Becoming Us: Where It All Began.

by Amy Daws

  “Hey, sluts!” Olivia’s voice shouts down the sidewalk as we stroll up to her large three-story blue house.

  “You better be talking about Luke, because he’s the only slut I see!” I yell up. Luke cuts me a look, and Angela laughs awkwardly, tugging self-consciously at her top.

  “I’ve already been pre-gaming without you, so you gals have some catching up to do! Hurry up!”

  There’s a medium-sized crowd as we walk in, and I know in another couple hours, it’ll be packed. Olivia’s house is a plain, barebones old college house with bald carpet, old furniture, and putrid peach cabinetry. Nothing special. But that’s what makes it such a great place for parties. It’s big, open, minimal, and there’s little to no fear of damage.

  We follow Olivia into the kitchen where there’s a keg of beer on ice and several bottles of liquor on the countertop. She lines up three shot glasses, completely ignoring Luke’s presence behind Angela. I’d feel sorry for him, if I didn’t hate him so much.

  “Drink up, bitches! To getting fucked and fucked up…in no particular order!” She tosses the shot glass back and downs it in one fail swoop. She hands one to me and throws her arm around my waist. I eye her cautiously and deduce that she is already drunk. Her blue eyes look red around the edges, and her medium length brown hair is straight, but mussed, like she’d been thrashing her head around. Olivia is a good foot shorter than I am, and extremely busty. Despite her often-vulgar mouth, she really is a pretty girl. Her body is short, stocky, and uber toned. She was apparently a pretty serious gymnast in high school, and it shows. Her quads are bigger than my ass, which is saying a lot.

  I’ve downed three shots and three beers so far, and the party is bumping. Angela and Luke retreat into the living room, obviously having had their fill of Olivia. I stick to the kitchen and laugh and drink with Olivia, Jen, Phil, and a few familiar faces I’ve partied with the past few years.

  I keep looking around, in hopes of seeing Jake’s tall, lean presence looming in the doorway, but he’s nowhere to be found. I obsessively check my phone, which eventually causes me to bump into some random guy who spills his beer all over the floor. I casually apologize, barely acknowledging his face because I’m consumed with thoughts of Jake. I decide to follow Olivia outside for some air.

  We push through the crowd of people on the front porch and stand out on the front lawn sipping our beers and chatting. When I realize I’m looking constantly up and down the street for any sign of Jake, I become frustrated with this desperate side of myself. It’s after midnight and he hasn’t shown or texted. Screw this. I’m partying.

  Olivia joins her roommates by the side of the house for a cigarette. I haven’t smoked a cigarette since high school, but right now, anything bad sounds good. That, and I’m feeling pretty hammered, so what the hell.

  Phil hands me a cigarette and I inhale deeply, coughing at the sharp burning sensation in my throat.

  “Easy Finley, don’t inhale so much,” Olivia says, laughing at me with her cigarette tucked between her lips.

  I take a smaller puff and the burn is less intense, so I’m able to stifle a cough. The cigarette has an instant woozy effect, taking my already alcohol-induced buzz to a whole new level. I lean my shoulder on the house and continue fuming internally at Jake and the bullshit he’s been putting me through the past few weeks. Honestly. Girls and guys just can’t be friends. It never works. Someone’s feelings always get involved, and this time, it’s mine. My feelings have been involved since day one.

  Jake is full of mixed signals. Touching me all the time, and calling me constantly. I don’t think I’ve ever even been this close to my previous boyfriends, for goodness sake. But yet he doesn’t do anything more. He’s never stuck his damn tongue down my throat, so what gives? I’m so tired of this. I’m tired of his mixed signals. Tonight was supposed to be my big night. I was going to reveal everything to him and try to take this to the next level. Now, he’s a no-show. I wish I didn’t want him so much.

  But damn it, it’s so hard for me not to want a future with him. An official date even! We get along so well and have a lot in common. What could be making him hold himself back from me? I’m not a sexy volleyball player ten, but he did say I have nice hair. So he’s noticing me physically in some capacity. God, I sound pathetic.

  My ankle slightly rolls, and I stumble backwards with my cigarette firmly locked between my lips. I’m caught by a pair of large hands.

  “What the fuck?” Jake’s deep voice says, with an edge to it.

  I right myself and turn around and pull the cigarette out of my mouth. “Jake! You made it!” I put my arms out to hug him. Damn, I shouldn’t be so happy to see him. I want to be stronger than this. Less needy. But he looks so pretty!

  “What the fuck are you doing, Finley?” he asks, grabbing the wrist of my hand holding the cigarette. He holds it far away from him and pins me with a look of utter repulsion.

  “Partying. What do you mean?” I pull my wrist out of his tight grasp and look back at Olivia and Jen self-consciously.

  He shakes his head at me, disapprovingly. “That is disgusting,” he says, pointing to the half-burned cigarette in my hand.

  I shake my head, preparing to explain I don’t normally smoke, but before I can get a word out, he turns and stalks off back to the front of the house. I look back at Olivia and she just shrugs her shoulders at me.

  I quickly step my cigarette out, and totter after Jake toward the front door. There’s a mass of people huddled on the porch.

  “Jake!” I yell, pushing past the people that so easily cleared a path for Jake LaShae, but don’t seem to give a shit about letting me through. “Just stop! Will you talk to me?” I ask, as I approach the front porch. Just as I reach him in the doorway, he turns around, points an icy glare at me, and slams the door in my face.

  The front porch full of people goes deathly quiet. I hear one random girl’s voice giggling over the silence and my blood begins to boil. What the fuck just happened? Is he really this pissed at me for smoking? Demanding to know the answer, I throw the door open and storm down the short hallway to find Jake in the kitchen with a red Solo cup in his hand. His jaw is hard and fixed, like it’s taking all of his effort to control himself.

  “Mind telling me what the hell that was about?” I ask, loudly enough to have the people in the kitchen stop and look at me. I don’t even give a shit. I’m drunk, and that was embarrassing as hell being scolded in front of my friends and having a door slammed in my face. So screw it, let’s add more humiliating drama to the night.

  Emmet and a couple of his teammates are standing around the keg, looking into their cups awkwardly. Jake shakes his head, obviously refusing to reply. My eyes rove down his body and take quick inventory of his appearance. Sexy-ass torn jeans and a blue button-down. Dammit, why does he have to look so damn irresistible? And why is he scowling at me right now? We should be laughing and having a great time—not shooting daggers at each other! It’s after midnight and he just now shows up and he’s acting like a dick. Oh, hell no!

  “Come on, Jake! What? Nothing to say? You get all pissy and slam a door in my face, but you got nothing?”

  He turns his dark eyes on me and I swear they darken even further. “Smoking is disgusting,” he says flatly, and takes another long drink from his cup.

  I glare at him in response. I agree that smoking is disgusting. But shit! I’m in college for goodness’ sake. I’m not a regular smoker—I just wanted to do something rebellious. I was in a mood and it seemed like a good idea at the time.

  I bite my lip, hard, relishing in the scrape of my teeth on my tender skin. This friend-zone bullshit has my mind reeling. He’s been jerking me around for weeks now, and suddenly he’s going to show up to a party and play the role of protective, disgruntled boyfriend. Fuck that. I haven’t felt relaxed since Jake and I started hanging out. I’ve had enough.

  “What’s it to you anyway?” I ask him dramatically, swiveling my head on my neck wi
th attitude. I cross my arms across my chest and tap my foot provocatively, waiting for an answer.

  “You’re better than that, Finley,” he says, and his eyes glance quickly down my body and lock on my eyes.

  God, this could make me laugh! I’m better than that? I’m good enough to not smoke but not good enough for him to ask out on an official date? That’s rich.

  “You don’t know what I am, Jake. You don’t know everything about me. And moreover, I’m not your concern.” I purse my lips and shake my head back and forth, attempting to control the anger and emotion quickly knotting in my throat. He just humiliated me outside and I’m already feeling fragile from his lack of interest in me.

  “We’re nothing, right? You’re not my boyfriend. I’m not your girlfriend. I’m just a girl. A girl you want to be good ol’ buddies with, right?” I reach over and playfully punch his shoulder like I’ve seen his teammates do time and time again. This is so not how I wanted to admit my feelings for him. I played out this night in my head so many different ways. But he had to go and be five hours late and yell at me in front of a crowd of people.

  He looks at his shoulder where I hit him and sneers with disgust. His eyes look up and glare down into mine. I thought he looked angry before, but he really looks angry now.

  He doesn’t reply.

  “Nothing to say, huh, Jake? Got nothing? Okay then!” I shove past him to the liquor counter. “Excuse me, bud!” I tap his shoulder until he moves. I then nod for Emmet to get out of the way. I quickly pour myself a shot and down it, savoring the burn down my throat.

  “Stop acting like this, Finley. You’re being fucking stupid,” Jake says, coming to stand beside me as I pour another shot. I grip the bottle tightly, shivering as his hot breath beats down my neck. My heartbeat picks up with his close proximity. I look back at him, and his dark chocolate eyes are narrowed on me. He grabs the bottle out of my hand and pins me with a death stare. “I’m not kidding.”

  I laugh incredulously, turning to face him. “Don’t you get it, Jake? You have no authority here,” I say, gesturing wildly at myself. “We’re friends. That’s it. But you know what? I don’t have any other friends that would freak out on me the way you just did.” My wide eyes flicker back and forth between his eyes and his mouth. “God, I’m tired,” I say, with a huff of laughter. I grab a different bottle of liquor and turn to leave. I see Angela standing in the doorway of the kitchen, next to Olivia, watching the scene unfold. Emmet and the guys quickly clear a path to let me through. They appear quiet and solemn, clearly uncomfortable with the spectacle Jake and I are putting on. If I wasn’t so drunk right now, I’d be mortified.

  For good measure, I flip Jake the bird over my shoulder without even looking back. It’s immature and juvenile, but damn it all to hell—it feels good. With the bottle of vodka in one hand, I wrap my free hand around Angela’s arm and pull her toward the front door with me.

  “You okay?” she asks softly in my ear.

  “Get me out of here before I lose it,” I reply, hearing my voice quake.

  She grabs the bottle from me and sets it on the foyer end table, and with that, we’re walking down the dark sidewalk back to Wildwood.

  ***

  CHAPTER TEN

  “I made the biggest ass of myself last night¸ didn’t I?” I ask in a scratchy voice, waking Angela from her deep slumber next to me.

  Angela rolls from her stomach to her back, scrubbing her hands over her face. “I wouldn’t say you made an ass of yourself. You just said it like it is.” She clears her throat and continues, “He had it coming, Finley. I know I’ve been putting pressure on you and joking about this going somewhere. But the way he behaved last night was bullshit.”

  I sigh, deeply, and look around my room. After we got back to our apartment last night, I rushed into the bathroom and threw up the contents of my stomach while Angela held my hair and rubbed my back. I’d love to say I was strong and stoic, but I wasn’t. I bawled like a baby. I don’t think there’s ever been a time in my life when I didn’t cry when I puked—even when the puking wasn’t alcohol-induced. It’s like my gag reflex is connected to my tear ducts. But it doesn’t take a genius to know this Jake drama is eating me alive.

  I vaguely remember asking Angela to spend the night with me. She snuggled in close, letting me feel the direct contact of her body until I passed out. I needed the close comfort of someone who loved me. This torture with Jake has just become way too much for me to handle, and I needed to know there was someone out there who loved me.

  “I’ve lost him, haven’t I?” I croak out, feeling a slight sting in the corners of my eyes as tears blur my sight.

  She sighs heavily. “Do you even want him anymore?” She looks at me thoughtfully with her dark eyes drooping from lack of sleep.

  I turn to look away from her and tears slip down my temple into my hair.

  “Ugh,” she replies, knowing my silence is as big of an admission as she could have received.

  I hate myself for still caring about him. I can’t even stand to say the words out loud because I’m so ashamed. But damn it, I do.

  She shakes her head and the look of disappointment is torture. “I don’t know, Finley. I wish you’d just forget about him and move on, but I know as well as anyone, no one can tell you who to love.”

  “What do you think he’ll act like when I see him again?” I ask, rolling onto my stomach and making a pillow out of my arms.

  “Well, you made a pretty big scene. But then, so did he. You were also really drunk. He might come around.” She shrugs and rolls her eyes.

  “You think I’m weak, don’t you?”

  “I’m not one to judge weakness when it comes to assholes. I have a baaaad track record.” She sighs and picks at her cuticle. My eyes turn wide at her admission. She’s never admitted to me before that she falls for assholes. This is a big deal!

  “And in all fairness,” she continues, “Jake isn’t an obvious asshole. He’s just weird. I can’t figure out why he doesn’t just go for you. Or just do something.”

  I could cry at that statement. I can’t figure it out either and it’s killing me and the little bit of self-respect I have remaining.

  “You think I should go apologize?” I ask, feeling sickly nervous for how he’ll react to seeing me.

  “I don’t think you have anything to apologize for,” she says, flatly. “But you could at least go talk to him.” She looks over at me speculatively, and pounces suddenly, poking me in the ribs.

  “Ow! Don’t! My head hurts enough—I don’t need ribcage bruises added to it.” She laughs and rolls away from me, looking like she’s going to go back to sleep. “What happened to Luke last night?”

  “Ha!” A bark of laughter erupts from her mouth.

  “What?” I say, sitting up and grabbing my head as pain slices through my brain.

  She sits up and faces me. “I actually did it, Fin.”

  “Did what?” I ask, feeling nervous about what she’s about to tell me.

  “I dumped him!” she says, excitedly.

  “Oh my God,” I reply, and whoop with laughter. She looks at me confused, and I explain, “I thought you were going to say you did anal!” I burst out laughing at her horrified expression and it takes only five seconds for her to join in the laughter.

  “You are such a perv! Anal?” she says, smashing her side into me and playing with a strand of my wayward hair. “Never. Ick! No, seriously, it was crazy. He was flirting so obviously with this dumb chick from one of my poli-sci classes, and I’d finally had enough. That shit about my clothes last night. Ugh, you have no idea how bad I let it get with him. There was so much you didn’t even see. You were right, Finley. He’s a total douche diablo, and he’s been like that way too long. Last night was the straw that broke the camel’s back.”

  “How’d you do it?” I ask, wiping tears out of my eyes from laughing so hard. I glance down and notice I’m in pajamas I have no memory of putting on last night.


  She smirks saucily at me.

  “What?” I ask, my eyes turning wide.

  “I texted him!” She reaches over and grabs her phone off the tall dresser next to her side of the bed. “Read!” She thrusts the phone into my hands and looks at me enthusiastically.

  I scroll through the texts and see Luke getting angrier and angrier—threatening to come over and talk to her. She silenced him with threatening to sic me on him. I frown at that text thinking I must have looked like a maniac last night if it scared him away. And sure enough, he doesn’t reply.

  “Holy shit, Angela! Was I that scary looking last night?”

  “You weren’t taking shit from anybody, Fin! It was awesome.”

  I sulk briefly, feeling sorry for myself and the display I put on last night. “Where did this newfound strength come from?”

  She eyes me seriously. “It’s not newfound, Fin. I’ve always been strong. I just don’t always assert it in my relationships. And when I left with you and he didn’t follow or even call to check on us, I don’t know. I don’t need someone like that in my life. And watching you go off on Jake last night just made me feel like I could do it!”

  “That’s great!” I say, and pull her into a hug.

  “Yes, it is great. I don’t know. I think, growing up, I always felt like I needed these certain guys in my life—poised, perfect, assholes. Ick! I don’t know why the hell I think I need to find someone like my father. I’m so done with that life.”