Chapter 16
TATUM
It’s only been a week since I spent the night at Ethan’s parents’ house and promised to cut ties with Brandon.
Seven days and already, I’m desperate to cave.
Brandon has called and texted at least a dozen times since last Wednesday.
When I’m not at class, I do everything in my power to ensure I don’t run into him on campus.
I avoid all our usual haunts, preferring to grab a coffee and meal when I know he’s in practice or classes.
I’ve even gone as far as studying in the library in the evenings so that when he comes looking for me in my dorm room, I’m gone.
And he did come searching.
My phone rings for the third time this morning, and when I glance down to find Brandon’s name flashing across the screen, I’m not even surprised. His daily phone calls and texts are becoming so predictable, I know when to expect them.
I hit the Silent button and take a deep breath.
Ignoring him kills me. Each time I see a text or a missed call, a little piece of me dies inside.
But that’s exactly the problem, isn’t it?
Ethan’s right. My friendship with Brandon isn’t normal.
I shouldn’t need to be around him this much.
I crave his company and the sound of his voice like an addict craves their next fix, and that realization terrifies me more than the silence ever could, because I have no idea what it means.
All I know is I can’t continue like this.
Not when I’m transferring to Michigan State next semester.
Not when I have plans for a future with Ethan.
I did the right thing by putting the brakes on our friendship; I know that. I’m being a good girlfriend?loyal and committed, devoted.
But it’s killing you.
I grunt at the thought.
I know I need to talk to him and explain why I’m ghosting him, but I’ve yet to find the courage.
Call me a coward, but I’m not sure I have it in me to look him in the eyes and tell him the friendship we’ve cherished for more than a decade will soon be a distant memory.
That I’ve found someone who loves me—someone special—and by doing so, I need to put him first, even if it means putting Brandon last.
Rip the Band-Aid off.
My phone rings again, cutting into my thoughts, and I know who it is without even checking. A brief glance at the screen confirms it, the sight of Brandon’s name mocking me.
I imagine picking up and telling him I can’t hang out with him anymore, but to my own ear, it sounds more like a punishment rather than a choice, and not for the first time, I question the wisdom behind cutting him off cold turkey.
Maybe it would be better if I eased into it?
Weaned myself off him like a mother weans a babe from her milk?
For as long as I can remember we’ve been each other’s life source, our whole world, so it stands to reason we might need an adjustment period of lesser interaction before we take that final leap from best friends who do everything together to mere acquaintances.
I chew on my lip as I stare at the ringing phone.
I could ignore it. Again. It’s what I should do.
But then I imagine Brandon and the genuine hurt in his eyes when I refuse another one of his calls, and it breaks through my resolve like a hole punch.
My thumb hovers over the screen as I contemplate whether easing him into this is better than this cruel silence, and before I can overthink it, I swipe to answer.
“Hello?” My voice comes out smaller than intended, unsure of what kind of reception I’ll get after a week of radio silence.
“Tate, are you okay?” His voice is rough like gravel, yet it feels like a salve to a wound.
“Why would I not be okay?” I ask, feigning ignorance.
“Uh, maybe because I haven’t heard from you in a week. Shit, Tate, where the hell have you been?” Brandon’s voice cuts through the line, sharp with frustration and something else—worry. “I thought something had happened to you.”
I wince, sticky with guilt. “I’m fine, I just—I’ve been really busy lately between Ethan and school . . .” I trail off, unsure of what else to say, knowing it’s a shit excuse.
“Too busy to answer a text? To let me know you’re alive?” The hurt in his voice makes my stomach clench. “I was about to show up at your dorm with campus security.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, and I mean it. “Things have been hectic.”
He sighs, and I can picture him running his hand through his hair the way he does when he’s trying to calm down. “Look, let’s grab dinner tonight. The usual place? I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.”
My throat tightens. “I can’t tonight. I have a paper due tomorrow that I haven’t started,” I lie.
“What about this weekend? We play Alabama at home. We could hang out after the game,” he says, and the hope in his voice is almost my undoing.
“I don’t think so. I need to make a bunch of reels and review the book I just read. Plus, Ethan’s supposed to visit . . .”
Silence stretches over the line, and I start to think we’ve been disconnected before he finally says, “Right. Of course.” There’s a bitter edge to his voice; one I don’t recognize. “Well, I’ll let you go. Just let me know if you figure out a time when you can pencil me into your busy schedule.”
“Brandon, don’t say it like that.”
“No, it’s cool. I totally get it,” he says, and he sounds so dejected, I want to reach through the line and hug him. “I’ll let you go, so you can get back to work.”
I close my eyes, willing myself to stay strong when I blurt, “Wait!”
I blink my eyes open, wondering what the hell I’m doing when I add, “I actually have a couple hours free right now, and you have that gap before your afternoon sports psych class, right?”
“Yeah,” he says, his voice cautious but with an undercurrent of relief.
“Want to meet me at Java?”
The line goes quiet, and I hold my breath, already regretting my impulsiveness.
But one cup of coffee won’t hurt, right? It’s public, quick, and certainly better than this painful cold turkey approach that’s been softly killing me.
“Sure,” he says, and I breathe a sigh of relief. “Be there in fifteen?”
“Great,” I say, trying to sound casual despite the way my heart hammers against my ribs. “See you there.”
I hang up and press my phone against my forehead, eyes squeezed shut. What am I doing?
One coffee. That’s all this is. A chance to explain things properly instead of ghosting him like some heartless monster.
Standing, I grab my keys and jacket, trying to ignore the flutter in my stomach that feels suspiciously like excitement as I head for the door.