My Best Friend's Ex

by Hazel Kelly

  Carter eyed Todd like he was waiting for a punchline. “This guy?”

  “Trust me,” I said, slapping Todd on the back. “He won’t let you down.”

  I disappeared into the crowd and left them to it, scanning the sea of heads before me. Nina’s shiny blonde hair was easy to spot, and sure enough, Zoey was smiling beside her in line for the keg.

  I pushed my way through the throngs of tipsy, half-dancing bodies until I reached the far corner where I helped stack the kegs earlier. “Hey,” I said, sidling up to them. “Fancy meeting you guys here.”

  “Thanks for the invite,” Zoey said. “This is great.”

  “Yeah,” Nina added. “Very cool of you.”

  “Come on,” I said, tilting my head towards the front of the line.

  One of my favorite sophomores looked like he’d been pumping the keg for a good hour. “Take a break, Bueller. Go cool off.”

  He wiped his brow. “Carter said it’s my job to keep the female guests hydrated.”

  “That doesn’t mean you have to do all the pumping yourself,” I said, taking over. “Think outside the box, man.”

  His face twerked like he didn’t understand.

  Jesus. “Go find a few freshmen who want to join the house and make this their problem for a while.”

  The lightbulb behind his eyes came on. “That’s not a bad idea.”

  “Hurry up,” I said, grabbing a fresh cup and filling it for Zoey.

  “We were in line first,” some girl with a tacky amount of lip liner complained when I started pouring another.

  I ignored her and kept filling a cup for Nina.

  “Excuse me?” she said, a look of disgust veiling her face as she cocked her hip. “Did you hear what I said?”

  “Here,” Zoey said, extending her cup in the girl’s direction. “I don’t mind waiting.”

  “That’s not the point,” the girl snarled.

  “You’re right,” I said, pouring one for myself. “The point is that this is my house and this is my beer and these are my guests, and if you can’t respect that, you’re at the wrong party.”

  Her ugly lips fell apart.

  “Logan!”

  I set the valve down and turned around.

  “Meet the Farrelly brothers,” Bueller said. “They’re hoping to become Betas just like their dad, but they haven’t proven to us yet that they can manage a keg.”

  “Handling a keg is an essential frat brother skill,” I bullshitted. “And you couldn’t have come at a better time, though I should warn you we have some tough customers at the minute.” I shot a look at the brat in question, emphasizing the word customer in case she’d forgotten the beer was fucking free. “So don’t mess up or I guarantee I’ll hear about it.”

  The eager boys assumed positions beside the tapped keg as Bueller offered me a grateful smile.

  “What a bunch of manipulative bull,” Nina said when I joined the little circle she’d made with Zoey.

  “What?” I asked, taken aback by her hostility.

  “All these boys pandering to other boys. Are all frats this gross?” she asked.

  Fuck. “It’s only the rush process that’s a bunch of bull,” I said. “Otherwise it’s not so bad.”

  “I think it’s great,” Zoey said, her big eyes scanning the high ceilings. “Look at the size of this place! Listen to the acoustics! Everyone’s getting cruuuunk.”

  Nina cocked her head. “Nobody says crunk anymore.”

  “They will after I redefine it tonight.” Zoey threw a hand in the air and bounced to the music.

  I smiled.

  Nina rolled her eyes. “Easy, girl. I don’t want to have to hold your hair back after our first big night out.”

  “I’d do it for youuu,” Zoey sang, tucking Nina’s hair behind her ear.

  I raised my brow. “The Barnacle Club has a mean happy hour, I take it?”

  “Doubles Friday, we’re calling it,” Zoey said. “Drink one double, get the second double down even faster.”

  “Got it,” I said, stealing a glance at Zoey’s flushed cheeks before she danced into an open space nearby. “Well, I’m glad you guys could make it.”

  “I assumed her tolerance was a bit higher,” Nina admitted. “Not that she isn’t an adorable drunk, don’t you think?”

  I studied her expression and wondered if her prying tone was accidental or if she was trying to catch me out. “I can’t say I blame her for wanting to let her hair down. She’s spent her whole life looking after other people.”

  “So I’ve heard,” Nina said, turning her green eyes on the room.

  I wondered how much she knew, wondered what Zoey had told her. I had to assume it wasn’t anything bad or they wouldn’t have come, but it killed me that Nina might know all about my history with Piper when I went to such lengths to keep my shit private.

  “I really lucked out, didn’t I?” Nina asked, watching Zoey bop to the music, her messy highlighted hair flicking back and forth. “I mean, I could’ve gotten stuck with cod lips over there,” she said, nodding back towards the keg. “What an ungrateful witch.”

  “Yeah. Some people don’t realize how good they have it.” I watched Zoey over my cup as I took a sip of beer, and when Nina didn’t respond, I looked over and found her staring back at me with a sad expression, a knowing expression.

  Like there was something sneaking up on me.

  And there was nothing I could do about it.

  E L E V E N

  - Zoey -

  He was about to win his second game in a row, and I had all my fingers and toes crossed for him. Not that he needed my good vibes. He was clearly the most formidable beer pong player in the room. Or at least, the buzz around him certainly led me to believe that.

  He flicked a chunk of light brown hair out of his eyes and narrowed his focus on the last cup, seemingly indifferent to the jeers of his opponents across the table.

  I wanted him to make it so bad I could’ve heard a pin drop. Granted, it seemed like the only prize up for grabs was bragging rights, but I felt like I could feel how much he wanted to make the shot.

  Besides, it was fun to see him in his element, as surprising as it was. I mean, he was such a loner when I first met him, always keeping his focus on his studies or his woodworking. Or Piper, of course.

  But here he was, surrounded by a bunch of guys who clearly trusted and admired him. He couldn’t have won their affection by staying in his shell, and I was fascinated by this new side of him. He was so social, so confident, so… unflappable.

  All things I wished I could be.

  I felt a hand on my lower back and expected to see Nina when I turned towards it since a good ten minutes had passed since she went out front to find her cousin. Instead, I had to raise my gaze considerably to see that it was Tom smiling down at me.

  “Hey,” I said, wriggling out from under his touch. “You snuck up on me.”

  I heard a collective gasp and looked back to find that Logan had missed his shot, inviting his opponents to start talking shit while they scrambled under the table for the ball.

  “I didn’t know you’d be here,” Tom said, eyeing the table in front of us.

  “I didn’t know you were thinking of joining a frat.”

  He shrugged. “Figured I’d consider it over some free beer.”

  I hoped Logan wouldn’t look over and think I invited him. He never cared for the guy. Called him Q-Tip behind his back because of how his head looked atop his tall body.

  “I tried to call you.”

  I furrowed my brow. “When?”

  “Tonight,” he said, his eyes sweeping across my bare shoulders. “A few times.”

  “Sorry,” I lied. “Must be too loud in here.”

  “You think?” he asked.

  I forced a smile and turned back to the game, noticing Logan’s face was flushed with frustration as he prepared to take the game winning shot again. I couldn’t be sure, but it looked like his competition had cleared a
nother cup when I wasn’t paying attention.

  “You want to go somewhere quieter?” Tom asked. “I’d love to hear how your first week of classes went.”

  “I kind of wanted to watch the end of this,” I said, pointing at the table. Come on, Logan. You got this.

  “Oh,” Tom said. “Maybe after then?”

  “Maybe,” I said, not looking back at him.

  “Can I get you a drink?” he asked, glancing down at my empty cup.

  “I’m good actually. Kind of need the break, to be honest. Thanks, though.”

  “Don’t be silly,” he said, snatching my cup. “I need a refill anyway.”

  I turned my focus back on the game as soon as he left, suddenly aware of how chaotic everything had become since we arrived. The music seemed louder, the lights were dimmer, and everyone- myself included- was a fair bit sloppier.

  The heat in the crowded room was unreal, too, and I wasn’t the only one finding it unbearable. Logan’s collared shirt was visibly pitted with sweat as he eyed the red cup across the table and licked the corner of his mouth.

  My lower body clenched in a way that made me remember what Nina said about ants in my pants. Fuck. Keep it together, Petersen.

  A moment later, he flicked his wrist, sending the ping-pong ball through the air, and, as if in slow motion, it traveled along a perfect curve before landing in the lonely cup with a splash.

  His teammate jumped surprisingly high in the air before running his hands through his shiny hair like he was trying to keep his head from popping off. “Oh shit,” he said, grabbing Logan’s shoulders. “You’re only four games away from breaking Warby’s record!”

  “I’m taking a break,” Logan said, setting up the cups for the next team.

  “Don’t do this to me again!” Carter said, waving his hands in the air.

  “You need the practice,” Logan said, slapping his shoulder. Then he lifted his chin across the table. “Maybe next time, guys.”

  They groaned like they were sick of losing to him.

  Logan came straight over to me.

  “Nice shot.”

  “Would’ve been better if I made it the first time.”

  I thought I was sobering up, but his attention was making me feel all wobbly again.

  “You want to play more flip cup, or you want to go upstairs?”

  My toes curled in my boots. “What?”

  “Do you want to play flip cup, or do you want to-”

  “I heard you,” I said, my stomach tightening. “I just… What’s upstairs?”

  “For me or for you?”

  I squinted at him.

  “For me, a fresh shirt and my goddamn sanity.”

  I smiled lifted my cheeks. “And for me?”

  “A bottle of beer that doesn’t taste like the cheapest piss money can buy.”

  “A compelling proposition,” I said. “But someone just went to get me a drink.”

  “I know.”

  My skin tingled. I didn’t think he’d been paying attention to me for the last hour.

  “But you ought to do Tom a favor and stop giving him the wrong idea.”

  I stretched my neck out. “How am I giving him the wrong idea?”

  “By letting him get you a drink.”

  “I was only being polite,” I said. “He was only being polite.”

  “Do you want to sleep with the guy?”

  I blinked at him.

  “Do you?” he asked.

  “I don’t think that’s relevant.”

  He scoffed. “Trust me. It’s relevant to Tom.”

  “I hadn’t really thought about it.”

  “Don’t.”

  “Don’t think about it or don’t do it?” Where the hell was this coming from?

  “Both.”

  I paused for a second. “Okay.”

  His eyes popped wide. “Really?”

  “I don’t know why you care so much, but you obviously feel strongly-”

  “I do.”

  “Okay.” I raised my palms in defeat. “I’m already not thinking about it.”

  He studied me so hard I thought I might melt into a sweaty puddle. What had him so tongue tied that all he could do was look at me like that? It was crazy. He was starting to scare me.

  “I need some fresh air,” he said, licking his lips like his mouth had gone dry.

  “I’ll come with you.”

  He took my hand and started towards the wide, wraparound stairs like it was nothing. Like I hadn’t been thinking about those very hands since the first time I saw him break a bread roll across the table. I always thought they’d be rough from all the time he spent whittling and hauling trees and shrubs around for my dad. But while his palm wasn’t as coarse as I imagined, his grip was surprisingly strong.

  Like he was the kind of guy that could pull you back from the brink.

  As we climbed the stairs, I glanced over my shoulder in time to see Tom returning to the beer pong table with two full cups. “Sorry,” I mouthed when his eyes found mine. I couldn’t wait to see if he accepted my apology because Logan seemed to accelerate once we broke free from the crowd, and I had to concentrate to make sure I wouldn’t trip over any loose floorboards or empty plastic cups.

  Perhaps he kept the fresh air where he kept his fresh shirts? It was hard to guess. All I knew was that I didn’t want him to be alone when he seemed so… frustrated.

  Better for us to be frustrated together.

  After all, that’s what we were best at.

  T W E L V E

  - Logan -

  I was unbelievably pissed off.

  Not only did I miss the game-winning shot twice because of that asshole, but I fudged it in front of Zoey. Which shouldn’t have bothered me.

  I had no business trying to impress her. It’s not like anything was going to come of it.

  And I didn’t need her approval.

  Or did I?

  Maybe that was the fucking thing I needed most.

  The heat wasn’t helping. Neither was the noise. Why did this always happen to me? I’d be fine playing Mr. Gregarious for a while, but then something inside me would snap, and I’d have to excuse myself. Sometimes for hours. Sometimes for days.

  It didn’t matter how much I wanted to be the life of the party, how much I forced myself to be. In the end, I always sent myself back to my room. To be alone. Like I’d always been. It was like something inside me wanted to make sure I would never forget that.

  I let go of Zoey’s hand at the top of the stairs when I realized I was borderline dragging her.

  She didn’t say anything on the way to my room, but I could see her peeking past the doors that were left ajar as we passed.

  “You lock your door?” she asked as I pulled out my keychain.

  “Of course,” I said. “There are at least two hundred people downstairs I’ve never seen before, and I don’t like manwhores I don’t know fooling around in my bed.”

  “Just manwhores you do know?”

  “Not if I can help it,” I said, flicking the light on.

  She followed me inside and leaned against the dresser by the door.

  “Sorry about what I said back there,” I said, pulling my damp shirt off and folding my closet doors open.

  “What do you mean?”

  I don’t know why I stared so long into my closet like there was a difficult choice to be made. Three quarters of my wardrobe consisted of collared flannel shirts for no other reason than the fact that I liked the soft fabric. I yanked a blue and green one off a hanger and spun around, fiddling with the small buttons near the top. “When I asked if you wanted to sleep with Tom-” I froze when I caught Zoey staring at my chest.

  Her gaze fell down to where my hip bones jutted out above my sagging jeans, and her neck strained as she swallowed.

  “That’s none of my business.”

  Her eyes bounced off mine before falling to my bed, which nearly matched my fresh shirt. “Don’t mention it.”
r />   I pulled it on and started fastening the buttons from the bottom up. “Being protective is one thing, but you can sleep with whoever you want.”

  “I can’t actually.” She leaned off the dresser and stepped over to the bookshelf to study the collection of forest critters I carved over the summer. “Did you do all these yourself?”

  “It would be a pretty lame collection otherwise.”

  “I don’t think so,” she said, picking up the owl at the front and turning it over in her hand. “I think they’re beautiful.”

  I wanted to ask what she meant before when she said I can’t actually, but I was reticent to invite any more awkward tension into the room. “How about that drink?”

  “Sure,” she said, still studying the little carvings I made.

  I was used to people admiring my work, but it felt different when she did it for some reason.

  “When did you start whittling?” she asked, tracing the delicate antlers on a small stag with her fingertips.

  “When I was ten.” Though the first two years I hadn’t done much besides sharpen small twigs into tiny spears. “Coors or cider?” I asked, opening the mini-fridge under my desk.

  “Ooh, cider please,” she said, smiling over her shoulder at me.

  That’s when I realized I shouldn’t have invited her up.

  “Are you feeling better?” she asked as I handed her the chilled bottle.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Good,” she said. “I’ve never seen you like that before. It was like you snapped or something.”

  I clinked the neck of my bottle against hers. “I suppose it looked that way.”

  “It did.”

  “You want to sit?” I gestured towards the bed, backing away from it at the same time.

  “Can I try your chair?” she asked, pointing to the unvarnished porch chair in the narrow space between my bed and closet.

  “Of course.” I leaned against my desk and watched her lower herself carefully into the freshly sanded chair, which was still shedding fine sawdust on the carpet beneath it.

  “You want to tell me what happened back there?”

  I tilted some beer down my throat. “I was just being overly protective.”