Chapter 3
Ace
Gary backs the Escalade into the spot in the garage under my parents’ building and shifts into park.
I stare out the window at concrete pillars and shifting earth and try to find the will to move, but the magma of tonight’s momentous epiphany has a pull so great that even a hundred-thousand-dollar vehicle can’t protect me.
Julia. Jules. My best damn friend and my girl Friday.
Am I really in love with her?
What do you think, dickwad?
Fuck me. How in the hell haven’t I seen it before now?
“You okay, Ace?” Gary asks, insight into my mood going well past that of some rando Uber dude. Gary’s been driving me since I was fourteen years old, and despite having been through a lot of weird, questionable, freakish shit in that time, I can guarantee he’s never seen me like this.
He knows it. I know it. The universe knows it.
I’m…lost. I’m found.
I’m confused as to who I even am and truly questioning the fucked-up nature of being able to lie so well you even fool yourself. I’ve heard of fast-talking—I’m a master—but I never thought I’d been consuming my own bullshit.
But it seems so obvious now that the girl I’ve turned to for every major milestone…is the girl. The one I can’t see myself living without, the one who changes all the rules—the one who turns boys into men.
The thought of losing her to someone else, the thought of her settling down and making a family with someone who’s not me? Unbearable.
“Y-yeah.” It’s a stutter and so pathetically false I’m disgusted. But it’s all I’ve got, and Gary doesn’t press. “Just a weird night. Thanks for picking me up.”
I made it another two hours at Groove before texting Gary to come get me early, my whole being a shell of its usual persona.
My laughs were forced, my body might as well have been controlled by an alien life force—but I managed to hold on long enough to keep suspicion to a minimum—at least, I think.
“Of course.”
Ugh. My stomach feels like I ate spicy Chinese takeout with an ulcer.
Gary’s been driving me around the city for an hour and a half at my request since we left SoHo, which I know is obnoxious, but now that I’m back at my parents’ place in Manhattan, all I can think about is Julia being out there without me.
Fuck me, should I go back?
What if some asshole is grinding on her? What if she falls in love with a sweaty dumb fuck with a goatee and bad cologne? What if…?
I shake my head at myself. The last thing I need to do is go back to Groove and act even weirder than I already was. No doubt, Julia will sniff me out. She’ll know something’s up.
And fuck, what would I tell her? “Oh hey, by the way, when you pretended to be pregnant and then I started thinking about you with other dudes, I realized that I might be in love with you.”
Yeah. No. That’s not going to work. I need time. I need space. I need to figure my shit out before I toss myself over the fucking cliff.
“Can you…can you also… I’m sorry, I know it’s late, but can you go back to Groove and make sure Julia makes it home okay too?”
“Of course.”
“Thanks, Gar.”
With a pat on his suit-clad shoulder and a heavy sigh, I climb from the Escalade and drag myself through the underground garage to the penthouse elevator twenty feet away.
I scan my access card and ride the lift to the top, stepping out into my parents’ place with quickly tiring limbs and an anxiously rapid heart.
My phone vibrates in my back pocket, and I scramble to pull it out, damn near dropping the fucker on the marble floors.
Bridget: ACE KELLY! Where are you?? I thought you were going to be at Groove tonight!!
But when I see it’s not Julia telling me she’s on her way here to profess her love for me, I don’t even bother sending a response back.
The pull of some pretty college girl is nothing compared to the pit of unrequited love that now sits in my stomach for the girl who’s been my best friend for my whole fucking life.
This is uncharted territory—a new land with different rules and laws and norms. I feel overwhelmed at the idea of finding my way, so it’s probably best if I can con myself into getting some sleep before diving in.
I drag myself to the kitchen to heat some milk to hopefully ease my mind into slumber.
I have no idea if milk helps you fall asleep, but with as many times as Julia has made me watch White Christmas during the holidays and I’ve seen Bing Crosby say it helps with nightmares or some shit, I figure it’s worth a shot.
Once the milk is heated, I take a sip and try to revel in the quiet, begging my mind to find some of the same.
I have the place to myself, since my parents and Gunnar are on vacation in the Bahamas, and the peace of an empty home in the world of the Kellys is an unexplainable boon.
We are loud. We are boisterous. We are fucking unbearable at times.
With my parents and brother out of town, the difference is even more noticeable. They, of course, asked me to go, but I reneged to stay here and hang out with my buds. And Julia.
Which makes sense now that I know I’m in love with her—who wants to go on vacation with their family while the woman they love stays behind to be potentially wooed by a bunch of swinging dick wielders?
“Am I really in love with Julia?” I ask, my head now in the fridge and my heart in my ass. I already know the answer to that question. Which brings up another question. “Fuck me, how long have I been in love with Julia?”
“Forever, bro.”
Startled, I jump back from the fridge to find Gunnar just standing there in the doorway that leads to the bedroom hallway. A smug, casual smile is plastered on his stupid fucking face. He’s shirtless—he’s always shirtless—and a Cheerio clings to his chin, still wet with milk.
“What the fuck?” I exclaim, my heart pounding in my throat. “What are you doing here?”
“I caught a late-night flight home from the Bahamas. Thatch and Cassie were getting on my nerves.”
This fucking kid. He’s fourteen years old, but he seems to think he’s thirty. Honestly, my baby brother makes me look normal, and let’s be real, we all know I’m not.
“Do Thatch and Cassie know you left?”
He shrugs. “I should probably text them.”
What the fuck?
“Anyway, good night.” He just shrugs, drops his bowl in the sink, and leaves.
I fall back into the cabinet front of our giant fridge. The sound of the elevator dinging thirty seconds later is both a shock and a concern. It’s two o’clock in the morning, and again, he’s only fourteen.
I grab my phone from my pocket quickly and shoot him a text.
Me: Where the fuck are you going at 2am?
Gunnar: Taco Bell. You want some?
Me: You were just eating fucking cereal!
Gunnar: Yeah, but I haven’t shit since yesterday morning. It’ll clean me out.
Gunnar: Actually, it’ll clean you out too. Maybe even wash down some of your lovey dovey panic.
Me: Fuck off
Gunnar: I’m trying to, dude. YOU texted ME
Me: Because you’re fourteen! It’s my job to look after you
Gunnar: I’ll be fifteen in August, bro.
Me: Oh my bad Mr. Adult. You can’t even legally vote you dumb fuck.
Gunnar: And it’s Mom and Dad’s job to look after me. Which, clearly, they failed since I’m here and they’re in the Bahamas. Just let it go.
Let it go.
I know it’s not the responsible thing, considering he’s not even old enough to get a fucking driver’s license and this is New York and it’s the dead of night, but I’m kind of in the middle of a crisis and he’s been in situations like this more times than I can count…so I do.
I let it go.
My phone pings with a text.
Gary: Julia is home safe.
I breathe a sigh of relief. And I go back to my milk and existential crisis and dreams of a simpler time.
You know, before I realized I’m head-over-heels, eat-shit-and-smile, I-am-so-totally-fucked in love with my best friend.