by Grace James
Connor had been screwing around behind my back this whole time, and Blake had clearly taken great pleasure in rubbing his sexual exploits in my face the past two nights…
So, again, what the hell was I waiting for?
If they wanted to beat each other to a bloody pulp over me, I figured I’d do the world a favor and leave them to it.
I wasn’t about to wait around to be summoned back into their presence like some pathetic dog begging for scraps.
I was done.
I turned on my heel and started to stomp along the hallway. I got maybe twelve feet before I heard the ominous sound of a door opening behind me.
“Amy, wait!” Blake commanded sharply.
“Leave me alone,” I shot over my shoulder, not slowing my pace for a second.
“Amy! Dammit, wait!”
I heard the sound of his footsteps gaining on me and I knew he was running, it didn’t take him long to reach me. He grabbed my upper arm and pulled me around to face him.
“Don’t touch me!” I shouted, jerking my arm away from him.
I wouldn’t have stood a chance of pulling out of his grip if he’d really wanted to keep hold of me, but he let me go. “Okay, okay, I won’t – but just wait. We need to talk.”
“There’s nothing to say,” I snapped, then sniffled, those damn tears would not stop falling.
“Fuck, yes there is!” He rubbed the back of his hand over his mouth and it came away bloody.
“No –”
“Yes! What you just said in there? We need to talk about it.”
I shook my head violently. “No, we don’t – we aren’t. I don’t want to talk to you about any of it!”
He looked completely bewildered. “Why not?”
“Because it doesn’t matter anymore! Don’t you get it? I loved you, Blake! And I know I threw it away, and I hate myself for that, but none of that matters anymore!”
He stepped closer to me and took my shoulders in his rough hands. “The fuck it doesn’t! Of course it matters –”
I shoved against his chest, but he wouldn’t let me go. I started to beat my hands against him, screaming at him to get off me, like a crazy woman having a breakdown – which I guess I pretty much was by that point. All of my anger and hurt poured out, and it was directed at him. “How could you do it?” I sobbed. “How could you?”
“How could I what? YOU ended it! I didn’t do anything!”
I was ugly-crying now. No-holds-barred toddler sobs. I wasn’t fighting him anymore, but my hands were pressed flat against his chest, holding myself as far away from him as I could. “How many groupies have you screwed this week?”
Realization dawned and his mouth worked silently for a second. “…I thought –”
“You made sure I saw you. You wanted to hurt me. I never thought that you would ever deliberately hurt me, but you did –”
“You told me we were a mistake,” he hissed.
“Well, you proved me right. Clearly it was a mistake.”
His face darkened with pain.
I pushed against his chest again, but it was like trying to move a mountain. “Let me go.”
“No.”
“Let me GO!” I screamed.
He held me for a second longer, his eyes tormented, and then he relaxed his grip on me. I pushed away from him and stepped back out of his reach.
“Princess,” his voice cracked as he tried one last time. “I love you – please, we can fix this.”
I choked down another sob and shook my head. “No, we can’t. It’s too late. Nothing can fix this, it’s too broken. Just go back to your groupies, Blake, because I’m done with you.” I turned away before I could see the impact of my words, running full speed towards the exit and out into the night.
118
I unlocked my apartment door quietly and stepped inside. A quick glance around told me that Mel wasn’t home.
I knew I should probably shower, eat something, go to bed…but instead I shuffled over to the couch and flopped down, curling myself into a ball as the tears rolled down my face.
It was eighteen hours after everything fell apart and I was finally home, but my head and heart were still in Canada.
When I left the arena, I had jumped straight into a cab and gone to the airport. I didn’t even take my luggage with me; it was still locked in the van and so I had just abandoned it there. I had to wait in the airport all night, eventually boarding a plane at 2PM the following day. The cost of the plane ticket had almost wiped me out financially, but I didn’t care. My finances were the least of my worries.
All of the emotions that I had been trying desperately to hold in check over the past couple of weeks were just bleeding out of me simultaneously.
There was a hole in my heart where Blake should be. I knew that I wasn’t going to just be able to get over him. I didn’t just lose a lover; I lost one of my best friends too.
And I didn’t see how I would ever be okay again.
119
I was still lying on the couch when I heard familiar voices outside the apartment, followed by a key scraping in the lock.
“...I just wish we knew that she was – hey! Amy! You’re here! Oh my God, are you okay?” Mel was rushing across the living room towards me with Hayley hot on her heels as I sat up and wiped my eyes, blinking blearily as my friends barreled into me and enveloped me in a group hug.
“We heard what happened,” Hayley said as she squeezed me tight. “We’ve been so worried, no one could get hold of you!”
“Why didn’t you call us?!” Mel demanded, even though she was rubbing my back soothingly.
“I’m sorry,” I mumbled as they released me and settled on the couch either side of me. “My phone died hours ago.” I stared down at my lap, scared to meet their eyes, dreading the disappointment or anger or whatever I might see there. I had no idea what happened in Canada after I left and I almost didn’t want to know, but I forced myself to ask, “Is – um, so you’ve spoken to Derren?”
“Yeah,” Hayley said quietly.
“Are they – I mean, is there still a band?”
She snorted. “Yeah, there’s still a band, although apparently Blake and Connor messed each other’s faces up pretty good after you left. Derren said that Aiden went apeshit! I think things have calmed down a little now though.”
I winced and hung my head.
“This isn’t your fault, Amy,” Mel said firmly.
“Oh, no, I’m pretty sure it is my fault,” I said. “I was such an idiot.” I glanced at Hayley. “You must hate me.”
She looked genuinely shocked. “Why would I hate you?”
“You and Connor have been friends since high school –”
“Just because we’re friends doesn’t mean I can’t see him for the enormous dickwad that he is! And don’t think I haven’t told him that too.”
“You have?”
“Of course!”
“Oh...” I shook my head. “But it wasn’t all him –”
“Oh no!” Mel interrupted. “Don’t you dare defend him, Amy, or I swear to God –”
“I’m not!” I said quickly. “I promise. Connor – biggest dickwad on the planet. I’m in total agreement. It’s just…there’s more to it than that.”
“The Blake part?” Hayley asked gently.
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. Since when did the mere mention of his name have the power to make me cry? Oh yeah, that’s right, since he flaunted his groupies in my face and broke my heart.
“Do you wanna talk about it?” Hayley asked.
I took a deep breath. “Do we have alcohol?”
She grinned slyly and got up off of the couch to rummage in a bag that she had left on the floor. “Thought you’d never ask,” she said, brandishing two bottles of wine.
120
We sat on the couch, each with a full glass of wine in our hands, and I told them everything. I did skim over most of the naked parts, but apart from that I was completely hones
t.
Finally.
“So when I say it’s not all Connor’s fault, I’m serious. I had feelings for Blake long before Connor and I broke up, even though I didn’t even realize it at first.” I finished.
The girls stared at me in silence for several seconds.
“Wow,” breathed Hayley. “I had no idea.”
“Me neither,” Mel said. “I thought you and Blake were just a fling.”
I smiled bitterly. “Turns out we were.”
Hayley reached out and squeezed my hand. “I’m so sorry, Amy,” she said sympathetically.
I tried desperately not to start crying again. “Thanks, but it doesn’t matter now anyway. It’s over.”
“Is that what you really want?” she asked quietly.
“…no,” I admitted, closing my eyes briefly. “But how can we be together now? After...well, everything? I can’t just forget what he did.”
Hayley nodded sadly.
“For what it’s worth, I think Blake really does love you,” Mel said.
“I think he does too,” I admitted. “But if his version of love is going out of his way to hurt me, then I think I’ll pass.”
“I understand. But just remember that he was hurt, too,” she said gently. “Maybe ‘hurt’ is an understatement. A guy like Blake doesn’t fall in love easily.”
I stiffened. “So I deserve everything I got, right? He was hurt, and I hurt him, so whatever he did is totally excusable? Is that what you mean?”
“No, that’s not what I’m saying –”
“What are you saying then?” I snapped.
She sighed. “Just that maybe he had his reasons for doing what he did.”
“Yeah!” Hayley said. “His ‘reasons’ were that he couldn’t keep his dick in his pants!”
“Exactly!” I exclaimed, irritated that Mel wasn’t immediately condemning Blake’s behavior.
“Okay, who’s the Psych major here?” Mel demanded. “I have a theory.”
“Here we go,” muttered Hayley. “If you weren’t always right, you’d be annoying.”
Mel rolled her eyes. “I’m just saying, his reasons were more than that. We’re talking about a guy who has always slept around, and has never shown any interest in being exclusive with anyone – until you. And he tells you he loves you and believes that you love him back, only to be told less than two days later that you regret what happened and you’re going back to your ex-boyfriend. And then he had to actually see you with Connor. He was probably devastated Amy. People lash out when they’re hurt.”
“That’s actually a really good point,” Hayley conceded.
“Hayley!” I shrieked accusingly.
“Oh, I’m not saying you should forgive him or anything,” she clarified. “He acted like a total caveman, but now I can see why he reverted to form.”
“See?” Mel said, a little smugly. “The groupies and all of that, it’s just who he is, it’s how he deals.”
I stared back and forth between the two of them. “So, let me get this straight. Connor sleeps around behind my back and we all agree he’s a ‘dickwad’. But Blake sleeps with other women pretty much in front of me, and – poor him – he’s just working out his issues?” I spat scornfully.
“Yeah,” Hayley said.
“No!” Mel said at the exact same time.
Hayley and I looked at her questioningly.
“Well, okay, yeah, kind of.” She rushed on at my eye roll, “I haven’t finished my theory, there’s more –”
“Oh goodie,” I snipped, chugging back another mouthful of wine.
“Want to hear it or not?” she challenged.
“Go on,” I muttered grudgingly.
“Okay, so if he was only doing those things to lash out at you, then maybe now you’re not there, he’s not.”
“Not what?” Hayley asked. “Banging everything that moves?”
“Yeah,” Mel said simply.
I narrowed my eyes at her. “So you think that now I’m not there, he’s just going to stop going to Groupie Land?”
Hayley snorted and ended up spitting wine on herself.
Mel shrugged. “If he stops, then you’ll know that it was all for you.”
“That is the most fucked up thing I’ve ever heard,” Hayley murmured.
I couldn’t agree more; I slung back the last of my wine and held out my glass for a refill.
121
I felt the delicious tickle of his warm breath on my neck, just behind my ear. At the same moment, I felt calloused fingertips skimming up my thigh, over my hip to my stomach, where the flat of his hand came to rest. I became aware of the heat of a large, solid body behind mine. I wriggled backwards in the bed, wanting there to be no space at all between us. As I did, I felt the pressure of something long and thick settle against the curve of my ass. I couldn’t help the little sigh that escaped my lips.
“Morning, Princess.” Blake’s husky whisper came from behind me.
“Hey, you,” I murmured, turning my head, needing to see him. My eyes flickered open – and he was gone.
Tears sprang to my eyes as I pulled the comforter up over my head and wept into my pillow.
The dreams were killing me.
Every time I closed my eyes, he was there and every time I woke up, I felt like I had just walked away from him again. It was like ripping off a band aid repeatedly only, you know, way worse.
I didn’t know how long I had been in bed but I knew it was a long time. I only got up occasionally to go to the bathroom and, when the pain in my stomach became unbearable, to eat; other than that, I wallowed in my self-pity.
I knew it wasn’t healthy, I knew it wasn’t getting me anywhere, but I couldn’t help it. It was like the life had been sucked out of me.
The only thing I did do was look at my phone. Actually, if we’re being technical, I used my phone to cyber-stalk Blake. Almost every day, there were new pictures of him uploaded onto the band’s social media accounts. Pictures of him posing with fans after shows; pictures of him and the guys outside stadiums, or at sound check, or playing on stage in front of thousands.
I studied them all.
And I was pretty sure that Blake was unhappy too. He just looked different. It took me a little while to pin point exactly why he looked different, but then one day it hit me. I was looking at a picture of him and Kane standing outside a stadium, underneath a glowing billboard showing a publicity shot of the band. In the picture they were both smiling, but Blake’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. In fact, his eyes, which had always been expressive and full of life, looked almost dull.
I know this makes me sound messed up, but the idea that maybe Blake was suffering at least some of the agony that I was going through, made me feel less hollow; almost like the connection between us was maintained by mutual pain.
But in the absence of any other sign at all that he was still thinking of me, I clung to those pictures like they were a life preserver.
Because he hadn’t called. He hadn’t texted. He’d made no attempt to contact me at all. And despite the fact that I had essentially told him to leave me alone until the end of time, I was still desperate to hear his voice again. I knew that made me weak and pathetic, but that didn’t make it any less true.
I was a walking romantic novel cliché; wallowing in my pit of despair and torturing myself with pictures of the man responsible for breaking my heart.
And I was powerless to stop it.
122
My bedroom door burst open and Hayley bounced into my room. “That’s it! Time to get out of bed!” She chirruped.
“No,” I mumbled, pulling the covers over my head.
Seconds later, she ripped my comforter off of me and dropped it to the floor.
“Hey!” I shouted, sitting up angrily.
“We need to be at work in less than two hours,” Hayley said, crossing her arms over her chest in an attempt to look threatening. “And God knows when the last time you showered was, it’s prob
ably gonna take at least an hour to comb out the knots in your hair, so get out of bed and let’s get started on project Wake The Hell Up.”
“I put in three weeks’ vacation time right before finals,” I grumbled. “I don’t need to go back to work for, like, four days or something.”
“Uh, no, Miss Mopey, you need to be back at work today, your three weeks are up.”
“What?” I squeaked in panic. “They can’t be!”
“They really are. You’ve been cooped up in this apartment for long enough. Your mourning period is over.”
“I’ll call and say I need more time off,” I said petulantly.
“Too late,” she replied smugly. “You need to give at least a week’s notice to do that.”
“Then I’ll quit.”
“And live on what exactly? Or, wait, are you gonna go stay with your parents for the rest of the summer?”
I narrowed my eyes at her. She knew that my parents were in Europe. They planned their trip when I told them that I wasn’t coming home for summer break. I had explained that I had gotten back together with Connor and was going on tour with him for a while, then after that I planned to stay in Las Vegas and work. In fact, they probably still thought that I was on tour with him; I had only exchanged a few messages with them since I got back, and in none of them had I even hinted that anything was wrong – I didn’t want to make them worry and ruin their trip.
The look on Hayley’s face said that she knew which direction my mind was headed. “Thought so,” she said triumphantly. “Peel yourself off of those icky bed sheets and haul your ass into the bathroom.”
With no other viable option, I did as I was told. When I caught sight of myself in the bathroom mirror, I winced. I looked like hell. Pale face, dark circles under eyes that were red and puffy from crying, hair like a birds nest – imagine Whitesnake circa 1985 and you’re somewhere close.
Suddenly, a shower seemed like a very good idea.
When I emerged from the bathroom twenty minutes later, I saw that Hayley had laid out jean shorts and a tank top on my bed. I got dressed and then went to find her in the kitchen where she had made sandwiches.