The Best Mistakes (The Amherst Sinners Series Book 3)

by Elena Monroe

  Hunter leaned against the railing, pulling me into him again. I looked up, trying to look anywhere else, but I saw Caden’s arms wrap around Oliver, squeezing him. It was like he hadn’t even seen his best friend in a while. I wondered if I wasn’t the only one that Oliver had ghosted.

  Jade trailed behind him in a dress that showed the world she was proud of her sexuality and not scared of it—a floral print, short, tight number, paired with heels. Her body still hid the secret of being a mom. The teal ends of her hair still enacted. Her hand dropped to her side like their hug stole away her favorite accessory: Oliver’s hand on her. I looked away to roll my eyes, not one insecurity to focus on.

  I sipped the rest of my drink, putting the empty glass down on the table next to me. Without permission, my eyes stole another look at Oliver… except, this time, he was headed straight towards me.

  I could have jumped out of my skin with all the anxiety and nerves pounding through my veins, but Hunter’s arm around me kept me still. Too bad he couldn’t provide oxygen with his stability.

  “Layla…” was all I heard his voice say.

  Hunter pushed his chin up in a silent acknowledgment of his presence.

  “Still into being second best, huh?” Oliver growled at him.

  Hunter stood up straighter; his face was casually morphing into pissed off. He leaned into Oliver’s space, just to rub Oliver wrong the same wrong way. “I fucked your baby mom in college and now Layla, bro. Who’s second?”

  He was pleased with himself, leaning back again, smirking wildly in his triumph.

  I excused myself promptly, feeling too overwhelmed. Too many feelings I kept locked up were flooding back. “I’m gonna get another drink.”

  Oliver followed me, keeping up with the biggest strides I could take in the ridiculous heels I had chosen to wear.

  “Are you just gonna run away every time I’m in the room?”

  Infuriated by all the words he let leave his mouth, I spun around on my heel. “Yes, Oliver, I am. Why do you care?” I cursed myself for the lack of gusto in my jab.

  He held up two fingers to the bartender making my drink, before his elbows rested against the bar, relaxed and unaffected, while I stood there, done up into a pretty mess.

  He looked exactly the same, untouched by time. His toned muscles were more prominent again. His tattoos peeked out of his shirt, and his hair was still in a stage of growing out wildly. He looked even more manly, and it was intoxicating. He wasn’t the naïve, broken boy anymore. He was a jilted man with a dirty past and even prettier face. I realized I was staring too long when I forced my eyes down to my shoes.

  “It’s been a long time, Layla.” He paused and I wondered if he wasn’t sure how to act either. “Are you and Hunter…?”

  The question hung between us, heavy and draining to think about.

  “It’s complicated,” was all I could create so quickly. He downed the scotch in one shot, as his head tilted back. I could feel the room’s eyes on us, burning through my backless dress.

  “What’s complicated about it? You fuck him, but really wish it was me?”

  His fingers brushed my arm, as he looked around the room to make sure there wasn’t any eyes on him—mostly likely just one set: Jade’s.

  I scoffed in annoyance at his cocky attitude I had forgotten about. He reserved this for strangers and enemies. I guess I was both now.

  I couldn’t dignify his question with an answer when I didn’t know. Hunter was the only glue holding me together, accepting me for the haunted person I had become. We had been having sex since college ended—always casually and under the guise I couldn’t give myself to someone new. I never thought this long and hard about what Hunter and I were really doing until now.

  “Shouldn’t you be getting back to Jade?”

  He faced me, still leaning comfortably against the bar. “See you kept the feistiness. We have a kid together, Layla. It doesn’t mean we’re together… or fucking.”

  I slid the empty glass towards the bartender, begging for more—anything to push down the feelings.

  “It’s none of my business, Oliver. I’m glad you’re happy. I should get back to Hunter.” I said it like he was mine and I was his.

  I had left Hunter to the wolves, so that I could drown my sorrows in a room full of people he had never liked, apart from Jade. I turned around, watching them catch up, and it made me smile. I wished it was that easy for the man next to me. I wished that it boiled down to a genuine hug and catching up on missed time. Hunter and Jade had never lost touch, not like Oliver and me.

  I would be under the impression they were also casually having sex if she didn’t live with Oliver in Amherst, a good two hours from us.

  He choked out, “I miss you, Layla.” All the air from my lungs escaped from my body and stopped me from moving. I felt like I had been electrocuted. I watched him, stunned by his words, as his head tilted back, letting the scotch burn down his throat in another painful shot.

  My mind reeled. I wondered if this was him crumbling as much as I did under the pressure of seeing each other for more than a fleeting moment. It made me wonder if this was him compromising with himself on his sobriety: scotch instead of other substances. Really, it made me wonder about a lot of things.

  I blinked at him rapidly, trying to reboot my brain, until I was finally able to find words. “You… you can’t just say things like that! I… God, Oliver!”

  I scurried back to Hunter, begging him with my eyes to leave, just as Liz announced for everyone to take their seats for dinner. I had to escape before I was trapped in-between people, toasts, and insipid, shallow conversations.

  Hunter’s hands smoothed down my bare arms, calming me. Wordlessly, he gave me a confident “you’ve got this” look, before he led me to the table, finding our name cards.

  Caden was getting ready to sit across from me with his flavor of the week, when Oliver barked in his direction, “I’m sitting here.”

  Caden threw his hands up in surrender, moving down, not even challenging him like he often used to in college.

  I leaned forward and hissed, “What do you think you’re doing?”

  Oliver slumped down, comfortably and even-toned. “I wasn’t done talking to you. I’ve been chasing your ass at these dumbass functions for years. You’re gonna listen to what I have to say.”

  Jade’s hand was in his lap, and it didn’t go unnoticed. I seethed with a jealousy I had no right to.

  Hunter ignored them both and captured my chin, pulling my focus to him. He kissed my lips gently again before our noses rubbed, not wanting to pull away. He whispered into my ear, “Two can play that game.”

  Jade and he had played this competitive game for years, even after college. Whatever one did, the other had to up the stakes. I never understood it, but it kept him distracted and detained when I needed alone time.

  A waiter came around, pouring various wines and bringing the first course of their famous pot stickers. I wasn’t hungry for anything. I felt the eyes of our curious friends watching this scenario unfold like a daytime drama. I had no choice but to eat the food, speak my lines, and act like everything was fine. I had spent my whole life pretending to be fine and bury everything I felt, just under the surface. I was good at it. This was second nature, no matter how much I didn’t feel like playing pretend.

  Oliver’s eyes were glued to me, and I shifted uncomfortably for a while.

  Finally, I snapped between our soup and the main course: “Fine. Spit it out. What do you wanna say that six years of silence didn’t already say for you?” My voice was more confident and louder than I actually intended it to be. The quiet was so apparent, as everyone stared at us for the answer—one I wasn’t convinced he even knew.

  In the silence, the embarrassment of pulling focus from Liz’s big night made the urge to vomit hit the back of my throat with a thick fist, choking me in a death grip. I pushed out my chair, taking my surly expensive glass of wine—one I couldn’t affo
rd otherwise—and made my way to the head of the long table.

  I leaned down, hugged Liz from behind, and whispered for only her to hear, “I’m so sorry. I’ll be a sane bridesmaid tomorrow. You look beautiful.”

  Liz nodded in understanding and squeezed my arm, just before I released her and headed inside to essentially run away one last time from Oliver.

  My mind was already made up that I wouldn’t be in this situation again. I couldn’t keep feeding my childish hope he missed me the way I did him, with regret. I couldn’t keep feeding my anxiety and embarrassment this way. It wasn’t worth sitting across from him, watching Jade paw him like she had won all along.

  I drank the rest of my wine in one big gulp, leaving the glass on the bar before heading for the door. I had no plan; my mind couldn’t think past getting the hell out of there. All I felt was sheer panic.

  The fresh, much cooler summer air wafted across my flushed face. It almost knocked the breath out of me. I felt a jacket cover my shoulders and relaxed, taking in the familiar scent of Hunter, always hunting me. He fished a joint and neon lighter out of the pocket of the coat he had placed over my shoulders. Without speaking, he lit the joint,, not giving one fuck who saw him. He was unapologetically himself—never watered down or fitting into anyone’s box. He had rubbed off on me over the years. I stopped apologizing for how I felt, and I learned to walk away from conversations that upset me. The rest of me was the old and newer versions of myself fused together.

  He didn’t measure out perfect amounts, versions of himself, and I drank that part of him in with excitement, just like how I felt with his rule breaking

  “You good?” That was his constant catch phrase—not, Are you okay? but, rather, meaning, Are you some semblance of good?

  “I don’t know what he wants from me. I gave him space. I was there for him. He ignored me. I left. Now he wants to talk like nothing happened. Why?”

  I knew Hunter didn’t have the answer any more than I did. He pushed his hand forward offering a blunt I always declined.

  My eyes were drawn to a noisy group of friends leaving the club, laughing at some inside joke. I didn’t even notice Oliver a few steps up from where Hunter and were standing, looking down at me, until I had finished watching the group walk down the street. Parking in Boston wasn’t the greatest, so if you drove, there was always a small walk to actually reach your destination.

  He cleared his throat to demand my attention. Before I even knew what he wanted to say, my eyes were building an involuntary wall of liquid, glazing over my vision.

  “How do you ask me what I wanna say, then run away before you hear it?”

  He slinked down the steps, like it was a hassle, and gave Hunter a scowl of disapproval. Hunter loved a challenge, standing up next to me and Oliver. “Close enough, Romeo.”

  Oliver’s laugh was easy, slicing through the bullshit of Hunter and I without effort. He didn’t know what we were, but whatever it was, he wasn’t threatened.

  “This isn’t your business. Why don’t you go talk to Jade? I’m sure she’s dying to see you again.”

  The way his voice sounded authentic made me wonder how glad she actually was to see him.

  Hunter stepped in front of me, pushing Oliver further away. I forced myself to turn around, leaving my back now towards Oliver, as I watched cars go by on the small side street and people enjoying the beautiful, cool, summer night. I couldn’t face him until I caught my breath, especially, if Hunter was abandoning me in this moment.

  As soon as Hunter stepped in front of me, my hands grasped his shirt, silently begging again. His fingers manipulated my jaw to the side before he kissed my neck. A part of me knew he was staring right in Oliver’s eyes while he did it too.

  “You made your point, Hunter. Now fuck off,” Oliver growled.

  Hunter’s warmth left my body. I bought a few seconds of time by pulling at the edges of the coat so that I could push my freezing arms into the sleeves.

  Finally, I turned around, hoping Hunter would want to be defiant in this moment and not leave. He had stopped, just a few inches from Oliver. “She’s mine now, and if you forget that, just think about how I fucked her right before we got here… She’s still just as good as you remember, buddy.”

  As Hunter passed him to go inside, Oliver purposely hit him with his shoulder, as his scowl turned deadly. His hands were safely in the pockets of his dress pants, nowhere near Hunter’s throat, the way they used to be when he spurred him on.

  Progress? Or maybe just having less feelings helped him to see more clearly.

  “So you two are fucking? What else?”

  He said it so bluntly that it almost blew me over too. I stood up straighter, taller, trying to seem stronger in my resolve. I still couldn’t bring myself to make eye contact with him, looking everywhere but into those beautiful bright eyes under the streetlamps and stars.

  “It’s not like that. We aren’t dating.”

  He came closer, leaning where Hunter had been before, against the thick cement banister boxing in the three stairs to the Supper Club.

  “What’s it like then, Layla? He fucks other people? You do? You’re falling for him?”

  He was throwing out questions like he needed the answers. We both knew he was stalling; this couldn’t possibly be what he wanted to say after six years.

  “It’s complicated, okay? The details aren’t your business.” I paused to let out a sigh of exasperation. “Is that what you wanted me to hear you say? You wanted to question my relationship choices?”

  His long fingers unwrapped a piece of gum before pushing it into his mouth. Everything about this moment felt sexually charged without trying. There was a familiar tension, as we danced around everything too real to talk about.

  “Not my business, huh?”

  “Don’t pretend to be celibate in suburbia. We both know Jade had her hands all over you upstairs.”

  Oliver fought a smirk, pushing his mouth instead to open on one side as he snapped his gum. “I’m not the one giving out generic answers, Layla. Even without him touching you, I can smell him all over you.”

  He waited for his intuition to insult me.

  “I tried to be celibate as long as I could… but six years is a long time to ghost someone, Layla. Fucking the evil I know is better than creating new problems.”

  My drowning eyes looked up at the stars, trying to hide how that still hurt, even after all these years. I took short breaths and still refused to let my eyelashes flutter, which would threaten to release my disobedient tears. When it came to Oliver, my tears were apparently not all drained like I thought. I so badly wanted to be the girl who could lie to herself, to not care, and to be forged from pure revenge, like a Carrie Underwood song. Instead, I was fragile, too honest… and the last thing I wanted was revenge.

  If I was really honest, I wanted to take back six years of separation.

  “Me ghost you? You never fought for me, Oliver. You let me leave without even a conversation.”

  “You think I’m happy with how shit went down?! I was graduating the same year I had to learn how to be a dad. I was a little fucking distracted. I needed time to figure shit out.”

  The angry words spewed from my mouth, “I gave you an entire year!”

  He exhaled instead of fighting back. He pulled out another piece of gum to chew instead. He shifted, no longer leaning but sitting, as he unbuttoned the first few buttons of his shirt and rolled up his dress shirt’s sleeves, exposing all the ink I remembered too well.

  He held out his hand, beckoning me closer. I scrunched my face in a refusal. His fingers still fingered the air trying to get me closer. Closer was both painful and desirable, but neither would fix anything. Against my better judgment, I took two steps closer—not nearly as close as he wanted, but a comprise—my current favorite pastime.

  “I don’t bite, Layla.”

  That same cocky smirk played with my emotions. Oh, he bit alright. He used to bite my shoulder as he
came, my thighs as he teased me, and my nipple rings when he wanted me to overheat with moans. He certainly did bite.

  “Just say what you wanna say, Oliver. Please. We both are sleeping with other people; that’s obvious. So, just say whatever it is you need me to hear already…”

  I didn’t recognize this voice. I hadn’t heard it since college, when I’d beg him to come to bed or to get coffee or to go to campus at all. It was desperate, and a part of me that I had made sure to measure less of after my second year of college fell apart.

  His hands reached for me, even though I was too far away. I shook my head and took a step backwards, as a futile warning sound not to come any closer got caught in my throat. He stood up anyways, closing the gap enough to reach me. I felt his hand on my cheek, warm and inviting, like he never lost me.

  “I’ve been chasing your ghost for six years, Layla, every time I have to go to these damn things. You always run away. Stop running.”

  The tears I had been willing to stay where they were, as I swallowed my feelings instead, finally broke free. The hot tears seared down my cheeks, which I knew were slightly red already. Embarrassment rocked through me in a painfully aware way. He knew I left every time we were in the same room, and now I wanted to run away even more. I didn’t want him to see how long I had held back this batch of tears.

  “I’m running away for good reason. You have a child with Jade, what am I supposed to do, Oliver? Hope your child has a broken home because of me?”

  He scoffed, took a step back and spit out his gum in the bushes lining the stoop. “You’re being dramatic. I was never gonna get back with Jade, kid or no kid. Stop making excuses…” He paused for a second and then said, “You haven’t ever met my son. You’re the only one who hasn’t, Layla, and the person that should have.”

  I felt all the same, uncomfortable emotions I did when we all discovered he had a child. I didn’t know where I fit in. I didn’t know how to be there for someone, but still separate myself enough for us to both have some deemed space. I didn’t know if Jade would turn it into a competition. Part of me felt bad for her, I didn’t want her to think anyone wanted to take away her child, no matter how much of a good idea that probably was.