10. Living In a World Of Pure Delusion
10
LIVING IN A WORLD OF PURE DELUSION
OLIVER
It’s been a month since we made the bet. Since we made a deal to prove who was the better friend. Since she got drunk and told me I was pretty. Since I found out she stole my shirt. Since she made me sleep in her bed. Since she told me she liked my eyes.
I didn’t expect it to happen. It threw me off and I didn't know what to do. I didn’t even sleep a wink in her bed. How could I? Every time she moved she made the softest whimper or moan and it drove me fucking crazy. As soon as the sun came up and I heard Abi moving around, I carefully peeled myself from her bed and got the fuck out of there. I left her a note with some water and aspirin, explaining that I have a mandatory training session and didn’t want to wake her. Which isn’t a lie, I did have training. It just wasn’t mandatory for me because I technically was suspended from the team.
We didn’t text a whole lot that day, but still had our usual FaceTime call that we have every night. As soon as she answered the call, I knew. She was embarrassed about what happened. But not because of the things she said, but because she didn’t remember anything at all.
“I remember skating at the rink, and our bet. But beyond that is kind of… fuzzy,” she covers her eyes with her face, rubbing her eyes with her palms. “Please tell me I didn't say anything stupid?”
I knew what would happen if she found out what she said to me. I knew what it would do to her. But also, when she told me it wasn't true, I knew what it would do to me . So I went down the selfish road and told her nothing. Which I thought was the best. But now she’s hellbent on winning this bet. In my mind, it would be us just embarrassing ourselves to go over the top to help each other. But the real thing is so much worse. To the point where I think I made a mistake with this whole bet thing.
I already had one point for me when I helped her after she got drunk that night. A few days later, I stopped by the sports centre in Westbrook that Mallory and her Volleyball team use for the kids at Westbrook high. Her team exists solely to help kids play more sports — to try and be more active. But my god, some of those kids were acting like they’ve never seen a ball before. So I shrugged off my hoodie and helped , like the best friend that I am. I walked over to this boy that was by himself, kicking the ball around like he wanted to be in soccer but his parents said no. I picked up the ball and showed him my very best – and only – volleyball serve, when I got a text.
Marshmallory
What do you think you’re doing?
Me
Helping this poor kid before he embarrasses himself any further.
Marshmallory
Maybe you should stick to hockey, Ashby. Volleyball isn’t your thing.
I snort into my phone screen, earning me some weird looks but totally worth it. She should know by now that everything is my thing. She pouted the entire car ride home, saying how she was determined to get three extra points by the time I could get another, since volleyball had earned me a total of two points.
Spoiler alert, she didn’t.
Now a month later, it’s still two — zero in my favour. She’s done plenty of things for me that could warrant a point on her side, but because I’m rigging the fuck out of this, I always made an excuse as to why it didn’t count. But she never contested me on it. Sometimes if I let my mind wander to the place, the bad place where my delusion festers from, I tell myself she’s not making an effort on the bet because she wants me to win. Because she knows that I'll choose myself as her date. And she wants that.
I’m sitting on the couch in my house next to Shawn and Cory, with Tommy sitting on the recliner in the corner. Shawn chose this action film to put on. I don’t know what it’s called and I cannot recite a single line or scene from this goddamn film. An hour in and couldn't care less about this film. I’m thinking about Mallory. About that night.
Everyone except me, apparently.
I’m thinking about how pretty you are.
God I love your eyes so much.
I get pulled from my downward pity spiral when I get a phone call. The name Marshmallory lights up the screen.
“Dolcezza mia, calling to help me earn another point?” I tease. But the smirk was wiped clean from my face the moment I heard her speak.
Her car broke down somewhere along the highway from Westbrook to Covington, and the tow truck won’t be there for a minimum of four hours. I didn’t even hear what the guys said to me as I basically sped out the door, grabbing my keys from the table on the way out.
Fuck them. Fuck the bet. Fuck the speed limit. She’s alone in her car on the side of the road, and the only thing I was thinking about was getting to her.
When I finally made it to her thirty minutes later, she was sitting in her car, dried tear marks on her cheeks. It took everything in me not to reach out and wipe her cheeks. To pull her into my chest, and keep her there, never letting her go. I opened her car door and led her into my truck, turning on the heated seats for her. Together we sat in my truck and listened to Taylor Swift. I don’t know what the album is called but I know the cover is yellow. We just talked and laughed, about pretty much anything. We didn’t even acknowledge her tears, which I know she appreciated.
As soon as the tow truck arrived, they said she needed a new tire that they didn’t have on hand. They hooked up her car and said they’d call when it was ready for collection. We drove back to Covington in silence. I parked in my usual spot outside her apartment and walked her to her door, like I always do. And when she unlocked the door, I went in with her too. I know she’s probably embarrassed about getting a flat, even though she has no reason to. But even so, I don't want her to be alone. So I take off my shoes, slide onto her couch, and turn on her tv. Mallory’s phone lights up, and I glance at the screen.
DO NOT ANSWER!
(8 missed calls )
“You’re not even going to hear what your mom has to say?” I ask, looking at her tv screen, flicking through the channels.
“Nope.”
“What if it’s important?”
“Still wouldn’t care.”
Fair enough. I can tell by the tone of her voice that she’s getting agitated, so I drop it. “So what are we watching?”
She takes off her coat and throws on an oversized jumper that was hanging off the back of her couch. “We could do another Greys marathon?” she says, sitting slowly beside me, not looking at me.
I nod at her, flicking through the shows until we land on Greys. “Could do. We could also, while we are watching it, maybe put on a face mask or something.”
She looks up at me, wiping the edge of her nose with her sleeve, frowning. “But you hate it when I force you to do a face mask. You don’t like them.”
“I don’t, but I like you. A lot. And you’ve had a bad day. If I wasn’t here you’d do a face mask anyway, right?” She nods. “Then that’s what we’ll do. Just tell me what you need me to do and I'll do it.”
She looks behind her briefly, then backs up at me. She eyes me curiously, like there’s something she wants to say but doesn’t know how to word it.
“Can I paint your nails?” She asks, her voice all soft and sultry. “Please?”
Fuck. she can’t say that in that voice ever again. I narrow my eyes at her.
“One nail.”
“On each hand?”
“Fine.”
A few hours later, we’re still on her couch watching Greys, except now I have a shiny baby smooth face, and two light grey hearts on both of my pinkies. Mallory also insisted that I earn two points for this, considering I picked her up and let her paint my nails. I refused, but she wouldn’t let it go.
So now here I’m sat, with four points to my name. She still has zero, and my brain is wandering to that place again.
The place tells me that maybe she does want this, that maybe she wants me like I want her.
Gus is shamelessly flirting with her, and it’s annoying the fuck out of me.
Mallory came by the rink to drop something off for her dad. Gus took one look at her, and did that stupid double take thing that you only see in cheesy romantic movies. She’s wearing a low cut flowery sundress that is pressing her tits up so high. Her hair is down and wavy and it looks so cute tucked behind her ears. All the guys see is her legs and tits and shiny hair — it’s pissing me off. Gus immediately made an excuse to go over there. It’s been twenty minutes, and he’s still flirting with her. It’s embarrassing. I’m tempted to skate by him and cover him with the ice from my skates. But I'm not 100% sure I wouldn't hit Mallory if I did that. But then again, she’s flirting back, so maybe she deserves it. She’s leaning over the barrier that separates the ice from the floor, basically throwing her tits in his face. He’s definitely noticing, considering his eyes dart down every time she leans forward .
What a jackass.
I’m not even skating anymore. I’m just standing here staring at them like that creepy dude in the baseball hat from that Netflix show.
Tommy and Shawn shake over to me. They pat me on my back, or my shoulder, or my arm. I don’t really know to be honest. I feel numb all over. And when I see fucking Gus lean over to push her curls back behind her ear, all I see is red.
“Have you ever tried that move on her?” Tommy asks. I don’t even need to look at his stupid fucking face to know he’s enjoying this.
“Fuck off.” I bite.
But the problem is, I don’t just see red. I see brown, pink and green. I just see her, everywhere I go, all the time. Tommy and Shawn eyeball Cory, who’s skating with a puck a few metres away. We skate over to him. We’re standing close enough to hear their conversation, but far enough away that it looks like we’re practising. Which, you know, is what we’re supposed to be doing. And as captain, I should be disciplining them, not joining in.
“You do not have that poster in your room!” He says.
“I do! Above my bed. It’s not the one I wanted though.”
“Which one did you want?”
“Why would I tell you that?”
“It’s a good way of getting to know someone. Come on, tell me.”
She eyes him sceptically for a second. “It’s a peach background drawing of some lemons on a vine. The writing on top of it says in the mood… for a nude.”
Dear fucking god.
“My dad comes to my apartment a lot, and although he’d be very uncomfortable with the boob one, he’d have a heart attack if he saw the nude one.”
Mallory looks away when she says this, and when she finally looks back at him, he looks at her like he’s hungry. He cannot look at her like that. I won’t fucking allow it.
Nobody can look at her like that. Nobody but me.
“What are you thinking?” She asks.
“I’m thinking about asking you out.” He fucking did not. “But I'm not sure…”
Mallory pauses for a second, looking around the arena before her eyes land on his. “If it helps, I’ll say yes.”
Gus’ eyes shoot up. “Wait, really?”
Mallory nods. “I’m going to tell my dad that I want to go on a date with you, and he’ll say yes. Unless your game starts to crap out, then he’ll kill you.” She blurts out.
“Noted.”
Right now would be a really good time for a hole to open up beneath me. Kill me, take me somewhere away from here. Or better yet, make a hole under the jackass who rocks up to campus and tries to steal my girl.
Shawn pats me on the shoulder, passing Cory the puck as them and Tommy skate off to the goal. Cory wacks the puck into the net, looks at me with the smuggest look, and says:
“You snooze, you lose, Cap.”