Chapter 20 #2
“This isn’t happening the way I wanted it to.”
“Same.” My voice cracks.
He swallows heavily, his eyes lingering on my face for long enough that my chest shudders.
He grips the countertop, his knuckles turning white, and he looks like he’s restraining himself.
It’s chemical, this thing between us, and even when he’s breaking my heart, I want to let him step closer to me and drag his mouth over my skin.
“This is the most exciting day of your life, and you deserve to celebrate.”
“You’re right,” I say. His expression turns hopeful. “And I will. Without you.”
His shoulders fall, but he leaves without argument, and it’s salt in the wound. He didn’t even fight for one last night.
I walk nearly a mile to Rishi’s in the dark; by the time I get to his house, I’m stone-cold sober in a way that requires immediate attention, because if I think about how West just torpedoed our future in five minutes, I don’t know what I’ll do.
I let myself in the front door, and I’m early—the party is a dozen people sitting around a coffee table debating the ending of Breaking Bad over empty take-out containers.
In normal circumstances I’d join the debate, but right now, I need a different energy.
“You didn’t need to wait for me to have fun,” I announce, one hand on my hip as I survey the room, looking for the nearest bottle. Rishi, Improv Connor, and a combination of English lit nerds and engineering nerds say hi, and when they ask where West is, I tip back a shot instead of answering.
“Couldn’t make it” is all I say, and I see Connor and Rishi raise their eyebrows at each other across the room.
Whatever. Let them speculate. After twenty minutes and two more shots, I force the antihero conversation to a close and convince everyone that it would be the best idea in the world to turn the lights down and the music up.
By the time Connor turns to me, I’m past the point of being pleasantly tipsy and have careened straight into drunk.
“Hey!” He tips his mouth closer to my ear so I can hear him over the music. “Are you okay?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You seem different.”
I giggle even though it’s not funny. “That’s because I am.
Can I tell you a secret?” I ask, and when Connor nods, I crook my finger, and he leans over the arm of the couch until our faces are close.
The strap of my dress slips down my shoulder, and I see Connor’s eyes tracing the fabric. “Today, my wildest dream came true.”
“What’s that?” he asks, and I realize I don’t want Improv Connor to be the fourth person in my life to know about my book deal.
“I actually can’t say. Top secret.” I mime zipping my lips.
Connor pouts, so I boop him on the nose with my fingertip and am drunk enough that I don’t care how weird that is. “Lucky you, though. You’re the only one in this room who knows that today is the happiest day of my life.” Maybe if I say the words out loud, it will make them true.
“You don’t seem that happy,” Connor says. When I don’t respond, he goes in for the kill. “Why are you here alone?”
I shrug again and then leave to refill our drinks before the ghost of West ruins the mood.
When I return, Connor’s arms snake around me and pull me into his lap, sloshing vodka soda across my thighs.
He swipes his bare hands over my skin, and I relax back into his chest and let him.
And when he leans in for a kiss, I’m so fucking miserable having the best day of my life that I kiss him back.
I know something’s wrong before I open my eyes. And then Connor’s toenail scratches my calf under the sheet, and my stomach churns. Not something, but everything.
I jump out of bed and knock over a glass of water that is sitting on the floor as I grab my dress with shaking hands.
“Mars?” Connor squints at me, his red hair sticking out in all directions.
“I have to go.” I need to get out of this room and this house and as far away from this mistake as I can.
I search under dirty clothes and discarded blankets for my sandals and eventually find one under the bed.
“Do you want me to drive you home?”
“No!” I yelp, my voice tinged with hysteria.
“I’ll walk.” I straighten my dress and bolt out of the room, one shoe in hand, the other left behind.
Connor half-heartedly calls out for me to wait, but I let the front door slam behind me without another word.
I wince as I sprint through the rocky front yard, sobbing giant tears as I rush home under a periwinkle sky.
I don’t have my house key or my cell phone, but Amber left the back door unlocked for me, so I let myself in and trudge through the quiet house.
I catch a glimpse of myself in a mirror as I walk through the hall; mascara is smudged down my cheeks, my eyes are puffy and red, and my curls are flat and snarled at the same time. I drop my sandal and trudge to my room.
My eyes widen at the sight of West asleep in my bed.
I blink, shuffling through a mixture of shock and joy and devastation so quickly it leaves me nauseous.
I sprint to the bathroom and puke into the toilet.
Even when I’m sure there’s nothing left to come up, I stay hunched on the tile floor, unable to face what I’ve done.
When soft fingers pull my hair out of my face and hold it behind my head, I want to die.
I slowly push myself up, turning to rest my back against the side of the tub. West lets my hair slip through his fingers and sits on the floor across from me, his arms resting on his knees.
He takes a deep breath, and I wince in anticipation of his anger. “I’m sorry,” he says, like they’re the only two words in the world. “I never wanted to break up with you.”
“West—” My voice cracks on his name. I never thought it’d be painful to say, but I never thought we’d end up here.
He holds his hands up to stop me. “Let me get through this. I can’t follow you to New York.
Not until—” He rakes a hand through his hair.
It’s as long as I’ve ever seen it. It’s the best he’s ever looked.
“I have some stuff I need to get sorted first. But we can make this work, Mars.” He scooches closer until our knees are touching.
He puts his hands on my thighs, and I want them to stay there forever.
“I need you. I don’t know who I am without you.
I’ve never loved anything or anyone the way I love you. ”
“I had sex with Connor last night.” I wipe tears off my cheeks, but it doesn’t stop them from coming.
I wrap my arms around my knees and squeeze to keep myself from splintering apart, shocked at how this has become my reality, when twelve hours ago, West and I were about to start our lives together. His hands drop away from my thighs.
A coil of dread tightens in my chest, binding my lungs until I can’t breathe. “I’m so sorry and I love you, too. It meant nothing, less than nothing. I hate that I did it. I feel sick. I never would have done it if you hadn’t—if we hadn’t—I was drunk, West,” I say desperately.
The light in his eyes flickers out, a torch snuffed. In that moment, I become a stranger to him.
“That was always my dad’s excuse, too.”
My stomach pitches. A fresh wave of nausea hits. “I’ll stop drinking. I’ll never do it again.”
He pushes himself to his feet and walks out of the bathroom. I follow after him, crying and pleading and making promises as he walks out of my house and my life without another word.
One hour later, with all my shit thrown in the trunk of my car, I leave Tucson.