13 Cassius #3
My chest tightens. “This is about us,” I correct, because, yes, Zae may be part of it, but she’s not the reason. “It’s you and me. And the fact that we don’t work, and we both know it.”
“Answer the question, Cass,” she pushes. “Is it about her?”
I think about lying. For her pride, for my peace, for the sake of avoiding another sorority forum thread about what a piece of shit I am. But I’m done lying. That’s the whole point.
“Partly,” I answer finally. “I’m not going to stand here and pretend she doesn’t matter. She does. A lot. But even if she didn’t? This would still be broken.”
She laughs, bitter and a little wet. “Wow. So I lose my boyfriend and my self-esteem in one day. Amazing.”
Guilt twists in my gut. “I never meant to hurt you. I did care about you. I do. Just not the way you deserve. I tried to force what I felt into what you wanted, and that wasn’t fair.”
Stacey looks thrown by the honesty as her arms loosen a little.
“You say I don’t know you,” she starts after a second. “That I tried to change you. Fine. What am I getting wrong?”
I stare at her as an idea clicks. She’s broken up with me countless times, but I think we both know this time it’s different. This time it’s real, and she doesn’t like that.
“Okay. Let me answer with a question. What’s my favorite cereal?”
She doesn’t hesitate. “Lucky Charms. You always steal the marshmallows first.”
I shake my head. “That’s not right. I pick the Mini-Wheats out of the box and eat them dry.”
She blinks.
“What’s my biggest fear?” I ask.
There’s a beat of silence.
“Spiders?” messy-bun girl offers.
“Failure?” winged liner tries.
Stacey swallows. “Losing your temper,” she answers finally. “You talk about it all the time. Group and how you’re scared you’ll go back to who you were in high school.”
“That’s one of them,” I admit, glad to know she at least knows that. “What’s the other?”
No one answers.
“Being alone,” I drop. “Losing the people I love because I screw up too badly. That’s why I stayed too long. Why I kept trying to make this work even when it clearly wasn’t. I was scared of hurting you and scared of what it said about me if I walked away.
“I did care,” I continue, trying to make my point.
“But you don’t know the stuff that matters.
My favorite meals. My stupid comfort movie.
The song that pulls me out when I’m spiraling.
You never asked. You just filled in the blanks with whatever you wanted, whatever fit the picture in your head better. ”
A tear slips down her cheek. She wipes it away fast, like she doesn’t want to give me the satisfaction.
Not that I’m getting any from seeing her cry.
“And she knows all those things?” she asks quietly.
“Yeah.” I nod. “She does.”
There’s no point pretending otherwise.
Winged Liner scoffs. “So you’re just going to run to her after you’ve been dating someone else?”
I shake my head. I can’t answer that without hurting Stacey more, so I don’t.
Stacey looks down at her hands. When she looks back up, there’s hurt and anger and something like acceptance tangled together.
“I hate this.” Her voice is tight as she speaks.
“I’m sorry,” I utter again, because it’s the truest thing I have left. “If I could go back and not drag you into my mess in the first place, I would.”
She lets out a slow breath. “At least you’re honest now,” she mutters, straightening, and then squaring her shoulders. “Okay. If this is really what you want, then fine. We’re done.”
My chest loosens in a way that feels both awful and right.
“We’re done,” I repeat, more for myself than for her.
Her friends crowd close instantly, like a flock closing around a wounded bird. Messy Bun glares at me over Stacey’s shoulder as they pull her inside, leaving me alone to deal with my guilt.
I turn and walk away, hands shoved back in my pockets, the cold biting my cheeks. My heart is pounding, but it’s not the same chaotic rhythm from the party, or the coffee shop, or every fight I barely controlled. It feels lighter.
I don’t look back, keeping my eyes locked forward, toward the future.
Toward her. By the time I cross the green and cut back toward the dorms, my legs are moving faster than they need to.
My brain is already two floors up, outside my door, picturing Zae sprawled across my bed in one of my hoodies, controller in hand, Calcifer by her knee.
I pull my phone out as I walk and type before I can talk myself into anything dramatic or dumb.
Cass:
It’s done.
Zae:
u alive?
A laugh huffs out of me, full of relief.
Cass:
Barely. I’m coming up now. Don’t go anywhere.
I slide my phone back in my pocket and take the stairs two at a time, my knuckles still faintly sore, my chest still buzzing from everything that just happened.
I’m exhausted. I’m wired. I’m terrified of all the ways this could still blow up in my face.
But as I reach my floor and slow down outside my door, there’s one thing I know for sure.
For the first time in a long time, I’m not walking toward something I’m supposed to want. I’m walking toward what I actually do.
I’m walking toward her.