by Jay McLean
I swallowed. "Wh-" My voice cracked. I cleared my throat. "Why?" I said again.
"Because I made a mistake, I fooled around with girls. I gave them my body. A physical act. But that's all it was. Just physical. Dimmy though, she wanted more. She gave a part of herself to someone else. She was willing to give her mind, and her heart to this jerk. She wanted to actually live a life without me and be with someone else. And as much as I wish I could've forgiven her—or at least tried to understand it—I just couldn't."
It was silent for a long moment while I took in every single fucking thing he said.
"Apparently the kid never called her back after that night. It's strange though..." He's using that same knowing, mocking tone as before. "She swears she never slept with him. So I don't get it. I don't get what the deal was. He didn't use her for sex, so what the hell happened?"
I kept my mouth shut.
He sighed.
I looked up at him. "That's it?" I wanted to get the fuck out of this room.
He stared back, holding my gaze for what felt like a lifetime.
"That's not even close to being it."
"What the fuck does that mean?"
He stood and started pacing the floor.
Now I was edgy and I wanted this conversation done. "What else?"
An hour passed while he told me in detail, everything that happened that summer.
All of it.
"So what happened?" I finally got out. I couldn't look at him. Because if he saw me, he'd know. He'd know it was all my fucking fault.
"To what?"
"To that asshole?" I could feel the vomit creep up my throat. I swallowed it down.
"Ethan and his friend took care of him."
"How?"
"Not important," he deadpanned.
"Fuck," I breathed out.
"Yeah. Fuck." He eyed me for a long time, deciding what to say next. Then finally, "Ethan doesn't know, Logan."
"What?"
"He doesn't know it was you. That you're the guy she broke up with me for. He doesn't know. And if he did, I don't know that you'd be standing here right now."
***
Ty left, and so did I. I called my buddy from the frat house. We used to party hard when we were freshman.
"I was wondering if you'd ever come back around," he said, when he pulled into the driveway. I got in and didn't say a word.
I just wanted to forget. I wanted to forget everything Ty just told me and I wanted to pretend like it never happened. I need to pretend like Amanda doesn't exist. I couldn't be with her and she sure as shit couldn't fall for me. Not now. Not ever. I wouldn't fucking let her.
"You wanna drink or smoke?" he asked.
"All of it," I told him.
Amanda
I got home from work just after midnight, but he wasn't home. I thought he would've texted to let me know he wouldn't be here, but I guess we're not really at that stage where we need to tell each other where we are at all times. I called him twice, but he didn't answer. I don't know whether to wait for him in my bed or his, so I just stayed in my room, missing the shit out of him.
At three a.m. I started to get worried. I called a couple more times, but still no answer.
At four a.m. I heard the front door open. I couldn't help but smile.
He truly has me.
I jumped out of bed and opened my door. He was stumbling down the hallway, clearly drunk.
"Hey, babe," I whispered, not wanting to wake Ethan. I chuckled to myself as he tried to take his sweater off, but his cap was in the way. I held onto his arm, trying to steady him. He continued to struggle with the sweater that was covering his head.
He pushed my hand away. "Get off!" he sneered, "I don't need your fucking help."
"Whoa," I took a step back, surprised. "Mean drunk much?"
"I'm not drunk, Amanda. I just don't need you in my space all the fucking time." He finally managed to take his sweater off, throwing his cap behind him and adjusting his shirt.
I just stood there, not knowing what to say.
He brushed past me and into his room. My legs followed of their own accord. "What's going on?" I asked cautiously from the doorway. "I tried calling you."
"Jesus Christ!" He threw his hands in the air. "Clingy much? You're not my fucking girlfriend," he spat out, slumping onto the bed. "You shouldn't be blowing up my phone when I'm out. It's fucking embarrassing."
I swallowed down the knot in my throat, my eyes stung from holding back tears. I squared my shoulders and tried to act stronger than I felt. "Did something happen?" I said quietly. Something must have happened for this switch in him.
"Yeah, Amanda." He said my name like it was a curse. "You happened. I don't need your shit. Not now. Not ever."
He looked at the floor, avoiding eye contact. He started to unlace his shoes. "Look at me." I ground out.
He laughed. His shoulders bounced with the movement. Then he lifted his head; there was fire in his eyes, but not the good kind. "You don't tell me what to do," he stated, standing and taking a step closer to me. "You don't control me. And I shouldn't fucking control you. What you do is on you. I don't control a fucking thing you do."
I frantically wiped the tears that were falling. "What the hell's gotten into you? Why are you being an asshole?!"
"I'm not being anything!" his tone got harsher with every word. "I'm not being an asshole," he repeated, a little softer this time. "I just am one. You should have known that when I didn't call you after that night."
My stomach dropped to the floor, and for a few moments, I forgot to breathe.
I stared at him wide-eyed. My head shook back and forth. I bit my lip to stop myself from breaking down. He couldn't see me like this. He couldn't win. Not again. Then shock and disappointment quickly turned to anger. "Why the fuck didn't you call me, huh?"
I stepped forward.
He stepped back.
"I'm not fucking doing this, Amanda." He was yelling. I knew for sure it was going to wake Ethan.
I continued shaking my head, angry with myself for letting him get to me again. I knew why he didn't call, but I wanted him to admit it. I wanted the words to come out of his mouth. "Was it a pity thing?"
I saw him flinch.
Asshole.
"I'm right, huh?" I tried to talk through my tears and my voice broke. "You thought it would be fun to fuck around with some loser girl, so you could tell all your friends that you went slumming?"
"What?" He took a step back, confusion on his face. But I didn't care. He needed to own up to it.
"It's true, isn't it?"
He didn't say a word. Just stood there. Hands in his pockets.
"Fuck you, Logan," I seethed.
I turned and walked away, but his words stopped me. "Too late," he announced. "Some other girl beat you to it."
TWENTY FOUR
Logan
My eyelids were heavy. My body ached. My head was pounding. The room was spinning. My mouth was dry. My fingers itched. Somewhere in the distance, I could hear her voice.
Amanda.
Fuck.
I'd love to say that I don't remember what went down last night, but I did. I remembered being an asshole to her. I remember doing it all on purpose, so she would leave me alone and not want to be with me, because there was no fucking way I deserved her. Not even a little.
I remembered hearing her cry in her room. She must have cried for so long, because by the time I'd passed out, she was still going.
She thought I pitied her. The second the words were out of her mouth I flinched. Not because she was right, but because I couldn't believe that she'd ever think that about herself. How the fuck could she think that I was better than her. I let it go. Maybe she needed to believe that. Maybe it would make it easier for her to accept that I didn't want her. But I did, I wanted her so fucking bad. But that was my problem to overcome. Not hers.
I'd love no
thing more than to lay in bed all day but I promised Jake I'd meet him at the field. Fucking baseball.
I slowly got up and walked to the kitchen, needing something in my stomach to make this whatever-the-fuck-feeling go away. I stopped in my tracks when I heard their voices.
"Were you arguing with Logan last night?" Ethan said.
"Nope," she said quickly.
"Huh. I swear I thought I heard you and-"
"Nope," she repeated, interrupting him. "Not me. He had some other girl in there."
Why would she tell him that?
"Oh." Ethan sounded surprised. Then it was quiet for a moment, before he spoke again, "Are you all right, Dim?"
"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" I could hear the airiness in her voice, and for some fucked up reason, it pissed me off.
"I just thought that you and he-"
"Are nothing. We're nothing."
I cleared my throat to announce my presence before taking the few steps into the kitchen.
"Hey roomy!" she boomed.
I flinched from the magnified loudness in my ears.
She drowned the rest of her coffee and washed it out in the sink.
"Dude," Ethan sniffed the air, then glared at me with a disgusted look on his face. "You smell like ass. I don't care if you smoke weed or whatever—that's your thing—but don't bring that shit into the house, okay?"
I jerked my head in a nod; it was all I could do.
Amanda laughed; it was that perfect bitter laugh she uses. Then she turned away from the sink, crossed her arms and faces Ethan. "Didn't you know?" she started, her voice laced with sweetness. "You can't tell Logan what to do. You can't control him. No one can." Then she kicked off the counter and walked towards me, turning on her side so she could pass me in the doorway, only she stopped half way, her breasts rubbing on arm. "I hope she was fucking worth it," she whispered in my ear.
***
The day sucked ass.
I was hung-over as fuck and the day sucked ass.
Also, I'm an asshole.
Oh yeah, the day sucked ass.
I was sprawled on the sofa while Ethan was on the recliner. ESPN was on but neither of us was watching.
He was on his phone.
I was wishing I were dead.
Then I heard the clicking of heels get louder and louder. "I need the keys." I heard her before I saw her. She walked in front of the sofa to get to him. Her bare leg brushed my hand. My eyes finally focused enough to see that she was wearing the shortest of short dresses. It barely covered her ass. Her perfect ass. Her fucking legs. Where the hell was she going?
Ethan adjusted so he could pull the key out of his pocket. He held them out but didn't give it to her. "Where are you going dressed like that?"
"Study date," she answered.
"Dressed like that?" he quirked an eyebrow at her.
Exactly, Ethan. Good man.
"Tyson said I should start dating again." She shrugged. "Tony's going to be there."
I made a groaning sound, unaware that I was doing it until it was done. If she was trying to piss me off and make me jealous, it was working.
They both turned to face me. I focused my attention on the TV.
She grabbed the keys off him and walked past me again. This time, I pulled my hand away. If I touched her, I wouldn't be able to stop myself from doing something more. Which would be awkward for two reasons, one—she wasn't mine, and two—her brother was in the room.
So I stayed silent.
Amanda
I didn't dress this way to make Logan jealous, but the fact that it did was a bonus.
I was about to put Ethan's car in gear when my phone chimed with a text.
Logan - Why are you dressed like that for a study date? He's going to get the wrong idea.
Assface has a lot of nerve.
Me - Why? Because fuck you, that's why. Also, whatever idea he gets - he's probably right.
I peeled out of the driveway and made it a block before my phone chimed again. I pulled over and parked, already furious at whatever his reply might be. Only this time, it wasn't from Logan.
Ty - I'm sorry.
What was he talking about?
He answered before it even had a chance to ring. "Look," he said, before I could get a word in. "I'm sorry. I thought at the time I was doing the right thing. But you have every right to be pissed, I shouldn't have told him. It wasn't my story to tell. It was yours, and you kept it a secret for a reason. I feel so bad. Please don't be mad."
"Told who what, Ty?"
Logan
The front door slammed shut and a second later she was in the room. Ethan and I looked up as she entered. Our positions hadn't changed since she left. But she had—her eyes were bloodshot and the little amount of make-up she wears was smeared.
"What happened?" Ethan sat up.
She ignored him and glared at me. "He told you?" she seethed, her eyes narrowed at me.
My head was still pounding, so it took me a while to catch up to what she was asking.
"He fucking told you?" she repeated, louder this time.
I sat up and rubbed my face with my hands.
"Dim," Ethan soothed. He stood up and walked over to her. "What's going on?"
She kept ignoring him. "Answer me!" she yelled.
I stood up and faced her, and nodded—just once.
"He had no fucking right!"
"Dimmy." Ethan put his hand on her arm, trying again to calm her down.
"No!" She jerked away, and then faced him. "No," she said again, her body overtaken by a sob. "He had no right, E. He shouldn't have fucking said a word—not to anyone!" Then she turned to me, "So that's why? You didn't want to be with me because you didn't want anyone to find out? Are you embarrassed?"
"What?" I shook my head. Where the fuck did she get that idea. "That's not-"
She cut in, "You fucked some other girl because you were ashamed of me?"
"What the fuck?" Ethan said, glaring at me.
I didn't know what the fuck to say. So I did the worst thing I could possible do right now—I stayed silent.
"You're a fucking asshole!" she shouted, her voice cracking. Then she turned in her spot and walked away.
Her door slammed shut a moment later.
Then it was just Ethan and I. I saw his fists clench at his sides. The muscles in his jaw tightened.
I still didn't know what the fuck to say.
He cleared his throat.
I looked up at him.
"I told you when you moved in she was off limits. I told you she wasn't ready. I told you to be careful. And you didn't listen to me then. So I'm telling you now, leave her the fuck alone."
Amanda
It's not like I was harvesting some major secret. It was my choice not to tell Logan, because honestly, I was at the point where I was over it. It happened—I moved on.
When he drove me home after our date, I didn't speak, because my mind was consumed with what I was going to do about Ty.
Ty—my boyfriend—who was miles away. 506 miles, to be exact.
When he left for college, the beginning of my junior year, I was torn. He wanted to stay together, and do the long distance thing. I felt like I'd be holding him back if he did. So I made that stupid rule. At the time, I thought it was best for both of us. If he was there, and found someone else, then he could leave, and I would be fine with it. The first time he called and told me he'd kissed a girl, he was so upset. He'd felt so guilty for what he did, and later on he said that he did it just to see if I'd care. Of course I cared, but what could I do? It was my stupid rule.
The second and third time, he did it, he was drunk, which in normal circumstances is no excuse, but I'm not naive. I know what it would have been like for him in college, surrounded by beautiful girls, all interested in the same thing. Add to that the pressure from his friends that didn't understand why he'd tie himself up with some high scho
ol girl back in his hometown—and I got it. I really did. He felt horrible about it and called me as soon as he could to confess.
So it happened the first few months he was gone, and never again. But, with the distance and his busy schedule, we barely got time to speak, let alone see each other. Whenever he was back home, we were inseparable. It was perfect. Ty was perfect.
I never even thought about other guys while Ty was gone. Not really. Everyone in school knew that I was his girl and he was kind of a legend, so no one tried anything. Which was a good thing, I guess.
I worked and studied my ass off and got accepted to NYU. Making that phone call to Ty was one of the happiest moments of my life. He didn't even know that I was trying to get in. I didn't want to get his hopes up if I didn't get accepted, so you can imagine his reaction. He wanted to go out and look for an apartment right away. I told him to hold off until I flew there to visit after graduation. I thought it would be a good idea to look together, so we could find something that suited both of us. He agreed. I don't think he really cared. He was just happy that we were going to be together again. And so was I.
Then shit hit the fan. Mom caught Dad with another woman in her own bed. In their own house. He was screwing someone half his age, with pictures of his kids hanging from the walls in their room. And the worst part? He wasn't sorry. Not even a little. Because while Mom was standing there yelling at him—shattered and heartbroken—he went to the closet, pulled out his suitcase and started packing while his mistress stood in their bedroom and quietly watched it all go down, half naked, with Mom's husbands shirt on. And you know how I know all this? Because she told me. She'd repeat the story over and over on the nights she'd get drunk and ramble incoherently—which was every single night for months after he walked out.