Can't Remember to Forget You

I was woken up early the next morning by my alarm clock rattling on my nightstand. I hadn't had that much to drink last night, but a 6am wake-up call after any amount of alcohol wasn't an easy feat. I sat up in bed with a groan and ran a hand back through my disheveled hair, wincing as my fingers curled around several tangles. A green light flashed on my phone, and I knew it was a text message from Claire, telling me that she'd be here in fifteen minutes to pick me up for our Saturday morning yoga class.

I padded down the short hallway to my bathroom, switching on the light with a yawn. I went about my normal Saturday morning routine, brushing my teeth and pulling my hair back into a ponytail before heading to my small kitchen. I started a pot of coffee, knowing that Claire would probably want a cup, before producing a half-empty pack of cigarettes from a drawer. If there was one thing that helped to wake me up, it was nicotine.

"I really don't understand why you smoke those," Claire commented as she entered my apartment. I shut the door and followed her into the kitchen with a grin, the cigarette dangling between my lips. "They're bad for your health."

"But they do wonders for my stress," I replied. I sat my cigarette in the ashtray I had sitting on the counter and pulled two mugs from the cabinet. "You want some coffee?"

"Um, yeah!" Claire exclaimed. I handed her one of the mugs and she went around me to the coffee machine. While I waited to fix my own cup, I leaned against the counter and smoked the rest of my cigarette. As I mashed it out and went to fix myself a cup of coffee, Claire spoke up again. "So you'll never guess who messaged me this morning," she said, sounding giddy.

"Who?" I asked, pouring coffee into my mug.

"That Zacky guy!" she exclaimed. I heard the tink of a spoon against glass as she stirred sugar into her coffee. "I saw you guys talking at the club last night."

"I know what you're thinking and there's absolutely nothing going on between us," I told her, adding a bit of cream to my own coffee. I threw the spoon into my full sink and turned to face Claire, nursing my mug against my chest. "I would say we're just friends, but I don't think we're even that. He's kinda annoying."

"Give the guy a break, Wren," Claire urged. "He's going through a divorce. He's not in the best place."

"You can say that again," I mumbled, sipping from my coffee mug. I thought about the green-eyed man and how he'd seemed down last night at the club. No matter how irritating I found him, I couldn't fault him for being upset over his divorce. I finished off the last of my coffee and sat the mug down in the sink, glancing at the clock over the stove as I did so. 6:13. "Hey Claire, you ready to go? We need to leave or we'll be late."

"Oh yeah, let's go," Claire agreed, setting her mug on the table. She snatched up her keys and the two of us hurried out the door.

. . .

"So how about breakfast at La Brea?" Claire suggested as we climbed into her car.

I opened up the little mirror and checked my reflection. I was sweating from the yoga class, and the few hairs that had escaped from my ponytail were stuck to my skin. I shut the mirror and turned to Claire, giving her a thumbs up. I had a little money to spare and La Brea had the best omelets I'd ever had. And since I wasn't opening the bookstore today, I was free until theater practice later this evening.

When we got to the restaurant, Claire led the way to the counter where the orders were given to the kitchen and banged on the surface, hollering for the cook. A brunette woman appeared seconds later, a bemused grin on her face. "Jeez, what's with all the yelling?" she asked. "It's like eight in the morning!"

"We just got out of yoga and we would like some omelets," Claire chirped, not really answering her question. I laughed. The cook didn't say a word; she just rolled her eyes and went back into the kitchen. Happy that she'd gotten what she wanted, Claire smiled and flounced away, taking a seat at a nearby booth. I laughed softly to myself and slid in across from her.

"So you never told me why Zacky messaged you this morning," I pointed out.

"He wanted your phone number," was all Claire said in response. She paused and grinned wickedly. "So I gave it to him."

I reached out and smacked her. She cried out in protest. "Did you ever think I didn't want him to have my phone number?" I hissed. Never mind the fact that I'd practically given him permission to have it last night. "I barely know this guy. He could be a pervert or something."

"Zacky is a nice guy," Claire said. "And I'm gonna tell you the same thing I told you before. You need a man in your life!"

"No, I do not," I replied hotly. "Maybe I'm happy being single."

Claire just shrugged, a coy smile materializing on her face. "You'll find someone who'll change your mind, I know it," she assured. "One day you'll open your eyes and realize that there's someone out there who's worth all the stress."

"Yeah well, I'm 100% sure that person is not the newly-divorced man who destroyed part of my bookstore," I said sarcastically. Claire frowned at me but thankfully wasn't given a chance to say another word as the waitress arrived with our omelets.

Sometimes I didn't understand Claire. I knew that she was the type of woman who didn't like to be alone for long, and I had no problem with that. But I was quite happy to be single. And I loved Claire, but at times her intention to pair me up with someone could be a tad overwhelming.

. . .

"To finish up rehearsal, I'd like to run through 'Harden My Heart'," the director said, flipping through his score. I bit back a groan and combed my fingers through my hair. I was normally all about what I did here at the theater, but I was so exhausted from going out last night and getting up early for yoga that I was at the end of my final frayed nerve. Not only that, but this rehearsal was going on longer than expected.

"Are we done after this?" Tom complained. "I'm tired."

The director eyed him over thin-rimmed glasses. "Tom, we have a show in a month," he explained. "And we still have a lot of work to do. So I suggest you worry less about being tired and more about whether or not you're ready to perform this show.

"Can we take a break before we start?" I asked. I knew we would be at practice for a good while longer and I needed a cigarette. We were overdue for a break, anyway.

"Sure, take fifteen minutes," the director relented.

The words had barely left his mouth before everyone started heading for the exits. I grabbed my pack of cigarettes and lighter from my bag before making my way to the lobby of the theater.

"Hey, Wowza!" a familiar voice called out. I looked up and was surprised to find Zacky leaning against the wall near the water fountain, a lit cigarette dangling from his plump lips. How on Earth did he find me here? And why was he smoking inside the building? God, he was stupid. I went to him and yanked the cigarette from his mouth. He yelped in protest. "What the hell are you doing? I was smoking that!"

"Not inside the building, you aren't!" I shouted back. I snuffed the cigarette out in the water fountain and tossed it into a nearby trashcan. "Now what are you doing here? How did you know where I was?"

"Your friend Claire told me that you had rehearsal tonight and I thought I might stop by to see how good you were," he replied. He still seemed a little upset that I'd taken his cigarette from him. But what did he expect? "But I can tell that you're not happy--"

"Damn right I'm not happy!" I said. "You showing up here is...weird. Ugh, remind me to kill Claire later."

Zacky chuckled, shaking his head. "She's a character, isn't she? She kinda reminds of me Jimmy."

I rubbed the bridge of my nose. I only had so much time before I had to be back onstage, and here I was wasting it talking to this peculiar man. "Listen, can you just leave?" I pleaded. "It's been a long day and I'm tired and--"

"And I'm bothering you," Zacky finished. He frowned. What sort of question was that? Of course he was bothering me. "But I promise I won't bother you anymore. I just wanna sit and listen to the rest of the rehearsal. And then I'm gonna take you out for coffee, and I'm not taking no for an answer."

"Fine," I grumbled. Underneath my breath, I added, "But it is not a date."

. . .

"Ooh, who's your friend, Wren?" the girl behind the Starbucks counter asked curiously, scraping her eyes down Zacky's frame. Leaning in closer, she whispered, "He's cute."

"This is Zack," I told her. "He's uh..." I paused, not sure of how to explain Zacky. Were we friends? Strangers? A stalker and the object of his affection? Well, maybe that was a bit much. "He's a friend I met through Claire."

The girl nodded as if to say that she knew I was lying. I closed my eyes. Lord have mercy on my soul. "So what would the two of you like?" she asked.

"I'll have a grande caramel latte," I said. I gestured back to Zacky, adding, "And he'll have...something."

"Just a plain black coffee is fine," Zacky chuckled. I pulled out my debit card to pay for my drink but Zacky plucked it out of my hand before the barista could. With a grin, he pressed it back into my palm. "I got this," he explained.

"Thanks," I grumbled, shoving the card back into my wallet.

While Zacky paid for our drinks, I went and took a seat at a table near the window. From my bag I pulled my laptop and after connecting to the wifi, opened up the official Broadway website. To say I liked Broadway would be an understatement. Even though I'd only seen one live performance, I'd seen most of the shows, even if it was only on TV.

"What are you looking at?" Zacky asked, and I nearly jumped out of my seat.

"Holy shit, you scared me!" I hissed, smacking him on the arm. He just chuckled and took a seat across from me, sliding me my drink. "You can't sneak up on people like that!"

"I was stomping around like an elephant!" Zacky exclaimed. "How in the world did I sneak up on you? Oh, I bet I know. You were too busy thinking about how sexy I am to pay attention." He grinned wickedly in my direction and I didn't even bother trying to hide the fact that I rolled my eyes.

"Fat chance," I said, shooting him down. "I was looking up something on my computer."

"Oh, I know you were," Zacky countered, sounding very sure of himself. "You're just not ready to admit it."

"You just don't know when to give up, do you?" I laughed.

Zacky smiled proudly. "I am not easily deterred, Wowza."

"I. Told. You. Not. To. Call. Me. That," I spit out, punching his arm with each word. He grabbed my wrists and pinned them down to the table. This prevented me from hitting him anymore, so I resorted to sticking out my tongue. He chuckled. "My name is Wren."

"Hi! My name is...what? My name is...who? My name is...Slim Shady!" Zacky sang. I blushed a bit when people started to stare. "Nah, just kidding, it's Zacky."

"You're so weird," I groaned. I twisted my wrists, which he still held in his hands. "Would you mind letting me go?"

"Oh yeah, sorry." Zacky apologized profusely, dropping my hands on the table. "So what are you looking at on your computer? Porn?"

"No," I said pointedly. I twisted my computer around so that he could see the screen. "I'm looking at the Broadway website," I explained.

Zacky scrunched up his face. "You like that stuff?" he asked. "It seems a little...I dunno, stuffy."

"Well metalcore music is stupid, too," I replied hotly. I yanked my computer back towards me. For a man who said he was trying to flirt, he was certainly going about it the wrong way.

"Avenged Sevenfold doesn't do 'metalcore' anymore," Zacky pointed out. This did nothing to erase the frown from my face, and Zacky obviously noticed. He sighed. "I'm sorry about that. I just kinda...I don't really have a filter between my brain and my mouth."

"You should learn to fix that," I said curtly. With a huff, I closed my laptop and placed it back in my bag. Before this moment, I never knew that I could simultaneously feel sorry for someone and want to strangle them. But Zacky had shown me that I could. "Listen, thanks for buying me coffee and all, but I've really gotta get back to my apartment and get some sleep. I've gotta open the bookstore early tomorrow and--"

"I'll walk you back," Zacky offered quickly, cutting me off. Thanks. I shook my head, wordlessly trying to tell him that I was perfectly capable of getting back to my apartment on my own, but he wouldn't have it. "It's dark outside. There's no way I'm gonna let a pretty little thing like you walk home by yourself."

Pretty little thing? Did this man just call me pretty? I could feel myself blushing at the inadvertent compliment, and Zacky obviously noticed. He cracked a small grin as he got to his feet. "I guess you can walk me home," I relented. I pointed a warning finger at him. "But you're not coming inside."

"I'll be a perfect gentleman," he promised.

As we walked back to my apartment, I decided to ask Zacky about Gena. I hadn't learned much about her through his drunken rambling last night at the club, and if Zacky and I were ever going to become friends, I felt like I needed to know more about the life he led behind closed doors. At the mention of his ex-wife's name, Zacky's bright eyes turned dark. He repeated the things he'd told me about at the club: that he and Gena were together for awhile, and that once they'd actually gotten married in 2011, things had mysteriously fallen apart. He and Gena were still on good terms with one another, he explained, they - or rather she - didn't feel a connection anymore, no spark. Then he said that the guys liked to tease him about it, not in a cruel way of course, and he hid the way it hurt him. At the end, he apologized for his behavior yet again, assuring me that he hadn't always been so annoying, at least he didn't think so.

And then he asked me about Clark - not by name, of course - and I told him that this was a conversation for another day, especially since I suspected it was a rouse to let him come in to my apartment.

"You know, I really should thank Short Shit," Zacky mused, leaning against the brick wall of my apartment building. It was dark by this point, so all I could see of him was the lit end of the cigarette he had shoved between his lips.

"And why is that?" I asked curiously.

"Well if he hadn't dragged me into your bookstore yesterday, I never would've met you," he answered, taking a drag. I blushed again, and I was thankful for the dark. He sighed and flicked the cigarette onto the sidewalk. "I haven't been able to really hash out my feelings about Gena since things started going downhill. The guys aren't really great listeners, ya know? They don't really take things like emotions and feelings seriously."

"Well I'm glad I could help out with that," I said, flashing a smile that he couldn't see. "I understand that sometimes you need someone who'll just listen. That's why I'm glad I have Claire."

At this point Zacky fished out his crushed pack of cigarettes and slid out another cancer stick, so took this as my cue to head inside. But as soon as I turned away, I felt Zacky's hand land on my shoulder. This time I could see the smile on his face in the light from inside when I turned around. "I can call you now, right?" he asked. "I have your permission and you won't kill me?"

I chuckled. "I guess you can," I agreed. "But the first time you wake me up, I'll have a few choice words for you."

"I'll keep that in mind," he laughed. He flicked the ash from the tip of his cigarette. "Well thanks for allowing me to hang out with you tonight, Wowza."

Ignoring the fact that he'd called me by that infuriating nickname, I said, "It was actually fun. I'm surprised."

"I'm not that annoying, am I?" Zacky pouted. He jutted out his bottom lip and I rolled my eyes. Inside, someone yelled for me to stop holding the door open, and I told Zacky that I really needed to go. "Oh alright, I guess I can let you leave," he said. "Oh, and by the way? You have an amazing voice, Wowza."

"Thanks Zack, that means a lot." I twirled a piece of hair around my index finger, unsure of what else to say to the man standing in front of me, bathed in the weak light from inside the apartment building. "Well bye, I guess."

"See ya, Wowza," Zacky chuckled, and then he disappeared into the dark. I knitted my brows as I watched him walk away. Why did I have this strange feeling that I was getting myself into something that would change my life?

Notes

Just to clear things up, this story is already posted on Mibba and I'm just posting it on here as well. No rewrites or anything, aside from a few grammatical changes :)