, Leah thought she was even more infectious than ever before.
“Maybe . . . we can talk?” Ariana suggested.
The question didn’t register immediately; Leah was too busy staring at the athletic build of Ariana’s arms. The definition of her deltoid and bicep muscles created several little indents that Leah had once traced with her fingertips. Her muscular but slender build spoke of her love for adventure. She always used to push herself to new limits, constantly striving for a challenge she was yet to conquer. Leah couldn’t help but wonder if she was still the same.
Did Hannah support that adventurous side of her the same way that Leah used to?
She was digressing; that was none of her business, but her mind wandered.
“Leah?”
“Erm. . . I don’t know,” she wavered.
“I’m staying at The Whitby tonight...I’ll be in the bar if you change your mind. I’ll give the doorman your name.”
Leah watched in shock as Ariana and her perfectly proportioned buttocks climbed into the cab. The satin material of the wide-leg trousers clung to her elongated legs with a purpose that most tailors would envy.
The Whitby.
A rush of fond memories came flooding back. Leah remembered their 48-hour trip to New York three months before Ariana broke her heart. It was spontaneous—a tripforever cemented in Leah’s heart and soul as one of the only times she ever truly felt alive...and in love.
She recalled the moment of realisation as they walked through the streets of Greenwich Village. Together they marvelled at the legendary brownstone buildings before stumbling across Carrie Bradshaw’s apartment—Leah had a picture perched on the steps outside that she re-posted at least once a year, because despite the change in fashion, or the shorter hairstyle being unfavourable now, Leah was happy. Her eyes sparkled with joy, her smile stretched wider than her face should allow. The way her body radiated such happiness left her glowing. It was as if in that very moment, Leah was free of any worries; all troubles melted away, leaving only pure, unadulterated happiness. Never again had she been able to replicate that same feeling.
Why was Ariana staying at The Whitby?
It wasn’t uncommon for people to live on the outskirts of the city and occasionally stay inward for business reasons, but why the invitation?
A knot formed in her stomach.
You’re tired. Go home to bed. You don’t need to go and speak to Ariana, Leah told herself.
But she wanted to.
Go home.
She climbed into the car. The driver already had her home address on the screen.
Nothing good can come of going to The Whitby.
The internal battle with herself came to a sharp conclusion when she told the driver, “There’s been a change of plans. Can you take me to The Whitby, please?”
TWO
The entrance to The Whitby was exactly as Leah remembered—aside from the doorman; he was new. The greenery and the chic lighting fixtures portrayed a warm welcome. Upon entering, the bold colours, plush furnishings, and eye-catching artwork provided Leah with a sense of familiarity. The bar was quiet; one barman perused the space behind the bar, eagerly available to serve the guests.
She scanned the room, searching for Ariana. She sat at the far end of the bar beneath the black rig covered in hanging wicker baskets—it was a rather impressive art structure. She had her back to Leah, her posture perfectly upright as she briefly conversed with the barman. Leah’s breath caught in her throat; each step closer became more hesitant than the last. Her nervous energy caused her hands to shake. She considered turning away—her mind screamed for her to retreat—but her body refused to halt. It was the barman who observed her first; his eyes acknowledged her presence before Ariana followed his gaze.
“Hi,” Leah said softly.
Their eyes locked. A rush of emotion washed over her—a mixture of longing, regret...hope. Leah tried to muster up the courage to say something else, something witty—anything at all that would ease the air of tension—but her words seemed to catch in her throat.
“Hi,” Ariana seemed surprised. Her eyes widened. She never expected Leah to come—that was clear. Now, Leah felt foolish.
