Bitter Exes

by Addison Moore

  His features harden. Those lantern green eyes of his spear into mine, and the cloying tension feels as if a corpse just landed between us.

  “Yes.” His voice is even-keeled, too controlled for it to ever be safe. “I did that. I did it all, but only because you rode me like a steer, branding me with your accusations until I couldn’t take it anymore. Before we ever set foot into the party that night, we both knew we were over. You told me I was free to feel up any floozy I wanted. But only after you berated me for doing so for six solid months prior. You were relentless in your unfounded persecutions, and I was convinced you hated me. I had somehow made you miserable, and you wanted out. Your trivial, constant puckering about who I was looking at, where I was spending my time, how I might have felt about other girls was eating both you and me alive.” His voice hits a crescendo, deafening me with its blow. Lane had torn the lid off Pandora’s box, and there was no way to put it back on again.

  A moment bounces by, and it’s just Lane and me continuing an argument we started last year.

  “How dare you.” My voice shakes with anger. “You make me sound like a fucking lunatic.” It’s so quiet in the room. No one dares take their next breath.

  He winces as if I struck him and, honest to God, I’m about to.

  “You weren’t a lunatic.” His voice softens. “When are you going to realize you were negatively affected by the fact your parents split up? Your own brother agreed with me, Violet.” His voice is hitting its upper register once again, and a boiling rage fills me. “Dammit, I love you. I loved you then, and I love you now. You needed help, but you refused to get it. I was a walking target, and you took hit after hit.”

  An incredulous huff comes from me. “Oh, poor Lane! You’re just the little victim in all of this, aren’t you?” His jaw clenches as his eyes turn crimson on a dime. There you go. Turn on the waterworks and really make me look like a grade A ass.

  “You said you cheated.” He swallows audibly as he looks to me with that hard gaze for answers.

  Shit. I’m seething. So very pissed. My God, why did I ever spew that lie? And look where it got me? Forget Wen siding with him. Everyone in the room is going to side with him. Unless, of course, I spill the truth.

  “I lied.” I give a little shrug, my expression still stone-faced and angry. “I said that to hurt you the way that you hurt me.” My muscles begin to shake as I edge my way to the other end of the sofa. Sitting next to Lane Cooper is the last place I want to be. “I wanted you to feel an ounce of the pain I went through.”

  He huffs a dull angry laugh. “Congratulations, Vi. You achieved your goal.” A lone fat tear glides down his cheek, his eyes still so laser-focused on me with their rage. “All of them.”

  I shake my head at him in disbelief. “If it wasn’t for this stupid experiment, you would have never come back to me. You would have been with one girl after the next, and you would never have thought twice about what we had.”

  “Stop!” he barks so loud my bones shake. His face is red with rage, his jaw distended with fury. “You are not going to bait me with that again. I won’t let you. You’re the only girl I’ve wanted, Vi. You know that.”

  Oz’s mic pops. “Then why did you cheat, Lane?” His tone is annoyingly slow, and I’m suddenly moved to throttle everyone who is a part of this social disaster.

  My heart thumps unnaturally, and the room gives a slight spin.

  I can feel my dirty little secret bubbling to the surface. And what the hell. If we’re going to have it out, I may as well lay all of the ugly cards on the table. “I paid a girl to kiss him.”

  The crowd takes in a collective gasp. Lane’s eyes grow so enormously wide I’m terrified for him and me. But a part of me feels a deep sense of relief. After all this time, I held that secret in my arms like a boulder. I didn’t want to hold it anymore. I couldn’t.

  Someone runs up the side step and is tackled by security. “Violet, enough!” I glance over to see Wen shoving a security guard away as he takes a voluntary step back.

  “No, it’s okay.” I give a ragged sigh. The world drowns out in a blur as tears of my own start to fall. “I pulled Lane into the party. We were arguing.” I look to Lane and straighten, shaking back my hair as a slight breeze cools me. “You hated me at that point, and I knew it. I placed bottle after bottle of beer in your hand that night. You’re right, Lane. I baited you.” My body explodes in a cold sweat as my voice booms from my lips. I can’t believe I’m doing this. The entire world will hate me now, and more than that, Lane will hate me for sure. It’s as if I’ve floated out of my body and am watching all this unfold from the ceiling. “We went at it one final round, my accusations, your exonerating rebuttals—and that’s when Collette Jameson walked into the party. I knew she was hot for you—even though she had a plus one of her own—and ever in need of cash, so I thought I’d bring the two together, and boy did she go for it. And so did you.” I rip the mic from my shirt, and my blouse falls open, exposing my bra, and I couldn’t care less. “I don’t care what anyone thinks about me.” I glare out into the crowd before looking back at Lane. “Least of all you.”

  I take off running down the stairs, past Wen and out the side exit, welcoming the icy arms of winter as they do their best to strangle me with their glacial grip. Tears come fast, and I don’t hold back.

  “Vi!” Wen catches up to me and pulls me in between the English building and a row of bushes. “Don’t move.”

  “Violet!” Lane’s voice booms as he bolts out of Finley like a missile. He takes off for Canterbury as my name echoes across campus all the way there.

  “You’re not going back there tonight.” Wen wraps his arms around me with a defeated sigh. “You’re coming to Greer with me.”

  And I do.

  I leave with Wendell, and I’m pretty sure I’m never coming back to Leland ever again.

  Lane

  There have been moments in my life where I have wanted to run, hide in a hole in the ground, and never come back. A tomb would have been fitting. But that night, after the disaster in Finley Hall, all I wanted to do was find Violet and make her feel safe. When it all went down originally, I knew something was up with Collette Jameson that night. She had hit on me before, and I was always quick to deflect it. I knew her boyfriend well and didn’t want any part of the drama she was looking for. More so, I didn’t want to feed Vi’s illusions by even speaking to Collette. But Vi is right. I had beer after beer, and Vi and I had argument after argument. We were already through at that point. The drunk version of me didn’t fight Collette when she threw herself at me. Hell, I was too jacked up to move properly at that point anyway. Collette kissed me. She was the aggressor. And as soon as I could, I moved her off me and tried to leave. But, of course, it was too late by then. It had been too late before Collette landed her mouth over mine as well.

  As soon as Vi admitted to setting me up, my heart froze. It shattered like glass, and I couldn’t see, think, or feel a damn thing. And that lasted about five solid seconds. I knew instantly I forgave her. It was at that moment I understood how much help Vi really needed. Her insecurities had her crawling out of her skin and out of her mind. I never had the urge to cheat on Violet. I never would. Those girls I slept with after the fact were a weak attempt to push through the wall my heart and mind had put up, and it didn’t work. I still wanted Vi in the worst way. I wanted everything we had prior to the horrible unzipping of our relationship. We had it all, and I knew that somehow we could get it back.

  * * *

  Wendell texted me that night to let me know Vi was staying at his apartment and apologized for the fact she had inadvertently gas lighted me, but the descriptor felt far too harsh. I understand that when their parents announced their split, both Wendell and Vi took the news hard and both dealt with it in their own way. Violet needed help. We needed couple’s therapy, anything that could have pulled us free from the quicksand that eventually pulled us under.

  Vi had me believing so many th
ings that weren’t true, I was starting to doubt my own perceptions. I’d see a girl walking by and wonder if I was attracted to her. I grew terrified to say hello to anyone of the opposite gender in fear Vi would pop out of the woodwork and declare she was right. And then, that night at the party, that I desperately wished I had stayed away from, I showed up. And Vi didn’t hand me bottle after bottle. I was there willingly drowning my sorrows. The more she rode me, the more I drank, but what I should have done was seen the desperation in her eyes—felt her pain from a different perspective. I could have spared us both a lot of heartache if I did. And when Collette cornered me in that room and slammed her face against mine, I was too weak to fight it. No sooner did she stick her tongue in my mouth than I came to my senses and pried her off me, but it was too late by then. We had an eager audience, two lime green eyes focused in on us with terror. The look on her face was outright heartbreak personified, and I don’t think I could ever forget it. I saw Vi’s crushed spirit in my dreams.

  Vi lit into a shouting match that let everyone in a three-block radius know that it was over. It wasn’t. I knew it then, and I know it now. You don’t leave someone because they’re injured, and at that point Vi was family. She was mine—still is. She just needed a little help getting over the razor-sharp hump of her parents’ impending divorce. But time widened the distance between us. A few sorority girls came my way, and I tried my hardest to do just what Wen suggested. Move on. It didn’t work. It just made everything ten times worse. I should have gone home, to Snow Valley, to Violet, and even though it’s a little too late, that’s exactly what I’m doing today.

  Sophie suggested I give Violet some space, so aside from a few apologetic text messages, I’ve done just that. We both miss classes the rest of the week. I’ve got a game tonight, and unfortunately, there’s no getting around that for me. But Seth lets me know I’m off the hook for Saturday’s date. Vi has made it explicitly clear she won’t be showing up. So I head to Snow Valley on my own. And as I drive by Main, at the corner of Rose Bloom, I spot a brand new dental office belonging to Dr. Jenson McNeal. Without putting too much thought into it, I park across the street and stare into the mirrored glass window where Jenson is probably three fingers deep in somebody’s mouth. For a second I imagine him groping Violet, three fingers deep in far more nefarious places, and it takes everything in me not to bolt over and throw him right through that mirrored window. A part of me can’t stand Jenson because he’s basically a clean slate. Even though I know I’m a better fit for Vi, they have no dark history together. There is nothing stopping them from sharing a shiny bright future. But with Vi and me—the past will always be there, lingering like a ghost ready to haunt us when we least expect it. As much as I hate to admit it, someone like Jenson McNeal might just be able to snatch Violet away from me. And that, right there, is the final knife in my chest.

  I start up the engine and drive home, the house in which I grew up in, just a half mile from the Hathaway home.

  I bound up the porch and give a gentle knock before letting myself in. I walk through the foyer and find my parents in the living room. Mom’s lying on the sofa with her bare legs wrapped around my father’s thighs, and he’s got his pants around his ankles. His shirt is disheveled, and it takes me far too long to process what’s going on.

  “Shit,” I hiss as I spin around in a fit.

  “Dane, get the gun!” Mom wails. “We have an intruder!”

  A commotion ensues, and I take a few voluntary steps into the safety of the foyer in the event my father produces a .45.

  “I’m not an intruder!” I shout, unsure if I should bolt and simply let them think it. Honestly, I don’t know what would be worse at this point—a little breaking and entering or their only child catching them in action.

  “Son?” my mother cries as the shuffle of feet start in this direction.

  “Lane, is that you?” My father dashes in front of me with his shirt still unbuttoned down the front, his pants hastily zipped with his boxers hanging between the teeth. His eyes are wide with disbelief. “My God, you’ve about given us a heart attack!”

  Mom pants her way around my father and looks up at me with her hair every which way, her lipstick smeared clear halfway across her face. Her clothes are on, shirt on backwards and inside out—points for getting back into her jeans in one piece.

  “My goodness Lane, come in. You’re acting like a stranger. What brings you home today? You didn’t call. And is that a black eye?” She shoots me an accusatory look, and I get the message loud and clear. Gone are the carefree days of walking in like I live here. I don’t. It’s as simple as that.

  I wince at the two of them. The last thing I want to do is remember this moment. “I’m fine.” I dab my eye with my fist. “Life just sort of careened out of control. I just needed to step away from Leland for a minute.”

  Mom grunts as if she’s about to vomit. “Oh my God! He’s quitting school. Do something, Dane. I’ll get the coffee on. I think I have a pound cake in the freezer.” Mom takes off, inconsolable.

  “I’m not quitting school!” I shout after her, and she shouts thank heavens from deep in the kitchen.

  “On second thought”—she trills with relief—“I’ll make a fresh batch of brownies.”

  Dad frowns as he offers a quick pat to my shoulder. He’s an older version of myself, far more frown lines than I ever want to acquire, but at the rate I’m going, I’ll have him beat before the month is through.

  He slaps a seat next to him on the same couch that he and Mom were squirming over, and I opt for the recliner instead.

  “Let me guess.” He offers that affable smile he’s known for. “Girl trouble? You regretting that social mix-up you’ve gotten yourself into? I hope Violet is faring better than you are.”

  That ridiculous TSE motto bumps through me, the odds are in your favor! It’s becoming crystal clear they’re not.

  “Vi’s not faring any better than I am.” I don’t know if that’s entirely true, but if she feels a fraction of the pain I do, I know she’s hurting.

  Dad leans over, elbows on his knees, that look of laser focus pointed my way. Dad has always had a way of making you feel as if you were his greatest concern. And I believe I am at the moment.

  So I tell him about it. I start at the beginning—the very beginning, back in the beginning of time. Violet and Lane B.C. I tell him about how hard Vi took her parents’ split, how it led to ours, about the infamous party kiss. Collette Jameson’s need to turn a quick buck meets Vi’s need to pin her boyfriend to a wax board. I tell him about how much I still love and need Vi. About our failed experiment.

  “I tried to live without her.” My voice breaks. “And I can’t. It’s as simple as that. I need her in my life. She belongs with me. I’m not angry or upset with her. I never have been. I was hurt. That’s all. I want to help her crest her paranoia and help her trust me again. Trust people.”

  Dad’s clear sage eyes don’t leave mine, but his jaw moves back and forth as he considers all I’ve had to say.

  “I knew something wasn’t right with the way you two split. You told us very little. It was out of the blue. And you’re right. The two of you were peas in a pod before everything exploded. How about counseling? Would she be open to that?”

  “She might be. But I may never find out. After what happened last Wednesday night, I don’t know if she’ll ever speak with me again. I wouldn’t blame her if she just wanted to put a period on that phase of her life and call it a day.”

  “Do you think you can do that?”

  “Hell no.” I wince because I don’t usually indulge in expletives around my father. “There will never be a period there for me.”

  “Looks to me there’s only one thing left to do. Speak with her. Get her to hear your side of things. What you said a moment ago, you need to tell her. Let her know you’re not angry. That you don’t blame her. Tell her that you love her and that she’s the only one for you.”

  “Sound
s exactly like what I need to do. Now the obstacle is to find her. She’s at Greer University, or at least she was. Staying with her brother. I’m pretty sure Wen isn’t letting me anywhere near his sister.”

  “Wen has a good head on his shoulders.” He glances out the window a moment as he considers this. “But he is a big brother. Big brothers can be fiercer than a grizzly.”

  “Don’t I know it.” I can still feel that blow he gifted my eye.

  We chitchat about life until my mother reappears with fresh homemade brownies, hot coffee, and milk, and it feels as if everything is as it should be. But it’s not. And it won’t be until Vi is in my life again.

  * * *

  I make it back to Leland in time for the game. I spot Rowen and Braden up front. No sign of Sophie or Vi, not that I was expecting Vi to show. And if she did, I would have been too inflated to play. I don’t go over and say hello to the two of them, but once the game is through, and it was a massacre—I don’t think Leland has ever suffered such a loss—the two of them catch up with me on the court.

  Rowen slaps me over the shoulder. “That sucked, dude.”

  “Yeah, well, welcome to my year.” I nod to Braden.

  “Get yourself cleaned up.” Rowen gives me a shove toward the locker room. “We’ll be right here waiting.”

  And once I get out, there they are, as unwanted as when they first arrived.

  Rowen offers up another slap to my shoulder, and this time he leads me right out of the gym with them. We head wordlessly over to the Underground, where the music is pumping, the girls are losing their minds to some guy belting away on stage, and a waitress just walked by with a plate of sizzling fajitas.