by Meika Usher
My chest twisted, sharp and tight, as the image of her disappearing inside the bar played on a loop in my brain. Maybe if I had told her sooner—maybe if I had told her at all—things would have turned out differently. Regret burned me from the inside out as I pulled into my driveway and killed the engine. Man, I really fucked this up.
Shoving the car door open, I got out and headed toward the house. As I drew closer, a shadowy lump near the front door caught my attention. Squinting, I tried to determine what it was. Or who. Maybe Anya? I thought she was crashing at Sunny’s tonight. Had drunken Sunny been too much to handle?
But as I hit the bottom step, I realized that the lump was drunken Sunny.
She slumped in the far corner of the porch swing, wrapped in a giant coat that had to be Ben’s, hood pulled tight around her head.
“The hell took you so long?” she muttered as I dug my keys from my pocket. “I’ve been waiting forever.”
“Sure hope you didn’t drive here,” I replied, shoving the key into the lock. Because, hell, that was a scary thought.
“Nah, Ben dropped me off.” She stood and stretched, then reached for something sitting on the swing. I squinted. Pizza. “I’m almost sober now, anyway.”
“Good.” I held the door open for her and followed her inside. “You were sloppy drunk back there.”
She winced as she passed me. “Oh, I know.”
I kicked the door shut behind us as she headed for the kitchen. “I’m gonna preheat the oven,” she called. “Pizza’s cold because you took your sweet-ass time getting here.”
“What’s the pizza for?” I called back as I shrugged out of my coat. I’d been prepared to spend the night alone and wallowing, but I found myself glad that Sunny was here.
Or, at least, I was until she came out of the kitchen, a sheepish look on her face. “So,” she started, pulling the oversized hood of Ben’s coat away from her face. “I think I may have done something pretty shitty tonight.”
“I mean, you got into it with Cat,” I said as I toed off my shoes and walked into the living room. “But that was a long time coming.”
“Yeah, not that.” She gripped the too-long sleeves of her coat and eyed the door. “So, when the timer dings, you’re gonna put the pizza in for about ten minutes, and—”
“Why are you giving me instructions for reheating pizza?” I leaned against the couch and studied her. She was pink-cheeked from the cold, and her eyes were filled with anxiety. Like she was nervous about something. The last time we saw each other, she’d torn me apart—rightfully so—so what could she possibly have to be nervous about? If anything, I should’ve been the nervous one.
“Well, I just want to make sure you don’t ruin the pizza after you kick me out into the cold, dark streets.”
“Why would I—”
“I told Birdie.” She pressed her lips together and rocked back and forth on her heels. She didn’t have to elaborate. I knew what she meant.
“Ahh, shit.” I shoved my hands through my hair as a torrent of thoughts and feelings rushed over me so fast I couldn’t focus on one. In the hurry to get to Birdie, to apologize and explain, I didn’t even stop to wonder how she found out. If I had, I’d have assumed Anya told her. But Sunny...
“I’m sorry,” Sunny said, her face awash in regret. “I didn’t mean to. I thought she already knew. But—”
I cut her off with a laugh. A sudden, startling laugh that, once started, would not stop.
“I’m not really sure what’s funny here,” Sunny said, easing backward as if alarmed. “In fact, I’m pretty sure you should be filled with murderous rage right now.”
“Why?” I managed to say, getting the laughter under control long enough to speak.
“Well, because I told the woman you’re sleeping with that you were a virgin.” She said the words slowly, as if she were concerned I’d lost my mental stability.
“Eh.” I shrugged my shoulder and tossed myself onto the couch. “I should have told her myself, so it’s my fault, really.”
“Why—“
The oven beeped, indicating it had reached its preheat temperature. Sunny held up a one moment finger and disappeared into the kitchen. While she rattled around in there, getting the pizza in the oven—because Sunny did not believe in microwaving pizza—I let her revelation sink in. Sunny told Birdie. Sunny. My best friend. Told her sister I was a virgin.
It was probably stress and frustration and exhaustion, with just a little hysteria thrown in for good measure, that had me laughing again.
“Jesus,” Sunny muttered as she reentered the room. “Are you drunk?”
I straightened. “Nope. Unfortunately.”
She sat on the coffee table so that she was facing me, a contemplative look on her face. “You’re not mad?”
I stared at the Harley Quinn pattern on my socks for a few long seconds before looking up at my best friend. “No,” I said simply. “I’m not.” Then, I folded my hands together. “I should have told her myself.”
Sunny’s eyes roved over my face, searching for what, I wasn’t sure. After a moment, she asked, “Why didn’t you?”
Ahh, the million-dollar question. A long gust of air left my lungs as I scrubbed my hands over my face. “I wanted to,” I started, Birdie’s face flashing through my mind. The hurt and anger—all justified. And I squeezed my eyes shut. “But I’m a coward. I couldn’t stand the thought of her laughing, or worse. Leaving.” Opening my eyes, I looked at Sunny, who watched me with a shuttered expression on her face. “It’s happened before, and I survived. But...the thought of Birdie reacting like everyone else? It...I couldn’t stand it.”
“And?” Sunny asked, resting her elbows on her knees. “How’d it turn out?”
I pressed my lips together and exhaled through my nose. “Well, she didn’t laugh.”
“Probably, she wanted to kick you in the balls.” Her lips tilted in a sardonic smile. “If I know my sister, anyway.”
“Long story short?” I said, wincing as our argument on the sidewalk replayed in my mind. “She accused me of using her to unload my virginity”
“Fuck,” Sunny muttered. “That’s not good.”
“It’s also not true.” I got up, unable to sit any longer. It killed me that she thought that. Killed me. I would never—could never—use anyone in that way. Especially not her.
“I’d have kicked you in the sack myself if I thought for a second it was,” Sunny said as she turned to watch me pace. She didn’t speak again right away, but I knew she was gnawing on something. I could practically hear it.
I stopped and faced her. “Spit it out.”
“You love her, don’t you?”
The question stilled in the air, hung there like it’d been zapped by a time freezing spell. I told Birdie I was falling for her, that I was pretty sure I’d fallen completely. And those words rang even truer now. Ironic, considering I’d probably lost her. Slowly, I inhaled. And then I nodded. “Yeah,” I answered, absolute certainty taking me over. “Yeah, I do.”
A slow grin took over Sunny’s face. “I fucking knew it,” she said as she stood and socked me on the arm. “It’s about damn time.”
I gave her a puzzled look as I rubbed my arm. “What?”
“I’ve been trying to push you two dumbasses together for years.” She shook her head. “It would figure, the moment I stop trying, you figure it out.”
“Yeah, except that it’s over.” I sat on the couch and shoved my glasses up to rub my eyes. “I fucked it up real good.”
“Oh, you did not.” She joined me on the couch. “If Birdie really thought you were using her for sex, she wouldn’t have bothered talking to you at all. She’d have simply told all your friends you have a small penis and couldn’t find the right hole, ever.” Shrugging, added, “And I didn’t hear either of those things from her tonight, so you’re good.”
My stomach churned. “I don’t feel good.”
“‘Course not.” She pulled her feet ont
o the couch and twisted to face me. “My sister’s scary when she’s pissed. And you pissed her off real good.” Resting her arm on the back of the couch, she tilted her head as she studied me. “You know why she’s freaking out, don’t you?”
You didn’t trust me, Birdie’s voice rang out in my brain. You claim to be falling for me, but you didn’t trust me.
I swallowed and tore my eyes from Sunny. “I know.”
“This shit is scary,” she said, her voice softer. “Not all of us are just...ready to jump in.”
I glanced over. She picked at a loose thread on the coat she still wore, watching as she wound it around her finger. “Yeah, you were pretty cranky about the whole thing, if I remember correctly.”
She snorted. “You’ve met Ben. You’d be cranky, too, falling in love with him.” As she said it, though, her eyes lit with affection.
“I mean, yeah,” I agreed. “I would not be happy if I fell in love with Ben.”
Sunny rolled her eyes and turned toward me. “You know what I mean.”
I exhaled and rested my head on the back of the couch. Birdie had been angry back there, but Sunny was right. She wasn’t just pissed. She was scared. The thought was like a sucker punch to the gut. “Yeah,” I said to Sunny, closing my eyes. “I know.”
“Good,” she said, pushing up from the couch as the timer rang out in the kitchen. “Now fix it.”
Any pointers? I wanted to ask as she walked away. Because I sure as hell didn’t know where to start. I’m sorry, wasn’t enough, but she hadn’t wanted to hear my explanation. She hadn’t wanted to hear anything from me. But I needed her to. I couldn’t just let this go. She meant too much to me.
“Here,” Sunny said as she came back into the room and held out a plate. “Eat.”
I took it and stared at the grease pooling on a pepperoni slice. I wasn’t hungry, but Sunny would have my ass if I even thought about wasting pizza. And so I picked up a slice.
“I really am sorry,” she said as she picked up her own pizza. “About telling Birdie. I’m sorry.”
I nodded, dropping my pizza back to my plate. “I mean, it was gonna come out sooner or later. But thank you. For the apology. And the pizza.” I reclaimed the slice and lifted it to my lips. I paused halfway, my brain catching on something. “As long as we’re apologizing,” I started, wiping pizza grease on my jeans. Sunny always forgot napkins. “About the other night.”
Sunny swiveled toward me and chewed, not saying anything. She knew what I meant, and she knew I owed her my own sorrys. And she was gonna wait for them.
“I’ve been a terrible best friend and maid of honor and business partner.” I dropped my plate to my lap and twisted my lips. “You were right to tell me off.”
“Oh, I know.” She put her half-eaten slice on her plate and searched my face. “Just like I know that you’ve been keeping all kinds of shit from me. Not just Birdie shit, either.”
I winced. She knew me too damn well.
Her gray eyes met mine, steady. “Out with it, Nathaniel.”
She stared so hard, so long, so intensely, that the words were spilling out before I could stop them. “I don’t want to do Zombitch anymore.”
Sunny did not flinch. “Okay,” was all she said. “Explain.”
“I haven’t been feeling it for a while now,” I started, searching the air for the right words. The ones that would make my best friend not hate me. “It’s just...I think I’m ready to move on to something new.”
“Okay,” she said, picking up her pizza again. “Is this why you’re doing the con thing?”
“No, this has been going on for a while.” I shook my head. “I think we’ve—”
“We’ve come to the end,” Sunny finished, gaze steady, voice sure.
“Well...yeah.” I didn’t want to hurt her or make her feel like I was abandoning her, but that was exactly it. “The whole Rowena’s evil twin plot?” I grimaced and shook my head. “It’s just so...”
“Cliché?” Sunny supplied. “Boring? Heavy-handed?”
“Yes, yes, and yes.” I looked up to find her chewing nonchalantly, as if I hadn’t just told her I didn’t want to work on the project we’d put so many years of hard work and sleepless nights into. As if I hadn’t just axed our future.
“I agree.” She dropped her crust to her plate and wiped her fingers on her pants. “I’ve wanted to tell you for months now that I hated that plotline, but I didn’t know how.”
“Huh.” My body seeped into the couch, every sliver of tension that’d been trapped in my muscles for months leaving in one whooshing moment. “So, that means...”
“We wrap Zombitch up with the original ending we always planned, and we call it.” She nodded. “Yeah, I think so.”
Relief nearly burst my lungs. I shook my head. Could it really have been this easy all along? “We’re a couple of idiots.”
“Well, more you than me,” she said, digging into another slice. “But, yeah. We are.”
We ate in silence for a few minutes, letting our conversation absorb into our brains. As I chewed, a thought took hold. Glancing over, I asked,“What are you gonna do?”
“What?” Sunny shot back, immediately catching my drift. “You think I’m a one-trick pony? That Zombitch was all I had and now that you’re abandoning me, I’ve got nothing?” She smirked and lifted a brow. “Of course I’ve got other ideas, you jackass.”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” I stood and went into the kitchen, returning with beverages—beer for me, water for Sunny. “I was just wondering.”
“Anya and I have been dying to work on something together,” she said as she twisted off the bottle’s lid. “And, of course, I’ve got a few other ideas up my sleeve.”
I breathed a long breath. We’d both be okay, then. “Good, good,” I said, taking a sip of beer, the possibilities racing through my mind.
What I would do with my newfound freedom. No more Zombitch deadlines. That meant I could devote time to other projects. That meant I could start piecing together my crazy convention idea. It was bittersweet. I’d miss working with Sunny. I’d miss Rowena and the world we’d created. But a whole new world had just opened up before me, and I couldn’t wait to explore it.
It was crazy. I spent months and months living with this fear, this idea that telling the truth—to Sunny and to Birdie—would bring ultimate destruction to my entire world. That every single brick and spire would come crashing down. But all my truths were out there, and my world remained intact.
Well, mostly.
My chest twisted tight. My world before Birdie was intact. After?
Not even a little bit.
My world after Birdie was so much better. Both our worlds were better.
I just had to figure out how to make her see that.
50: Birdie
“So, I’m thinking if we do it this way...” Veronica paused as she rotated her tablet so her client could see what she was talking about. “Then, we could do this.”
“Ahh,” the client, a thirty-something veterinarian named Jamie, said, tilting her head to see the sketch better. “I see.”
She didn’t sound impressed.
I didn’t blame her. I’d been listening to these two brainstorm Jamie’s tattoo for the last hour. She was getting inked in memory of her recently-deceased grandmother and hadn’t had a really clear idea of what she wanted when she walked in. Veronica loved these clients. She loved coming up with an idea for them and shaping it together. And, usually, she was good at it.
Today, however—well, not just today, but for quite some time now—she was not killing it. In fact, she’d done three infinity symbols this week.
I dragged my pencil over my sketchpad, putting finishing touches on the doodle I’d been working on while eavesdropping. I was blessedly free of clients this afternoon. Blessedly, because I’d been in a shit mood the last couple days, and had no patience for flash tats and chitchat. I’d been horrible company, and I didn’t want
to subject my clients to that.
Hell, I didn’t want to subject myself to that.
After that night at Heathcliff’s, after I left Nate standing on the sidewalk, I’d been a lump of anger and insecurities and reg—
No, not that.
I did not regret walking away.
Mostly.
Of course, there was a part of me that wondered, that wanted to let him present his case. But that part of me got buried under an avalanche of stubborn anger. And maybe—maybe—a little hurt.
A little? a voice whispered. Is that why you cried into your beer that night? Because you were a little hurt?
The voice sounded an awful lot like Vaughn. That fucker had no sympathy for my situation. Not that I needed sympathy. Because I was fine. I was so fine. I was so fine that—
“Jesus,” Julian muttered and I looked up to find him watching me, brow furrowed.
“What?” I snapped, dropping my pencil to the desk. “What are you looking at?”
“Nothing,” he replied, leaning back in his chair. “Except I didn’t believe Sahara when she said you were a wreck. But looking at you now...” He trailed off and waved a hand over me. “I haven’t seen that particular get-up since you dumped you-know-who.” He jabbed a thumb in Veronica’s direction.
I growled and straightened my century-old Britney Spears t-shirt. “Laundry day. Shut up.”
Julian smirked but said nothing more. At least for a good ten seconds or so. Then, “You and that nerd break up or something?”
Glancing his way, I shrugged. “Or something. And that nerd has a name.”
“I’m sure he does,” Julian replied, whirling in his seat so that he was facing me. “‘Course I don’t know it because you never mentioned him.” He studied me for a moment before adding, “Why didn’t you ever mention him?”
“Because,” I grumbled, picking up my pencil to tap it against my knee.
“Because isn’t a reason.” He wheeled his chair closer and leaned his elbows on his knees, looking me straight in the eye. “For someone who tells me when she’s got an ingrown toenail, it’s kinda strange you wouldn’t mention you’re seeing a dude you’re crazy about.”