Chapter Twenty-Three
“Someone You Hate”
by Sasha Alex Sloan
Meera
Telling Sushant the truth is not an option. How can I, someone he considers a close friend, admit my past feelings for him and also say in that same breath that I tried to tear him and his now ex-girlfriend apart?
And clearly, I succeeded at it, despite having given that part of the Plan up. Because if I hadn’t kissed Lucy, they would have gotten back together eventually. They’d have figured out what to do about New York. They’d have ended up together, even if it were long-distance.
So I pad the truth with even more truths that I wish were lies—that I never found closure after my friendship with Lucy ended; that maybe there were always feelings there; that I didn’t mean to hurt him, ever; that kissing his girlfriend was a mistake. That I hope he’ll forgive me.
When I’m done talking and crying, I sit down on his bed with a thud and a gulp, pressing a pillow to my chest. It smells like him, notes of cinnamon and spice.
All I can think about, though, is how different Lucy’s perfume is—fragrant and flowery.
How it’s a hundred times more intoxicating than the scent of this pillow.
I look up. Sushant hasn’t spoken since I started explaining my half-truths. “Can you say something?” I mumble weakly, scratching the side of my ear. “Please?”
“Do you love her?” Sushant asks carefully. His left eye twitches as he rakes a hand through his dark hair.
“I’m not sure.” Yet another truth I can’t seem to believe. “I don’t want to love her, if it’s any consolation,” I add, tugging on my lower lip. “You two are such a wonderful couple. Lucy was just drunk and sad. And I made the first move. It didn’t mean anything to her.”
He sits beside me and exhales, rubbing the side of my shoulder. The gesture is warm, affectionate. Why? He should hate me. “If you love her, you love her,” he says. “You don’t have to pretend for my sake. Besides”—he sighs—“she and I are done.”
“No,” I hiss. Water pools in my eyes again. The Plan has ruined not just Lucy’s life but Sushant’s too. I never even thought of that. “Don’t break up with her just because of me. You’re supposed to go to New York together. You belong with her.”
He starts to speak, then shakes his head as a tear slides down his cheek. He doesn’t bother wiping it away. “I think you should speak with her tomorrow. It might give you more than just closure.”
“Sushant—”
He pushes the window open and gestures for me to leave. “Good night, Meera.”
My heart sinks. I’m such a horrible person.
In my quest for love, all I’ve done is break hearts and end relationships.
“Good night,” I whisper. I climb back in through my window without looking back; then I shut the curtains and change into pajama pants and a T-shirt before turning off the lights and hoping tomorrow never comes.
I get into bed and pull the comforter over me when something falls to the floor, beneath the bed, with a soft plop. I squint in the dark, fumbling for the light switch, and then get down on my knees and look under the bed. There’s something there—a shirt?
The flannel shirt wrinkles in my clutch.
It’s the one I was wearing today, the one I gave to Lucy because she was cold.
How did it get here? I stand up and look around.
Goose bumps sprout along my arms and neck.
There’s an ominous air about my small room, some sort of tension that my senses pick up on.
Appa might be the psychic in the family, but I have a connection with the divine too.
And then I get a whiff of it—Lucy’s perfume. It hangs in the air like a delicate aroma by the door to my bedroom. And directly opposite the door is the wall showcasing my whiteboard.
My vision blurs. Lucy was here. Lucy was in my bedroom. Lucy must have seen the Plan. Fuck.
I race toward the whiteboard, grab the eraser, and scrub away every trace of the Plan that, in the end, has ruined me.
My hands fumble when I sit on my bed and dial Lucy’s number.
She doesn’t pick up, although I see a few missed calls from her from before.
I don’t need to leave a voicemail, because seconds later, my phone chimes with a text.
Lucy:
Hope you got your shirt back. I left it on your bed
I don’t know how to respond to that. Is there a chance she never saw the whiteboard? That she missed it?
And then another text pops up on the screen.
Lucy:
Also? Stay the hell away from me
The phone slips from my hand and falls onto my sheets. Whether she knows the truth or not, she loathes me. Maybe it’s because I kissed her and ended her relationship. Maybe it’s because she saw the Plan. But it doesn’t matter, because I deserve every bit of that loathing.
Lucy
My alarm rings at six the next morning, the same as every day so I can go for my morning jog, but I turn it off and shove my face into the pillow, damp from my tears, cocooning myself in my fluffy white comforter.
If I don’t get up, I don’t have to face the consequences of what happened last night: losing Sushant, losing Meera… almost losing myself.
So I fall back asleep, and it’s only when someone’s soothing hand touches my forehead that I rouse. As I open my eyes, Julien pulls his fingers away and studies me. “Hmm. No fever,” he says.
I look from him to Natalie, who is seated at the foot of my bed, concern etched onto both their features. “What—what are you two doing here?” I mumble, rubbing the back of my neck to loosen the stress knots there.
“You disappeared from the party, didn’t check your phone all night, and when I called your mom, she said you were still sleeping!” Natalie’s voice is shrill as she wraps her arms around me. “You never sleep in past nine a.m.”
I dazedly return the hug, then stifle a yawn. “What time is it?”
Julien taps on his wristwatch and holds it up. “It’s almost noon.”
“Ugh.” I slump back into the pillow. “Can I get a rain check on having to wake up and face the day?”
Natalie stands up and pouts, her arms crossed against her chest. “What happened last night, Lucy? What’s wrong?”
Beside her, Julien coughs and shifts in place. Confused, I turn toward him, and his Adam’s apple bobs, a flush creeping down his dark skin. My eyes widen. He’s hiding something. I quirk a brow at Julien. “You know, don’t you?”
He puts his hands in his pockets and exhales roughly. “It is not my business. But, yes, I spoke to Meera, and she told me what happened.”
“Wait.” Natalie tugs on his arm, frowning. “What are you two talking about?”
Julien looks to me, and I nod.
I guess it’s time to hear Meera’s fake, two-faced side of the story.
I rest my head on my hand, listening as Julien tells Natalie about the kiss and everything that followed.
Apparently, he dropped Meera off at home, and she told him she’s had feelings for me all along, presumably to cover up her real intentions.
He makes no mention of the Plan on her whiteboard.
Of course he doesn’t know—Meera wouldn’t want him to see her as the bad guy.
Natalie sits down beside my feet with a thump. “You and Sushant broke up? And—and you didn’t—”
I put my head in my hands in an attempt to hold back my tears. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I just wanted to be left alone.”
She shakes her head, squeezing my ankle over the comforter. “That’s not what I was going to say. You broke up with him, and you didn’t push Meera away when she kissed you. Does that mean you’re…gay?”
As she waits for me to speak, Julien’s gaze flits to mine, his eyes telling me, You’ve got this. I smile softly at him, hold my head up, and say, “Actually, I’m pansexual.”
Natalie is silent for a second before she pulls both me and Julien into a half hug. “Oh my God!” she shrieks. “Both my favorite people are pansexual! How cool is this?”
Laughing, I hug her back. “Keep your voice down,” I add once they pull away. “Mom doesn’t know, and I…don’t think I’m ready for her to find out.”
Natalie tucks a lock of my hair behind my ear and nods. “It’s your decision.”
“I love you both so much.” My face crumples into tears. I might have had the worst night of my life yesterday, but I have the best friends in the world—and that counts for a lot.
“And we love you too,” Julien says fondly. “I will give you both some space.” He heads downstairs, whistling a song I don’t know under his breath.
When his footsteps recede down the stairs, Natalie speaks. “Are you okay, Lucy?”
I sigh. “Not really. I…Something else happened last night.”
She leans closer to me, holding my hand in hers. “Want to talk about it?”
My voice trembles as I tell her everything: why I ended my friendship with Meera and started dating Sushant, how I finally felt like myself when she kissed me, and the moment I stumbled upon the Plan on her whiteboard.
A stream of tears is trickling down Natalie’s face by the time I’m done. She puts a hand to her mouth, her eyes wide. “Oh, Lucy. I’m so sorry. I can’t believe this.”
Julien walks in through the ajar door, holding three mugs of coffee with just two hands, not a drop spilled.
I raise a brow. He’d do pretty well as a barista.
“Who wants coffee?” he asks, then does a double take when he sees us both crying.
He sets the mugs down on my bedside table and joins us. “Oh là là, what happened?”
Natalie brings up the Plan, and Julien coughs again. That’s his tell, isn’t it? “I already know of this,” he admits, tracing a line along my bedsheet. “Meera told me. I promised her I wouldn’t tell anyone.”
Well, at least he’s proven himself trustworthy. He’s kept so many secrets in the few short months he’s been in Madre Maria. I shake my head. “I need a break from Meera, from this town, from…everything.”
Julien hands me a coffee mug. “Drink. You need it.”
I take a sip. It’s delicious—gingery, milky, frothy, just the way I like it. Julien really is great at everything, huh? “I think I’m going to go visit my dad in LA until spring break ends,” I say slowly. “Maybe UCLA is the right school for me after all.”
“We can meet each other every weekend if you go there!” Natalie squeals. Then she hands Julien a mug, grabs her own, and holds it up. “A toast: To never letting go of us. No matter what.”
“Cheers,” we all say, touching our mugs to one another’s. And for the first time since that kiss, I smile.