by CJ Martín
His hand darts to the side, smacking the full glass of water I set out for him. It crashes to the ground. His breath hisses. “Shit.”
“Good morning,” I say, my voice louder than necessary as I imprint my spine against the headboard. Back ramrod straight, shoulders squared, hoping it will give me the strength, the support I need for this conversation.
“Riley?” He pushes himself up in bed, the sheet pooling at his waist exposing his toned chest and thick abs, but I keep my eyes trained straight. “Fuck.” He flops back against the pillows and scrubs a hand over the stubble of his jaw. “How much did I drink last night? I feel like ass.”
Despite my resolve to remain cool and unaffected, I snort. I ball my hands together to resist slapping him. “A lot. You drank a fucking lot.” He winces as my voice rises in volume. “What were you thinking?”
“Jesus. What crawled up your ass?” He turns away from me, snuggling back into the soft, clean sheets of my bed. My bed, the bed that’s supposed to be occupied by Dave, not Jesse.
At that moment my cool exterior dissolves, and my hands latch onto his biceps. I roll him onto his back in one quick movement, my face inches from his. “What crawled up my ass?” I repeat the question once. “You!” My voice roars. “You’re what’s crawled up my ass.”
His eyes remain on mine, and his lips curve in a slow smirk. “Is that an invitation?”
My fingers aim to squeeze and twist the flesh, but the muscle beneath is rock solid, so there’s nothing for my needy fingers to latch onto. “Ugh.” I flop down next to him and fling my arm over my eyes. “You’re so...” Infuriating. Exhausting. Sexy. Wait, no, not sexy. Jesse is not sexy.
Of course those words don’t leave my lips, and the silence settles around us. My body intuitively matches the slow, even breaths of his body, and my muscles begin to loosen. It’s always this way with him, an explosive high, a calming low.
“Hey.” He rolls onto his side so we’re shoulder-to-shoulder, hip-to-hip. “I’m sorry.” He clears his throat once. “About last night.”
I close my eyes for a moment and then say what has to be said. “Jesse, this has to stop.”
He shrugs. “It’s fine.”
“It’s not fine.” My voice is hollow and sad. “You got wasted last night. You know how I feel about drinking.” I pin him with my gaze. “You almost hit Dave.”
“Dave is an asshole.” His voice drops, and the cool tone sends chills across my skin.
“Jesse—”
He cuts me off. “That douchebag cheated on you.” Some of his anger evaporates as he continues, “He doesn’t deserve you.”
“We were broken up.” I speak the words as if they will make what Dave did okay. They won’t. They don’t. But if I’m ever going to move on from the past, I can’t keep being reminded of his slip up. And I love Dave. I think.
“Of course.” Jesse pushes himself up, feet hitting the floor like lead, and he reaches for the balled-up t-shirt that rests in the same spot where he dropped it last night.
“Jesse.” I walk in front of him. “Tell me what’s really going on.”
“Nothing.” He shoves his feet into his shoes. “Why do you have to make a big deal out of everything?”
My eyes widen. “I’m making a big deal out of everything?” I shout. “You were loud and obnoxious and jealous, and if I didn’t care about you so much, I’d have kicked you out.”
His eyes flare and he spits. “You care about me? You don’t give a damn about me or my feelings.”
I recoil as though he’d hit me. “What?” I shout, fists clenched at my sides. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Exactly what you think it does.” His tone is so angry, jaw so tight, that I’m afraid his teeth may crack from the tension. He’s never been this irate with me. Never used this tone. “You want to talk? Let’s talk about what happened three weeks ago.”
My stomach tightens as I recall the memory. I’d been reliving the fantasy over and over in my mind, telling myself that it only felt that good because it was wrong—people always wanted what they couldn’t have, right?
“That was a mistake,” I say, trying to keep my voice strong, but it shakes nonetheless.
He shakes his head. “Unbelievable. I’m sorry I fucked up your night. It won’t happen again.”
My eyes stay trained on him as his chest heaves with each angry breath, and I can feel it, the anger transferring from him to me. I try to talk myself down, but I can’t. Maybe if I’d waited, maybe if I didn’t care about him so much, maybe if I didn’t love him, but right now my body reacts.
“Don’t put words in my mouth, Jesse,” I argue, moving into his space. “You were an asshole last night. In fact, you’re an asshole every time you drink.”
“So, I had a few beers? Is that a crime now? Because if so, we’d better convict the whole fucking nation!” He stalks around the bed. “And if we’re pointing out each other’s shortcomings…you’re the one who took back a cheating boyfriend because she’s too afraid to be alone.”
The harsh truth of his words sting like a whip, and I blink back tears. “That isn’t fair.”
He shoulders past me, stalks down the narrow hall, and I’m forced to run to catch up with him.
“Jes, don’t go.” I reach for his arm, but he tugs it away. “Let’s talk about this.”
He pauses for a moment, breaths strong and angry like a bull. I plead with my eyes, please stay. And I think he may change his mind, but then he shakes his head and says, “We both need to cool off before we say more things we’ll both regret.”
He’s probably right, but I don’t want him to go. Not like this. “Jesse.”
“I’ll text you later.”
“Jesse!” I shout at his back, as the door slams in my face. My hands pick up the glass candy dish my elderly neighbor, Nancy, gave me as a housewarming present. I don’t think, just react, and throw it against the closed door.
“Goddamnit,” I shout, and I feel a perverse satisfaction as the tiny shards of glass fall to the floor.
With one last glance over my shoulder at the broken mess, I stalk back down the hallway and crawl back into bed.
33
Riley
The sound of a closed fist meeting my front door jars me awake. Disoriented, I squint my eyes in the dimly lit room. The bright neon numerals of the clock grab my attention: 4:37 p.m. Holy shit, I’ve been sleeping for over three hours.
Another knock and I fling the blanket aside. As I walk down the hall, I pull my hair into a messy bun and scrub the sleep from my face. Relaxing my shoulders a bit, I tiptoe through the glass and open the door, fully anticipating seeing Jesse standing in front of me—our fights are always short-lived—but what I get is Dave. An angry Dave, at that.
My heart sinks. Hi there, Expectation. Meet reality.
“Riley, where the hell—” His voice cuts off as his eyes drag across my skin like a heavy weight. “You look like shit. Are you okay?” His eyes dart to the broken dish. “What happened?”
I shrug and open the door wider, and he walks through. “Just woke up.”
His eyes snap to mine in anger. “Did you forget that we were meeting my parents at Le Bec for brunch?”
“Shit,” I grumble, trying to inject some remorse into my voice but failing miserably. “I completely forgot.”
His jaw ticks. “You forgot? That’s your excuse?”
I huff an annoyed breath. Sure, I forgot, and it’s a lame excuse, I know, but I told him I wasn’t ready to see his parents again. Dave and I only just started talking after his incident. Brunch with his parents felt too soon, too rushed. I wasn’t ready. Isn’t a girl allowed a little goddamned time?
“I had to lie to them. You know how I hate to do that.”
Still sour from my earlier fight with Jesse—my patience threshold has definitely been reached—I snap, “You do, do you?” I stalk down the hall back toward my bedroom and he follows. “Because last time I checked, you had no pro
blem lying to me.”
“Jesus Christ, Riley. Are you never going to let it go? What do I have to do? I can’t spend the rest of my life apologizing for one mistake.”
The truth is I’m not that bothered by Dave’s infidelity, and I’m sure that’s some sort of sign, right? I should be more upset by the fact that he hooked up with one of his co-workers during a “business” trip, but I wasn’t nearly as devastated as I should be. Sure, my pride was hurt, ego a little bruised, but I always knew Dave wasn’t my Prince Charming.
Dave’s voice pulls me from my wandering thoughts. “I love you, Riley.”
My mouth drops open. He’s never said those words to me. Not even before the betrayal.
He turns me to face him, rests both hands on my waist, and squeezes. His voice is sincere, eyes wide and open, when he utters those same, dreadful words. “I love you.”
“I…” My voice stutters. “I-I’m…”
He squeezes again as though he can transfer his love into me and that somehow I’ll magically have the courage to say it back.
I squeeze my eyes shut. “I’m sorry.” I shake my head. “I’m not ready to say it back.”
He relaxes his grip. “Aren’t ready now or won’t ever be ready?”
My eyes find his for a moment before they flit away. “I don’t know.” A lone tear slides down my cheek. I’m so confused. I need time to sort through my feelings. I’ve been overwhelmed. With the move, and school, and Dave’s slip up, and now Jesse—I’m about to break.
He follows my gaze as it lands on the framed picture of Jesse and me, taken the day of our high school graduation. “Christ.” He shakes his head, as a low, dark chuckle escapes his lips. “I’m so fucking stupid.”
“What?” I turn to him, but he’s already stalking toward the nightstand.
“This!” His voice roars as he snatches the frame. “This!” He throws it onto the bed and it bounces twice before crashing to the ground. “This is about him, isn’t it?”
My eyebrows pinch together in confusion. “What does Jesse have to do with us?”
“Everything!” His voice booms. “Fucking everything. He comes first. Whenever he needs you, you go running. Just like last night.” His body shakes in anger. “I was supposed to stay over, yet you kicked me out so you could take care of him.”
My tone drops in anger. “He’s my best friend.”
“Don’t I know it! A best friend who is more important than anyone, even me.”
“He didn’t cheat on me!” I scream. “He didn’t hurt me! He loves me!”
“I love you!” He screams back. “I love you. But that doesn’t matter, does it? Because you’re in love with him.”
“That’s ridiculous.” I circle around to the opposite side of the bed to create some distance between us.
“Really?” His voice booms in the silent space. “You tell him you love him all the time. I hear your phone calls. I see the texts.”
“That’s different,” I defend.
He prowls around the bed, grabs my shoulders. “I screwed up one time. One fucking time, and we weren’t even technically together and I’m crucified. But Jesse? He’s a nobody, a college dropout who’s going nowhere, and yet you think he walks on water.”
Rage pumps through my veins. “Don’t talk about him like that.”
He shakes his head. “Don’t think I don’t notice the way he looks at you. When are you two going to grow the fuck up and stop playing this goddamn game?”
“We’re friends.” I wish my voice was stronger than it sounds, but Dave’s anger is starting to scare me.
“Admit it. Fucking admit it.” His words assault me as though they are physical blows.
Stunned, I remain rooted in place for several seconds without responding, but then the floodgates open and I’m screaming like an irrational, crazy person. “Get out. Get out. Get the fuck out.”
It’s my second no-holds-barred fight of the day, and my body is running on pure adrenaline. I chase him down the hall and slam the door before he’s fully into the hallway. When Dave leaves, I’m grateful. There’s no lingering sense of sadness. Or the desire to fix it.
It’s over. Done. And I am relieved.
I grab my phone from the table and check to see if Jesse has texted me.
Nothing.
I stalk back down the hall toward my room and crawl back into bed, pulling the covers up over my head. Maybe when I wake up tomorrow, everything will be better. It’s doubtful, but here’s to hoping.
34
Riley
Things get worse before they get better. It’s been exactly a week, and I’ve received no calls or texts from Jesse. I do my best to ignore the fact that this is the longest we’ve ever gone without talking since…forever.
Dave, on the other hand, won’t stop calling and texting. He even went so far as to send a bouquet of wildflowers (my favorite) to Stock House. It was tons of fun explaining to my supervisor, why I, an unpaid intern, am receiving personal correspondence at her place of employment, even though company policy explicitly prohibits personal deliveries of any kind.
When Dave finally realized I wasn’t going to return his affection—I thought ignoring him was my best option—his texts and calls turned nasty. He hurled insult after insult, calling me hurtful names like cheating whore and lying, deceitful bitch.
Because I’m trying my best to keep my mind off of Jesse (and Dave), I decide not to cancel my monthly girls’ date with Liza. As we make our way to the theater, however, I’m seriously second-guessing my decision. As soon as we open the doors, the rich, buttery smell of popcorn wafts over me. I adore movie theater popcorn, but today it instantly sours my stomach.
“So, any more hate texts from Dave?” Liza asks, as she hands me my ticket and we walk toward the concession counter.
“Nope,” I respond, and then add, “I don’t get half of his insults. He’s the one who cheated on me, not the other way around.”
Liza nods her head. “Dave’s a dirtbag.”
I narrow my eyes at her. He may be a dirtbag, but he is (was) my dirtbag.
“What?” She ushers me forward even though the concession line hasn’t moved. “You broke up with him for good this time.” When I don’t immediately agree, she questions, “Right?”
I look away. “Yeah.”
“We’ve always been honest with each other, right?” she questions again.
“One hundred percent.”
“And you’d want me to say what I think, even if it wasn’t what you wanted to hear, right?”
“Riiiight.” I drag out the word, not liking the direction of this conversation.
“Let me give it to you straight. Dave is a class-A asshole who doesn’t deserve you.” I raise my eyebrows, but she continues. “And I’d say that even if he didn’t cheat on you.”
“You were the one who introduced us.”
“Yeah, that was before I really got to know him.” She holds up her hands in apology. “My bad.”
For some reason I can’t meet her eyes. I don’t know why I’m so emotional. I’ve fought with Dave before. Hell, I’ve gone weeks without talking to him. I watch the girl behind the counter fill a bag with popcorn. One scoop. Two scoops. By the third scoop, it finally hits me why I’m so upset: Jesse.
I’ve never fought with Jesse this way.
Sure, we’ve argued. We have our differences. No one’s perfect.
But I never once questioned where we stood. I care about him. He cares about me. We love each other, have since we were five years old. He is my forever heart.
But…he was so angry when he left my apartment.
“Earth to Riley.” Liza waves her hands in front of my face. “Did you hear anything I just said?”
I blink once, twice. “No.”
“I said, although I’d deny I ever said it, maybe Dave is right.”
“What?” My voice booms so loud, the two customers in front of us turn around.
“You know my feelings abou
t guys and girls and friendship? No bueno. You and Jesse have been doing this dance for too long. I say fuck him and see where it goes.”
“Liza!” I scold, my cheeks flushing a deep scarlet. Did she really just say to fuck Jesse?
Why are you surprised, Riley? Isn’t that exactly what you’ve been fantasizing about for months, and if I’m being entirely honest, years?
“Come on, Riley.” The line inches forward a bit more. “Don’t tell me you never thought about it.”
More than you’ll ever know. “No.”
She raises her eyebrows. “You’re together all the time. You still have sleepovers, for Christ’s sake. And if you’d open your damn eyes, you’d see that boy is crazy about you.”
“It’s not like that between us.” If I had a dollar for every time I’ve uttered those words I’d have…a lot of freakin’ dollars.
“Maybe not for you, but I’m telling you that boy would jump at the chance to jump you.” She laughs at her own silly joke.
“Liza,” I say again in warning.
She turns to face me dead on, her expression serious. “Maybe he is your best friend. Maybe it will be messy. Maybe the time was never right before now… but you won’t know unless you try. You both may miss out on the best thing of your lives because you’re too scared. Take the jump. Maybe you will be sorry. Maybe you won’t. But you’ll never know if you don’t try.”
The time passes quickly, and I don’t recall a single thing that happens in the movie, because I’m too busy asking myself over and over again: Am I willing to try?
35
Riley
Hours later, after I’ve said goodbye to Liza, after I’ve eaten my veggie wrap for dinner and I’ve showered for the evening, I lie awake, restless, thinking about Jesse. About what Dave said. About what Liza said.
What am I so afraid of?
I flip onto my other side, last about fifteen seconds before rolling onto my back. “Ahh.” I actually scream the word, my voice exploding with all of my pent-up frustration, hurt, and anger.