Even Wilder

by Bria Leigh

  I sat down on the couch and checked my Facebook. Pictures from Wilder’s birthday were everywhere. Everyone had tagged him in everything. I didn’t bother liking a single one.

  I went to messenger and thought about telling him I was home. He’d be glad to know it. But I didn’t. I was still upset with him. He hadn’t even checked in again, which wasn’t like him. He always checked in. He forever was making sure I was alright. Maybe he was trying to prove something.

  I yanked the scrunchie from my hair and posed for a selfie. I puckered my lips and took the picture. I studied it and tried again, this time fluffing my hair. I didn’t know what I was doing.

  “Do you need help?” Kat asked. “Are you trying to impress Wilder?”

  Ugh. “No. I just...” I posted the selfie on my Facebook and waited to see what happened. I never posted pictures of myself. I didn’t want anyone seeing me.

  “Did you meet someone?”

  I sighed.

  She stood up, carrying her laptop with her. “Someone is on their period.”

  I glared at her as she headed for her bedroom and waited for her to shut the door and leave me alone.

  I got the notification that Wilder commented on my picture. I hurried to see what it said. What words would he finally say after so many days?

  “What the fuck?” One emoji. A blushing smiley face? That’s all I got after sixteen years of friendship with him. He knew where I was, that I wasn’t across the street, and he sent me a blushing emoji?

  I guess he didn’t care. Maybe the girl he fucked last night was still lying in his bed.

  WITHOUT WILDER, MY life was boring. And being away from home left me with a lot of free time. Usually, Wilder texted me all weekend. We face-timed for hours and watched new movies after he was finished partying. He never let me feel lonely. I think we both missed each other and were too stubborn to admit it.

  Tonight was different. I was alone. Kat was out with her friends partying like always, and I was stuck in our apartment pacing around trying to come up with something constructive to do.

  I popped popcorn and watched a movie. And halfway through, I couldn’t take it anymore and turned off the television.

  I was done waiting around for Wilder. I got myself dressed and let my hair down literally and wandered outside of my apartment.

  There was a board by the mailboxes where everyone posted flyers of everything going on around campus. As I stared at the board, one caught my eye—art on the boardwalk. That sounded simple enough. A way to get out and do something. I liked art. I could handle taking a walk by the water and admiring things I would never be able to do myself. I wasn’t a creative person. I couldn’t even draw a stick figure—but I knew how to appreciate it.

  I headed down the street. On foot, it was a ten-minute walk. So I didn’t need a cab or an uber.

  I checked Facebook on the way there to keep from mingling with the college kids sitting at the diner tables outside the restaurants. Wilder was partying with Saint and his friends. And by the look on his face in the pictures he was in, he was happy not talking to me.

  I checked out every art exhibit on the boardwalk. I even complimented the college kids brave enough to venture outside with their work. It wasn’t the best time, but it was something.

  The last booth was packing up when I finally stopped. I admired the sea glass necklaces and the delicate metals shaped into rings.

  One caught my eye. I touched the pinkish stone, thinking about Wilder and me when we were kids. One Christmas he used all his money to buy me this beautiful bracelet. It had pink stones just like the necklace. He was so happy to see the smile on my face—so proud of what he did with what little he had. It was my favorite memory of him.

  “See anything you like?” Dark hair and blue eyes were staring at me.

  “It’s all gorgeous,” I said. And it was. While everyone else was making paintings and drawing, this guy’s booth was the only one with something different.

  “Thanks.” He gestured toward the one I was still touching. “You like it?”

  I pulled my hand away. “Yeah. It reminds me of when I was little.” I smiled, and he did the same. An effortless grin that hardly changed his serious expression but enough to tell me he appreciated what I had to say.

  He dropped down under the table and brought up a box. “Well, check this out.” He looked around as he pulled the lid off his merchandise. “We have to close up, but I’ll show this to ya.”

  He pulled out a tray of rings. “These match your eyes.” His fingers crashed into mine unexpectedly. He handed over the ring.

  “You made these?” I asked. He nodded. “It’s pretty impressive.”

  He shook his head when I tried giving it back. “I want you to have it.”

  “What?” That was silly. He didn’t even know me.

  “I want you to have it. Put it on.” I did. I studied it on my finger. It was beautiful.

  “It looks great. Care if I snap a picture?”

  I eyed him suspiciously. “Of me?”

  He was now grinning at me. “Yeah, of you. We can call it a customer review. What do you think?”

  I touched my hair. I was sure it was a mess. But I also didn’t want to be rude. “Okay.”

  He pulled out his phone. “Have you done this before?”

  “Done what?” I pushed my hair behind my ears and stared at the camera. I just wanted him to take the picture. I didn’t like feeling on display.

  “Model.”

  I let out a laugh mixed with a snort at such a ridiculous statement. Me model? Yeah right.

  “You’re beautiful.” He showed me the picture. The golden rays of sun against my hair and skin, he was right. Maybe it was a good picture. “All these girls run around caked in makeup. But not you. You’re just...you.”

  I dropped my gaze to the ring, hoping this wasn’t a cruel joke. “Thanks for the ring.”

  “No problem.”

  I needed to get home. It was getting late.

  “I’m Mac, by the way.” He said.

  “Violet,” I said back. I gave a little wave. Mac kept his eyes on me.

  “Nice to meet you, Violet.”

  Violet

  DAYS TURNED INTO WEEKS, and I was moving forward. I realized how much when I looked up from my work. I was sitting in the middle of the library instead of my apartment.

  I’d been venturing out more and more now that Wilder and I were playing this stupid game of avoiding each other. I still didn’t understand it completely. But I wasn’t ready to confront him about it either.

  I was hurt, and I didn’t know what to say without lashing out at him. And I didn’t want to do that. I cared about him. I didn’t want to say something I couldn’t take back.

  I looked down at my notebook and scribbled down some more notes.

  “It’s you again.” A voice I wasn’t familiar with brought my attention away from my work. It was Mac.

  “Hey.” I smiled.

  “Hey. You studying?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, big test tomorrow. I want to make sure I don’t fail.” I toyed with my pen. I was happy to see him again. He was nice—and I wasn’t used to nice outside of Wilder.

  “I’m sure you’ll do fine.”

  “What are you doing here?” I could start the conversation. Now that I knew he wasn’t out to insult me, it was a little easier.

  “I was researching old jewelry techniques for a project I’m working on.” He shrugged.

  My words failed, and I dropped my gaze back down to my notebook. I wasn’t good at conversation. I was terrible at it.

  “Do you like coffee?”

  “Yeah.” He wasn’t turned off by my lack of socializing. He was still trying to get to know me. “I like cappuccino.”

  He pulled out the chair across from me and sat down. “There’s a little coffee shop a couple of blocks over. If you want to get coffee sometime.”

  He wanted to grab coffee with me. I couldn’t believe it.


  “Unless you aren’t interested, then I get it.”

  “I’m interested.” I wasn’t going to let this opportunity slip away. I was dying for a friend—a genuine friend. Making friends was what I prayed for since I started going to school away from home. If even one person could take the chance on me, maybe I could make it so far away from home.

  “Then I think we should exchange numbers,” he insisted, blue eyes smiling at me. His smile was nice. And his eyes were soft and gentle. He ran a hand through his hair, crashing through the waves, creating a new mess. But it worked.

  I handed over my phone and watched him input his number. I admired his brilliant blue eyes. He was cool without even trying.

  “Okay. Well, I’ll let you get back to work. And I’ll shoot you a text sometime.” He got up to leave. “Feel free to do the same.”

  I nodded and waved, watching him head out of the library. I couldn’t shake the big stupid grin on my face. Mac was cool. And he wanted to hang out—with me. And for once in my life, I didn’t feel worried or scared about doing so.

  Two days later, on my way home from a class, he texted me. He asked me what I was doing, and I said nothing. He invited me for cappuccinos and even offered to meet me at my place and walk there with me.

  We talked all the way. He asked all the questions, never letting a single moment pass where I felt uncomfortable being with him. He wanted to know me—he proved it question after question.

  I never had anyone ask me so much about myself. I never knew anyone cared.

  “What are your parents like?” His next question was a doozy.

  “My mom is great. She’s always been my biggest fan. I can’t complain.” I could, but I didn’t want to go there with someone I hardly knew.

  “What about your dad?”

  “They split when I was in junior high. He passed away a few years after that. We didn’t talk much after they broke up.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry to hear that. That’s got to suck.”

  I shook my head. “Just the way things turned out. It’s okay. He wasn’t actually my father.” I gave a little more. I wondered if he thought that was odd? He kept right on talking like it wasn’t an issue.

  “You talk to your real father?”

  “Not much. He’s not the kind of person that likes to keep in touch.” I shrugged. I always accepted my father wasn’t there for me. You couldn’t force someone to do the right thing. You also couldn’t hold a grudge because they didn’t. I was okay missing that piece of my life. Okay didn’t mean I wasn’t hurt. I just kept on moving.

  “What about you?” I wanted to know more.

  “I was raised by my sister. Both my parents are fuck ups.” The way it came out told me he wasn’t bothered by it either. He didn’t let that dictate the kind of person he wanted to be. It was clear. I didn’t see a broken boy when I looked at him.

  He bought me a cappuccino and ordered a coffee black, and we sat in the middle of the café asking one question after another about each other. Minutes turned to a couple of hours before either one of us realized how much time had passed.

  I let him walk me home. And he made me promise we would hang out again.

  I slipped inside my apartment and pressed myself against the door letting out a sigh. I hadn’t been happy for a long time. I didn’t even know it was possible.

  “Someone is in a good mood,” Kat said from the couch.

  “I didn’t know you were there.”

  She smirked. “Did you go on a date?”

  “It wasn’t a date. It was coffee.”

  “Is he cute?” She eyed me, red lips pursing together as she waited for my answer.

  “Yes,” I admitted, feeling my cheeks burn with embarrassment at the mention of my attraction for him. It was the first time I said so out loud.

  “Then, it was a date.” She smirked again. “And there’s nothing wrong with that. You go, girl.”

  This was the first time Kat and I had a civil conversation that resulted in a smile. Maybe she wasn’t so bad either. Perhaps I was the problem. And once I let loose, she was able to see I was human after all.

  I went to my room and dropped down on my bed. I wanted to call Wilder. The first time in weeks, I finally wanted to talk to him. I wasn’t so sad anymore.

  I brought the phone to my ear and listened to the ring. He usually picked up the first ring. This was different.

  “Hello?” a girl’s voice answered. Not Wilder, a girl. A girl with a sweet seductive sounding tone.

  “Do I have the wrong number?” I looked at my phone, knowing that wasn’t the case. But this wasn’t normal. Nobody answered Wilder’s phone.

  “That depends on who you are calling for.”

  “Wilder.” She knew I was calling for Wilder. “Is he okay?”

  “He’s just fine. He’s in the shower. How do you know Wilder?”

  “Who is this?”

  “Amber.”

  My mouth felt dry. I was sick to my stomach. “I got to go.” I hung up.

  Amber. Wilder was in the shower, and Amber took it upon herself to answer his phone. She was comfortable enough to do so.

  Fucking Amber. Maybe she was the reason my best friend no longer felt the need to speak to me anymore.

  Wilder went from texting me all the time to a couple of times a week. He told me goodnight. He sometimes said good morning. And occasionally he sent me a selfie reminding me he missed my face or something stupid like a corny joke.

  He never brought up me taking off on his birthday. And the only thing he said about me being back in school was how proud he was of me. And that he was glad I made the right decision.

  I no longer was laughing and smiling at Wilder’s text. I was trying to make sense of what was happening to our friendship. Why was it disintegrating into nothing? And now hearing Amber answering his phone, I was beginning to understand that maybe he just found a way to get over me and move on with his life.

  I rolled over, letting out painful sobs. My world was falling apart. This wasn’t how things were supposed to be. Wilder wasn’t supposed to abandon me. That wasn’t him. He wasn’t that kind of person.

  But suddenly, the friend I knew was now letting Amber answer his phone while he was in the shower. He was moving on. And he didn’t even have enough respect to tell me that to my face.

  I sat up in bed, wiping at my snot and tears. I wasn’t going to sit and cry about it. I couldn’t. My whole life I cried every single time someone hurt me. I wanted to do things differently this time.

  I grabbed my phone. And I texted Mac.

  Are you awake?

  Yeah, what’s up?

  I am having a rough time. I don’t want to be alone. Do you want to hang out?

  Right now?

  Maybe I was an idiot. Before I could text, he texted back.

  Hell yeah, I want to hang out with you again.

  Ok, where at?

  What about the boardwalk?

  Sure. Sounds great. Meet you there in thirty minutes.

  Ok. See you soon!

  I used ten minutes to clean myself up from the crying. I washed my face and applied a fresh coat of lip gloss. And I braided my hair into a side ponytail. Spritzed some body spray on and changed into a long-sleeved shirt because it was chillier at night. And then I headed out.

  A nervous ball in the pit of my stomach as I got closer to the boardwalk, close to Mac. And further away from Wilder and his bullshit. I didn’t know what I was doing but it was better than the alternative—crying in my bed all night.

  HE WAS ALREADY SITTING there when I showed up. Clad in an oversized sweatshirt and dark jeans. And a brand new pair of tennis shoes.

  “It’s cold as shit tonight,” he said as soon as I sat down.

  “Yeah, it is, isn’t it?”

  He leaned over and produced a blanket. “That’s why I brought a blanket.” He shook it out and placed it over the both of us.

  “You weren’t waiting long, were you?”

 
“No. No worries.” He leaned back, throwing an arm around the back of the bench. “So, what’s got you so down?”

  He didn’t look at me. He kept his eyes on the water. Which helped because admitting anything with him staring me down was going to be hard.

  “Anyone ever just disappoint you without knowing they did?”

  “Sure.” He thought about it. “A lot of people in my life have fucking disappointed me. All the time, actually. Who’s got you down?”

  How did I describe Wilder to a stranger? I wasn’t so sure.

  “This stupid guy...” stupid was a fitting enough word to explain him. Just thinking about Wilder anymore gave me a fucking headache.

  “Alright. So is this like a boyfriend problem or a friend problem?”

  I made a face. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

  He made a face back and nodded. “I was hoping you would say that.” He scratched his head.

  “Yeah, okay,” I laughed it off.

  “I’m serious.” He shrugged. “It’s a lot easier hanging out with you knowing you don’t have a man at home.”

  “Just hearing you say man makes me not want a man,” I laughed.

  “What. You’re a beautiful woman. You deserve a man, not a boy who has you calling up the likes of me in the middle of the night. I’m just saying.” He smiled big, leaning into me. “Not that the likes of me are bad. I’m not saying that either.”

  “What are you saying, Mac?”

  He took a second before he came out and said it — something I wasn’t expecting to hear. “I’m saying...I like you. You’re a cool girl.”

  He liked me. I was a cool girl.

  “I want to know all about you.”

  I moved a little closer, settling against him, the water lapping away, just feet in front of us. It was a perfect night. Cool and calm. No chaos or noise, just peacefulness, and good conversation.

  “I want to know about you too.”

  He slipped his arm around me. “You can ask me anything.”

  “Why is it so easy for you to tell me how you feel? Why can’t everyone be like that?” Why couldn’t Wilder use his words and tell me what the hell was going on?