23. James
23
JAMES
I 'm leaning against Alex's kitchen counter, tapping my fingers against the marble surface. The room smells like his cologne and whatever new air freshener he's trying out this week—some blend of citrus and sandalwood. Liam paces back and forth, his hands shoved into his pockets, while Alex fiddles with his phone.
"Are you sure she said she was coming?" I ask Alex, not for the first time. The edge in my voice is clear.
Alex doesn't look up from his phone. "Yes, James. I texted her as we were leaving the restaurant. She said she'd be here."
Liam stops pacing long enough to shoot me a look. "Calm down, man. She'll show."
I snort but don't respond. It's hard to stay calm when everything is balancing on a knife's edge.
Finally, the doorbell rings. All three of us straighten up like soldiers at attention.
Alex heads to the door and opens it to reveal Bianca, her long box braids cascading over her shoulders. Her eyes flick between the three of us, taking in our tense postures.
"What's going on?" she asks, stepping inside and closing the door behind her.
Alex, Liam, and I share a loaded look. It's time.
"We need to talk," I say, the words heavy with the weight of what’s coming next.
Bianca's eyes widen, her posture stiffening. She looks like she’s been hit by a truck—again. This morning with her mom clearly took a toll. She glances at each of us, searching for some clue that this isn’t what she thinks it is.
Alex gestures to the couch. "Sit down, Bia."
She hesitates but complies, sinking into the cushions like they might swallow her whole. We all take our seats across from her, creating a sort of tribunal.
"What's this about?" Her voice wavers just enough to betray her nerves.
Liam takes a deep breath. "We’re concerned about your mom and how she reacted this morning."
Bianca’s eyes flicker with confusion. "My mom? What does she have to do with us?"
I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees. "A lot, actually. It’s obvious how much her opinion affects you. We can’t ignore that."
Alex picks up where I leave off. "And we’ve been talking... We think it might be best if we end this now."
Her face goes blank, eyes wide as if she’s trying to process what Alex just said. "End this? You’re breaking up with me?"
The silence in the room is deafening. Finally, Liam nods. "Yeah, Bia. We are."
She stares at us like we’ve grown two heads each. "But why? Just because my mom disapproves?"
I sigh, running a hand through my hair. "It's not just that. We don’t trust that you aren’t going to ghost us again like you did in college."
Her gaze sharpens, hurt flashing in her eyes. "I told you why I did that?—"
"And we believe you," Alex interrupts gently but firmly. "But it doesn’t change the fact that we’re still concerned it could happen again."
Bianca's fingers twist in her lap as she struggles to find the right words. The weight of our decision seems to press down on all of us, making it hard to breathe.
"You don’t trust me," she finally whispers.
"It’s not about trust," Liam says, his tone softening just a fraction. "It’s about self-preservation. We don’t want to go through getting closer just to lose you in the end…again."
Her jaw tightens as she processes our words, then suddenly she stands up, pacing the room like a caged animal.
"This is fucking ridiculous," she mutters more to herself than us.
"It’s not ridiculous," I say, trying to keep my voice steady despite the turmoil inside me. "It’s necessary."
"I wouldn't ghost you again," Bianca insists, her eyes darting between the three of us. Her voice carries a desperate edge, as if she's trying to cling to something slipping through her fingers. "You have to believe me."
Liam shakes his head, a resigned look settling over his features. "We don’t want to take that chance."
"Come on, Liam," she pleads, her voice breaking slightly. "You know me. I’ve changed."
Alex sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. "It’s not about you changing, Bia. We have to protect ourse;ves this time."
I nod in agreement, though every fiber of my being wants to take her hand and tell her it’ll be okay. But it won’t be. "We can’t go through that again."
Her eyes flicker with desperation as she looks around the room. "This isn’t fair. We were good together—great even."
Liam crosses his arms over his chest, a muscle ticking in his jaw. "We were great six years ago, but we got burned then. We can’t risk it."
Bianca's expression shifts from pleading to anger in an instant. Her hands clench into fists at her sides. "So that’s it? You’re just going to throw me away because you’re scared?"
"We’re not throwing you away," Alex says gently. "We’re making a decision that’s best for all of us."
She lets out a frustrated laugh, shaking her head. "This is such bullshit."
Before any of us can respond, she stands up abruptly, her movements jerky and filled with anger.
"You know what? Screw this," she spits out, turning on her heel and heading for the door.
"Bianca, wait—" I start to say, but she cuts me off with a sharp glare.
"No, James. I’m done talking." She yanks open the door and storms out without another word.
The door slams shut behind her, the sound echoing in the silence that follows. I feel like someone punched me in the gut.
We sit in silence, the tension in the room thick enough to cut with a knife. The door she just stormed through is like a gaping wound in our collective resolve.
Alex is the first to break the silence, his voice low. "Well, that went well."
Liam shoots him a look. "You think?"
I lean back against the couch, staring at the ceiling. "What happens now? Between us, I mean."
Alex shrugs. "We move on, I guess. Try to go back to how things were before she came back into our lives."
Liam scoffs. "You really think that's possible? After everything?"
A knot forms in my stomach. What if history repeats itself? What if this decision fractures us beyond repair again? "Maybe we made a mistake," I say quietly.
Both of them turn to look at me, surprise evident on their faces.
"What do you mean?" Alex asks.
I rub my temples, trying to gather my thoughts. "Maybe we should have given her the benefit of the doubt. Maybe things could have worked out."
Liam's eyes narrow. "You think we should've kept her around and risked getting hurt again?"
"I don't know," I admit. "But cutting her off like that... it feels wrong."
Alex sighs and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Look, James, we did what we thought was best for all of us. Including her."
"But did we?" I challenge. "Or were we just protecting ourselves?"
Liam shakes his head, clearly frustrated. "What's done is done. Second-guessing won't change anything."
Silence falls over us again, heavier this time. The conflict in their eyes mirrors my own internal struggle.
"Maybe things just weren’t meant to be," I finally say.
Alex nods slowly, as if he's trying to convince himself as much as he's agreeing with me. "Yeah, maybe you're right."
The room is suffocating, like the walls are closing in. I need air, space—anything but this stifling tension. Without a word, I push off the couch and head for the door.
"Where are you going?" Alex's voice follows me, laced with concern.
I pause, my hand on the doorknob. "I just need to be alone right now."
Neither of them argues. They know better than to push when I'm in this state. The door clicks shut behind me, and I step out into the cool evening air. The streetlights cast long shadows on the pavement, and I walk without any real direction, just needing to put distance between myself and the chaos inside.
As I wander through the quiet streets of San Diego, memories of Bianca flood my mind—her laughter, her touch, the way she makes everything feel alive. It’s like losing her all over again, but this time it cuts deeper because I thought we had a second chance.
I find myself at a small park and collapse onto a bench. The city hums around me—a distant siren, the rustle of leaves in the breeze, snippets of conversation from passersby. But it's all so distant, muted compared to the noise in my head.
Why does it hurt so much? We agreed to end things because it was logical, rational even. Yet here I am, mourning her loss as if she died.
"Get it together," I mutter to myself, rubbing my temples. But logic doesn't ease the ache in my chest or the emptiness spreading through me.
The last time we were together in college was supposed to be a fling—something fun before life took us in different directions. But it became more than that; we became more than that. And when she ghosted us without explanation, it felt like a betrayal.
Now here we are again. Except this time, the tables have turned.
Deep down, I know why this hurts so much—because despite everything, I still care about her. More than I'd like to admit. And walking away is like tearing out a piece of myself.
But we made our choice for a reason: self-preservation.