Chapter 22
Alondra
Dylan took Ellie and me home, and I didn’t show up the next morning for skating.
I skipped class on Friday.
And avoided all of Jack’s calls and texts, asking if we could talk.
I’ve never been more grateful for it to be a set of away games, and we had our couch back for the first time in two weeks.
Ellie and Sara tried to get me to go out with them, but I didn’t feel like going anywhere.
Instead, they came over Saturday night, and we all stayed in watching some of my favorite movies from the eighties and nineties.
Thankfully, no one pushed me to talk about Jack, but the time away from him has done nothing to help me clear my head.
Coop crashed on the couch last night, and I hid in my room like a coward until he left this morning. I’m embarrassed Bradley made a scene at their house, but I’m more afraid of how they’ll look at me once they know the truth.
I debated all morning if I was going to go to class, knowing I’d see Jack there, but I still feel like curling up in a ball after walking into the lecture hall.
A quick glance to where he’s usually waiting for me with a cup of coffee in hand causes me to deflate a little when I realize Jack’s sitting where he spent the first two months of the semester, surrounded by his groupies.
It’s almost like he never left them in the first place.
We make eye contact, but he looks away first, down at his paper.
What did you think was going to happen after ignoring him all weekend, Al? He’d get down on his knees in front of everyone and beg you to talk to him?
I force myself to head up the stairs toward Keri playing on her phone.
“Hey, girl. Um, is everything okay?” she asks, her eyes wide, and I shrug, glancing down at my outfit.
My sweatpants and sweatshirt under my winter coat aren’t as subtle as I thought.
“All good,” I answer, swallowing the lump forming in my throat.
“Did something happen between you and Jack? He’s sitting over there—”
I plop into the seat next to Keri, cutting her off. “We’re fine.”
“Okay then,” she says, getting the hint, and I try to sink low into my seat.
The lecture feels longer than usual, but it’s probably because I’m putting more effort into trying not to look at Jack than I am on the actual class. I’m so mentally drained by the time we’re released that I’m ready to crawl under the covers and never come out.
I only feel more defeated watching Jack walk out the doors without any hesitation, and I think I’ve finally done it. I’ve finally pushed Jack away, and I only have myself to blame.
I’ve only replayed Thursday night in my head a hundred times, wondering what would have happened if I hadn’t followed Jack and Dylan out back, or if Jack had listened instead of pushing me to give him an answer I knew he didn’t want to hear.
I never wanted to tell Jack the specifics of how things ended with Bradley, much less ask him afterward if he was happy to know what had happened.
Maybe I shouldn’t have kept insisting it didn’t matter, but I’m also aware that the more attention Bradley’s given, the more he’s going to act out. He’s never slipped like that in public before. My best guess is he was drinking, and it caused his temper to flare.
The little bruises his fingertips left on my hip are fading proof. Just another picture to add to the collection.
I just want them gone.
I pull my winter coat tighter around myself, shoving my hands in my pockets. It’s weird being by myself since I’ve grown used to Jack’s constant presence, but I did tell him to leave me alone. I didn’t think he’d really listen because he never had before, yet this time he did.
Maybe it’s for the best.
The lines are starting to become blurred with us. I’ve been acting like I’m his girlfriend, and he’s been acting like my boyfriend, but that’s not what we are.
I’ve had a lot of time to think the past couple of days, and a part of me can’t help wondering what everything would be like if I’d never gotten to know him.
When I make it back to the apartment, I’m struck with déjà vu by the tall figure pacing in front of the door. My first reaction is to pull the pepper spray from my pocket, until I focus enough on his face to realize it’s just Dylan.
His gaze lands on my hand, and I shove it back in my pocket, trading it for my keys. “I think Ellie’s still at class if you’re looking for her,” I say as he steps aside.
“Good to know, but I’m actually here to talk to you if you have a second.”
“You could’ve given me a heads-up text you’d be waiting outside my door,” I say, unlocking the door.
“I did, but you didn’t respond,” he says, and I unzip my coat, setting it on one of the barstools with my backpack as I reach for my phone to see he did send me a message. I just didn’t check it before walking back from class.
“Sorry,” I mumble, twisting my hair back and securing it into a low, messy bun. “So what’s up?” I ask, and Dylan takes a seat on the couch, making himself right at home.
“You okay?” he asks, and I shrug, because what does he want me to say?
“Yeah. Fine.”
He barks out a short laugh. “That is the least convincing ‘yeah, fine’ I’ve ever heard after asking someone if they’re okay.”
“Well, I guess you have your answer then,” I say, stepping into the kitchen to make myself a cup of coffee.
Dylan’s scrolling on his phone when I walk back into the living room with my steaming cup and sit on the other end of the couch from him.
“Jack doesn’t know I’m here. He said you wanted space, and we were supposed to give it to you, but he’s not doing so hot.
I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but he’s scared.
Whatever your situation with your ex is, it scares the fucking shit out of him, and I’ve never known Jack to be afraid of anything. ”
I blink at him, trying to figure out what I’m supposed to say. Jack seemed perfectly fine in class. “What do you mean?” I ask, setting my mug down to grab my purple fuzzy blanket. It still smells like cinnamon and Jack from when he slept with it.
Dylan clears his throat, scratching the back of his neck. “The day you needed help because Bradley showed up here, Jack pulled me out of the middle of my class without saying anything other than you needed us. He ran the whole way here. I could barely keep up with him.”
What? My mind spins with the new information as I reach for my coffee again, blowing on the top to help it cool down faster. For a brief moment, I think about how Jack drank his hot chocolate without hesitation, even though it meant burning his tongue.
Well shit. Now I feel kind of bad for not being more open with him about my history with Bradley. “I didn’t know he did that. I’m sorry.”
Dylan shrugs it off. “Don’t worry about it.
You’re one of us now, and my professor believed me when I lied and told him it was for hockey.
He’s a huge fan of the team and didn’t even question it, but my point is, Jack’s different with you.
I can’t even pretend I understand whatever the hell’s going on between you guys, but I know you care about him too.
I can’t tell you why it scares him, but he’s afraid, and I think you should know that. ”
I groan, staring at my coffee to avoid looking at him. “There’s nothing to understand because there’s nothing going on.”
“Sure,” he muses, and if I didn’t think I’d spill my coffee, I’d probably try to chuck a throw pillow at him.
“Dude, I don’t have enough brainpower to figure out whatever riddle you’re trying to give me right now. Can you just use actual words to tell me what you mean?” I ask, hoping he’ll throw me a bone, because all he’s doing is making my head hurt.
“You should ask Jack about his dad, and maybe more of this will make sense.”
“Dylan,” I complain, rubbing my temples.
“I’m sorry, it’s not my story to tell. Just try to cut him some slack because Jack’s blaming himself.
He said something this weekend about your ex telling him to stay away from you, but he didn’t listen,” he says, and now it’s making a lot more sense why Jack didn’t even acknowledge me in class today.
“It’s not his fault,” I insist, my head snapping up to look at him. I might’ve thrown myself a pity party all weekend, but I never considered the possibility Jack would blame himself for what happened.
Bradley would have done something sooner or later whether Jack was in the picture or not.
“I know that, but I’m simply telling you he’s blaming himself for what happened at the party. What you decide to do with the information is up to you,” Dylan says, giving me a reassuring smile.
“Thank you,” I say after a few moments, trying to wrap my mind around everything he said.
He stretches, grabbing the television remote and settles into the cushions. “Don’t mention it. Now, what should we watch?” Dylan asks, and a quiet but genuine laugh sputters from me.
Maybe I was wrong all along, holding hockey players accountable for my father’s shortcomings.
I sent Jack a voice memo before I left, but I wasn’t going to blow off our tutoring session.
Doesn’t matter how confused I am right now, I need to be a big girl and talk to him instead of continuing to hide.
He has that test next week in his business ethics class, and I’m not going to leave him high and dry.
Jack’s truck is the only one in the driveway, but when he doesn’t answer after I knock, I try the handle and find it unlocked. I walk in like I have a dozen times before, and everything looks normal. You’d never know there was a party here a few days ago.
“Jack?” I call out, slipping off my shoes, suddenly feeling unsure about this. “Are you here?”
I sigh, moving toward the stairs to check his room. He could be gaming with headphones on for all I know. If he’s not here, he’s not here, but then at least I’m not the one who bailed on tutoring.
I’m a few feet away from his door when I hear a low moan, and my curiosity gets the better of me.