While You're Away

by Jessa Holbrook

  For the first time, I couldn’t read the emotion in his eyes. And just in case he was having the same problem, I threw my arms out and raised my voice so he could hear me over the crowd.

  “What the hell is wrong with you, Will?!”

  THIRTY-TWO

  The explosion that had been building inside me went off. I didn’t care that we were surrounded by people. Let them listen! Let them hear it all. After all the excuses I’d made for Will, I was done. I was done pretending I was okay with any of this. No more sitting there, silently, hoping everything bad would magically improve.

  “Is this why you’re not answering your phone?” I demanded. My hands flew wildly, gesticulating at everything around us. The partying, the house, the brand-new friends and conquests that demanded all of his time at all hours of the day. “This is all just so important that you figured, what the hell, Sarah can wait. Screw Sarah!”

  Embarrassed, Will crowded closer to me. Taking my arm, he lowered his voice instead of raising it. “Can we ta—”

  “We can talk right here!” I laughed at him incredulously. “I mean, you do everything in front of these people, right? You get naked in front of them. You let them take pictures of you getting lap dances. I mean, if they’re close enough to watch you screw around on me, aren’t they close enough for this?!”

  Hardening, Will cut a glance to the left and the right. His pale face had already been flushed from dancing. Now splotches of scarlet filled in between the pink. Even the tips of his ears were blushing. I was viciously glad about it, too. My mouth just kept going, every thought in my head spilling out.

  “Are you embarrassed? Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I wouldn’t know about that—oh wait, except I do. Because you keep posting to Instagram, hi, this is me letting Sorority Sasha lick whipped cream off my chest! Oh, tee hee, never mind the completely obvious boner I have—I always get that way when a girl ties me up in public!”

  The music didn’t soften. The crowd didn’t stop with their partying, but the people close to us began to shrink away. Ringed by dead space, I knew we were a spectacle now. I just didn’t care.

  Will did, though. Trying to gently guide me away, he looked flustered when I refused to let him pull me off the dance floor. Now he clenched his teeth, a muscle flickering in his jaw and a darkness crossing his eyes. “Keep your voice down.”

  He couldn’t have chosen a worse thing to say at that moment. “Why?! You have no problem broadcasting your dirty little frat-boy escapades all over the Internet for the world to see. Why should I?! In fact, let me get my phone. We should upload this moment to Instagram.”

  Scrabbling for my phone, I felt crazed. “You pick the tag, what should it be? Hashtag stupidgirl? Hashtag thoughtilovedher?”

  Will closed a hand over my phone. For a moment, it looked like he might drag me out of the party—by my wrist, by my hair, didn’t matter. Instead, he peeled the phone out of my hand and jerked his head toward the stairs. “I’ll give this back upstairs.”

  Then he turned his back on me and stalked away. Stunned, I stood in place for a second. My balance was gone entirely. My rage wasn’t spent, but somehow, Will had taken the control from me. Without raising his voice, or even defending himself. He just stopped it dead, as if he were the only one who decided the course of our fate.

  Infuriated, I started after him. As I cut through the crowd, a girl laughed as I passed her. It wasn’t mocking; it was admiring. When I whipped my head to look at her, she threw me a thumbs-up.

  “Make him pay, honey,” she said. “You can do better.”

  That’s when reality crashed in around me. My anger popped like a bubble. It wasn’t that I didn’t have the right to be furious. But with that chipper bit of encouragement from a stranger, I suddenly saw myself from the outside. To someone who knew nothing about me, I was the raging, crazy, psycho-hose-beast girlfriend.

  I’d heard plenty of stories about her before. She got drunk at parties and called her ex a hundred times in a single night. She bashed out headlights and keyed her initials into car doors. She set fire to comic book collections and threw her ex’s stuff into the street to be run over by Mack trucks.

  Blood pounding in my ears, I grabbed the rails and hauled myself up the stairs, two at a time. The crowd was thinner up here, people actually having conversations in the hall. Waiting for the bathroom, generally escaping the bacchanal below. At the end of the hall, beneath a big oil painting of an old man in a suit, Will stood silently with his arms crossed and his jaw jutted.

  Every inch of him radiated anger. Almost wary to approach him, I made myself walk in his direction. If nothing else, I needed to retrieve my phone so I could slink home, humiliated and shamed. The closer I got, the tighter the knot in my throat. It threatened to cut off my air entirely. When I was a few steps away from him, Will pointedly turned and walked into one of the rooms.

  He stood at the door when I got there. Silently, he waited for me to walk inside. Then he slammed the door and turned to me. He had every right to yell. Somehow, it seemed much more frightening that he didn’t. Hard eyes and hard voice, he cut through the air to return my phone.

  “Now it’s my turn,” he said coldly. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  Clinging to the phone like a totem, I said, “Catching you.”

  “Catching me what?” Eyes bugging out, Will took a few steps back. “Partying? It’s Friday night, so what if I’m partying?”

  I had to gather my wits. Screaming hadn’t helped. It wouldn’t help. And if this was the end, I wanted it to be clean. I wanted to do it right. I wanted to salvage something from this.

  “I’ve been calling you for days,” I said. I hated that my voice cracked; I sounded so weak. “Texting you. Tweeting. E-mailing. Will, you disappeared on me. And you did it right after . . . right after this.”

  It was sadly way too easy to pull up the pictures that had haunted me. Holding the phone out to him, I scrolled through his Instagram feed pointedly. Picture after picture.

  “So what was I supposed to think?”

  Still angry, Will brushed the phone out of his face. “That I was rushing OTP. Or are you missing the twelve other guys in those pictures doing the same thing?”

  “Dancing with two girls at the same time? Like you were five minutes ago? That’s what everybody’s doing? Letting people post footage of you with Hailey in your lap? Letting her answer your phone? I mean, where were you? Why is it that every time I did get to talk to you, Hailey was in the background? Just tell me the truth, Will.”

  Will looked away. “The truth, huh?”

  This was it. I steeled myself for it. I already knew from my reaction to the not-kiss downstairs that it was going to obliterate me. But I needed it.

  “Hailey,” Will said, turning his eyes back on me, “is dating Nate Beresford. The president of Omega Theta Pi. She introduced me to him; he’s the one who convinced me to rush. I’m sorry I haven’t been around as much as I’ve wanted to. They took my phone. They took my computer. I spent the last four days cleaning the toilets around here with a toothbrush.”

  Leaning back against the door, I slowly deflated. Will didn’t sound defensive. He sounded tired. And beneath that, hurt. It was glaringly obvious to both of us that the trust we thought we had between us wasn’t nearly as strong as we thought. Sliding my phone into my pocket, I said, “You blew me off for them. You haven’t even tried to reschedule our visit.”

  “I have midterms coming up,” he said flatly. “I wanted to make sure I had the whole weekend free for you.”

  “You have plenty of time for a club that thinks Bonefest is a good theme for a party.”

  Will glanced at my wrist. Then up to my face. “There’s a nurse in the parlor trading drink badges for a blood stick. We’re registering people for a bone marrow drive. You know, to match up for people who need transplants?”

  Was
that the truth? It seemed to be. “That’s . . . I mean, that’s a good thing.”

  “Did you not see the signs all up and down the street? Houses are collecting for breast cancer research, for the Audubon Society—it’s service week, Sarah.”

  “Then why does it look so . . . so . . .”

  “Sleazy?” Will asked. Then, he replied with a shrug. “I’m not going to apologize for wanting to hang out with these guys. I’m not going to apologize for whatever fraternity issues you have, I’m not. I don’t ask you to apologize for hanging out with sanctimonious vegans.”

  “That’s so unfair.”

  Spreading his arms to encompass the whole night, he said, “And this wasn’t?”

  For once, the moment I took before replying was to think. I could rail against him, throw myself at him, beat on his chest. Or I could be mature enough to just let it go. Possibly let us go. It felt like my heart was split in two. Like the rest of me wanted to follow suit. But I forced myself to stay calm.

  “I’m sorry I made a scene,” I said. “I’m sorry about that, Will. But I won’t apologize for the rest. Fine, they took your phone. It’s not your fault you can’t get in touch with me. Okay, I believe you that Hailey is just a friend. But they didn’t make you post those pictures online. They didn’t force you to dance with girls in lingerie.”

  Frustrated, Will pulled at his own hair. “It didn’t mean anything, Sarah.”

  “It was disrespectful to me. To our relationship . . .”

  “They’re just party pictures,” he snapped.

  Rising up, I asked, “Okay, would you be okay with me taking pictures like that with somebody else?”

  Will hesitated. “I’m not playing theoretical games with you.”

  I had to tell him. I had to make the point. It felt like there was the slimmest chance that we might be okay, but I knew that would only be true if we were honest with each other. I wanted him back, but only the right way. No more wondering. No more waiting, hoping, no more telepathy, because that obviously didn’t work. I loved Will; I wanted him. But only if we started communicating with each other like we’d sworn we were going to. Approaching him, I held out a hand, “Okay, then not theoretically, what if Dave told me he wasn’t ready to give up on me?”

  The weight of the air changed in a second. It was suddenly clear and cold, and Will stiffened. “I’m sorry, what?”

  “What if he invited me to his place to watch movies? What if he reached for my hand, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to pull away. Why would I? The last time I’d seen my boyfriend, he was on the Internet in his underwear, with a couple of incredibly beautiful sorority girls twerking all up on him.”

  Anger bubbled up in Will’s voice. “Are you kidding me? I’ll kick that guy’s ass.”

  I shook my head. “No. No you won’t. You’re going to stand here and look at me. And you’re going to tell me you’re okay with all that. Because you think I should be okay with proof that you’ve done so much more.”

  It was Will’s turn to deflate. A look of embarrassment crossed his fine features. A quiet sense of victory filled me. I’d knocked him just enough out of his own head to take a look at where we both were right now. It wasn’t a pretty place, or a happy one. And he finally got it. Felt it and cringed away from it; tasted the same bitter acid I’d been tasting for weeks. Finally. I was so relieved.

  The music boomed away beneath our feet, filling the quiet with a sort of pulse. It stretched on and on, but it felt like it was pushing us closer. Insisting that if we couldn’t fill the silence, we should close the space between us.

  He stepped first. I followed, smoothing a hand against his chest. Staring at my own fingertips, I murmured to him. “I love you so much, Will. It’s scary to be that vulnerable. I know you feel that, too. I know I can’t expect you to hole yourself up in your dorm room and never come out.

  “But you still have to think about me. Think about the things you’re doing, think about how they make me feel. It was bad enough that you were letting those girls touch you. But my God, Will. All my friends saw those pictures of you. They’ve been walking around for weeks, thinking I’m an idiot for putting up with it.”

  Leaning in, Will pressed his brow to mine. Instead of gazing into my eyes, he closed his. He covered my hand with his and took a long, slow breath. Then, he finally said, “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”

  Tears rose up again, hot and fast. This time, they were made of relief instead of heartbreak. It was a good apology. This felt so much closer to right. Voice quavering a little, I said, “I know you weren’t.”

  With finality, Will continued. “I want to be with you. Only you. Is that what you want?”

  Swallowing hard, I nodded.

  “I tried to be cool about it before,” he said. “Not anymore. You can pick the band, or you can pick me. And if it’s not me, then . . . I’ll fucking suffer, but I’ll be happy for you. I will. But you’re keeping that guy on base, Sare. You left a door open, and he walked right in.”

  He was right. That’s exactly what I had done. It was humbling to realize that I had been selfish enough to take advantage of that. Both letting Will tolerate it and running to Dave when things with Will got too complicated.

  It terrified me to say goodbye to Dave. To give up Dasa. But I had been holding on to both of them for the wrong reasons, maybe even long before I fell into Will’s arms in the boathouse. In the twilight recesses of my own thoughts, I had to admit that all I was doing by keeping the band together was holding us both back.

  Smoothing my hand down Will’s chest, then slowly wrapping my arms around his waist, I pressed into him. I rose up onto my toes and turned my face against his neck. Breathing him in, I sighed. His spice filled my senses. The patchy, painful numb slipped away now that we were touching again.

  His pulse raced, and I kissed the warm skin on top of it. Once, then again, as I swore to him, “The band’s done.”

  Hands slipping over my waist, Will took a step back. He pulled me with him, nosing against my temple, my cheek. Nudging me to turn my face up to his. When I did, he brushed his lips against mine. But instead of feeding me a kiss, he murmured into my mouth instead. “I promise I’ll think about you. First. Always.”

  That promise melted into me. It spread through my veins, sweet as any drug. And when he kissed me, I forgot that I had driven four hours in a blood haze to get to him. That I hadn’t washed my hair; that I probably looked like the rabid lunatic that had possessed me for the last couple of weeks.

  Because when he kissed me, I woke up. Our rhythms blended together again; I looked in his eyes and I realized everything would be okay. This is what I wanted, and I had it on my terms. I knew now that I was strong enough to walk away if I had to. That I could stand up for myself and expect more. Better. I really was here in his arms because I wanted to be. Not because I needed to be, or was afraid to be somewhere else. I had the strength to trust him—and myself—enough to give it a chance to be exactly right.

  Swaying to music that was ours alone, we moved through the shadowy room together. Will marked me, his kisses hot brands down my throat, his hands tattooing possessive strokes along the length of my back.

  Raising my hands to unbutton his shirt, my fingers trembled. I bared his skin, wracked with hunger and with need. The fabric smoothed over his shoulders, reminding me how beautiful he was. Carved and sculpted, so finely made it took my breath away. But not so much that I couldn’t whisper to him, “If we fight . . .”

  “I promise we’ll always make up,” he replied.

  Then he took me back to his room and proved it.

  THIRTY-THREE

  I woke up next to Will again, and it was a new day. Not just because night was over and the sun was rising across the campus. Things felt different; they felt better. I sat at the window, finger-combing my tangled hair and watching St. P-Windsor come aliv
e.

  Some students had weekend classes. I could make them out by their jackets and backpacks. They hurried as they walked, straight lines like ants along the pavement. Others were making their way home after all-nighters. Their clothes were wrinkled. They shivered in the cool morning light and buzzed aimlessly in this direction or that.

  This was Will’s world now. When he woke up, the sun didn’t come through his window—that’s what he saw when it set. Brick and ivy and cobblestone in places, a street full of sprawling mansions that pretended, on the outside at least, to be Greek temples. On the inside, they were worn, the furniture was well used, and none of the dishes matched.

  “I’ll fix you some breakfast,” Will said.

  He emerged from the bathroom freshly shaved, his hair askew. It looked like he’d tried to wet it, smooth it. All that had done was send certain defiant strands of it sticking straight up. Comfortable in thinning sweatpants and his St. P-Windsor pullover, he tugged me into his arms for a kiss.

  Lingering on my lips, his hands roamed my back, perhaps memorizing my shape again. I did the same, because I wanted to soak him up. When I drove home, I wanted to smell him on my clothes. I wanted to remember every inch of him, the way he looked in the morning: sleepy, handsome, mine.

  “C’mon,” he said again, nudging me toward the door. “We’ll see who’s awake. I’ll introduce you to everybody.”

  And he did. We found the frat’s president, Nate Beresford, and Hailey-the-girl-with-the-guitar already in the kitchen. When Will and I came in, Hailey flung herself off Nate’s lap and right at me.

  Her voice was smoky, kind of coffeehouse sexy. So when she exclaimed that she was so glad to finally meet me, I was both flattered and a little turned on. She smelled like apple shampoo, and her eyes were a shocking green up close. When she let go of me, she punched Will in the arm, hard.