by Ella Maise
“That apartment I came to, that’s Dad’s, isn’t it?”
Licking my lips, I nodded.
Slowly, his brows drew together. “Dylan? Fuck, does Dylan know about all this? He was living there…how did he—”
“No, he doesn’t. Your dad gave Dylan the apartment keys only because he thought I was moving in with my friend, but it didn’t happen and he didn’t know. Then Dylan came and…it doesn’t matter. He had no idea, and he still doesn’t know. He thinks I’m sleeping with Mark, and Mark wouldn’t even let me tell… I couldn’t even—” All of a sudden, my voice broke and I couldn’t go on.
Dylan, I thought. Dylan, Dylan, Dylan…
Ever since he’d walked out of that apartment, something heavy had settled on my chest, like heartburn but worse, because no amount of apple cider vinegar or lemon juice or baking soda would fix it. My heart was broken, and I was so angry, so damn angry—at myself, at Mark, at my mom…at anything and everything.
So, when Chris asked for more information, I told him everything that had happened the last few weeks, how I’d argued with Mark about telling Dylan, and then everything that had happened back at the apartment that night, how Dylan had left thinking he was correct in his assumptions.
I wasn’t surprised when tears started to race down my cheeks as I was went through the stories. It felt like my entire heart was full of tears, and I felt alone. Without him, I felt so alone. I didn’t see him in the mornings. I didn’t get to (not so) secretly watch him work out. I didn’t see him in the evenings. I couldn’t watch him when he was working on a paper, focusing all his attention on his work. He worked hard, and he looked sexy while doing it. I didn’t get to see his smile, the way he looked at me, the way he smiled at me, just for me. I didn’t get to see his face that first moment when he walked in after a long day of training and saw me sitting on the floor, retouching photos, didn’t get to see how happy he looked to find me there. I didn’t get to feel his arms around me, crushing me. I didn’t get to hear his voice, nor did I get to eat pizza with him or watch a movie and fall asleep on him, with him.
I wiped off my tears, my face flushing when our waitress handed me more napkins to clean myself up and asked if she could help with anything. Chris thanked her for me then asked for coffee for himself and tea for me.
When I was no longer a blubbering mess, I apologized to Chris.
“He hit you?” he asked, his tone neutral.
I held the warm mug and acted as nonchalant as possible. “It’s fine.” I didn’t tell him that neither my dad nor my mom had ever hit me.
Two hours had passed, and I was drained—drained of words and tears, of energy and emotions.
“I’m going to be honest with you, Zoe…I have no fucking idea how I’m gonna deal with all this.”
“Can I just ask for one thing?”
“Sure.”
“You have one more game, December 26th, right?”
“Yeah, the Cactus Bowl.”
“Can you not tell Mark, or let him know that you know until after it happens? I don’t want him to take it out on Dylan. I wanted to tell you because I was done waiting, and it’s not like he is going to do anything to mess with your future even if—when he learns about this. I’m not even sure if he can do anything to mess anything up for Dylan, but I just don’t want to be the reason for—”
“I can’t promise you that.”
I met his eyes and nodded. That was understandable, but I didn’t think he’d throw his friend under the bus.
The silence after that stretched into minutes and we both sat there, not speaking to each other, just sipping tea and coffee every now and then. When his phone started going off in his pocket, he took it out and shot me a quick look before answering.
“Dad.”
I stiffened.
“Yeah. I’ll be there.”
Just like that, their conversation was over.
“I need to leave,” he explained.
“All right. Thank you for listening to me. I don’t know what I’m feeling right now, but I hope you don’t think the worst of me. I just couldn’t wait any longer and as soon as I can—after the game, that is—I want to talk to Dylan and explain things. He blocked me so I can’t reach him, but I’m going to talk to him somehow. I thought you needed to know before him.”
After that, we had officially reached awkwardland. He insisted on paying the bill then offered to drop me off wherever I needed to go. I told him it wasn’t necessary then we just stood in front of his car. Neither one of us knew what should come next.
“I can give you my number,” I offered, a little hesitantly. “You don’t have to call me or anything if you don’t want to, but if you do end up wanting to talk again…about other things…or anything…”
“Yeah, sure.”
His response didn’t sound promising, but I’d take what I could. After all, I already knew we wouldn’t be besties right off the bat, or maybe ever, really.
After he got in his car and left, I stood at the corner and called Jared.
“Did you talk to him? How did it go?” was the first thing out of his mouth as he answered.
“I did, and I’m not sure. At least he listened. We talked for a couple hours and now it’s up to him.”
“How do you feel? It finally happened, Zoe. I can’t believe you talked to your brother.”
I felt like something was missing, but I didn’t tell Jared that. I assumed I’d feel like something was missing for a while longer. Instead, I told him it had felt invigorating, and I was happy no matter happened next, which was true to some extent.
“Are you coming back here now? Mom made spaghetti and I saved some for you. She has the night shift at the hospital again and Becky is already in bed, so we can talk all night if you want.”
My eyes filling with tears, I sniffled into the phone. “Thank you for letting me stay this last week, Jared. I don’t even know how to thank your mom, and I just—”
“Oh, come on, sweetheart, don’t tell me you’re crying. You’ve thanked us a thousand times already. Becky loves you, and you’ve been babysitting and playing with her, so trust me, my mom is the one who is thankful to have you around. Did your big, bad brother break my best friend? If he did, I’m gonna kick his ass tomorrow. Just say the word—though I won’t touch his face because you guys have some excellent DNA.”
My lips stretched into a smile and it felt weird, as if I hadn’t laughed or smiled for days.
“I’m not crying, just a little emotional. I think I’m gonna walk back so I can get it together—a little fresh air should help. I feel a little weird after finally telling him everything, and I think I’ll grab some pizza on the way if that’s okay with you. I’m sorry, but your mom’s cooking…”
Jared laughed, and the sound made my lips tip up even more.
“Get two,” he ordered. “I’m starving.”
“On it.”
I started walking with the phone glued to my ear.
“I’m thinking we should get drunk and celebrate tonight. What do you think?”
“Celebrate what?”
“We survived finals—what more do you need as an excuse to get drunk? Also, you talked to your brother, and I’d say that’s a good reason, too. We’ll get drunk and talk boys.”
“My favorite pastime,” I muttered. “I can talk about your boys though. That should be fun.”
“We’ll talk about Dylan.”
I sighed and pushed my free hand into my jacket pocket. It wasn’t cold, but every time I thought about Dylan, a little shiver worked its way through my body and my heart gave an extra little kick.
“I do like talking about Dylan,” I admitted.
“I know you do. We’ll talk about how fine he is and what fine friends he has that you’re obligated to introduce me to once you two kiss and make up, and then…”
I have no idea how long the walk back lasted, but I did it with my best friend’s voice in my ear, and I was finally breathing a little easier.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Zoe
January 1st
Chris: Did you talk to Dylan?
Zoe: No, he blocked me. Why? Did he say something? Did you say something?
It had been a little over two weeks since I’d told Chris the truth, and while you couldn’t exactly say he was treating me like his long-lost sibling, he hadn’t completely ignored me either.
We’d only talked twice after the day at the diner, but it was still something. The first time he’d called me, it was just to give me a heads-up that he had talked to Mark, but not his mother; I didn’t think he was ever planning on telling her. I appreciated the warning. I’d already gone ahead and blocked Mark while I was staying with Ms. Hilda, but it was good to know what was going on. It had been a three-minute conversation—yes, I’d checked—nothing long, but that didn’t stop me from grinning like a fool for an hour after he hung up.
The second time was when I’d sent him a short Happy New Year text. He responded asking me what I was doing, and we ended up texting back and forth a few times. It wasn’t anything deep, but I was happy. He didn’t seem to talk much in general, at least that was the vibe I’d gotten from him when he came to the apartment with JP, so it didn’t surprise me when he didn’t suddenly turn into a chatterbox with me either. I chattered enough for the both of us anyway. I even managed to get a smiley face from him, which was the highlight of my day. Pathetic, right?
I blamed Dylan.
Okay, fine, not really, but I was missing him like I hadn’t seen him in years when it had actually only been a few weeks, and it was easier to blame him for everything since he was the one who’d walked out of that apartment instead of trying to take me away with him. The plan had been for my father to come spend New Year’s in L.A., but something came up and he couldn’t make it; that was Dylan’s fault, too. Then there was the time I couldn’t get pizza from my favorite pizza place because their pizza oven wasn’t working. What kind of pizza place has a faulty oven? All on Dylan. I’m thinking you can see the pattern there. All I knew about him was that right after the Cactus Bowl, he had headed home to San Francisco to spend the short break with his family.
Chris: It’s a good night to go out. Maybe you’d like to have a drink somewhere.
I read the text once. Then a second time, slower. Was he asking me to hang out?
“Read this.” I handed my phone to Jared, who was working on a sketch on the coffee table. “He’s asking me to hang out, right? I’m not reaching or anything?”
Jared gave me an amused look and handed my phone back. “Nope. That’s an invite, all right. Write him back.”
“You’ll come, too?”
He returned his attention to his sketch. “Sure. If you don’t mind me flirting with your brother, count me in.”
When he gave me a hopeful look, I grinned.
“Yeah, maybe not this time.”
He chuckled and threw one of his pens at me.
“You little cockblocker.”
A little excited and a lot nervous, I texted back.
Me: I’d love to. Where do you want to meet?
Chris: Uh…not with me. I think you should go by yourself.
At first, I didn’t get it, and I felt like crap, but after reading it a few times, my heart started beating faster and I jumped up from the couch, my laptop almost meeting an untimely end.
“What’s happening? What is it?” Jared asked when I bounced in place like a lunatic, one hand over my mouth, the other clutching my phone to my chest.
“I think Dylan is back,” I shrieked as quietly as possible, so I wouldn’t wake Becky. “Chris just told me I should go have a drink somewhere by myself. I think Dylan is at the bar. He’s back!”
Having trouble containing the bouncing, I let Jared steer me into his room. “Didn’t you already go to the bar to look for him though?”
“I did, but maybe he’s back now?”
“I thought you were angry at him.”
“I am. I’m so so angry at him.”
“Why are you still bouncing?”
“Because I can’t wait to kick his ass.”
Jared put his hands on my shoulders and steadied me. Apart from my flushed face and the grin I was sporting, I must’ve looked pretty normal. “You good?” he asked.
I took a deep breath and exhaled. “Yeah. What am I going to wear?”
“You sure you’re good? You’re still trying to bounce. Stop it.” He pressed harder on my shoulders.
“I’m excited, let me bounce a little—and now I have to pee. Find me something to wear, okay? I need to leave ASAP because I’m not sure if he’s working or is just there with Chris. I need to get there before he leaves.” I stopped in the doorway and glanced back. “He’s back, Jared.”
My best friend’s face relaxed and he smiled back at me. “I know, sweetheart. Go pee, and then you can go kick his ass.”
I stood across the street from Jimmy’s and tried to contain everything I was feeling. Excitement, dread, panic, happiness, hope, anger—you name it, I was feeling it. After hugging Jared and promising I’d keep him updated on whether or not he’d have to come pick up my pieces, I’d left, and the closer my Uber had gotten to the bar, the harder and louder my heartbeats had gotten.
So, I chose to stand there like a weirdo to give myself a few minutes to collect myself. When I was walking across the street, a couple stumbled out of the bar, heads low as they whispered, hand in hand. For a split second, my stomach dropped and I froze in the middle of the street, because I could’ve sworn I was seeing Dylan with another girl—but then the girl smiled up at the guy and the guy backed off enough that I could see he actually looked nothing like Dylan.
A car blasted its horn and I hurried across the street.
Before pushing open the heavy door, I closed my eyes and inhaled fresh air. With one final mental push, I was inside.
You wouldn’t believe how loud and clear I could hear my heart pounding in my ears, how I couldn’t hear anything but my own freak-out. The bar was full as it always was; it didn’t matter a bit that it was a Monday. A guy bumped into me as he was heading outside then I forced myself to take a few steps in and look around to see if I could find Dylan or Chris.
I was wearing one of my favorite white tees, black jeans, black boots, and a thin jacket on top, only because Jared had forced me to. I was burning up with stress.
Then I saw him, and suddenly I didn’t know how to breathe, what to do with myself…I didn’t know anything. I swallowed and took a step toward the bar where he was talking to another bartender. Head angled down, lips stretched into a small smile, he looked larger than life to me.
I swear my heart skipped a beat—maybe a few—as I got closer to him. I have no idea how I managed to put one foot in front of the other, but it could’ve been that I was floating. All the bar stools were taken, so I waited…and waited, patiently, never taking my eyes off of him. If he’d just look up and a little to the left, he’d find me standing right there, but he didn’t, and it made it easier for me to creep on him as he poured drinks.
When a girl jumped down from one of the stools, a little away from Dylan, I rushed to it before anyone else could take it. I hoisted myself up, placed my hands on the bar top, and then took them down. I squared my shoulders, sat up straighter, and pressed my hands against my stomach to calm the butterflies rioting in there.
Everything was fuzzy around me. Dylan was all I could focus on, and a massive earthquake could have gone off at that moment, yet I still wouldn’t have taken my eyes off of him. My heart had missed beating like this, for him, only for him.
“Can I get you something?”
Jumping in my seat, I tried hard to focus on the bartender who had spoken to me. I remembered seeing her the last time I was there, but I couldn’t come up with a name. Had I even heard her name? Frowning a little, I
leaned forward.
“Uh, yes. Thank you,” I whispered. “Beer. Whatever is on tap, please.”
“I’m gonna need to see an ID.”
I reached into my back pocket and handed it to her. When I glanced Dylan’s way, I got caught up in his gaze, and I stopped breathing altogether.
How necessary was air anyway? Pretty overrated, if you asked me.
I watched his jaw harden, his mouth become a straight line. We couldn’t look away from each other. He looked pissed off, maybe rightly so, and I didn’t know what he saw when he looked at me. I had thought I was prepared to storm in and yell at him, but in reality, I wasn’t prepared to see him at all.
My emotions were at war. I’d missed him so much—so much—yet I couldn’t do anything about it…not until we talked, until he gave me a chance to talk, though I wasn’t going to leave it up to him.
Then Dylan was walking toward me and I was already breathless.
The moment he made it to where I was sitting, he reached for the beer the bartender had already placed right in front of me, right next to my ID. I hadn’t even noticed it. Guessing what he was about to do from his angry strides and ticking jaw, I reached for my beer before he could, sloshing it on the bar top in the process.
I could feel my legs shaking when he put his palms on the counter and leaned forward. I had a moment of hesitation on what to do—lean forward, wrap my arms around his neck, and hold on for dear life like a monkey and hope he’d find it cute or get away from the anger I could see blazing in his eyes? I leaned away, holding the beer mug protectively against my chest.
“Leave.”
One word—he gave me one word, and I felt the hurt deep down in my chest. I could only manage to shake my head from side to side.
“Zoe, leave.”
I hated how harsh my name sounded coming from his lips, but I found my voice anyway. “No.”
Nothing could make me leave that bar without talking to him.
He gave me a long, dark look, and I held my breath. Then he leaned back and straightened, walking away without another word as if I wasn’t even worth another second of his time.