Can't Let Go

by Michelle Lynn

  Not a second later, Sadie emerges. “Chrissy?” she questions, and I shake my head because if I talk to her about this, I’ll break.

  “I’m going out with Rob for a bit,” I tell her, and her hand rests on my arm, igniting the start of a stumbled breath.

  “Stay, we can talk,” she says, concern laced in her eyes.

  “I appreciate it, Sadie, but I just can’t be here.” I don’t move my arm, and she doesn’t remove her hand.

  “Chrissy, they’re—”

  “It’s fine, Sadie, really. I want to unwind.” I’ve never wanted to escape Sadie more than at this moment.

  She doesn’t know what happened last night. How close Dex and I came to changing our relationship forever.

  Rob jumps off the steps and disengages Sadie. “I got this one, Sadie, go spend some quality time with Brady,” he jokes and grabs my hand, leading me to his Mustang. Over my shoulder, I glance at a very anxiety-ridden Sadie, biting her lip and watching us leave. Rob’s a complete gentleman, opening the door and shutting it behind me. He jogs in front of the car and slides in next to me. For the first time, I wish all of those feelings for Dex would transfer to Rob. “Are you a risk taker?” he asks, and, although I usually run on the side of caution, tonight I want to be someone different.

  “Uh huh,” I answer. He smirks and his muffler roars to life, peeling out of the driveway.

  Linkin Park, Papa Roach, Soundgarden, and a varied array of rock music carries the conversation on the way to wherever he’s taking me. The same music as Dex listens to usually, so I’m familiar with the majority of the bands. I remember when we were younger, he’d tell me a song he really liked, and I’d listen to it over and over again, allowing me to feel closer to him in a way.

  A half hour passes, and we pull into a drive with a sign reading, Paintball. I scrunch my forehead at him, and he laughs. “It’s great for letting out stress.”

  “I thought it was done in the woods during the day? In case you didn’t notice your headlights were on when you drove here,” I point out, and he turns off the engine and gets out of the car without a response.

  I open my own door and exit the car while Rob waits at the front of the car for me. “It’s inside a warehouse. They’re open late.” He walks me in, and a guy, who appears like he hasn’t showered in a week or so, welcomes him by name then eyes me.

  “Brought someone with you?” he asks, his eyes roaming up and down my body.

  “This is Chrissy, and she needs to have fun.” He claps me on the back, making my body stumble forward. I give the guy a tight smile, and he starts grabbing things from the shelves.

  Ten minutes later, I’m fitted with a suit, a gun, and little colorful balls to shoot at people. Rob laughs when he notices me look at the goggles with trepidation. I place them over my head, resting them on my forehead. “You’re not going to protect your eyes like that.” He points to my goggles, and I giggle.

  “Don’t worry about me,” I kid, making him smile.

  We both make our way over to the entry area, that’s occupied with a bunch of high school kids geared up and egging each other on. When they spot us, a few laugh to themselves while obviously the most outspoken one sets his attention on Rob. “You brought your girlfriend?” he huffs, and I’m holding a laugh inside because he has no idea who he’s messing with.

  “I bet she can shoot better than your ass.”

  “I can guarantee you she’ll be the first one out.” I stay silent, and Rob should too. I’ve never even shot a Nerf gun, so I’m pretty sure the cocky kid is accurate in his assessment. I’ll be on the sidelines most of this game.

  “Okaaayyy.” Rob draws the word out nice and slow, appearing cool and calm. “If she stays in longer than you, I want your gun,” he wagers, and I pull on Rob’s sleeve, but he only looks down at me briefly before back to the kid.

  “What do I get when she’s walking to the sidelines a second after the horn?”

  “I’ll buy you an equivalent at the shop out front.” Rob finalizes the bet, and, while everyone is getting ready, I pull him aside.

  “Are you nuts? There’s no way I can beat that kid. He must come here every weekend. Look at his gear, his friends stuff. I’m standing here with a gun that will probably jam in two seconds while he’s got reserves of balls strapped to his belt.”

  Rob’s boisterous laugh brings us attention but they turn away. “All you have to do is get him first. Stay by my side, and I’ll guarantee it.” He places his hand on my shoulder, and somehow self-confidence washes over me that maybe I can do it. “The kid is cocky and arrogant. Traits I know too well. When you’re in high school though, those too sure of themselves guys don’t think everything through, they just react. We got this, Chris, don’t worry,” he tells me, and the fact he called me Chris has me trusting him. Not many people refer to me by that name. My mind wanders to thinking about Dex, who was the first to shorten my name, and how I hated it at first because it sounded like a boy’s name. It clarified that that’s how Dex saw me … as though I was just another friend, like the abundance of boys he hung around with. “You still with me?” Rob asks, and I nod as my head continues to swim in the thoughts of Dex.

  A few minutes later, the same guy that got us fitted, climbs up on top of a perch with a microphone in his hand. “You all ready?” The boys all scream, some even make ear-screeching animal sounds. One acting out, fisting his chest like an ape. Oh, to be young again. Soon, everyone quiets and the man begins his instructions. “You have two minutes to find your spot, but when the horn blows, firing can begin. You get shot, you immediately need to exit through the doors. Everyone got it?” Once again, the high school boys scream their affirmations. Rob and the guy share a smirk, and then Rob’s grabbing my hand and tugging me into the warehouse situated with wooden barriers. We hide behind a plywood partition, and Rob places his finger over his lips, like I wouldn’t figure out we need to be quiet. The horn blows, and the scrambling of bodies ping around us in every direction.

  While Rob’s intent on watching from around the edge, my eyes dart in the direction of every noise with my gun poised out in front of me. I don’t even know if I’d have the nerve to shoot or not if I had the opportunity. He hits me on the shin, so that I crouch down similar to him. “Rob,” I whisper, and he firmly shakes his head, bringing his hand around my waist, forcing me to crouch down in front of him. He steadies my shaking gun and positions it to face forward. The cocky ass rolls from shield to shield in an attempt to find us … or rather, me.

  Suddenly, I muster all my courage, and when he runs to slide behind another obstacle, I shoot, knocking me back in Rob’s chest from the force of the gun. Rob nudges me forward, and when I peer over the side of the plywood, the kid’s swearing up a storm. “Mother fucker,” he exclaims, and Rob uncontrollably laughs.

  “Way to go, Rambo,” he compliments me. “Now you’re on your own.” He sprints across the concrete and hides behind a set of tires.

  When I’d hear about paintball or watch people playing it on television, I thought it looked pointless, but I loved every aspect of it; the hiding, the sneaking up, the shooting. What kind of person does that make me? The worst part was when I did finally get shot, it was so gut-clenching painful that I’ll never participate in paintball again.

  Sitting on the sideline bench, I watch the boys and Rob finding and shooting one another. Rob fails to be the winner, but he comes close. When he walks off the play course toward me, the cocky kid hands Rob his gun. “I don’t want it,” Rob tells him quickly, placing his hand on the gun and pushing it away. “But taper down your arrogance a bit, okay? Trust me when I say no one likes an asshole.” He doesn’t wait for a response, but smirks on his way over to me. “Now we eat,” he instructs, ushering me off the bench with his hand.

  Rob drives us to a diner off the freeway that’s open late at night. Once we’re seated in a booth in the corner with the small jukebox that maybe worked back in the day pushed against the window, I begin
thanking him for occupying my mind tonight.

  “Seriously, Rob, that was awesome. Other than the getting shot part,” I continue, rubbing my arm where one of those pricks got me. “Thank you.”

  “It takes a while to get used to it. I mean, it always hurts like a mother fucker, but you know what to expect.” We’re interrupted when the waitress comes over.

  “Hey, Rob.” She greets him by name and then her eyes veer to me. “Do you guys need menus?”

  “I don’t, but she might.” He points over at me, and I shake my head. Figuring it’s a diner, I can assume what they serve and what I’ll order. “I guess we’re ready, Jackie,” he informs her, and I feel as though I should be introduced, since they’re on first name bases with one another.

  Rob orders a Reuben sandwich, and I order a hamburger. We sit and wait while the food is prepared, neither of us talking about anything of consequence. My mind drifts back to Dex and him inside of Sam at the moment. The image of his sweating body slipping along hers while he thrusts in and out burns my thoughts. Her screams of ecstasy and him groaning, practically a soundtrack in my ears. There’s no way I’ll ever be able to sleep in my room with the two of them next door. My only hope is she vanishes somewhere else tonight, but even I know there’s a slim chance of that.

  We eat our meals, talking mostly about Rob’s last tour and music. He never asks me about Dex, and I try not to bring his name up. I’m not oblivious that the guy sitting across from me knows more about the Dex Prescott of the last four years than I do. Is Dex’s bedroom a revolving door of girls? Did he ever have a serious relationship? I don’t even know if I want those details to be embedded in my mind to obsess about over and over again. Especially, since Sam has been enough to occupy most of my thoughts so far.

  Later, when we return home and walk through the backdoor, I’m thankful Rob was able to distract me for a few hours. But as soon as we left the diner, my stomach tightened with the thought of Dex and Sam together. I almost asked Rob to trade bedrooms with me for the night for the assurance of silence.

  The whole house is dark except for a light flickering in the living room. Sadie and Brady and their late night movies. I stop Rob in the kitchen because I want to be alone when I thank him. In the past week, I’ve noticed Rob puts up a show in front of others, and I want us both to be genuine in this moment. I have no idea what he did in the past, but in my opinion, he’s selfless and put my needs before his own tonight.

  “Thank you, Rob.” I inch up so that my lips can reach his cheek.

  “You’re welcome,” he murmurs, and then I wrap my arms around his neck. Pressing myself against him, he in turn places his hands on my hips and we hug one another.

  “You should let people see this side of you,” I whisper softly, and his body jiggles from a small laugh.

  “Don’t tell anyone,” he says. “Can’t let my image be tainted.” I laugh.

  There in the kitchen, with only the glow of a light from the living room streaming in, I figured out why Jessa ever dated Rob in the first place. Behind that asshole shield is a caring guy who sees things around him others don’t. I assume he might have known from our first meeting that Dex holds a place inside my heart.

  Lights flick on, and I squint to see the person responsible for it. When I push away from Rob, my eyes find Dex standing in the doorway, his jaw clenched, his chest rising and falling with both hands gripping the sides of the frame. “What the fuck is going on here?”

  “Nothing,” I say and touch Rob’s forearm, staring up at him with appreciation. Not able to look at Dex, I begin to leave the confines of the kitchen when Dex grabs my wrist.

  “Chrissy?” He cocks his head to the side in a give me a break, you were about to fuck him act.

  “You think you have a say in who I go out with?” I defiantly ask him, yanking my arm out of his grip.

  “It definitely won’t be him,” he sneers, and Rob steps up.

  “Why the hell not? I’m a hell of a better guy than you,” Rob spats back, and I rush to step in between them.

  “You have to be shittin’ me,” Dex continues, and I kind of want to agree with Rob on this one.

  “Do you even realize what an asshole you are? How can you be so fucking blind?” Rob yells, and I press my hands down to get them to quiet down. The last thing we need is the whole house to wake up.

  “Why don’t you enlighten me, Rob.” Dex eggs him on, crossing his arms on his chest.

  “Rob, just let this go,” I insist, but he takes his hand and gently nudges me to the side. “I can’t handle this right now.” I escape down the hall, stopping at the stairs to overhear.

  Rob continues talking. “You two walk around referring to each other as friends. Let me tell you something, friends don’t look at each other every time the other walks in like no one else is in the room. Friends don’t dance close at a bar and make-out in front of a group of people like they want to fuck each other’s brains out,” Rob says, revealing he saw us last night.

  “We were drunk,” Dex throws back, and my misery comes to the surface that all I was to him was a drunken fuck. Well, almost a drunken fuck.

  “That makes it worse. You want to know why I’ve befriended Chrissy?”

  “Go for it,” Dex grits out through clenched teeth.

  “She needs someone, and you’re so fucking twisted up, you can’t decide whether to be with her or not. Then you bring Sam back here? What the hell were you thinking? That you could just fuck her with Chrissy next door? You say Chrissy’s just your friend while everyone else around you knows better. If you can’t admit your feelings for her, at least actually be a friend and be considerate of her feelings.”

  “You’re actually giving me advice on how to be a friend?” Dex hammers back.

  Rob laughs. “Yeah, I guess I am,” he arrogantly says, and the next thing I hear is a hard smash from what I assume is a fist to the wall.

  “You’re the worst friend,” Dex says, and I can’t help but feel I’m overhearing grade-schoolers arguing on a playground.

  “Sorry to tell you, buddy, you took the cake on that title tonight.” The back door opens and slams shut. Not knowing if it was Dex or Rob, I walk up the stairs, scrambling into the safe confines of my room.

  Lying in bed, I wait for the footsteps to come, telling me that Dex has gone back to bed with Sam or that Rob went into his room. But they never come, and the silence eventually relaxes me slightly. Hope that maybe I am more to Dex than he admits. Putting my headphones in, I allow the music to soothe me to sleep so I won’t be woken up by noises of lust from Dex and Sam.

  THE CLOCK ON my dashboard glares that it’s after three in the morning by the time I pull back into the driveway. Grabbing my envelope from the passenger seat, I stuff it under my shirt and tuck it in my waistband just in case anyone’s up. The guilt from Rob’s words sent me to my dad’s. Nothing like a few bets and wins to lift my mood and distract from my overworking mind that’s plagued me for the past week. Some days, I wonder why I even bother with school when I could easily earn my living gambling.

  The stairs creak and shift as my heavy footsteps rise to the top. Stopping at Chrissy’s door, I place my palm against it, wanting nothing more than to retreat in and climb under her blankets. But with doubt too high, I lower it back down and make the way to my room. Sam’s light snores echo in the room, bringing the anxiety of my situation to the surface. I use the flashlight on my phone to light my way to the safe in the closet and stuff the envelope in there as fast as I can. Like a damn stalker, I stand over Sam and for a second I debate in my head to either climb in next to her or sleep down the hall. Rob’s words ring in my ears, reminding me what a shit move it was bringing her back here in the first place. Then thinking of Chrissy asleep right next door makes me feel like even lower of a person.

  Shaking my head, I turn around and leave the room. Once in the hallway, my breathing returns back to normal slightly after having made a decision one way or the other. Finding the com
fort of our old-ass couch in the family room, I click on the television and wait until the infomercials bore me enough to sleep.

  “DEX,” I’M SHAKEN awake by Sam.

  “Yeah,” I half coherently answer.

  “I need you to take me to Jessa and Grant’s.” I pry one eye open and find an already made up Sam in front of me. Seriously, her make-up is already on and her hair done up. What the fuck time is it?

  “What time is it?” I ask, and she laughs.

  “Eleven,” she says. It’s Sunday, so I guess everyone is sleeping in. “Jessa’s coming home today.”

  “Okay—give me a sec.” I sit up and place my elbows on my knees, my head in my hands. Blinking a few times, I give an internal pep talk to get up. I stand up and dig in my pockets for my keys.

  “You could have slept with me last night, I don’t bite,” she jokes, and I give her a little laugh to show her I heard it, but I know I made the right decision.

  “I just couldn’t sleep,” I lie.

  Her eyes focus on mine, and then she turns away. “Well, let’s go.” She walks into the kitchen, and I notice her bag is already placed by the back door. Being the gentleman, I pick it up and we leave the house.

  We’re about three minutes from Jessa and Grant’s when Sam reaches over and turns down the music. “Who is she?” she asks.

  A groan escapes my lips. Why does everyone think Chrissy and I are their business? “A friend.” I keep up my usual reference to Chrissy.

  “Are you sure there isn’t something more?” she presses, and I bring the heel of my palm to my eye, wishing this conversation could end.

  “I’m not sure,” I honestly answer because Sam and I have always been truthful. Our agreement was that if we were serious about someone else, this ended between us. I probably should have put an end to it when Chrissy returned and definitely yesterday when I picked Sam up. I pull along the curb and place the truck in park. The lift of my chest to finally admit to someone my feelings for Chrissy is liberating.