The Play: Briar U

by Kennedy, Elle

  I snicker.

  Dean sets his jaw. “I’d never beat up Logan for you, Allie-Cat. He’s my BFF.”

  “I thought Garrett was your BFF,” she taunts.

  “I thought I was your BFF,” I whine.

  He sighs. “Jesus fucking Christ, you’re all my BFFs, okay?”

  “Hey, where’s Hannah?” I ask, referring to Garrett’s girlfriend, Hannah Wells. The last time I was in the WAGs box, she was also present.

  “Holy shit, did you not hear about Wellsy?” Dean demands.

  “What about her?”

  “You know how she’s been working with that famous producer? The one who’s also worked with Rihanna and Beyoncé and a bunch of other huge names?”

  “Yeah, but I thought she wasn’t making her own music. Isn’t she writing songs now?”

  “She is,” Allie confirms. “And one of her songs is going to be performed by—get this! Delilah Sparks! They’re in the recording studio as we speak, laying down the track. Hannah says it might actually be the single on Delilah’s next album.”

  “Wow. That is impressive.” It’s really cool seeing what everyone’s been doing after college. Dean teaching and coaching. Allie on TV. Hannah rubbing elbows with superstar recording artists.

  But…and maybe this is just the little boy in me…for me, watching Garrett and Logan skating in a packed TD Garden, representing our city, trumps everybody else’s careers.

  All I ever wanted was to play professional hockey. It was my childhood dream. When I first told my parents that dream, I think Dad was pissed, because in his mind he’d been grooming me since birth to work for his company and eventually take it over. But when it turned out I was really damn good and had a more than realistic shot of making a shit ton of money as a pro hockey player, suddenly Dad was on board, encouraging my budding career.

  So, yes, I wanted it. Badly. But then… I changed my mind. I realized that the NHL lifestyle is not for me. It’s too decadent, too destructive if you’re not careful, and I truly don’t know if I trust myself to be part of it.

  Still, knowing I won’t be down on that ice one day doesn’t take away from the excitement of watching my friends skate. Everyone in the box is cheering their lungs out, and a wave of screams rocks the room when Garrett creates a rebound that lands on Logan’s stick. Logan snaps it up and scores his first goal of the season. Grace is on her feet, screaming herself hoarse, her face shining with pride.

  I wonder if I’ll ever find a woman who looks at me like that. A woman who, when presented with “speed bumps” in our relationship, works with me to smooth them out instead of simply driving away. I might not want a girlfriend this very second, but I can’t deny that I hope to find something—no, someone—real in the future.

  On the other hand, some relationships are total shit. I mean, look at Demi. She’s head over heels for her boyfriend, and he’s going around getting his dick wet at frat parties.

  And I still haven’t told her the truth. I had all day to do it, for chrissake. We sat together in Abnormal Psych this morning. We spent an hour in the car together on the way up here. Yet every time I opened my mouth to tell her, I couldn’t get the words out.

  I’ll say something on the drive home tonight. I have to.

  I’m just going to suck it up, blurt it out, and let the chips fall where they may.

  * * *

  Like a coward, I wait until the last possible second to broach the subject with Demi. After picking her up from her parents’ house, I let her chat for the entire drive home, nodding and smiling while internally gathering my courage. The last time I found myself in a situation like this, it blew up in my face like a grenade. Every fiber of my being wants me to keep my mouth shut, but I like this girl, and I think she deserves to know.

  I guess I’m not a great actor, because Demi finally calls me on my behavior as I turn onto the main road toward campus.

  “Okay, what is up with you?”

  “Nothing,” I lie.

  “I’d think I was boring you, but I know for a fact that I am not boring. I’m a fucking excellent conversationalist and I just told you a story about the time I met Gigi Hadid in South Beach AKA the best meet-cute of the century.”

  I crack a smile. “You’re certainly not boring,” I agree.

  “So why are you acting weird?” Demi sounds aggravated.

  “I…” Inhale. Exhale. Here goes. “I need to tell you something, and I’ve been debating all day whether or not to do it.”

  “What is it?”

  “Uh.”

  Silence commences.

  “Okay. Cool. Great chat, bro!”

  I quickly backtrack. “You know what, it’s not important.” It’s none of my business, I tell myself. Whatever Nico’s doing is his own business.

  “I’m joking,” she insists. “Tell me what going on.”

  “Uh.”

  Silence recommences.

  “Come on, Monk, am I going to have to beat it out of you?”

  “I’d like to see you try.”

  “I’m a lot stronger than I look.” She frowns. “Are you really not going to tell me?”

  “Nico,” I blurt before I can stop myself.

  And I instantly want to punch myself in the face, because Demi is like a shark that just caught a sniff of blood.

  “What about him?” she demands.

  “Nothing.” Goddammit, why did I even bring it up? And why is it taking so long to reach Greek Row? I need an escape plan, ASAP.

  “Hunter,” she says sharply.

  “Fine. Just…don’t shoot the messenger, okay?” I release a quick breath. “I ran into him at a party this weekend at the Alpha Delta house. Saturday night?”

  Demi toys with one of her hoop earrings as she thinks about it. “He went out with his work friends Saturday night. I thought they were in Hastings, but I suppose they could’ve gone to that party.”

  “They were definitely there. I don’t know if it was with the work buddies or not, but Nico was there. He and I even spoke.”

  “Okay. So he went to a party. Big deal.”

  “That’s not all he did.”

  Her features sharpen again. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean I saw him upstairs with some chick.”

  Once again, silence falls over the car. Shit. I should not have brought this up at all.

  “All right,” she says slowly. “You saw him with a girl. What were they doing?”

  “They were exiting a bedroom.”

  “Were they naked?”

  “Well, no, they were both fully clothed. But…” I don’t want to say it, but I force myself to spit it out. “He was zipping up his pants.”

  “Oh.”

  “Obviously that doesn’t mean they were doing anything,” I add hastily. “Maybe they both needed to use the bathroom and he forgot to do up his fly after taking a leak. But, speaking as a guy—”

  “As a fuckboy, you mean.”

  “Whoa.” I’m taken aback by the verbal assault. She must really hate me right now. “Should I remind you I haven’t been sexually active in months?”

  “Should I remind me how sexually active you were last year? You said so yourself, remember? So maybe you’re just associating your own behavior with whatever you think you saw Nico doing.” Her lips tighten. “Maybe they were using the bathroom. Maybe they were hanging out or talking or whatever. You don’t know for certain that something happened.”

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying to you,” I grumble. “I don’t know if anything happened.”

  We reach the fork in the road that leads to Greek Row, and I eagerly flick the turn signal. I’ve never been happier to see a sorority house and I’m not even banging anyone inside of it.

  “Look, I’m sorry,” I mutter. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  Demi doesn’t answer. Her profile is as tense as the current state of my shoulders.

  I stop in front of the Theta house. I avoid her eyes as I put the Rover in p
ark. “But I figured I should tell you. You know, just in case.”

  “Tell me what? That my boyfriend was talking to some girl?”

  “No, that he went upstairs with her, that they were alone in a bedroom, and that he walked out zipping up his pants. Get your head out of the sand, Demi. Men in relationships don’t do that kind of shit.”

  I instantly regret my harsh tone. But rather than go silent or meek, Demi’s eyes turn molten. “You don’t know anything about my relationship, Hunter.”

  “I know that you already suspected him of cheating on you once.”

  “Yeah, when we were kids. He’s matured since then.”

  Has he? I want to challenge. I keep quiet, but the unspoken question hangs in the air, and Demi hisses in response to it.

  “He has,” she insists. “And you know what? I don’t appreciate you jumping to conclusions, and I don’t appreciate all your fear mongering!”

  “Fear mongering?” I can’t help but snicker. “Jesus Christ. All I’m telling you is that I saw the dude zip up his pants. Do with that what you will.”

  15

  Demi

  He was zipping up his pants.

  Hunter’s words buzz in my brain as I stalk into house. Despite the late hour, a bunch of my sorority sisters are still up, watching a horror movie. The living room is dark, and I glimpse bowls of popcorn and hear a lot of shrieking at the screen. But I don’t join them. I’m not in the mood.

  Instead I go to the kitchen and stick my head in the fridge. I need a snack. Pronto. When I’m agitated, I eat. It’s a habit I probably need to squash, because great metabolism doesn’t last forever, but my mom is in her forties and can still eat whatever she wants, so I’m hopeful for the future. I grab a block of cheddar and angrily start cutting the cheese into cubes.

  I don’t care what Hunter says. Nico couldn’t have cheated. Yes, he was out on Saturday night with his friends. And fine, maybe they did wind up at a frat party. But that doesn’t mean he did anything shady. For all Hunter knows, Nico was hanging out with Pippa. I’m pretty sure Pippa went to that party, too.

  I put down the knife and grab my phone, wasting no time texting my friend.

  ME: Hey, were you at the Alpha Delt party on Sat??

  As I wait for Pippa’s response, I pile the cheese cubes onto a plate and then rummage through the pantry for a box of crackers. I dump a bunch of those on the plate too.

  When my phone buzzes, I dive for it.

  PIPPA: Ya. Why??

  ME: Did you see Nico there?

  HER: No. Was he there?

  ME: Maybe? Someone says they saw him.

  HER: Hmmm. Well I did leave kinda early, like around 11. Do you know what time he got there?

  ME: No clue. But just to be clear, you didn’t see him when you were there?

  HER: Nope.

  I bite my lip. All right. So he wasn’t with Pippa. That doesn’t mean anything.

  PIPPA: What’s going on, D?

  ME: Call me?

  She calls less than five seconds later. I carry my cracker and cheese plate upstairs to my bedroom, balancing the phone on my shoulder. “Do you think Nico’s cheating on me?” I demand in lieu of hello.

  “Cheating on you? Is that a joke?”

  “No. Someone saw him in a compromising position with another girl at the party.”

  Pippa laughs. “Bullshit.”

  A tiny sliver of hope pierces into me. “You think so?”

  “I know so. Come on, babe. That boy is obsessed with you.”

  “That doesn’t mean he’s not cheating.”

  “Trust me, there’s no way he would do anything to jeopardize your relationship. He’s constantly going on and on about how you guys are going to get married someday. I can’t see him throwing everything away for some random hook-up.”

  I can’t, either. And, she’s right. Nico does have the tendency to boast about the amazing future we’re going to have. Why would he be planning a future with me if he’s hooking up with other women?

  “Who told you about this?” Pippa asks.

  “Hunter,” I confess.

  “The hockey player?”

  “Yes. He was at the party and he saw Nico leaving one of the upstairs bedrooms with a girl. Apparently he was zipping up his pants.”

  A brief silence meets my ear. Then Pippa says, “No. I still don’t buy it.”

  “You don’t?” The hope in my chest grows, joined by a rush of relief. “So, what, you think Hunter is lying?”

  “Probably.”

  “What’s his motivation to lie?”

  “I bet he wants in your pants.”

  “We’re just friends,” I say. And I can’t stop picturing the tortured expression on his face when he told me what he saw. It’s obvious he didn’t want to say anything.

  Or…he could’ve been putting on an act, pretending that it pained him so much to tell me, but really it was all a plot to, as Pippa said, get in my pants. I mean, Hunter fully admitted to having a sexual fantasy about me once. And he’s a self-proclaimed former manwhore. Why should I trust anything he has to say about women and relationships?

  On the flip side, I’ve known Nico since I was eight years old. He’s my best friend.

  “Nico loves you,” Pippa says as if reading my mind. “I think Hunter is lying or else he misinterpreted what he saw.”

  “So you think I’m being crazy?”

  “I think you’re being crazy.”

  “Thanks, chica.” I sigh. “Should I should say something to Nico?”

  “I don’t know, babe. It might start a fight, but if you need to do it for your peace of mind, then yeah, you should. But don’t frame it like an accusation,” she advises. “Maybe treat it more as a joke? Like, omigosh hon, can you believe that?”

  “That’s a good approach.”

  We hang up a few minutes later, and I’m left sitting on my bed with a snack plate in my lap.

  I stare down at the mountain of cheese and crackers, but I don’t have much of an appetite anymore.

  * * *

  NICO: Good morning, bb. Meet for breakfast?

  I stare at my boyfriend’s message for a good five minutes before assembling enough courage to respond.

  ME: Sure. But I just woke up, so I need time to get ready. Pick me up in 45?

  HIM: Sounds good :) I’ll msg u when I get 2 campus.

  I’m nervous as I get ready. I decided I’m definitely going to confront him about what Hunter told me. I have no choice, because if I don’t, it’ll eat away at me like a slow-moving cancer, until I won’t even be able to look at him without wondering if he cheated.

  Hunter has to be wrong, though. Like Pippa said, he’s either straight-up lying or he misinterpreted the situation. I’m hoping for the latter, because I enjoy our friendship and I don’t like the idea that he’s secretly been running a long con to get me into bed. That would be really shitty.

  Nico texts when he’s outside. I step onto the porch and am greeted by his handsome face and beautiful dimpled smile. I find myself relaxing. I adore that smile, and I adore that face. He’s…well, he’s my first love. I’m always going to see him and have this giddy, schoolgirl reaction. And just because I’ve had some doubts about our relationship, some suspicions along the way, doesn’t mean we’re not a good couple.

  “Hey mami.” He pulls me toward him for a hug, followed by a deep, tongue-tangling kiss.

  I want to say it’s a lot of passion this early in the morning, but Nico is always this passionate. It’s the Cuban in him. He’s all about bold claims and romantic gestures.

  “You look good enough to eat.” He smacks his lips together comically and I laugh.

  “So do you. But I think I want some real food first.”

  “You always want real food.”

  “True.”

  He snickers. “How was Boston last night?” he asks as we step off the porch.

  “Good. My parents were bummed you weren’t there.”

  “
Me too. But I had to work.” He takes my hand. “Hopefully we can get up to see them before Thanksgiving.”

  “I doubt it. I’ve got midterms, and in the beginning of November the sorority is planning that fundraiser for the animal shelter.”

  His fingers loosely clasp mine as we walk towards the curb.

  “Nice, you have your work truck,” I say. It’s one of the white pick-ups from the moving company, with their black and red logo stenciled onto the side.

  “I know it’s only a ten-minute walk, but do you mind if we drive to Carver? I only have an hour.”

  “You first class isn’t until two,” I remind him.

  “I know, but I need to go to work for a few hours. I told Frank I’d do a small job before class.” He opens the passenger side door for me, then hurries around to get into the driver’s seat.

  “You asked Frank about next Friday, right?”

  Nico starts the engine. “Next Friday, like two weeks from now?”

  “Yeah, it’s Corinne’s housewarming. You were supposed to tell Frank you couldn’t work that night.”

  “Oh, right.” Nico nods, and a hunk of black hair falls on his forehead. I reach over to brush it away. “Sorry, I forgot because it’s so far away. But yes, I did talk to him. He promised I’d be outta there by seven.”

  “Good.” I buckle my seatbelt. “Isn’t her new place so cute?”

  “Honestly? I don’t remember what it looks like,” he says with a grin. “I’ve moved boxes into so many houses and apartments that they all blend together in my mind. Oh hey, I got you something.”

  That piques my interest. “You did?”

  “D and I were grabbing burgers in the city the other day, and the place had one of those gumball machines, except instead of gumballs it gave out little toys and trinkets. Cost me a buck, but”—Nico grins broadly—“I knew I had to get this for you.”