Except the only casualty of this war is me because neither of them was ever made abundantly clear on my side of things. I’m not taking the blame, but I have a part in it.
A few hours after our blow up, Theo pulls in the drive, and I smell the liquor on him before he looks up and sees me waiting. He averts his eyes and hangs his head.
“You need to go,” he says, staring at the keys in his hand.
“You’re being ridiculous.”
“Fine. I’m ridiculous.”
“Don’t do this. You know how I feel about you.”
“Do I?” He snaps, his eyes meeting mine. He’s not drunk, but he’s still angry.
My throat tightens unbearably, and it spreads to my chest. His eyes are full of a cruelty I’ve never seen, never thought I’d see. Not from him.
“I didn’t fight it, not with you. Not a single minute. I let it happen.”
He scoffs. “Guess that makes me different, huh? It’s different with me, right?”
“You know it is.” Tears fill my eyes, and I blink them away. His expression doesn’t change. “I’m not her, I wouldn’t hurt you that way.”
“No, you definitely aren’t.”
The words are a lash whip against my chest.
“Please, just listen to me.”
“I saw the way he looked at you.” He pins me with an accusing stare. “But I felt the way you looked at him. I felt it. Tell me I imagined it.”
“You have to believe me, it meant nothing. I’m not going to deny he’s attractive, but he caught me by surprise, and when he did, I thought of how far I’ve come from wanting anyone like him, and I was happy about it. That’s what you saw. You have to believe me.”
“Maybe I would if you hadn’t looked at him like that.”
I’m shaking my head furiously. “I just told you why. It was you I was thinking about!”
His chest pumps with his sarcastic chuckle. “Right.”
Stunned by his wrath, I watch him start toward his porch. Helpless, I follow.
“You’re comparing butterflies to bee stings! He’s not the one I feel anything for!”
He turns on a dime and glares back at me. “What?”
I stride towards him, only stopping when the space between us is too close to ignore. “I said you’re comparing butterflies to bee stings.”
“So, you admit you feel for him?”
“If that’s what you got out of that statement, it only proves you’re currently as ignorant as you are blind. It’s you that I want, and you damn well know it’s you.”
I can practically taste his lips, and I feel his inclination to move toward me. His shoulders stiffen, and he inches his chin back, breaking our connection. He might as well have slapped me.
“I’m your sentence finisher, Theo, and you are mine. Deny yourself, deny me, but you’ll be making a huge mistake. Maybe I gave you too much credit for being different. Because right now—you’re acting like a dumbass man.”
He flinches, but his gaze never warms. “Guess I am.”
“Yeah, well, jealousy looks like shit on you. You’re ruining everything!”
“What? What could I possibly be ruining? You looked at my fucking roommate like you wanted him.”
“A split second of recognition and that’s what’s breaking us up?”
“Were we ever really together?”
Hot tears burn, as the rest of me stings. “How could you ask that?”
“Am I allowed to now?”
“Allowed to ask? You never had to! I just spent the last four months wrapped around you. Wake up! This is all for nothing. Fine, he’s good looking, it was a second, maybe less. He took me by surprise. I admit it probably looked bad—”
“It was that second that made me no longer trust you.”
The statement damns us, and I can practically hear the re-click of the worn-out armor he’s just resurrected back around his heart.
“This is really how you feel?”
He shakes his head as if I’m ridiculous. “We were never going to work.”
“Says you!”
“I should be able to tell the woman I’m with how I feel when I feel it, without fearing she’ll run for the goddamn hills! Or worry that she feels she has to reciprocate those feelings out of obligation!”
“I never asked you to hold back!”
He snorts. “You’re ridiculous if you think I did. Not with you. Not at all. The words were there even if I had to swallow them every day,” his voice cracks. “Every single time I look at you. And look where it got me.”
I step forward.
He steps back.
“This is in your head.”
“No, it’s fucked up my heart!” He pounds a fist to his chest. “How can I trust you now?”
“You would have to trust me in the first place,” I say, my heart charring to ash. I choke on that revelation as he glances at the ground between us. “Oh my God, you never did trust me, did you?” I shake my head, unable to believe the truth of it. “You were expecting me to screw this up. The whole time. Weren’t you?”
His silence singes me to the point I can no longer take an easy breath.
“You were waiting for me to ruin it.”
“Congratulations,” he says bitterly, “you succeeded.”
“You don’t mean any of this.”
“Maybe I do. You said so yourself the night we met. Lie to me, Laney. Tell me you love me too. Isn’t it my turn?”
“You’re going to feel like such an idiot when you figure out how ridiculous you’re acting.”
“Or maybe I just saved myself a whole hell of a lot of fucking headaches.”
“You’re a bastard.”
“Fine, I’m the bad guy, are we done here?”
“Oh yeah,” my voice cracks. “we’re done.”
“Good, because I wouldn’t want to hold you back.”
I glare at him through my tears. “You’re not who I thought you were.”
“Funny, you’re exactly who I thought you were.”
“Go straight to hell, Houseman.”
Chin quivering, I try and pull myself together from all sides as he climbs the steps to his porch. At the door, he glances at me over his shoulder, his eyes swimming with hurt.
“How could you—” he shakes his head as tears slide down his jaw and my heart stops beating.
“Theo—”
“I always knew—” he says hoarsely before swallowing, another tear sliding down his cheek. “I knew if you saw him, that would be the end of us.”
“Well, that only proves how much you know,” I cry with an identical tear running down my own face, “because I chose you over him months ago.”
I leave him there, because nothing I say at this point will matter as much as if I’d said it before. My hesitance cost me dearly, my past caught up with me. And my words came much, much too late.
Grannism—You aren’t hungry, you’re bored.
Laney
“Where is she?” I hear Devin say from the porch.
Great, an intervention. It’s not like I’ve emptied two cans of Cheez Whiz in my mouth today. I’ve cut back to one. I push the empty box of Famous Amos away with my foot and bury my head under a couch pillow just as the screen door slams.
“Shit, it’s worse than I thought.”
I groan through the fabric. “Don’t you dare. I’m just having a moment.”
“You’ve been having a moment for the last two weeks.”
“Lookie here,” I say, sitting and pulling the pillow to shield the carb bulge of my belly, “I’m just bored.”
Devin pushes at my feet to make room for her on the couch as I retreat to my corner. “He’s hurting too, I assure you.” She surveys the coffee table. “I see we’re still on a strict diet of whiskey and carbs.”
“And it’s of no consequence to you.”
“No, but your ass is going to pay the price.”
Letting out a harsh breath, I give her a dead stare. “Alw
ays a pleasure, buddy, it’s naptime. Kindly see yourself out.”
“Nope, we’re getting out of here. I’ve gotten clearance from the hubs for a girls’ night, and you need it.”
“I need no such thing, I’m happy here.”
“Yes, I can tell by the crumbs collecting in your cleavage you’re living life to the fullest. You plannin’ on feastin’ on that half a cookie later?”
I pull a stray piece of cookie from my chest. “Okay, maybe I could use a shower.”
My mother joins us, busying herself in the kitchen, aka eavesdropping.
“You’re eating your feelings. It’s not healthy.”
“I’m eating because these things are delicious!”
She eyes me skeptically.
“Fine,” I say, clearing the contents of the table in my arms and walking them over to the trash before resting my hands on my hips. “Happy?”
“Right as rain, how are you?”
“I told you, I’m bored.”
“You’re in denial.”
“I’m not. I just need to regroup.”
“Regroup,” Devin says nodding, “how’s that working out?”
“I’m getting there.”
“Uh huh,” she says, turning to my mother who decides now is the perfect time to harp in.
“Your graduation is coming up and you haven’t even picked out a dress.”
“Yes, I have.”
“No, you haven’t.”
“I’m planning on it,” I grab the remote, “I just need—”
Devin jerks the remote from my hands. “That’s it. GET UP! This is ridiculous. You got your heart broken. We gave you a decent enough grace period to lose your shit. You’ve spent the whole time denying it. Time to get back up.”
“I’m not down or in denial,” I assure them both as my mother takes the seat opposite of me.
“Excited about your trip?” Mom asks.
“Yes. Of course.” No.
I twirl a lock of hair between my fingers. “I’m bored. I need…a change of scenery, and I’ll get it on my trip. I’m just restless, I just need something…” I scrutinize the ends of my hair. “You two wouldn’t understand.”
“I’m pretty sure I would,” my mother says through a sigh.
“You miss him,” Devin declares softly.
“To hell with him.”
“With who?” My mom pipes in. “You can’t even say his name.”
“Laney,” Devin says in the same maternal tone. “It’s okay to admit your heart is broken. It’s us.”
Mom nods. “He roped you in good, baby girl. You had nothing but stars in your eyes for months.”
“You’re upset, maybe a little devastated and that’s okay.”
“For the last time, I’m restless. I need a change.” I stare at my split-ends.
“You clearly miss him. You fell in love with him. We both saw it.”
“Yeah, well, he doesn’t think so. And anyway, drop it. I just need something…” I pluck at my hair, “I know exactly what I need.”
I rise from the couch marching toward my bedroom and hear a collective, “Stop her!”
I’m already in my bathroom with my scissors raised when Devin tackles me like a fucking linebacker into my bathtub.
“You idiot!” I scream as we crash through the shower curtain and land at a horrible angle.
I’m gasping for air as Devin wrestles the scissors from me.
“Stop it! Damn it, Devin! You aren’t supposed to even run with scissors, let alone get tackled with them!”
My mom is howling with laughter behind us as Devin manages to get them from me and stands pointing them in my direction as if I’m the threat.
I stand, ass bruised and back on fire, crossing my arms over my chest.
“You gonna stand guard all night, Red Rover, ‘cause my mind’s made up!”
“If I have to,” Devin challenges, not one bit intimidated.
“I need to cut my hair! I need a change!”
Devin lifts the open tampon box on my bathroom counter and raises a brow. “You need Midol, possibly a Xanax, and to sleep on this decision for about a week. Until then, these belong to me.”
I glare at my mother.
“This is funny to you?” Tears fill my eyes. “I’m a joke to you two?”
“I’m sorry, little woman, but I agree. You’re a hot ass mess.” She comes toward me, and I shake my head, lifting my chin defiantly to ward them off.
Devin turns back to grin at her. “Remember that time she tried to dye her hair blonde with peroxide and came out looking like a leopard?”
“I meant to do that,” I snap through watery eyes. “I was going through an Animal Planet phase.”
“Oh God, how about when she shaved it on one side!” My mom supplies through a light laugh of her own.
“I wanted it to look like Pink’s!” I toss my hands up. “Have you seen that woman’s hair? It’s glorious!”
“Or the other time she tried to give herself dreads so she could be country chic,” Devin says, keeping in conversation as they both completely ignore me. “She washed her hair with raw eggs!”
“That’s what I read to do online! I go through hair phases. Everyone does.”
Devin looks back at me, determination in her voice. “Laney, the only thing you love about your appearance lately is your hair, and you are not cutting it because you got your heart broken. It will break ten times worse when you wake up and realize your mistake.”
I raise my wobbling chin a notch further. “What are you even doing here anyway? Didn’t we marry you off? Aren’t you supposed to be ironing and cooking right now?”
She rolls her eyes. “Maybe if I got married in the ‘50s? Chase is the one that cooks most nights. And who irons anymore? Besides, with comments like that, I know you’ve really lost it.”
“I have not!” I defend. “I’m fine.”
“You’re an undeclared feminist who just told me to go play June Cleaver! You’re hurting, and I won’t let you take it out on your hair!”
“I-I-I-I’m not,” my voice cracks, “I’m not…” sad, miserable, heartbroken, “myself,” I cry out as my face falls.
“Shit,” Devin murmurs, capturing me in her arms just as I break. My mom is right behind her as they both wrap around me with words of comfort. And I cry. I cry so hard I cover them both in snot. When I’m finally able to breathe, I pull away spotting Max as he walks in looking at us like the lunatics we are before scoffing and walking out.
“H-he-he won’t talk to me. He’s just,” I hiccup, “he’s done. H-h-how am I supposed to do this?”
“This is just phase one. You know all the hell hounds I went through to get to Chase. We might not put up with bullshit long, Laney, but the pain is still the same. I’ve been where you are. You can’t force him.”
“But I loved him, I loved him the best way I knew how, why wasn’t that good enough?”
Both their eyes fill, and I shake my head. “Cut it out right now. Both of you.”
“Shit, she finally did it,” Devin whispers to my mother who gazes on at me. “I’m so proud of you. You finally opened yourself up—”
“Yeah, yeah, I get it, I’ve been conquered. Now how do I get him back?”
They exchange a long look before turning to me. I see the answer in their eyes.
I don’t get him back. And I guess that realization starts phase two.
Theo
“Hey ya,” I hear for the tenth time since I got to school. At first, I wasn’t sure if it was for me.
And then I was getting the official Grand Salute everywhere, on every corner of campus, by everyone, including faculty. And one brave girl had the audacity to lecture me during finals. “Hey ya, buddy, just call her. You two belong together.”
I wanted to argue that all she knows is what she saw on social media and that it’s misleading. But it’s not. It’s us. That was the whole point. And that point is constantly stabbing me.
After a
hundred or so greetings, I pull up our account to see a candid of me she posted and the hashtag beneath it.
Has anyone seen my best friend? If you do, please do me a favor and give him a “Hey ya,” for me.
#imissmybestfriend #livingmyloneliestlife
The sentiment doesn’t ring hollow, and only hits harder as the day goes on, and one classmate after the other calls out to me from every direction. “Hey ya!” The greeting is used often enough, but I don’t think it’s ever been used quite like this. I’m willing to bet Laney’s project outshined every other senior’s this year, and all we had to do to make it happen was fall in love.
Her project might be a smashing success, but we are currently a disaster. She’ll be leaving soon. She’s about to graduate. It’s been weeks since we broke up. The most miserable fucking two weeks of my life.
This is where I’m supposed to admit I overreacted.
I did.
This is also the part where I’m supposed to run and tell the girl and admit what an idiot I’ve been.
I haven’t.
Because though I credit myself for having a different mindset than most, I’m still a fucking guy. A guy who’s spent more good years catering to women and getting his heart mangled in return.
Maybe nice guys do finish last. And for the first time, since I met Troy and Lance, I fully understand their philosophy.
Theodore Houseman’s Colossal College Mistake #2, falling for a caged bird.
Laney was never a sure thing. She was a wild card. And I painted my glasses the perfect shade of rose to discredit any reasons why we shouldn’t be together. The woman’s signature characteristic is indecisiveness. She’s got no map for her future. She only lives in the present with the pretense of later. And I encouraged it because I was too afraid to push her in any one set direction, including mine.
Because I’d catered to her too. No questions. No pressure to make decisions; about us, what we were, and where we were going.
But one thing is for certain. She is going.
“Hey ya,” a voice rings out in the distance, and I pump my legs to try and escape them, but it’s pointless. Another voice calls out to me, then another, and another, and eventually it’s only her voice I hear, reminding me of what I’m missing. A solid lump forms in my throat as the greetings stab me from all directions while I make my way to my car. Safely inside, I white-knuckle my steering wheel. Chest battered and soul bruised from the ache of missing her, I turn over the ignition and lift my phone rereading her last text.
The Underdogs: The Complete Series Page 24