Chapter 38
After two weeks of Rey picking me up and taking me to class, I pack an overnight bag and drive to his house. It is Friday night, and I don’t have any homework or tests coming up. I thought I might surprise Rey. I don’t think he would mind.
I get in my SUV and head toward his house. I’m excited to see Rey. I reach the gate of his home and press the garage door opener he programmed into the car.
I watch the gate open and drive through.
When the car crawls slowly down the driveway, I frown because a car is parked in front.
The door finally opens, and my heart drops. Julia.
What is she doing here?
She gives me a terribly fake smile. “Oh, hey, Ari. I was just out with Rey. He didn’t mention that you would be stopping by.”
My stomach clenches. I take a deep breath through my nose, forcing the knot down my throat.
“Is Rey here?” I ask a little too forcefully.
“I’m afraid he is in the shower,” she says satisfactorily. “I came out to get the door since Javier went out tonight. I saw the lights go off— I really hate those lights. They can be distracting.”
I take a step back like she slapped me. His bedroom? Is he in the shower? I take a good look at her, and I notice that her hair is wet.
“You were in there with him?” I ask her.
“Yeah,” she says, and shivers like her words didn’t crush me. “I have to get back. It’s cold out here.”
“Of course,” I tell her when she moves to close the door, trying to make sense of everything.
“Ari,” she calls out.
I look over my shoulder with tears in my eyes. “Look, I’ve known Rey for a very long time, and he’s an amazing guy but afraid of commitment. He always comes back to me. We’ve been doing this for years.”
“Oh, you both deserve each other,” I say scathingly.
I turn and walk away with my lip trembling. One tear falls, then another, and another.
I get in my car and drive for hours. Light blue streaks appear in the sky as the night fades. A couple of hours before daybreak, I park in front of my parents’ driveway.
All night, my mind went numb, and I subconsciously remembered what day it was.
I practically run up the steps to the three-bedroom home I grew up in and close my eyes in relief that my key still works when it slides into the lock.
I hurry up the stairs to my room, not wanting to wake my parents. I tiptoe down the hallway and open my bedroom door. It looks the same. Just how I left it. The walls still have my favorite posters. Over the modest twin bed is the same comforter I had before I left for college.
I lift the pink sheets, slide into the bed, and turn off my phone.
I don’t want to read what he has to say.
It was enough that my heart was breaking, scratching, and tearing me inside until nothing was left.
No one could take his place in my heart. He was part of me. The story I wanted to write. There was no future without him in it. No love deep enough. No words anyone could tell me that were more beautiful than the ones he spilled from his lips.
He didn’t have to lie. He didn’t have to tell me he loved me if he didn’t feel it. I thought what we had was stronger than anything.
Stronger than words.
I don’t want to believe her, but how do you explain her presence at his house? She opened his door with her hair wet. The thought of them together in his room the same way he was with me diminishes everything he said to me. Makes it all meaningless.
When the sun is high in the sky, painting colors across my room in purples and pinks, I hear footsteps, and then my bedroom door opens.
“Happy birthday, sweetheart,” my mom says cheerfully.