Track 11 Got to Get You into My Life #2
“So, college is going great. Work is going great. What about a boyfriend?” His eyebrows shot up with his last question.
“No boyfriend.”
“Really?” His brows fell and furrowed. “Enzo said you were waiting for your boyfriend when he saw you.”
“Oh.” I felt my cheeks flush. “It’s…” I shook my head. “He’s a boy, and a friend. That’s all.”
He nodded with a grin. “That’s all, huh?”
“Yes,” I smiled. “What about you? No girl—” My words were cut short by her entrance.
A tall and thin brunette with stunning emerald eyes and a skin tight mini-dress came from behind him, pulling his face to hers. My body went cold, and my face paled when her lips pressed against his lips—my lips.
“I missed you, Emmy,” she said lovingly, like a person would to their cat. “Who’s your friend?” she asked, pointing her attention to me, as if she hadn’t noticed me before.
E answered for me. “This is Sydney. Remember the girl I was telling you about?” I silently reveled in the fact that he’d told his girlfriend about me despite not speaking for a year, the same way I had told Jake about him.
“Ohh,” she sang with recognition. “Enzo’s Sydney! I remember.”
I threw up in my mouth and forcefully swallowed it down. Enzo’s Sydney? What a disgusting connection to make. It dawned on me then that maybe she was trying to insult me. Or maybe she was trying to separate me from ‘her man.’ I didn’t appreciate it, but I respected it.
“Hi,” she held out her hand. “I’m Emma.” You’ve got to be kidding me, I thought.
But I didn’t say that. I simply smiled and shook her hand while I said, “It’s nice to meet you.”
She dismissed herself after that, seemingly pleased with the mark she’d made on her territory. She ran off to find friends, and once again, it was just me and E.
His cautious smile told me he was waiting for it—waiting for my vibrant response. And I gave it to him.
“Emmy?” I said with disbelief and a smile. “She calls you Emmy?” I repeated, completely repulsed.
“I know,” he closed his eyes, smiling hard. “It’s bad, huh?”
“Bad? It’s the worst thing I’ve ever heard!” He laughed then, and I was thankful to joke with him at that moment, to make light of the heartbreak I was drowning in.
We both took a deep breath and walked to the railing, leaning over it silently. “Emma and Emmy,” I said after a while. “How fitting.” I scrunched my face at him, and he chuckled.
“Yeah…” he said with a breath, looking down as he gently tapped the banister with his foot. “Not better than ‘Syd n’ E’ though.”
He looked at me through the corner of his eyes with that crooked grin I loved so much, and I let my heart swell with him, even though I knew I shouldn’t.
Even though I knew I should protect myself now more than ever, I didn’t.
Because it felt good to be with him, even if he belonged to someone else.
And he was right—it wasn’t better than ‘Syd ’n’ E’. Nothing ever would be. But maybe there wasn’t any harm in pretending something else could be enough.
“Who’s next for pong?” a guy I didn’t know shouted from a long white table behind us. Both our heads turned as he grabbed a piece of paper and read off the list.
“E and…” The guy looked up at E. “E, who’s your partner?”
“Syd,” E answered automatically. My head snapped to him.
“No, I’m not playing. I’m not even good.” His eyes met mine, a playful twinkle in them.
“You’re great. Come on. For the old days.” He gave me that crooked grin as he gestured his head to the table.
I hesitated, remembering the sweet moment that followed our last game of beer pong together. “What about your girlfriend?”
He didn’t break my gaze. “She doesn’t want to play.”
“Aren’t you gonna ask her first?”
“Nope.” He smirked. “She doesn’t drink beer.”
My mouth curled into a half-grin as I arched a brow at him, mentally teasing his choice of company. It was a look that said, really? You’re dating a prima donna? And he read it perfectly.
“Yeah…” his brows rose and he grinned wider. “I know.” He grabbed my hand then and tugged me toward the game. “Come on.”
We found our place at the end of the table. E formed our six solo cups into a perfect triangle as he gave me a pep talk.
“Remember what I taught you?” I nodded as I grabbed the small white ball from a cup of water.
I held up the ball and extended my arm as I aimed for my first shot.
E’s voice was low and calm. “Eye on the cup. Bend at the elbow.” He brought his face close to mine as he inspected my line up.
His arm mirrored mine and his hand hovered my wrist. “Straight as an arrow. When you feel like you’re ready, you just… let go,” he breathed.
I took a breath in, deep and slow, my body stinging at the closeness of E. I bent my elbow, and did exactly as E instructed. With a smooth and steady exhale, I extended my hand and released the ball, and watched as it sank right into our opponent’s cup.
A small, satisfied smile spread across my face. “My girl,” E said, only for me to hear. I looked at him from the corner of my eye with a small smirk, my heart, elated.
Our game carried on for twenty minutes more. Emma’s eyes stayed locked on us with a hot glare more often than not. I started to hope we would lose just so we could get off the table and out of the spotlight.
“I don’t think your girlfriend likes me,” I said as E was taking his next shot. Our game was coming to its close, and though I was enjoying being with E, I was starting to feel uncomfortable. Like I was somewhere I didn’t belong.
“She likes you enough. Considering,” he said with a shrug, his eyes on the game. He released the ball and it fell into a cup with a swoosh. He moved to the side, giving me space to get in position.
“Considering what?” He took a sip of his beer, avoiding the question, eyes still forward. I turned my head to him. “Considering what, E?”
He tilted his head. “She thinks you and I are more than friends.”
I scoffed. “Where’d she get that idea?” E shrugged. I realigned myself for my shot. “You told her we’re not, right?” He took another sip of his beer, his gaze still elsewhere. I turned my head to him again. “Right?”
He didn’t answer. “E—”
His eyes met mine then. “I told her ‘okay.’”
“‘Okay?’ What does that even mean?” I threw the ball across the table without looking.
“You missed.”
“Oh well.” I turned to face him fully and he did the same. “Why didn’t you tell her that we’re not more than friends?”
His grin was playful, but there was a trace of something else in his eyes. “Because… I don’t lie.” He peered at me over the brim of his cup as he took another sip.
I stared at him a minute, slightly lost, before I rolled my eyes with a stifled grin. “Ever heard of a white lie?”
His lips pulled to one side with a smile. “So you agree?”
I turned to face the table. Aim. Bend. Release. “I agree we were friends.”
“Past tense?”
“All tense.”
“Mmm.” He shook his head, turning towards the table to take his next shot, a grin still lingering on his lips. “Future hasn’t happened yet. I wouldn’t be so sure.”
I awaited my next turn silently, fighting hard to ignore what E was suggesting, what he intended to mean, and decided it would be wise not to let it cloud my mind. When our game concluded, and Emma found him with a kiss on his lips and took a seat on his lap, it was easy to do.
I left the party soon after our game—in a cab I willingly splurged on. E walked me to his driveway, and gave me the deepest hug, like he’d already missed me though I was still standing in front of him.
“So, start over? Friends again?” he asked, and I nodded with a smile.
But I didn’t want to be friends, and I didn’t want to start over; I wanted to be the more-than-friends he had suggested.
I wanted to pick up right where we had left off before everything became messy and ruined.
I wanted to be everything I thought we were supposed to be, thought we were made to be.
But I realized maybe I was wrong. Maybe we were only ever supposed to be friends, with only the tease of more along the edges.
And even if we weren’t—even if we were meant for more—he was with someone else, and I didn’t have the courage to do anything about it.
“I’m glad you found someone you liked enough to make your girlfriend.” I tried to sound genuine and light, hoping he couldn’t hear the trace of loss within the sentiment.
“Yeah…” was all he said.
I turned to climb into the cab, and he stopped me. “Hey, that boy who’s a friend. What’s his name?”
A surge of nervousness hit my stomach. “Jake,” I answered, one hand on the car door. He smiled.
“Is he nice?”
“Yeah,” I tried to smile, but it didn’t survive the sadness in my tone. “He’s really nice.”
E nodded, placing his hands deep in his pockets. “Maybe you should give him a chance.”
I smiled again, but it didn’t reach my eyes. It couldn’t. The ache was hitting me too deep for it to rise anywhere beyond my lips.
“Yeah, maybe I will.”
We stared at each other for a moment. Long enough for the cabbie to ask me if I was still heading out. I gave a quick, “Yes,” before I stole one last glance at E.
“Never Can Say Goodbye,” he said, and I smiled at our old pastime.
“Some Things You Never Get Used To,” I replied, and I closed the door from inside the cab.
“The Supremes,” we both said, and I laughed a heartfelt laugh.
“I’ll see you around, boy,” I said in a low voice as the car pulled off.
“I’m counting on it, girl!” he yelled back, and I smiled to myself in the darkness of the taxi.
But I didn’t see him again. Not for nearly another year. And when I did, everything had changed, and not for the better.
Maybe if I knew, I would have made a different choice.
Maybe I would have gained the courage to follow my heart right then and there, when I still could.
But I was na?ve. I told myself we had time.
That we needed time—time to grow. Time to heal.
Time to let the past fade further into the background.
I told myself that he had Emma and I had Jake, and they would fill up our days for the time being, and it would all work out, because we had time.
The problem with time is you think it’s endless. You think it’s infinite. Until it’s gone. Until it’s all spent, and you have nothing left—not a minute, not a second, not even a breath.
Just silence, and the echo of everything you wished you had done with it.