by Elena Monroe
What game was this other than giving into her hair colored stereotype? She saw me last week and asked me for help dumbing down Macbeth. Suddenly out of a button up I looked familiar? My ripped jeans and vans scream an ex-boyfriend of her sister? And why did that seem to motivate her.
I heard Layla’s voice behind me, ordering a drink, and I shut my eyes tightly wondering what she heard, thought, and even the conclusions she must have been drawing up in her overactive mind. I took a risk moving in a way that allowed us all to be included.
“Layla, have you met Liz’s sister?”
It was the furthest I had ever reached to talk to someone; I wasn’t proud. Her eyes swept over Addi up and down with every intention to use the sass I inspired, but instead it was all directed towards me: “I’ve met her.”
She shifted her body and eyes to Addi and said, “This isn’t the time or place. Right now, your sister doesn’t need to deal with what’s going on here.”
I placed down my empty glass on the bar top, as the warmth cascaded down inside me, feeling like a breath of fresh air, just before grasping Layla’s elbow and keeping her from running away from me. She didn’t look at me in a way that made me feel whole anymore; it made me feel broken.
“What are you talking about?”
She pulled her elbow from my light grasp. “Don’t play dumb, Oliver.”
Her jab cut deep. I didn’t forget saying those exact words to her once before, she remembered. That was enough to prove to me that she never truly moved on.
She didn’t love Hunter.
I looked at Addi thankful for her annoyance, because it was forcing Layla to not safeguard her secrets. I pulled Layla aside by her elbow, giving us a modicum of privacy. I let go of her elbow to cross my arms and try to not seem eager. I relaxed my eyebrows into my normally hard-to-read expression.
“Again, what are you talking about?”
She rolled her eyes, letting her head drop to one side, her shoulder. “Everyone knows she’s sleeping with a teacher at Amherst. She was only in Boston because that same guy was here. Such a weird coincidence, huh?”
Even I was shocked, and that was a feat to accomplish. I mentally skipped through the faculty I worked with, profs from when I was a student, even any new hires. It wasn’t unheard of, but somehow it felt unreal being Liz’s kid sister.
“You can’t be serious, Layla. I drove up here with that nightmare, Jade. I don’t need any more crazy.”
Her mouth collapsed into a frown, clearly she didn’t outgrow overthinking. I didn’t bother arguing with her. We had enough of those interactions when we fell apart in college. When it got bad enough, when we were too exhausted to use our words anymore, our eyes would say all the hateful things we couldn’t take back instead. We moved around each other, barely speaking, and when the urge hit, she’d let me spread her legs, like nothing happened. For those moments, we were us.
She thought I was distracted, didn’t care anymore, and bored, thanks to my expressionless face. In reality, I was barely getting from one orgasm to the next until we felt like us again.
I refused to go back to the place where arguing replaced conversations.
I swiftly walked past everyone and captured Liz under my arm, pulling her into my side, and leaving for the game. Layla could argue with Hunter if she wanted to.
Ha nging out with my sister’s lame friends wasn’t my first choice when I took the train into Boston. I didn’t have many choices these days; I took what I could from everyone around me without complaints. Something was better than nothing, right?
I was only even in Boston because he would go home on the weekends to his wife and kids. Losing my grasp on him for two days a week really ignited a selfish part of me, even though I knew what I had signed up for. My refusal to accept he had a family and I was simply the other woman must have rubbed off on him; even on weekends he was convincing me to meet him at various safe houses (where no one would catch us).
Like I said, I took what I could get and without a complaint from my cherry red lips.
My sister wouldn’t stop texting me, while my married man was filling me in the restaurant bathroom, after I teased his zipper all through dinner. I knew exactly what it was about before even reading the emergency strength text message. She was finally gonna drop the bomb that she was pregnant.
By living in the dark shadow of your gold standard sister, your eyes would adjust, and suddenly you could see right through bullshit.
I knew that she had been pregnant for months. I was guessing about three, but that wasn’t the point that irritated my bones, like sandpaper. It was that she thought I was dumb enough to not have noticed her lack of wine, her dewy skin that only made her more perfect, and that Leon had become even more protective seemingly overnight.
I may be blonde and look like a wet dream reality, but I am not dumb. Treating me like I was… well, you could say, that was a pet peeve of mine.
Without a bar, this announcement bullshit would have been a yawn. At least her friends were hot. I downed a shot with my back towards the room before I switched to wine, the more acceptable drink, since I was still under 21 and it was easily more forgivable. I scanned the room, wondering how these people left such a reputation at Amherst College. They were all boring now.
I vowed to grow even more wild with age. Each year, I was devoted to giving even less fucks than the one prior. By the time I was sixty years old, I would push through crowds, cut lines, and stop faking apologies… hopefully not orgasms.
Ollie, my sister’s ex, looked like someone who knew how to make a girl come. I mean, just from looking at him too long, my clit ached against my red lace panties, and that was coming from someone who had just been pushed over the edge so hard that I had bit his shoulder to keep quiet—earth-shattering good sex.
Why else would I entertain a forty year old with a boring wife, bratty kid, and no future? Most girls went after profs for better grades; I didn’t care about any of that. I was a theater major and only in college to make my overbearing parents happy enough to keep their focus on Liz instead.
I wasn’t bitter. Their approval was the last thing on my list of desires.
Liz linked arms with me, just like she had done with her friends, keeping me close and casting her slanted eyes my way in her judgmental way. “You can come to the game, but just don’t get drunk. I can’t escort you all the way back to campus.”
Rolling my eyes was my favorite pastime. It paired perfectly with my grey eyes that bounced off my fake tan and platinum hair. “Behave? Okay, I get it, Mom. How are you guys infamous for being rowdy? I feel like I’m walking and napping at the same time.”
“We aren’t kids anymore. You’ll graduate and understand.”
Ollie caught her off guard by pulling her into him and draping himself over her. God, he was walking, breathing sex. He looked like the kind of trouble that was on my master list. Ever since I realized nothing I did would ever outshine Liz—no amount of trophies or awards—I created a master list of all the things I wanted to try, but wouldn’t let myself.
• become a theater major
• have an affair with a married man
• get arrested
• do molly with a millionaire
• take strip classes
• get married in Vegas
I wasn’t allowed to be anything they didn’t approve of. After those reservations died, I breezed through my list of so-called sins, and every day I added more.
Responding under my breath to no one in particular, “I never want to be boring.”
Liz was already being ushered downstairs as I lagged behind everyone, as we switched venues to Fenway, where apparently we were going to a baseball game—one that warranted my sister telling me to behave beforehand.
The Uber we took parked down a side street, which was more like an alleyway. I was going to have to catalog it as a secret entrance for future reference. Everyone filed in, while Liz held the door open and gave me an impati
ent glare.
“I’ll be there in a minute, Jesus, Liz. I can find my way to a sky box.”
If this was her mothering senses taking over, then fuck my life I was cutting her off after today. I didn’t need two moms. If I was being honest, I didn’t even need the one that gave birth to us both, since she so obviously favored Liz anyways.
I hung back, pulled my phone out of my crossbody, and lined up a reason to escape if I got bored to tears. I unlocked my phone and read the messages from Mr. Married without responding. He needed to miss me more. The heavy door sounded again, and I watched a devilishly handsome guy saunter out, peering both ways before lighting his joint. His piercing eyes were somewhere between gray and a washed-out blue, that had some flecks of green that made him seem unreal when he looked at me.
“We good?”
My knees buckled in the slightest way, like a warning that my mouth was open and I was about to trip over it. I shook my head as I backed up into the opposite wall, using it as a support system.
“Smoke away. Actually, do you mind?”
I held out my hand without moving, expecting him to fork over his salvation in a stick. I could use something to level out my annoyances. He stepped closer, examining me like he knew me, but he couldn’t place me. No matter what I did, or how much I changed, there was always this resemblance lingering.
“Liz’s sister. Duh.”
I plucked the joint from his fingers and took a long inhale until my lungs burned. I released the smoke into the alleyway. His features were scrunched up in surprise that I even existed.
Same thoughts exactly, pal.
“I didn’t know she had a sister.”
“Funny, neither do our parents.”
He squinted, still looking dumbfounded and intrigued by the idea of me. “So what’s your deal?”
It was more straight to the point than I was used to. Normally, I was the one rolling my eyes and cutting to the chase. I looked up and made eye contact, which was my test of who could handle my truths. If they broke eye contact after one honest, real sentence, then I’d lie about the rest.
“I go to Amherst. I’m in Boston for a short weekend trip. My robotically perfect sister wouldn’t stop texting me that I had to participate in tonight’s events, while my inappropriate hookup was fucking me in a public bathroom… because he’s married. So, here I am. Think that covers it in one long sentence.”
He didn’t even blink, as I regurgitated everything on the forefront of my mind. He stepped closer into my space, just looking at me like I wasn’t a freak or jealous younger sister, or even a whore for using “fucking” and “married man” in the same sentence. He looked down at me, my average height (mostly legs) was no match for his.
“Hmm… I like you. You’re fucked up.”
I laughed at his almost compliment. It wasn’t boring. I took the fat joint from him again and tightly wrapped my cherry red lips around the neat end. “Are you friends with Liz? An infamous Amherst Sinner?”
I couldn’t place the expression; it fell somewhere between disgusted and jealous. Before he even responded, parts of me felt like I knew him—parts of me didn’t even have to hear his voice to know the answer.
He felt familiar because all his in-betweens matched mine.
“Liz, yes, we’re friends. Sinner? No thanks. Sounds like a lame-ass boy band.”
A smile made my full lips seem pouty without trying before my fingers covered my laughter.
He faced me again, “I’m Hunter.”
I handed him his joint back, after passing it back and forth a few times. “Addi.” He held the door open tossing the end of his unsmoked joint across the alleyway before his hand waved in a quiet “ladies first” way.
I let Hunter lead, since I didn’t know where he came from or where anyone was. It didn’t help my eyes were glued to the messages Mr. Married sent. My nails tapped the screen as I furiously texted back to his endless requests to see me again tonight.
Me: Can’t. Busy. Made other plans. See you Monday, prof.
I didn’t have plans until just now. Those plans were tall, dark, and dangerous, leading the way. Quickly my mind ran over my master list trying to fit him into a delicious sin I could check off. He didn’t fit in any, except the most dangerous: fall in love.
C aden’s big night pitching was going smooth so far, but I wasn’t paying attention. I was stuck to how Oliver was glaring at Hunter like he violated a secret pact—a pact they never had and an unclear claim to me.
I desperately wanted to confess the last five years and pray a cleansing was enough to put us back together. My heart knew better. Once something was broken, or shattered in this case, putting it back together would only create a distorted version that everyone would have to be okay living with.
The only thing we were okay living with was five years of regret.
Hunter brought me over a plate with sliders and nudged me to eat. He always knew what I needed, even in high school, he could read a fleeting glance and translate me instantly. It was one of the more redeeming traits he had. I didn’t need him to take care of me when Oliver and I had ended in college, nor did I ask even silently with my body language. It was a part of him I quickly followed back to his upbringing. His parents divorced, and he was forced to become the man of the house. Then, he was shipped off to his dad’s and pulled away from his sister. He got used to taking care of people, until those people forced him into a smaller role. That’s when the acting out at school really started, and eventually his role changed again: juvenile delinquent.
He leaned into me so only I could hear: “How much does he know, Layla?”
The warmth of his voice sent tingles down my neck in a trail of goosebumps. I knew exactly why he was asking. The past five years were filled with experiences Hunter commandeered, and not all of them were as innocent as my freshman year of college anymore. Hunter was there for all the struggle, all the mess, and all the spilled emotions that left the floor of my mind stained.
There was one memory in particular that stood out, and the stern look in his orbs told me we were in agreement. Just remembering it made my body tremble with too many emotions. Two years ago, we made a mistake—one that outweighed every other mistake I had made and one I was sure that was comparable to the ones Oliver made.
Our time apart really was just me rubbing my innocence until my raw, irritated skin reflected some kind of history of mistakes. My skin was scratched and bruised now, but mentally I was being crushed under the emotions I was prepared to carry around.
His hand hovered the small of my back, swiftly changing topics. “What’s her deal?”
Without following his eyeline, I knew he meant Addi. She was hard not to notice—all legs, bleach blonde hair, and perky everything, except her sly attitude. I blew out hot air, while I blew out my animosity for her. Who could be consistently late for all their sister’s important moments?
“She seems like a spoiled brat.”
I watched Hunter’s gray eyes soften into a more blue hue than his normally undefined color, and his tongue swiped his bottom lip like he was thirsty. He was thirsty, but it was for the blonde bombshell across the room. I couldn’t even blame him. She was drop dead gorgeous and just a freshman in college. What was she gonna look like when she fully matured into a woman? Probably even more beautiful.
He peeled his gaze away from her and turned towards me, taking the plate of barely eaten food. He sat down on a stool, while his hands guided me between his legs. His worried face, strong hands, slanted eyes, and now serious mouth all looked into me, instead of at me. “We’ve never really talked about it…”
He trailed off, and I thought maybe if we hadn’t talked about it already, then here wasn’t the right time. I scanned the room at the Sinners, who were laughing and emotionally invested in Caden’s win, while I was consumed in myself. I had been consumed by loving Oliver from a distance and distracted by Hunter. I was the exact shell of the same girl I was in high school—barely living
, yet alive. A switch in my mind had been flipped, and suddenly all my sadness turned into pure anger—a kind of anger that couldn’t be caged.
“Hunter, just stop right there. I know you still see Jade, and I never wanted to know what that meant.”
He threw his head back, saying my name to try to inject, explain, but I pushed through. I trampled his words with: “I didn’t want to label us, because that means hurting you, and I owe you more than that, a lot more. You took care of me for so long. Hunter, I care about you so much, so much more than I thought possible after everything.”
His hands cupped my face, and the tears formed in my eyes and threatened to break past my lashes. Even in this moment, he was still filling that role of my protector.
“Layla. I… don’t say that. He’s the same guy, Layla. He never came back for you. He came back for them, his friends, the Sinners…”
A single tear fell down my cheek, rolling out any discomfort I felt and now marking a track of relief instead. I finally said what I should have a long time ago to Hunter. Our friendship means the world, but I was never going to love him the way I did Oliver.
His thumb brushed my tear away, as he sniffled up any emotions leaking out of his stone cold expression. I whispered into his chest as he examined me.
“I think you should go after Liz’s sister. You and I… we aren’t each other’s.”
He kissed my forehead and faced the empty countertop we were leaning against, like he couldn’t look at me anymore. He was shaking me off, and part of that process was out of sight, out of mind. I slipped away without saying anything to comfort him. It was a clean break in the dance we had been doing for years; now we could be just friends. I wiped any remaining wetness from my eyes and left the room before anyone noticed me.
The hallway was red, bare concrete, and still contained the breath of fresh air that I needed while I debated pulling it together or leaving. The anger inside of me still grew. I slipped back into the girl whose knuckles were permanently white. A rattle in my chest formed that was making my hands shake. I saw the door open slowly, and I made sure my back was towards the opening, still recovering and taking bigger breaths to prove it.