Stay away

After a few kiss-hellos and chitchat with the two sets of parents (Cassandra talked to her for quite a while), Massie walked past the halls to the Riveras' balcony. This was the first time Nadia Rivera started hosting their traditional brunches again. At the end of sophomore year, Nadia's mother—Alicia and Eric's grandmother—died; she took it pretty badly, almost moving the entire family to Barcelona. Len and the kids didn't want to leave their lives in Manhattan, so Nadia stayed there and only went to New York for visits. Alicia was devastated to have her mother absent in their household. It went on for more than a year. Nadia only returned for good this fall. Of course, the two other wives in the group had to insist her to be host for a comeback brunch.

For Massie, this was the first time she'd gone to the Riveras' balcony again. The last time was before she and Eric broke up. When they were still together, this was their thing. It was a post-brunch activity. They'd look over Central Park and observe people going about their Sunday routines. There were afternoons when the snow fell, and they relied on each other for warmth. He would kiss her cold pink cheek, and Massie would breathe in the scent of his neck. She had all of Eric's perfumes memorized.

Massie felt a bit of nostalgia and loneliness. Those are the only things she wanted for her day-to-day life. A filling brunch and good company. She knew she wasn't bitter or jaded over her terminated relationship with Eric. They were happy while it lasted. They have moved on. Eric's a junior in college now. Of course he'd been dating—which he rightfully should. Massie heard he recently became a boyfriend to a girl majoring in Economics. Massie's negative feelings weren't because Eric's life had proceeded—Massie's had, too. She honestly didn't mind that he had a new girlfriend. She wished him happiness, the same happiness she wished for herself. Instead, these unhappy vibes were rooted in the fact that she was empty. She didn't know why she couldn't express how she felt. Maybe because it's not really real. Maybe she was just making herself feel bad so she could actually feel something and not just feel like a speck of dust floating in the air with no direction. She didn't know why she couldn't express how much her heart feels like a heavy rock. She was sad and lonely. These weren't real feelings. Nothing is happening. She was bored. She wanted to have something, anything.

Would it be wrong to give something unexpected a try? Would pushing it hurt?

She pictured him in her mind. Cam Fisher. He was wearing his leather jacket and the sweetest smile she'd ever seen. His eyes had different colors—one was blue, the other green. She tried remembering how he smelled. That is what attracts her when it comes to the opposite sex. She could distinguish one guy from another by scent, and a whiff was also her basis whether she was attracted. It might be a pathetic and irrational concept, but that was how she remembered people. She could never forget the guys she met who smelled best.

Massie supposed this was just one of her quirks. It had never failed her before anyway. Her first—and only—ex-boyfriend Eric smelled woody and fresh. They started hanging out during freshman year. The Blocks, Harringtons, and Riveras were on holiday in Buenos Aires. What resulted from a winter break of flirtation and intense gazes wasn't just a fling after all—they were together as soon as school started again. He smelled so good. She was hooked. Of course, not for how he smelled, but the smell was certainly one of the initial things that attracted her… the reason she bothered to get to know him in the first place.

Cam. They were the best of friends. Their close peers could say they were co-dependent with each other. In times of trouble, they were each others' comfort zones. As stated earlier, Massie could talk to Cam about everything—something she found hard to find among people around her. Massie could be unpredictable at times, yet Cam always knew what to do.

Would this be a pathetic thing to do? Massie thought. Dating her bestfriend? That would be unknown territory. Am I even attracted to him? By instinct, she automatically tried remembering how he smelled like. A few seconds, a few inhale-exhales… She couldn't think. None. No record. She saw him practically every single day of her life, but here she was, the odor-fetishist, having trouble putting in her mind how Cam Fisher smelled. This morning. Think about this morning. How did he smell?

A different person popped in Massie's head. That person's scent. Traces of him filled her mind… very addicting. She couldn't help smiling at the thought. It was fresh, woodsy, refreshingly masculine scent… with a blend of citrus and herbs and rich spices. She could smell his energy. Feelings of warmth and absolute ease came with this scent. This isn't Cam.

"Massie?" came a voice from behind her.

She turned back to see who just went out in the balcony. Derrick Harrington. She wanted to laugh at herself for being ridiculous. Here was the best-smelling guy she'd encountered, right in front of him on cue. Right when she was unknowingly enjoying the recollection of how he smelled. Upon this realization, she felt a little troubled. I couldn't be attracted to this guy.

"Hey, are you all right?" he asked. She looked uneasy when she saw him. He stepped towards her and noticed her backing away. He sounded concerned. He was curious. He wanted to help.

"Sure, I'm great," was Massie's delayed reaction. It took her a while to absorb that this was the first time—from what she remembered anyway—one of them had approached the other. They never really acknowledge each others' presence in get-togethers like this. It was as if they go out of their way to ignore one another. She didn't have any explanation why she does it; it was instinct, like it's better not to deal with something one cannot deal with.

"I heard you're watching football later…" Derrick tried, at the same time mentally cursing himself for not being as slick and smooth as he usually was. Stupid. Idiot. "What game is it?"

She raised her left eyebrow. Massie, always skeptical and over-thinking. She checked her watch. "Uh, I'm going inside," she said while avoiding eye contact, obviously choosing to ignore what he seemed to be proposing. Massie stabbed her finished cigarette on the small stone fountain beside her, like she and Eric always did. She turned to leave.

"Don't," Derrick stepped back to stop her. She gave him a questioning look (as if to say, Are you seriously doing this? Do we really have to go through this—what you're trying to do?), so he loosened up. "I'm talking to you." His right hand was about to touch her hair. She prevented him from doing so.

"I'm going," she started rejecting him. Cornered, she looked apprehensive. She attempted to leave again. He blocked her. He went closer to her, his face inches from hers. He smelled so good. It was intoxicating, enough to pull her to him. She couldn't help looking at his lips. She was mesmerized. She felt his hand brush her waist and stop at her bra line. This jolted her from the trance. She broke free from the proximity. "Don't do this."

"What's wrong with you?" He finally questioned the tension between them. She refused to look at him directly. It bothered him how they couldn't be as relaxed as they were earlier at his house. "Why, are you with someone?" He noticed the hickey on her neck last night. He didn't do it, so it must be someone she's seeing. Is there something between her and Cam Fisher? That thought tasted sour, and he felt himself raging. But he immediately managed to calm himself with the consideration that he wasn't being serious anyway. No need to invest so many feelings and effort.

"Excuse me?" She looked him in the eyes this time. "What's wrong with you? You're not that desperate."

"Desperate? Do I seem to you as desperate?" Derrick was caught off-guard. He tried hard not to appear vulnerable.

"Come on, you can get laid anywhere." She was being deliberately crass to scare him off.

"Oh, so I'm only here for a fuck?"

"That never crossed your mind?" She crossed her arms.

"It didn't," he pretended to reflect on it. "Seems it crossed yours." He grinned.

Massie ignored him and continued. "If you can recall, we usually take no notice of each other. I'd like it to remain that way. You're making it difficult."

He didn't expect her to be so uptight and defensive. Why was she being so serious? "And I thought we consider ourselves buddies now," he said in his automatic mocking voice. He tousled his hair carelessly. "Didn't we have a blast this morning? You were good company." He was making light of the situation. He knew Massie gets uncomfortable when being complimented. He could only hope she'd start taking it easy. "It is too bad if you're already dating someone else."

But no. She couldn't take his cocky smile. A bit flustered, she said without thinking, "Can you stop? I'm not playing with you."

"Who says I'm playing?"

"Go away."

"That almost hurt. Just when you've collared your dream girl…"

She snorted. "Your dream girl? We had drunken make-out during Halloween. Drop it."

"I don't know, I have a good feeling about this." Massie would think he is still mocking the thing they had, but little did she know, a small, silent, secret part of him do have a good feeling about her and their situation. It's genuine. There's just something there, something to continue… He's still unsure, but he's going for it. If only he'd stop being such a douchebag at it. What can he do? This is how he usually did things!

"I don't like you."

"And why is that?"

"Because you're a sociopath. Did that ever register in your head? Nobody likes you." And the Academy Award for Driving People Away goes to Massie Block.

He was stunned by being called out like this so candidly. A little hurt for being thought that way, too. He had it coming. And yet, it was his douchebag impulse that had taken over when he reacted with an amused smile. "That's some imagination you've got. It's engaging. Tell me more. Can I take notes? I'll have to look over this with my shrink." Smooth move, Harrington. You're being a jackass, he scolded himself.

She rolled her eyes. "Shut up! I don't like you. I assure you we won't get anything we need from each other." She moved forward to him until they're only a foot apart. She could smell him again. But now, she was in control. "Don't talk to me again." They held eye contact for a couple of seconds. Her face was blank, his was in awe. She walked to the door. Fast. Before she gets enchanted by her embarrassing weakness. As if trails of him wasn't immortalized enough in her brain. She took a deep breath and didn't let go until she was safe inside.

Not wanting to catch another whiff of Derrick Harrington. That scent.

A/N: I'm sorry for ripping off dialogues from Mad Men and Shameless! Just in love with the wittiness, and I wanted to integrate them here. Please review if there are things you like or dislike. Suggestions and questions are welcome.