Chapter Fourteen
Alex
It’s been seven days since Jules and I had our fight. Six days since she went back to Penn and asked me to give her a little bit of space to figure things out. I managed to keep true to that request until this morning.
Good luck! I know you’ve got this. I’ve got my livestream all ready to go.
Great game! One helluva OT goal. I was on the edge of my seat.
I’ll be around if you want to call. I miss you.
I stare at the unanswered string of texts.
Jules has left me on read for hours. I guess I should feel lucky that she even looked at them, considering everything.
It’s not that I don’t respect her need to distance herself after what happened, it’s just that I’ve never missed any of her games.
I mean, I missed one, but that was when Mason was in the hospital, and I still feel bad about it.
I suppose I just need her to know that I still care, even after all the upsetting things we said to each other.
To make sure she knows that she’s still my best friend, and I never meant to hurt her.
It isn’t the silence that’s breaking me, though I have to admit, that doesn’t feel good, but the pictures she’s been posting all week. Intimate-looking ones. With Emily. I guess she’s figuring things out on that front, too.
Annoyed, I toss my phone back on my desk and go back to the game and video call going simultaneously on my laptop. The Mets are up against the Dodgers in game five of the NLCS playoffs, and Jules is ignoring me. All in all, it’s been a pretty crappy day.
“God, I hate the Dodgers,” Mason mumbles. I’m fairly certain he’s a little ahead of my feed, and sure enough, a couple of seconds later, LA manages to score another run to narrow the lead. I swear, they better not come from behind to win. “Think we’ll ever see the Reds win a pennant?”
I scoff. “Not in our lifetime.”
“Yeah.” He sighs like he already knew the answer and takes off his favorite Reds cap.
He runs his hand through his hair and leans back in his chair.
Even through the small box in the corner of my computer that houses our video call, I can see how tired he looks.
“I should’ve gone to the movies with Mom and Richard. ”
“Would’ve been better than this,” I say. Why we torture ourselves watching one of our rivals play for the pennant we’ll never see our team win is beyond me. “How is it living with Richard?”
It was only after Mom and Richard were married that they sold his condo, and he moved in with us. Or them, I guess I should say since I was basically already out and in my little NYU dorm room. Mason likes to give me shit for bailing and making him the third wheel.
“Not as weird as I thought it would be. He’s cool. We even jam out sometimes. He’s pretty good on the bass.” He shrugs. “I try to give them space as much as I can. Newlyweds and all.”
“Ew,” I say and shudder. I do not need think of my mom having sex. “You know what would help with all that? If you left your room occasionally.”
“I leave my room,” he says defensively. “Went to a car show with Sarah and some friends last weekend.”
Personally, I don’t see the appeal. Way too much testosterone and engine revving for my liking, but I’m glad to hear that he’s getting out of the house. “Find anything worth buying?”
“Not really. Nothing to replace Betty anyway.”
When Richard bought Mom a new car and called it a wedding gift, Mason, for whatever reason, sold his Volkswagen and took her busted old Corolla instead. He claims it was because he wanted to put the cash toward a classic muscle car, but he’s yet to find one worth purchasing.
He yawns and scratches at the stubble on his face. “Took your bike out a couple of days ago. Mom keeps muttering about it collecting dust in the garage and threatening to pawn it.”
Normally, I’d give him crap for riding it, make up some kind of joke about how he’s supposed to be an organ recipient, not a donor, but it leaves a bad taste in my mouth. Joking about that seems like a jinx. “Thanks for keeping her greased for me.”
He puts his hands behind his head and twirls a bit in his chair. “Did you talk to Jules after the game?”
I glance at my phone. Still dark and silent. “I left her a few messages. She hasn’t gotten to them yet.”
“She’s probably out celebrating. I know I would be. Getting the winning goal in extra time? Legend status.”
I try not to think of who she’s celebrating with. “Yeah, she looked great.”
“Speaking of games,” Mason says, interrupting my intrusive thoughts, “I think I’m about done with this one.”
The Dodgers get a base hit a few seconds later, and I let out a long, frustrated breath. “Hard same.” I exit out of the sports app. “Off to play D&D?”
“Probably. Hey, you’re coming for Thanksgiving, right?”
“I don’t know, maybe.” I absolutely am, mostly because I want to stuff myself with homemade food, but if I’m being honest, it’s really because I want to see Jules.
I can’t stop thinking about how we left things.
We’ve had fights before, but this one felt different.
Heavier. And if she keeps ignoring me, I will have no problem cornering her at the dinner table. “Will you miss me if I don’t?”
He narrows his eyes, probably picking up on the fact that I’m just giving him a hard time. “Someone might miss you. Probably Mom.”
I flip him off. “Don’t you have a campaign to run and dice to roll?”
He straightens and tilts his chin upward. “Yes, I do. Try to show up sometime. We’d love to have you add some chaos to the adventure.”
My expression softens at the sincerity in his voice. I know it’s his way of saying he does, in fact, miss me. “I will. Love you, weirdo.”
“Love you, asshat.” We share a smile, and he disconnects.
I check my phone. Still nothing. Of course there’s nothing. She’s out celebrating.
With a long, drawn out sigh, I look at the framed picture on my desk.
It’s of me and Jules when we were sixteen during a joint family vacation to Bird Neck.
We’re tan and smiling, and she’s wearing a blue striped bikini and my lucky Reds cap backward while we stand ankle-deep in the ocean, attempting to cool off.
I miss how we were. The ease of our friendship when the only thing we had to worry about was whether or not we were going to have any classes together.
I miss throwing rocks at her bedroom window, urging her to sneak outside so we can swing and talk.
I miss our movie nights and eighties dance parties and making messes in the kitchen and sledding down Dead Man’s Hill on snow days.
It’s my fault we’re like this. She was right when she accused me of breaking my promise not to leave, and she was right when she said I pulled away first. I’ve been pulling away and running ever since I realized I wanted to kiss her.
I wish we could go back to when it was easier. Before I knew what it was like to lose myself in her. Before I let my desire get the better of me.
Before I fucked it all up.
My phone buzzes, and I immediately snag it.
Up for some company?
The brief pang of excitement is replaced by a flash of disappointment when the message turns out to be from Trinity and not from Jules.
I instantly feel guilty because Trinity is great and doesn’t deserve to be second to anyone, let alone someone who’s actively ignoring me.
She’s the one who should be holding space in my thoughts.
A selfie of Trinity holding a take-out bag comes through next. She’s sporting a cute knit hat and goofy-looking grin. It makes me wonder, not for the first time, what she sees in me.
Always, I text back.
Be there in five.
It takes me that long to straighten my room and throw on a clean shirt.
I want to at least make it seem as if I haven’t been in here wallowing in self-pity for the past few days.
I didn’t tell her that Jules and Chloe left early Saturday morning instead of Sunday evening, and I sure didn’t tell her about the argument.
That would open a can of worms I would rather not have to explain.
She greets me with a kiss, and I pull her in for a hug, finding comfort in her spicy perfume and the feel of her arms around my waist. “This is nice,” she says.
“Yeah,” I agree, realizing that we don’t do things like this nearly enough, and it is nice. “Seeing you is just what I needed after a crappy day.”
She hugs me a little tighter. “What made it crappy?”
Jules ignoring me and appearing to be sleeping with some girl I’ve never met, for starters. I step out of our embrace and grab my roommate’s chair to roll it over to my desk so we can eat. “The weather. The Reds not playing for the pennant. My unfinished assignment that’s due next week.”
Trinity gives me a look of sympathy and starts to remove the take-out containers. “That sounds bad. Can I help with anything?”
“Trust me, you already are.” She smiles, clearly happy with my response and sits in one of the chairs. “Thank you for the food, I’m starving.” I snag a spring roll and take a huge bite.
“You can always call me,” she says after a beat. “When you’re having a bad day.”
There’s something in her expression that makes it clear she wants me to call her.
And, yeah, I probably should be. That’s what relationships are about, right?
Leaning on one another? “Okay. The next time the Dodgers get a base hit, I’ll give you a ring.
” She rolls her eyes and insists that’s not what she meant.
I put my hand on top of hers. “I know, and I will. Thank you.”
She brings my hand to her lips and places a gentle kiss on my palm. It’s intimate. Somehow even more so than when we’re having sex. It makes my stomach flutter and my guilt amplify.
“Are you ready for your shoot tomorrow?” I ask, trying to figure out when we went from purely physical to moments of tenderness and whether or not I’m ready for that.
She perks up. “So ready and so excited. This new line is amazing.”
“You wouldn’t happen to have brought any of this new line with you, by chance?”
Her eyes darken, and she licks her lips. “What if I told you that I did? And if you’re a good girl, maybe you can have a private show.”
There we go. Back to familiar territory. “I can be a very good girl.” I lean in and kiss her, eager and ready for this private show.
At least until she puts her hands on my chest and gently pushes me away.
At first, I think it’s because we aren’t finished eating, or maybe it’s because the spring roll had a little too much cabbage, but she squares her shoulders and lifts her chin. She’s gearing up for something, and it makes me nervous. “I wanted to talk to you first.”
Usually when someone says “We need to talk,” it’s not followed by anything pleasant. Even if she was just promising me a personal lingerie showing. I sit back and brace myself. “Okay. Sure. What’s up?”
She waits until our eyes meet. “I need you to bear with me because I haven’t done this before.”
Now I’m starting to wonder if I am about to be dumped. I frown because I don’t like the thought of that, either.
“I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you these past few months.
And I’m not talking about sex. Though I’ve enjoyed that, too.
But it’s more than that. You keep me guessing, and you make me laugh.
You’re supportive and encouraging, and I just really like you.
” She pauses and takes a deep breath. “And I was hoping that maybe you felt the same? About me?”
I’m at a loss. I thought she knew I liked her? I mean, I wouldn’t spend time with her if I didn’t. Plus, I tell her as much every time we hook up. Maybe I wasn’t clear enough?
“God this sounds so high school,” she continues, seeming to catch wind of my confusion. “What I’m trying to say is, would you maybe want to do more than just have sex all the time? Maybe do more things like this?” She gestures to my desk littered with takeout. And…
Oh.
Oh.
“Are you asking if I want to be your girlfriend?” The fluttering is back. Along with something else I can’t quite pinpoint. Nervousness maybe?
“Yes,” she says, relieved. “That.”
My breath quickens. Jules was right. Trinity is taking this thing between us pretty seriously.
She places both hands on my knees. “I thought maybe we could, I dunno, see where this goes? Add a layer to what we’re already doing? What do you think?”
What do I think?
I don’t love Trinity. But I like her. Do I think, maybe one day, I could love her? I don’t know. But that’s not what she’s asking. She’s not asking for me to love her. She’s asking to take it a step further and see where we land.
I hesitate. And fuck if she doesn’t look so pretty and hopeful. “I’d like that.”
“Yeah?” The smile that follows brightens the whole room. She slides into my lap and kisses me, obviously not noticing my second of hesitation. “You know,” she says and places a trail of kisses down the side of my neck, “we should really thank Julia for this.”
I freeze and lean back. “Jules?” Trinity nods and leans back in to suck lightly at the spot behind my ear. “Why?”
“Because I told her I was nervous about asking you to be my girlfriend. But she told me I should go for it. She said we’d make a really cute couple.” She presses her lips to mine. “Crazy, right?”
I don’t answer because…what? Jules actually said that?
Suddenly, parts of our fight start to make a little more sense.
Trinity pulls off her sweatshirt, and my hands instantly go to her sides. But my mind is still on that fact that Jules encouraged this. Which is weird considering I could’ve sworn that the idea of me and Trinity was what was upsetting her so much.
When Trinity slips her hands under my shirt and pushes it up and over my head, I wonder if maybe I just made another huge mistake.