Chapter 17 Undersharing
Chapter seventeen
Undersharing
Marigold Belmore
By the time I make it back to my apartment, I’m out of breath and freezing cold. I left the party before Jameson could realize that I wasn’t getting water. I couldn’t go back and face him, not with wraiths from our past haunting me. And definitely not with his pen burning a hole in my pocket.
I kick off my shoes inside the door and walk farther inside to find all of my roommates on the couch. Jasmine looks like she just came home from her date with Shepherd, still in her sweater dress, while Aurora and Saylor are in pajamas.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Jasmine comments, and I wince. Concern furrows her brow. “What happened?”
“Jameson was there,” I say, and all of the girls’ eyes widen. “He didn’t do anything. Well, except make me smile and remember things I’ve been trying to forget.”
I collapse onto the couch in between Aurora and Jasmine. Saylor stares up at us from her pallet of blankets on the floor. Behind her, the TV is paused on the movie Hitch.
“What kind of things?” Jasmine asks. Her tone is cautious. She knows that I don’t like to share about Jameson, but maybe it’s time.
I cover my face with my hands and sigh. I’m so tired. My thoughts have been confined to the jail in my mind, except for when they bleed into my manuscript. The novel is starting to read more like a diary entry at this point. Maybe if I got some of this out, then it would stop showing up in my work.
“Last year, before he betrayed me, I kissed Jameson,” I confess into my hands.
My friends are silent. I can sense the tension in the room.
“You kissed?” Saylor is the first to break the quiet with a shriek. “Why didn’t you say so? That changes everything.”
I drop my hands and frown.
“I don’t know about everything.”
“I agree with Saylor,” Jasmine chimes in. “This changes things.”
When I look at Aurora, she grimaces but nods.
“It makes what he did worse,” I concede. “But that’s all.”
“What happened after your kiss?” Jasmine asks. “Did you date? Were things different between you two?”
I tip my head back against the couch.
“Is this what it feels like when I interrogate all of you?” I ask.
“Yes,” they all say in unison.
I groan. “Fine. I suppose it’s only right that I suffer this way.”
Jasmine laughs. “Sharing isn’t as bad as you think.”
“It’s worse,” Aurora says, making me snort.
“I don’t know why you all agonize over this sort of thing,” Saylor chimes in. “It’s not that big of a deal.”
“That’s because you’re a chronic oversharer,” I reply.
“Only with you guys, because you’re my friends,” she defends. “And maybe sometimes other people, but only if they seem like they need me to share to feel less alone.”
“The guy who works at the smoothie counter did not need to know about your parents’ divorce,” Aurora says dryly.
“He was having a hard day, and I wanted him to know I’ve had those too,” Saylor says, like it’s perfectly reasonable.
“Then you tell him about a flat tire or a bad grade on an exam, not your family history,” I say with a laugh.
“Okay, enough talking about talking,” Jasmine interrupts. “Tell us what happened with Jameson.”
My friends quiet down. I stare at the ceiling, not wanting to see their reactions when I tell the story.
“It was a Friday night after a big exam,” I begin, going back to the day in my mind.
“We used to get ice cream floats after exams and papers, really to celebrate almost anything. After we ate and had our floats, Jameson drove me to this spot by a lake that we loved. Neither of us wanted the night to end, I guess. It was always that way with us.”
My eyes fall shut. I can still smell the magnolias. Feel the late-spring breeze on my skin.
“We grabbed a blanket from his truck and lay down in the grass. Talked about the future, about all the things we wanted to do once we were in college together.” My eyes sting as I recall our bucket list. “I turned my head on the blanket, and Jameson was staring at me. There was something different in his eyes. It’s not as if I hadn’t thought of him in a romantic way before.
He’s gorgeous—all the girls in our school thought so. But I thought he saw me as a sister.”
I blink open my eyes. A tear slides down my cheek.
“He brushed back my hair and I knew. I knew he wanted to kiss me but was afraid to. So, I kissed him.” I whisper the last part of my confession. “It was perfect in every way, until it wasn’t.”
Jasmine reaches out and grabs my hand for support.
“I freaked out afterward. I told him we shouldn’t have done that and that I didn’t want to talk about it ever again. I made him promise not to bring it up.”
My chest caves in as I remember how heartbroken he looked, yet resigned. Almost as if he’d expected it. Maybe that’s why he was scared. He knew it would end badly.
“A few weeks later, I thought we were close to getting back to normal. Then I went over to his house to find his mom making homemade chicken pot pie. She only ever makes it for special occasions, so I asked what we were celebrating.”
My throat tightens. Jasmine squeezes my hand.
“The internship,” Saylor finishes.
I nod, using my free hand to wipe beneath my eyes.
“He tried to explain, begged me to talk to him, but why would I bother? Everything was ruined the night we kissed, and this solidified that. You can’t kiss your best friend and move on. We were bound to separate at some point.”
“I’m sorry, Marigold. That must have been terrible to go through,” Saylor says. “Do you really think that even if the internship hadn’t happened you two would have ended?”
“It’s hard for me to believe any differently,” I answer. “But it doesn’t matter anyway, because he did betray me.”
I can feel my friends staring at me. I wonder if they’re questioning my logic. I’ve been questioning it some too lately, but it’s hard to look at the situation in a new light when it feels like everything is cast in shadows.
“So what about tonight?” Jasmine asks gently.
I let out a shaky sigh.
“We were just talking. We’ve had to work together for the paper, and it’s made it harder to stay away from him.
I miss him so much—” My voice cracks. I shake my head.
“But I know this is for the best. Anyway, I mentioned forgetting my pen, so he gave me his. And then brought up being friends. I got overwhelmed and left, but then I saw this.”
I pull the pen out and hand it to Jasmine.
“It says Goldie,” she voices. “Do you think it was meant to be a gift for you?”
I shrug. “I’m not sure. He didn’t say anything about the engraving when he gave it to me.”
I tug my hand out of Jasmine’s so that I can rub my eyes. My makeup smears on my fingers.
“You said you’ve been working together. Has he tried to talk to you or smooth things over?” Saylor asks.
“Just about every time we’re alone,” I mumble.
“You don’t want that?” she questions.
I bite the inside of my cheek as more tears well up.
“I don’t know what I want,” I whisper.
I’m scared to want anything at all. When I think of the future, I see my mother.
Hear her voice reminding me that everyone will let me down, especially a man.
And wasn’t she right? Not long after we kissed, Jameson betrayed me.
I know that I pulled back first, but he could have fought for me instead of betraying me.
“You said you miss him,” Jasmine says quietly. “Maybe things could be repaired. He could have a reason, or at least an apology.”
I tuck my knees to my chest and wrap my arms around them.
“They probably could, but I don’t know if I want them to,” I confess.
“Because of the kiss,” Aurora adds.
I rest my chin on my knees.
“Yeah, I mean, if we become friends again, what happens when one of us meets someone?” The very thought of Jameson with someone else makes my heart clench painfully in my chest. “There’s no way that goes well. It’s not like we can say things have always been platonic between us.”
“And you don’t want to be more than friends?” Jasmine questions.
I shake my head, even as longing springs up inside me. My mother’s words echo like the chimes of an old clock in my mind.
“No, that can’t happen.” My voice is shakier than I want it to be.
Right as I’m speaking, my phone buzzes in my pocket. Thinking it might be Paisley, I pull it out. A text from a number I know but have yet to enter back in my contacts shines through the screen. Jameson.
Unknown: Are you home safe?
My stomach dips. He’s not questioning why I left or trying to get me to talk. Just asking if I’m safe. That makes it all the more difficult to maintain my distance.
Marigold: Yes.
I send the text without telling my friends about it. I can tell they don’t understand, and while I’m glad I shared, there’s only so much I can take for one night. Talking about my parents is not something I’m up for.
Jasmine wraps an arm around me and pulls me closer.
“We’ll be here for you, whatever you need. No judgment,” she promises.
I muster up a smile. “Thanks, Jaz.”
Aurora presses play on the movie, likely anxious to get away from all the emotional talk. I’m grateful for it, because I don’t have the energy to keep going tonight. Though with how little sleep I’m getting, I’m not sure I’ll ever have enough to expend.
As per usual lately, I’ve come up short in another area. It’ll be my downfall eventually, but until then, I’ll keep going. I have no other choice.