by C. M. Owens
“What the fuck are you talking about, Britt?” he asks in what appears to be genuine confusion.
“I think I want to do this, even though it’s irrational, but—”
“You think you want to do this?” he asks, taking a step back as he makes a scoffing noise.
“See? I’m communicating this wrong. I need time to think so that I don’t say the wrong things to express myself in a non-attacking nature. You’re too defensive and certain of yourself.”
He runs a hand through his hair, shaking his head. “What do you feel, Britt? Stop overthinking it and just answer yes or no. Do you want to be with me?”
“I do. I just need to ensure the unhealthy problems are addressed before we come to that agreement,” I go on, reaching for the right words.
“What unhealthy problems? Things like how you have to go to the Sterlings to ask them if what you say is fucking okay? You can think for your-fucking-self,” he says, then exhales like he’s trying to calm himself down as his jaw tics. “You don’t need them to analyze the shit you say. What problems?”
“You can’t just completely change the terms of a decision of this magnitude and expect an immediate answer with no preparation. Conflict is an area I’m not skilled in, and I handle situations with inappropriate finesse, especially to those who don’t listen well.”
“I don’t listen well?” he asks on a bitter laugh. “If you want to say I’m not worth your time, Britt, just say it. Don’t make up bullshit excuses that—”
“When I say stop, you push,” I interrupt, pointing out exactly what he’s doing. “You want my life story after I told you I just want to be who I am today instead of being seen for the sad girl I was. I gave it to you—”
“In small pieces, Britt. You don’t expose anything. You keep everything locked away. There’s a fucking problem. I do listen. You just don’t talk.”
The rain comes down harder, forcing me to raise my voice as thunder crackles overhead and lights flash all around us as cars continue to weave around our loop.
The panic tries to rise in my chest, but I work to push it down with every single mental tool at my relevant disposal.
“It’s all an unimportant blur that I don’t want to dig around in just to appease your desire to see how broken I once was, Base. I existed. That’s it. I moved on in a healthy way that you don’t approve of, because you still want to save me. Just like you did when you showed up with a picture where I had ‘sad’ eyes.”
He laughs bitterly again, shaking his head.
“I can’t believe this. You are seriously trying to make it look like I’ve been a shit guy to you these past few months, when—”
“No,” I say quickly, some of that panic bubbling out as inconvenient tears prick my eyes. “I’m just not expressing myself right if that’s what you think I’m saying.”
“You box yourself inside this emotionless void where conflict can’t touch you if you don’t let it. That’s why you’re not good with conflict, Britt. You’re sabotaging this just because you’re fucking scared.”
“I am scared,” I tell him honestly, my voice cracking a little. “Just give me a second to write all this down and—”
“Just email me whatever the Sterlings tell you to say to cushion the blow to my defensive ego,” he says as he backs away, his expression so cold.
“Base, that’s not—”
“There’s not really any sense in getting into farther conflict about it, Britt,” he states flatly as he backs up more, putting his hands in his pocket as he steps out into the rain, letting it pour onto him. “It’s doomed from the beginning if we need third parties involved just to start a damn relationship. It shouldn’t be this hard. I need to be the one you talk to about us.”
My lips part, but I don’t even know what to say in counter to that. When I just stay silent, he glances away.
It shouldn’t be this hard.
“I’ll have Sticks swing by and grab my things. It was almost great, Britt. I hope you at least got all you wanted out of it.” His tone is disbelieving, cold and nothing at all like him.
That panic settles on my chest, and I just freeze, not speaking, afraid of only making it worse as more tears sting my eyes. He gives me a disappointed, sad look before he turns and sprints off into the rain, and I just stare as my clutch tumbles to the ground.
I open my mouth, but no argument comes to the tip of my tongue while he disappears into the folds of the downpour.
Absently, I lean down, pick up my clutch, and start walking in the opposite direction toward the building. Toward the chatter. Toward the lights.
Everything’s neither here nor there, just sort of existing around me. My right heel sinks into the ground, so I pull my foot out of it and abandon the shoe where it’s stuck. The left heel forces me to repeat the process when it sticks as well.
“Ms. Sterling, are you okay?” a man asks as he runs toward me.
I guess I’ve made it back. Is he holding an umbrella over my head as he walks me the five remaining feet to the covered entrance? That seems irrelevant by this point. Surely I’m already soaked.
I give him an absent nod of gratitude as I head inside. People part for me, slowly turning to stare as I head toward the laughing crowd in the back. Did Maverick tell a joke?
It’s the end of the night, so this is the part where the couples get really sweet toward each other. I usually leave by now.
Maverick’s eyes widen on me in what appears to be surprise. It shouldn’t be surprising. I’ve been here all night.
Everyone else turns to look at me, and it goes silent as the happy expressions turn into the same look Maverick has. It becomes increasingly evident they’re expectantly waiting for me to speak.
“Base drives me places most of the time so that we can spend more time together,” I tell them, gesturing behind me as I stare at the champagne on the table. “I don’t think he’s taking me home tonight,” I add as everyone remains silent.
The water drips from my hair, and my pretty dress is indeed drenched all the way through. I’m starting to feel the wet chill now.
“I’ll dry myself as well as possible before sitting in anyone’s vehicle,” I add as a single tear rolls down my cheek, my gaze falling down to my bare, wet feet that have shards of broken grass blades on them.
“Fuck’s sake, Britt. I’ll take you home. What’d he fucking do?” Dane asks me with a worried tone as Rain moves out of his lap.
Dane stands, moving toward me, but I take a step back and halt his advance.
“I said all the wrong things, and I couldn’t make it better,” I manage to say in a clam manner.
My attention wanders to the slice of chocolate cake on the table that I never ate because I was saving it for Base. The cake is always the best part. I was going to share it with him.
“I already knew I wasn’t ready for a functioning, normal relationship, so I couldn’t give him what he was asking for. I was emotionally prepared for this to end; it’s just earlier than expected,” I add, still staring at the cake.
It’s the best chocolate cake in Sterling Shore, and it always gets completely gone so fast at these things. He really would have liked it.
Dane exhales heavily as he drops back to a seat.
“I’ll take you home,” Harley says, drawing my attention to her as she gives me what is decidedly a pitying look.
“It’s not his fault. He wasn’t unreasonable. I’d appreciate it if no one said anything to him about this,” I decide to say, just to ensure no one mistakes this as hard feelings. “I’m just not to the point in my life where I’m capable of even starting a real relationship. I still need help communicating, and that’s an understandable issue for him that simply can’t be rectified so abruptly.”
Harley comes toward me, but I drop my clutch to the table.
“Can I have the rest of this?” I ask, picking up the champagne bottle.
“There’s not much left,” Kode tells me as I swirl the fourth
of a bottle. “Let me see if they have more in the—”
“I don’t need more than that. More would be a really unhealthy life choice,” I state blandly as I grab my slice of cake as well.
It shouldn’t go to waste.
Kode sits back down, and they all stay still and quiet, staring at me the way they do Bananas when she’s cornered and likely to do something really insane.
I’m not going to do anything insane.
Harley picks up my wet clutch, tucking it under her arm.
Turning, I carry the cake and champagne toward the doors again.
Harley wordlessly follows me out, and her car is valeted to us before she even has to draw her ticket.
I have no idea who opens the door for me as I sit down, but I grimace when I remember I’m soaked through.
“I forgot to towel off. I’m sor—”
“It’s fine,” Harley says softly as she reaches over and pats my hand. “Really, completely, and truly fine, Britt.”
I nod, grateful she’s so flippant with her vehicle’s care, as she starts driving us away.
A shaky breath comes out of me as another tear follows the same warm path as the last.
“You went into this assuming that by the end, you’d remain friends, because you built a friendship,” Harley says in a quiet voice as I take a sip of the champagne. “The build-up and the sex was fun, but it’s the friendship that made you walk around with perma-grin, Britt. I know you well enough to know that much.”
I just nod, not disagreeing.
“Did he leave the door open for friendship?” she asks me.
His words instantly replay in my head, and the weight on my chest gets heavier.
“He’s sending Sticks to come collect his things from my house. That would imply he’s actively going to avoid running into me. I don’t think we’re going to be…” I let the words trail off when my voice goes rasp and another tear falls.
“Then you didn’t emotionally prepare yourself for this, because he wasn’t supposed to just walk away. It’s okay to cry, Britt,” she goes on as the first choked sob escapes me, and my shoulders start to shake as the weight on my chest presses down harder.
I drop the cake in my lap and quickly press the back of my hand to my mouth to muffle the next choked sob. But then they start hitting one right after another, until I can’t even muffle them anymore as the tears start pouring down as steadily as the unrelenting rain outside.
I feel the car pulling off the road and slowing as I double over and cover my face with both hands, the champagne tumbling to the floor and rolling as it spills what’s left.
Harley’s arms come around me, pulling me to her, and I move so that my face is against her shoulder as I cry. We idle on the side of the road as the pain in my chest intensifies, constricting until it’s physically agonizing to breathe.
“It’s not supposed to h-hurt this much,” I say, my words slightly muffled.
She hugs me tighter. “The human element always fucks up the plans in your head, Britt.” She pats my back gently as the console digs into my hip. “You’re just as human as the rest of us.”
That seems to make it okay to cry harder, because that’s what I do. I shake my head, forcing deep breaths in between sobs, as I try to calm myself.
A streetlight illuminates the interior just enough for me to see the cake I’ve smeared all over her leather and carpeting.
“I’m so sorry,” I say around a hiccupped sob as I wipe the tears out of my eyes.
“I have an excellent car detailer. Don’t worry about a little cake and champagne.”
I finish drying my eyes, and I take a deeper, less shaky breath as things start stacking back into place in my mind.
“I should pack his things and have them sent over. It’ll be better that way. It’s healthier to move on as soon as possible instead of dwelling on disappointing breaks,” I tell her, quoting my psychologist.
“It’s okay to dwell for a night or two,” Harley tells me softly. “You don’t have to—”
“It’s going to take longer than tonight to move on,” I interrupt, understanding her line of conversation and where it leads next as I slowly get ahold of my emotions.
“The human element is messy,” she goes on.
“Krysta owes me a favor. I’ll just have her drop it off for me,” I carry on, as Harley makes a small breath of frustration.
But she puts the car in gear and pulls back into traffic as I take steadier and steadier breaths, staring absently at the taillights in front of us.
“Don’t shut the door completely after one fight. I’ve learned people can fuck up and still be in love. Love’s what makes them stupid in the first place,” she presses.
“Even though we get along great when ignoring our differences, it still doesn’t make us any less different, and working through the resulting issues of that will leave me in an unhealthy state of constant compromise because his expectations—however reasonable—are too high for me to reach at this point in my life. We were always going to end,” I say to her, though it’s mostly just me reminding myself.
“It was fun while it lasted,” I add on a quieter note, finally understanding that expression as well. “But it was always going to end,” I say again as the tears slowly stop leaking at last.
With shaky hands, I pull out my phone.
“Don’t call him yet, Britt. Let it breathe a few days,” Harley says as I lift my phone to my ear.
“Britt?” Bo asks. “I just heard. Are you okay?”
That spares me from having to explain things.
“I’m fine. It’s fine. It was inevitable,” I tell her as the last of the emotion leaves my voice.
I see Harley shoot a frown in my direction.
“What do you need from me? Pizza? Sad movies? I’ve got it all. Or is this just a temporary pause moment that’s being blown out of proportion?”
I thought I was spared…
“It’s an impasse. I’m not ready for a relationship. I’m not calling about that. I was wondering if I could use the favor you owe me.”
“Of course.”
Harley shoots me an indecipherable look I barely take note of as we pull up in front of my house and she turns off the car.
“I want to schedule a meeting with your father.”
Harley groans, and I hear Bo make an uncomfortable noise as well.
“Don’t lash out at his career, Britt. Telling my dad to never sign him is a little cruel. I know your emotions are probably—”
“I want to help his career. Not hurt it,” I tell her, really confused about why she thinks I’d do something like that.
Harley now looks confused.
“He won’t let Tag call in any favors,” Bo tells me like she’s warning me. “This is also a bad idea.”
“It’ll probably piss him off more,” Harley says, essentially echoing Bo.
I put the phone on speaker so they can hear each other and not have to say similar things unless they find it pertinent.
“We’re no longer sexual partners or friends, so it doesn’t really matter if he’s mad at me.”
“Horrible idea,” Harley tells me.
“I agree with her, Britt.”
“It doesn’t really matter at this point,” I explain to them as I step out while the rain has slacked and go to unlock my door.
Harley follows me in, and Bo finally makes a sound that resembles one of defeat.
“I’ll call him. As the daughter of a stubborn, oblivious, somewhat selfish artist with a really big heart, can I give you some advice?”
“Please,” I tell her as I start pulling out packing boxes and handing some off to Harley.
“If you’re actually trying to help his career, take me with you to see my father and let me guide the conversation. He’s a complicated man, and you’re about as good with conflict as I am.”
“There’s a reason he hasn’t signed him yet, isn’t there?”
“Knowing Dad, there’s a l
ong list of reasons. He’s a very critical man of others, but he doesn’t realize it. I’ll guide the conversation, and then you do what you do best.”
“Recite factoids on relevant topics?” I guess. It’s my one crowd pleaser with our group and helps keep tensions down when they try to rise.
Bo makes a small sound of amusement. “No. You just be you. He’s in town for another week, but I’ll make sure he meets us tomorrow for lunch. I’ll text you the place.”
“Thanks,” I say quietly.
“I’m glad you called,” she tells me softly before hanging up.
Harley has finished making some boxes and she gives me a pointed look.
“Meddling is never good,” she assures me.
“We’re not together, so there’s nothing at risk,” I remind her as I head to the bathroom to pack up all his things.
I snatch several things, tossing them all into the box. As I grab up his toothbrush, I stop. I’m not sure why the tears spring to my eyes or why the pain starts in my chest again, or why my hand starts to shake the blurrier my vision gets.
It’s just a toothbrush.
It’s an irrational, completely unhygienic, and disturbingly unhealthy reaction, but I grab a zipper baggie and put his toothbrush in it before stashing it under the sink. I’ll throw it away later.
Chapter 34
BASE
I stare at the wall as the ball bounces back to me, and I catch it before throwing it again.
“I know. I know. We didn’t expect this tour to fall through though, and—”
Sticks stops talking, likely because Dane is telling him he’s glad I’m finally away from his sister and I’m never stepping foot in his club again.
“They’re not going to draw the same crowd we do. You only booked them because we were supposed to be gone, and now—”
Sticks stops talking again, eyes fluttering shut as his jaw tics.
“Yeah. I get it. Thanks anyway,” he says as he hangs up and slaps the wall with a curse.
“I told you Dane wouldn’t hire us back,” I say before throwing the ball much harder.