by Alex Rosa
“Well, I guess that’s enough for me.” He grins, which calms my nerves. “So how did it happen? I’m sure it was hot as hell.”
I laugh, the color returning to my cheeks. “It was more adorable than anything. He said he was crazy about me.”
We giggle in glee for the next few hours, and periodically Tucker requests more details.
I feel like the luckiest girl in the world right now.
***
I drive down the secluded roads as it nears twelve thirty at night. A yawn escapes me, but it does nothing to affect my grin. Knowing that I’ll be climbing into Blake’s bed this evening with no worries other than my brother has me elated at the possibilities of him being mine. I can’t wait for the moment when I don’t even have to worry about anything.
The only thing that has been plaguing my mind most of the evening is Tucker’s words from before. I wasn’t lying to him that I’m scared. However, he’s right; I should be cautious. I know Blake, but I worry I don’t know him well enough yet.
I pull into the driveway, and note ecstatically that it is yet another evening that Josh has decided to stay at Vanessa’s. My annoyance with that situation is forgotten, because for once it works in my favor. I skip from my car and leap to the door, sticking my keys in the lock, already picturing Blake waiting for me on the couch. His glittering eyes and trademark smirk come to mind.
When the door swings open, I am greeted to silence and darkness. I attribute it to the fact that maybe he couldn’t stay awake and headed to bed. I devise a plan to creep into his bedroom.
I close the door behind me, and find that as my eyes get used to the darkness, they make out that my quilt and a pillow lie on the couch. The corner of my mouth twitches at the evidence that, at one point, Blake did wait for me to come home.
I hear a clink come from the kitchen, and my heart leaps to attention.
Thinking I’m being stealthy, I tiptoe into the kitchen toward the refrigerator.
My jaw drops along with my keys as they make a loud clank on the wood floor, causing the barely dressed girl in my kitchen to yelp.
I blink through my disbelief, staring at the girl’s legs. Her long, slender, jealousy-inducing legs. She’s wearing shorts to rival even my shortest pair, and her bare-midriff revealing tank top shows off her womanly curves and perky breasts. I gulp at the sight, knowing that, without seeing her face, this is the type of girl I always pictured with Blake. My stomach plummets and contorts. However, it isn’t until I see her glowing blond locks and perfectly structured face that I remember her.
I want to cry. “Who are you?”
Her uncalled-for scowl sours my already terrible disposition, and her audacity at such a stare makes me want to scream.
“I’m Marguerite. I’m sure Blake has mentioned me.”
I clench my jaw. My heart is about to beat out of my chest. “No, I’m sorry, he hasn’t.”
Her smile feels as if it’s eating me alive, and I worry she can read my look of distress.
“This is awkward.” She huffs. “We used to date a long time ago. Are you Skyler?”
My breath catches in my throat, hearing her say my name. “Yes.”
“He’s mentioned you. We’ve been spending a lot of time together recently, patching up old wounds and such, ya know?”
Her tone insinuates something more, and it’s enough to have my heart breaking. Has he been seeing her all along?
“Are you two seeing each other?”
She smiles again, and instead of answering me, she looks me over, assessing me.
“Well, I’m staying the night here. Why don’t you put the pieces together?”
I need to leave. I need to get out of here. I’m on the verge of imploding. My heart has already turned into a heaping pile of dust and embers, and I have to gasp for air at the utter feeling of loss.
I don’t have it in me to ask more questions. I’ve heard enough. He must have been seeing her all along. Maybe when he went to close his doors, he realized he wasn’t ready to close that one.
I bob on my heels, ready to run before this bitch sees me cry. It’s the last thing I want.
As if reading me, she speaks with a snide tone. “Did you want me to tell Blake that you stopped by?”
“Yeah, actually, if you could. Just let him know never to call me, and you can do me a favor and go fuck yourself.”
She scrunches her perfectly plucked eyebrows. “Did you—?”
“Yes. Go fuck yourself.”
And I run.
I run fast.
I run to the front door, slamming it hard.
I run to my car.
I speed to Tucker’s.
I cry.
Then I cry some more, waiting for Tucker to open his fucking door.
How did it all come crashing down so fast?
Chapter 36
When Tucker’s door flies open, I have already slid down to the ground, hugging my legs close, trying desperately to stop my crying. There was a point amid my tears that I debated on whether I preferred this emotional blow to my well-being, or the physical blow of a punch to my face. Regardless, the pain still churned from within, and I could not stop shaking my head back and forth, scolding myself, thinking that I should have seen this coming.
It was never in the realm of possibility that someone like Blake, someone so far out of my league, someone set for stardom, someone who mingles with the beautiful people of LA, could ever consider the lowly, gawky med student at UCLA.
I mean, why would he choose me, the girl whose clothing options favored sweatshirts and sports bras, when he had someone like Marguerite, whose legs went on for miles and whose biggest clothing decision was whether she preferred clothes at all.
“Darling, what are you doing? Why are you crying? It’s almost one in the morning.”
I peer at Tucker from the ground, feeling that this is where I want to be. The ground. My eyes well up as they meet Tucker’s. “I-I . . . there . . . g-girl . . . I don’t know.” My words are muffled by my barely contained sobs, but they’re anything but incoherent jibber-jabber.
Tucker rushes to my side, kneeling next to me, tugging at my arm. “Skyler, what the hell is going on? You’re scaring me.”
I scrunch up my eyes, pushing out the tears between my lids. “You were right. It was all too good to be true. I should have known it wasn’t going to work out.”
Tucker’s eyes widen as he registers my words. “Oh no, Skyler.”
That’s when my body tries its damnedest to let out a sob, but I hold my breath so it won’t escape me.
Tucker shakes his head. “Stop that. You need to breathe.”
“But if I breathe, I’ll cry.” I huff in a little gasp of air, holding it in tight.
“Darling, it’s okay to cry.”
A gurgle of a gasp escapes my lips. “Okay, if you say so.”
I let it all go. Body-wracking sobs begin their torment. I feel so terrible dropping myself on Tucker’s doorstep. I heave in a deep breath.
“I’m sorry I’m here like this.”
He grins, as if I’m some precious thing. Before I know it, he picks me up from the ground, slipping one arm under my knees and the other around my back, lifting me up, cradling me to his chest.
“Tucker!” My mouth is agape. “I didn’t know you could do this.”
Reaching his couch, he tosses me onto the cushions, causing my gasping sob to transition into a yelp.
“Just because I’m gay doesn’t mean I’m a wimp.”
I can’t help the involuntary snicker that escapes me, and I thank God for my friends. I heave yet another deep breath to steady myself. For now, I feel contained, but it does nothing to the gut-wrenching feeling contorting inside me.
“So tell me what’s going on. I hate to say it, but I haven’t seen you like this since you broke down in the back room at the café. Even then, you weren’t this bad. Can I assume this has to do with Blake?”
Hearing his name has me wishing for
his strong arms, sweet lips, and the way his fingertips would trail over my skin in a way that felt like he cherished me. Now my lip quivers at the thought, feeling it was all for nothing.
“I just don’t know what happened or what I could have done.” My words feel how my insides feel. Empty.
My stare glasses over, and I look out into the living room, letting my mind catch up with the whirlwind of my emotions. I dissect, like rapid fire, each interaction, each kiss, each word. My mind tries to piece together the evidence so the present makes sense of it, but I come up with nothing.
“Do you want something to drink? Water? Wine?”
I consider drowning my sorrows, but I decide against it and shake my head. Tucker lets out a huff of breath, eyeing me, unsure what to do with me. I know I need to explain.
“There was a girl in my kitchen when I went home,” I blurt, and the truth stings when I hear it.
Tucker’s brows knit together. “W-what?”
I sniff a bit. “A girl. A beautiful, long-legged bitch in my kitchen. She was barely clothed. She said that Blake mentioned me.” I feel my sanity waning as I speak. “I don’t know where she came from. I didn’t know Blake was actually seeing other girls when we were seeing each other. I don’t know, Tucker.”
I stare down at the floor, feeling exhausted and broken.
“Was it Marguerite?”
My neck snaps up. “What did you just say?”
For once, I’m not the one with the deer in headlights look. Tucker shifts in his chair, and his rosy cheeks empty themselves of color. “Skyler, don’t be mad, okay?”
I don’t know why, but I’m ready to transition into banshee status and scream a bloodcurdling scream while letting waterfalls emerge from my eyes. “How the hell do you know that name?”
“I’ve been talking to Blake.”
I sit up from the couch, my limbs turning rigid with apprehension. I repeat his words, not understanding. “You’ve been talking to Blake? What? How? Why?”
The girl has left my mind as I try to wrap my head around how this makes sense.
“I’ve known Blake was crazy about you for a while.” He throws his hands up defensively. “But let me clarify. He never actually told me that. Ever since he came in the first time, he started coming into the coffee shop more and more. Ironically, and to his dismay, every time he came in, you weren’t there. I didn’t get it at first. However, it became clear that he wanted to see you. He would ask about you, we would talk, but he would also ask about other things. As time went on, he was looking more anxious and stressed, and the want to see you was more like a remedy. But we never talked about why he was walking in, asking about you. It was like this understood thing. Eventually he spilled the beans about why he was walking by the coffee shop almost every day. He mentioned his ex-girlfriend, Marguerite. He was meeting up with her, getting coffee, grabbing lunch, and heading to her apartment—”
I gasp. “Apartment?”
Tucker clenches his jaw, and shakes his head. “It’s not what you think. Well, God! I don’t think it is! He never talked highly of her. He said he was helping her out, and that he loved her, but that there was nothing there anymore.”
Another punch to my gut, and all the air feels like it’s left my lungs. It seems all I can focus on is that word. “L-love?”
Tucker gets up from his chair to take a seat next to me on the couch, his face etched with concern. “Stop that. I don’t think it’s what it seems. I’m telling you, he came into the shop to see you, even if it was for thirty seconds. I teased him about it, and even told him he was getting in too deep. Just last week he walked in, and I don’t know what happened between you, but he was smiling as bright as the sun. He scoured the shop for you, and that’s when I told him that you were too good for him. He said I was right, and then I told him to be careful.”
I rub at my face, feeling anxious and completely out of control. I’m angry with Tucker now, too. “What about all that shit that you’re my friend more than his? Why have you been keeping this a secret from me?”
“I know it’s easy for you to get mad at me about this, but I have a simple answer to that. And of course, we are ten times better friends. But I could see it in Blake and in you that you two were falling for each other without any outside influence. You gushed over him, and he did the same. I felt that the best chance you two had was to let things happen organically. Does that make sense? I wanted you two to work, but I didn’t want to have childish chitchat. You two were doing fine. In my opinion, Blake has a lot of growing up to do, and I wanted him to figure out how nuts he was about you. I threw him warnings, but mostly I let him talk. I didn’t tell you because all of it was assumptions I was making, but I swayed you in the direction I thought was right. I tried being a good friend; you have to know that. You two did fine without me butting in too much.”
“Obviously not!”
“I don’t know why she was there! Are you sure Marguerite and Blake were sleeping together?”
“She acted as if I was a nobody in my own home, and implied that she and Blake have been patching things up. What am I supposed to believe?”
“You need to talk to Blake, darling!”
“No, not ever!” I shout. “What could he say that could make that girl being in my house, wearing those clothes, okay? He didn’t call or text. Nothing.”
“I wish he would have told me why he was seeing her. I don’t know why she was there. I’m sure there’s a reason. I know Blake had no intention of throwing away what he had with you, and that was before he confessed how he felt about you. He did mention they were working together.”
My ears perk up again. “Work? Like modeling?”
Tucker shrugs. “I really wish I had more details, Skye. We mostly talked about you. He once mentioned he had to pick her up for work, but again, I never wanted to probe too much. I liked that he was coming into the shop, and I liked that he was obsessing over you. It really was sweet, you have to know that!”
I sniff, biting back a sob. “It doesn’t matter, Tucker. It’s all for nothing when I feel like this.”
Tucker’s shoulders slump and he wraps his arm around my shoulders. “I know it seems like that, but you have to talk to him.”
This morning felt like heaven, and this evening feels like hell. I let out a sob, leaning into Tucker’s shoulder. “It hurts so bad, Tuck. I don’t know why, but this hurts more than Jason. How is that possible?”
He squeezes me close. “Oh darling, I don’t know. Maybe because you like Blake more than you think.”
I shake my head against his chest. I don’t want to hear that. I heave in a deep breath, and I try to remember what my life was like before Blake, and if there was ever a calm. I don’t think there was. The highs and lows of my life have been constant for as long as I can remember, and that makes me want to cry more.
“Skyler, why don’t you take the rest of the week off? Get your bearings. Focus on school, and everything will be okay.”
“Are you sure, Tucker? That isn’t fair to the shop.”
He shrugs. “I’m the boss, and we’ll figure it out. You need to figure yourself out. I’ll give you two days, how about that?”
“I’m kind of mad at you for talking to Blake, but for now, those two days off sound like what I need. I can’t believe this is happening, Tucker.” Then something hits me. “I’m gonna have to move out, aren’t I? I can’t stay there anymore!”
“Whoa, whoa, Skyler. Calm down. Hear the guy out first, will you?”
I grunt between my snivels. “I don’t want to talk to him or see him. I just can’t imagine him having anything to—”
“Do me a favor: Don’t make any rash decisions. Take these two days to figure it out. I’m angry with the guy, too. I hate seeing you like this, and he’s an idiot for whatever he’s doing. I’m so sorry, Skyler, that this happened, but handle it like an adult, will you? Get the facts.”
“I am an adult,” I spit out.
“When it
comes to school—sure, you’re an adult. However, when it comes to matters of your irrational heart, eh, you could work on it. I don’t understand why you didn’t bust into his room right then and there.”
I halt my crying to peer up at him. “It’s simple. I’m terrified of him. I’m already so broken, and he could destroy me. What if the truth—?”
“Skyler, this is what I’m talking about. I love you, but maybe you have to grow up, too. Adults face the truth, no matter how painful. Because if you don’t, you’ll be living a lie. And I know you don’t want that.”
His words sting. He’s right, and my pride won’t let me admit it. I clench my jaw, torn between frustration and sadness. “I, at least, can’t go home for a bit.”
He grins, rubbing at my back. “You can stay here. The spare key is yours. Stay as long as you need to.”
“Thanks, Tucker.”
***
My eyes flicker open to the sound of incessant ringing. I can’t remember when I fell asleep on Tucker’s couch, but the quilt draped over me and the pillow under my head has me assuming I fell asleep mid-cry.
I reach for my phone on the coffee table. I look to see who it is and drop it.
Blake.
I look at the time and notice that it’s nearing nine. I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to talk to him. I need advice. I mean, whatever happened only happened nine hours ago.
“Tuckeerrrr!” I shout, desperate for his wit and how-to, but to no avail, silence is what I get and I try one more time. “Tucker!”
My mouth is scratchy and dry from crying. I gulp as I realize that Tucker must have had the early shift.
Shortly after that ring ends, another begins, and I stare at the damn thing as if it’ll bite me. I reach for it on the floor, and flip it over on its back so I can see the screen. “Blake” blinks at me, and I’m so thankful I don’t have a photo to match the caller ID, because I’m sure I would implode.