The Play: Briar U

by Kennedy, Elle

  The first time was beyond awkward. We had a movie night at Pippa’s and I couldn’t bring myself to utter a single word to Corinne. Every time I looked at her I pictured her naked with my ex-boyfriend. The second time went better, because there was drinking involved. But then I had one too many tequila shots, which tipped me into Scorned Woman territory and I may have made a snide comment or two. I’m vowing not to do that tonight.

  When my phone lights up again, I flip it over facedown. “This guy,” I grumble.

  “Hockey boy?” Pippa says with a laugh.

  “Yes. He’s all bruised up and sore, so he’s taking it easy at home and he’s bored. When he’s bored, he gets annoying.”

  “Don’t they all?”

  “Hey, I don’t annoy anyone when I’m bored,” TJ protests. He casually swirls his straw in the strawberry daiquiri we forced him to order.

  Originally this was supposed to be girls only, but TJ sounded glum when he realized he couldn’t come, so I told him he could join us as long as he honored the rules of Girls’ Night. AKA ordering lots of brightly colored drinks.

  “What’s going on with you guys, anyway?” he asks curiously. “It seems like it’s evolved from just hanging out…”

  “Um yeah,” Pippa answers for me. “They’re frickin’ married.”

  TJ looks stunned. “For real?”

  A snort slips out. “No, not for real. But we do spend a lot of time together.” I pick up my obnoxiously pink drink with its gaudy purple umbrella. “I guess that means we’re dating. I’m not entirely sure, though. We haven’t even had the exclusivity talk.”

  “You haven’t?” Pippa raises a brow. “It’s been months, D. What if he’s having sex with other women?”

  “He’s not.”

  “Of course he is,” TJ says, rolling his eyes.

  I scowl at them both.

  Pippa objects. “Hey, don’t look at me like that. I didn’t say he was. That’s all this one.” She pokes TJ in the arm.

  He raises both hands as if surrendering to enemy soldiers. “Hey, don’t shoot the messenger. Of course he’s sleeping with other people. I’m telling you this as a college dude who lives in the dorms surrounded by other college dudes. If you don’t make it clear to a guy that you want to be exclusive, I guarantee he’s seeing more than one woman.”

  “I mean…TJ has a point,” Pippa says slowly.

  “And he was out with all those girls, like, a week ago,” TJ goes on. “He’s definitely hooking up with other people.”

  A chill runs up my spine. “What girls? And how do you know what he was doing?”

  “I saw something on Instagram.”

  “You saw something on Instagram,” I echo uncertainly.

  TJ nods. “I follow a shit ton of Briar people. Someone posted a picture of the hockey team at a party, not sure where it took place. Davenport was in the picture kissing some chick.”

  Bullshit, I want to retort.

  But doubt creeps into me like strands of ivy and tightens around my throat. Hunter did go to an after party last week that I didn’t attend, but that doesn’t mean anything. Moreover, we’re not even an official couple.

  I bite the inside of my cheek. Hard. The pain triggered by my teeth doesn’t even compare to the shooting pain in my heart. My stomach lurches. With shaky fingers, I flip over my phone. The last text from Hunter was a kissy face.

  I ignore it. Suddenly wondering how many other kissy faces he’s sending and to whom.

  “I took a screenshot for you,” TJ admits, “but I deleted it.”

  “What! Why?” Pippa thunders.

  Misery clouds his eyes as he looks at me. “Because I didn’t want you to think I was trying to cause trouble. I remember how much it annoyed you the last time we talked about Hunter behind his back.”

  “Thomas Joseph,” Pippa snaps. “Get your phone out and recover the picture from the deleted folder. I bet it’s probably still in there.”

  My heartbeat is erratic as TJ scrolls through his photo roll. I’m almost hoping he doesn’t find the picture. I don’t want it to exist. I want it to be a figment of TJ’s imagination.

  “Here it is!” he says, and my stomach plummets like a shot-down missile.

  TJ slides the phone toward me. Pippa practically drapes herself over the sticky tabletop to get a good look.

  The photo features half a dozen guys and a few girls. I recognize several faces: Matt Anderson, that Jesse guy, and I think that’s Mike Hollis in the corner but it’s hard to tell. Matt has his arm around a smiling redhead, and Jesse is posing next to a girl I think might be his girlfriend Katie. But I don’t see Hunter—

  Oh. There he is.

  TJ’s right. Hunter is in the photo.

  And he is absolutely kissing someone else.

  35

  Demi

  My heart jumps to my throat in horror, tightening my windpipe and making it difficult to breathe. In the photo, the blonde’s mouth is fused to Hunter’s in a frozen kiss captured for all of eternity. Permanently documented for me, Demi Davis, to see.

  Jealousy and anger form a pretzel in the pit of my stomach. I’m allowed to feel the former, but not the latter.

  “D?” Pippa says.

  I paste on a careless expression. “We never had the are-we-exclusive talk.”

  She sees right through me. “Oh, babe. We don’t know when this was taken,” she points out.

  TJ speaks up. “It was posted like six days ago.”

  “That doesn’t mean it was taken six days ago,” argues Pippa.

  “Why would someone post an old picture?”

  “Are you serious? People do it all the time! Throwback Thursday? Flashback Friday? Way-back Wednesday?”

  “The caption doesn’t use any of those hashtags,” TJ counters.

  “Maybe they forgot. I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know what?” a third voice joins in.

  I glance up at Corinne’s arrival. She’s wearing an oversized sweater and skinny jeans, her curly hair pulled back with a yellow scrunchie. She climbs into the booth beside me, and now it feels even more cramped.

  “We’re just arguing about this picture of the guy Demi is dating,” Pippa explains.

  “Hockey boy?” Corrine asks.

  “Yeah.” That awful cold sensation keeps fluttering through my body.

  She picks up the phone. “Which one is he?”

  I point at Hunter and the blonde. They’re still kissing in the picture.

  Dammit. I was kind of hoping I’d look at it again and they’d be standing on opposite sides of the frame.

  Corinne studies the image. “This is the guy you’re seeing?”

  “Yep.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry.” She seems genuinely upset on my behalf. Or maybe it’s just pity. Poor Demi, the girl who keeps getting shafted for other chicks.

  Pippa grabs the phone again and spends an inordinate amount of time examining the screen. “No, this is definitely an old picture,” she finally announces. “I recognize this girl.” She taps the face of the redhead beside Matt Anderson. “That’s Jenny.”

  “Who’s Jenny?” asks Corinne.

  “She was in one of my acting classes freshman year.” Pippa appears both relieved and triumphant. “It’s an old picture, D. I promise.”

  “How can you be sure?” I’m almost embarrassed by the balloon of hope rising in my chest.

  “Because she doesn’t go here anymore. She transferred to the drama program at UCLA more than a year ago.”

  “Seriously?”

  “How do you know it’s her?” TJ asks. “It’s not the clearest shot. Or maybe she’s in town visiting friends, you don’t know.”

  “Hold on. Let me find her Insta account so we can compare pics. Amuse yourselves for a minute, girls and boy.” She bends over her phone, a woman on a mission.

  I try to focus on Corinne as she chats about her new classes this semester, but when Pippa gives a shout of satisfaction, my focus ricochets back
to her in an instant.

  “See!” She lays down her phone, side by side with TJ’s. “That’s Jenny.”

  I compare the pictures. It’s the same girl.

  “And she’s not visiting,” Pippa adds. “According to her Insta, she’s been in Hawaii with her family for the past few weeks.”

  Relief courses through me, so overpowering that I feel faint. And sick. And afraid.

  Not defining a relationship is a terrible place to be in. But what’s even more terrible is the current state of my mind and heart. I went from zero to infidelity in a nanosecond. Instantly succumbed to suspicion and assumed Hunter had made out with someone else at a party.

  I force myself to drink my entire daiquiri. To listen to Pippa and Corinne, to express interest when TJ talks about how he’s visiting his brother in England this summer. But I can’t concentrate. I’m too riled up from that false alarm. I feel stupid and uncertain.

  I need to talk to Hunter.

  “Hey, I’m going to take off,” I say when Pippa suggests ordering another round. “My head’s not in this.”

  TJ looks disappointed. “It’s only nine-thirty.”

  “I know. I’m sorry. But I’m emotionally exhausted.”

  “It’s cool,” Pippa says, waving a hand. “I’ll see you tomorrow anyway. Dinner with Darius, remember?”

  “Right.” I say my goodbyes, then zip up my parka and exit the bar.

  Greek Row is a three-minute walk from here, but I’m not headed home. I order an Uber, and fifteen minutes later I’m in Hastings, ringing Hunter’s doorbell.

  Summer lets me in. “Hey. I didn’t know you were coming over.” She greets me with a dazzling smile, because that’s the default mode for her face. Dazzling.

  “Last-minute thing,” I answer vaguely.

  Beyond her shoulder, I spot her boyfriend Fitz walking past the kitchen doorway in gray sweatpants and no shirt. He backs up when he catches sight of me, and lifts one tattooed arm in a quick wave. “Hey Demi. There’s leftover pizza if you want.”

  “No thanks. I’m good. I’m just going to go up and see Hunter.” My heart beats faster as I climb the stairs and approach his bedroom door.

  When I knock, he responds with a loud growl. “Go away, Rupi. I don’t want to watch Riverdale. It’s fucking stupid.”

  “It’s me,” I answer with a laugh.

  “Semi? Why did you even knock? Get your cute butt in here.”

  I enter the room to find him sprawled on his bed. A hockey game flashes on the TV, but I can’t tell who’s playing. Hunter’s head is propped up on a pillow, his dark hair rumpled, and stubble shadowing his jaw.

  Those dimples appear as he smiles at me. “I thought you didn’t want to come over.”

  “I wasn’t going to, but then—”

  “—but then you realized you wanted to get all up in my dick biz. Wise decision.”

  I crack a smile. “No. I just…” I trail off.

  I suddenly feel ridiculous for showing up like this. What am I supposed to say? I was out with friends and saw a picture of you kissing some girl and I thought it was recent and then I felt sick but it turned out to be old and yet I couldn’t stop freaking out so I raced over here for no good reason.

  “What’s going on?” he asks, his forehead creasing. “What’s wrong?”

  To my utter horror, hot tears fill my eyes.

  “Demi.” He sits up. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing. Just…ah, I’m an idiot.”

  “No you’re not. But I’ll bite—why do you think you’re an idiot?”

  I exhale in a rush, and then the entire story spills out. Hunter listens without a single interjection, visibly bewildered.

  “I’m sorry,” I blabber on. “I’m not saying you did anything wrong, because you didn’t—it was an old picture. But when I thought it wasn’t old, my brain immediately jumped to you cheating on me. That’s where my idiocy comes in, because how could you cheat on me if we’re not even officially together?”

  “Sure we are.”

  I falter. “We are?”

  “Of course. Just because we haven’t labeled this doesn’t mean we’re not together. When anyone asks, I refer to you as my girlfriend.”

  “You do?” I angrily swipe at my wet eyes. “Why the fuck don’t you refer to me as your girlfriend when I’m there?”

  He snorts with laughter. “I don’t know, why don’t you ever call me your man?”

  “Because I didn’t want to rush into things.” I release a heavy sigh, trying to articulate the emotions swirling inside me. “I’m so embarrassed,” I finally admit. “I like to think of myself as level-headed and mature, and yet I immediately jumped to conclusions and assumed you were sleeping around. And it made me realize that Nico really messed with my head. I thought I was over it, but apparently I’m not. Apparently now any time anything even the slightest bit sketchy happens, I’m going to assume the person I’m with is sleeping with someone else.”

  I finish with an anguished groan.

  “C’mere,” he says gruffly. He moves toward the foot of the bed where I’m lurking and pulls me into his lap.

  I rest my chin on his shoulder, inhaling a weak breath.

  “You didn’t jump to conclusions, Demi. You saw a picture of me kissing another woman. Yes, it was taken last year, but you didn’t know that at first. Believe me, if I saw a picture of you kissing another man, I’d lose my shit.”

  “You would?”

  “Yes. Look, I know we kind of did this backwards. We didn’t have any of those big relationship talks, or set any ground rules, but…” Hunter captures my chin with his hands and lifts my head so we’re eye to eye. “I promise you, I’m not seeing anybody else. I’m not sleeping with anybody else. I’m with you, and I’m all in.” His voice cracks. “I love you.”

  36

  Hunter

  No one has a harder job than the man who comes after the cheater.

  To be honest, I’m surprised Demi didn’t experience a breakdown like this sooner. Yes, she had her violent breakdown, her fit of rage when she hurled Nico’s stuff out the window and clocked him in the face. But I don’t think she ever fully dealt with the emotional implications of what Nico did.

  I know all about the aftermath of infidelity. I remember how my mom acted following the revelation of another one of Dad’s affairs. She’d be jittery and suspicious for weeks and months afterward. Whenever he bent over his phone, her shoulders would stiffen. Who is he texting? she’d wonder. Whenever he had to go to the office, anxiety would flood her eyes. Who is he going to fuck on his desk today?

  I used to have a lot of sympathy for her, but over the years it faded away. People are in control of their own lives and their own decisions. They’re not powerless victims to some cruel overlord who keeps them trapped in a misery loop. Mom made the decision to stay with him. I can’t sympathize anymore, not when there are so many other solutions available to her. She doesn’t have to be miserable, afraid, distrustful. She doesn’t have to be a pushover. She chooses to be.

  But Demi, unlike my mother, doesn’t want to be stuck in this situation. She came directly to me to seek reassurance, and I’m going to give it to her.

  “You love me,” she echoes.

  My pulse speeds up as I study her expression. It’s impossible to decipher. I don’t know how she feels about what I’d just said. Hell, I don’t know how I feel about it.

  I’ve only said those words to one other person, a high school girlfriend. And if I’m being honest, she said them first and I felt awkward not returning the sentiment. Teenage boys are stupid cowards sometimes. I wasn’t actually in love with her, the girl from high school.

  But this girl, the gorgeous woman in my lap—I’m definitely in love with her. I love everything about her. Her intelligence, her sassiness, her craziness. She has the most dynamic personality. There are so many different facets to Demi Davis, and the more I learn about her, the more I love her.

  So yes, I’m g
oing to take on this challenging task and face the brunt of the damage that Nico caused. I’m going to be patient and help Demi regain her trust in my foolish sex, which has been given a bad rap thanks to men like Nico and my father. I’m going to stick by her and shower her with assurances that I love her, until she realizes she doesn’t ever need to worry about what I’m doing or who I’m doing it with—because she’s the only one who matters to me.

  A strange, unexpected sense of empowerment rushes through me. And I realize something. The same way my mother is in control of her own happiness, I’m in control of my own impulses. I’m not enslaved by my genetics, and I’m not my father.

  “Fuck,” I marvel.

  “What?” She still looks a bit dazed by my admission that I love her.

  I gape at her. “I would never cheat on you.”

  She snorts softly. “Don’t sound so surprised.”

  “But I am. I’m thinking about the conversation we had a while ago, about my hockey career. About how I don’t want to be like my dad, how I’m worried about being on the road, lonely and horny and giving in to temptation. But I can’t even imagine being tempted by anyone else. Maybe that’s damn naïve of me, but ten chicks could walk in here right now, buck naked, and I’d still only have eyes for you. Even with your face all puffy like that.”

  “Who are you calling puffy?” she objects.

  “You. You’re a terrible crier, Semi. You don’t look good crying.”

  She punches me in the shoulder. “You’re supposed to be acting romantic right now.”

  “I just told you I loved you! Trust me, I’m fucking romantic.”

  “True.” She licks her lower lip. Then bites it. “I don’t know if I’m ready to say it back,” she confesses, and I chuckle because she looks so cute nervously nibbling on her lip like that.

  “I didn’t say it so you would say it back. I said it because I felt it. I’m in love with you. And I don’t want to kiss anybody but you.” I bring my lips to hers, and she wraps her arms around my neck and kisses me back.