Chapter 19
NINETEEN
Ginger
Celeste
Tears that escaped now streak sideways across my cheeks from my quick pace. I had to get the hell out of there because how dare he! How fucking dare he?
He just loves to judge what he doesn’t know, assuming the worst in everyone and portraying this sense of superiority.
I’m fake? That man couldn’t let his walls down to save his life.
When did this switch flip? It’s like he had this pent up view of me that he couldn’t help but vomit into the ether between us.
Where the hell did he get the nerve to spew this venom and expect me to sit there and take it?
I sure as shit wasn’t staying around to hear the answers though.
At least now I know what he truly thinks of me.
That’s fine. What a waste of a…whatever the hell we were.
A waste of a matchmaker at the very least. I’d be lying to myself if I said there wasn’t something more.
At least until about five minutes ago when our precariously built connection held by false bravado and stolen glances came tumbling down into oblivion.
And here I stand in the rubble of it all, trying to pull the bits and pieces to salvage.
This hollow sensation feels familiar in the worst way.
Like all our days together: getting ice cream, standing up to bullies while being afraid of raccoons, croissants and coffees, summer days and a cozy movie night…
all of it. Over. Plucked from existence like ripping roots straight from the soil.
He yelled at me. Publicly. Viciously. I’m a thick-skinned woman who knows my worth, but goddamn did that hurt.
If this is what he thinks of me, then so be it.
I’m not bending over backwards for someone who thinks so little of me.
He didn’t even give me a chance to finish my sentence.
I barely got out that I went on the second date before Dom jumped on me.
God, if only he’d have listened so I could explain my disdain for silver-spoon-up-his-ass-Jude!
My hands shake as my strides slow down with each step across campus, the adrenaline of fleeing his presence slowing and churning in my gut.
I don’t even know where I’m walking to, just that I needed to get out of there.
A sob works its way up my throat. He was supposed to be someone I could just be myself around and not have to worry about all the bullshit of my past bubbling up to the surface.
The tears stream down hot and fast, the campus around me a blur of green foliage and sunshine, entirely the opposite to my stormy heart.
I feel it inside my chest, heavy and ready to pour, the constant push and pull between weeping and screaming.
I try desperately to take in a deep breath and hold in the tsunami cresting inside me until I reach my car, but I’m not entirely sure I have the strength.
I begin walking back to where I’m parked, trying to remind myself that this isn’t a break up, he was never actually mine.
We were just friends. He was my matchmaker!
But, then why does my heart feel so broken?
The irony of my matchmaker breaking my heart is just too good that I actually begin to laugh through my tears like a maniac.
The laughter quickly turns into a hiccupping sob that I swallow as best I can.
Save it for the car, Celeste. Don’t break down right here. Don’t let people see your baggage.
I stop to catch my breath as I finally make it to my car. I lean my forearms on the roof of my beetle above the driver’s door, resting my forehead on my arms. Taking a few breaths I try to bring some clarity to my mind as his words rattle against my skull.
Have you ever been authentic with anyone? Even yourself?
His words feel like physical blows on my psyche.
On my chest. In my gut. In the marrow of my bones.
I feel seen but in the worst kind of way.
Exposed. Naked and vulnerable. It wasn’t his anger that hurt the most or even what he had said.
It was that he hit a particularly hidden nerve.
He was right. I’ve camouflaged so much of my life behind a fake smile because I’m afraid of reality.
What my reality is, my past, present, or future. It’s too painful.
Just then, my phone begins buzzing in my pocket. I wipe my eyes with the backs of my hands and fish out my phone reading Delaney’s name flash across the screen. I swipe to open the call, unable to produce words.
“Pinky? Pink! I can hear you breathing,” Delaney sings out on the other end. I sniff quietly trying to suck in little bits of oxygen, so I can communicate any words at all.
“Honey, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” Delaney demands, absolutely nothing getting past her.
“I—I’m okay,” I lie. “I know you have Ellie with you but, can I come over?” I try to keep the quiver out of my voice as I feel another wave of emotion readying to crash inside my chest.
“Of course! She’s actually back east for a couple nights getting more of her stuff to bring here. You don’t ever have to ask, Celeste. You’re like my sister. Actually, you’re better than my sister, because Becca refuses to use her employee discount on me at Saks.”
I chuckle at Delaney’s attempt to make me feel better.
She knows I love nothing more than hearing the tea between her and her older sister, Becca.
Having grown up with just my mom, I always yearned for some sort of sibling relationship, and Delaney has always made me feel like the third Beatty sister.
* * *
My phone vibrates with several texts, then calls, then voicemails from Dominic.
I don’t want to see or hear any of it. My chest hurts.
My heart hurts. My fucking hair hurts. Delaney, being the amazing best friend she is, screens every incoming message from him beside me on the couch in her small living room, deleting them as she goes.
She knows I need space right now. I sigh heavily as my phone lights up with another call going to voicemail.
“We weren’t even together. I don’t know why he’s bothering with this.” I try to brush it off as if I don’t care. His words ring in my brain reminding me that he absolutely does not feel anything for me.
“Pinky, maybe…just maybe, he feels differently?” Delaney looks at me cautiously.
“No. No, no, no, no, no, no,” I start, unfolding my legs from her couch and putting the tub of chocolate cookie dough chunk ice cream on the table.
“He’s not allowed to do that!” I yell at Delaney who takes it in stride.
“He’s not allowed to set me up on dates but also have feelings for me and not tell me!
Communication is KEY!” My voice is whiny and shrill, but I don’t care.
“You’re right, it is. Which is why I think he subconsciously matched you with some heinous dates, and why you need to give him another chance.”
I glare at my traitorous best friend, “Am I hallucinating? He said I’m fake! He basically said I have no substance and pretend to be a damsel in distress,” I seethe, beginning to pace Delaney’s living room.
“Listen. Pinky, I totally understand why you do this, if my mom—”
“No! Don’t play that card, Lane. I mean it.” I point a finger at her angrily. “I’ve opened up to you about all that in confidence. Meaning, not to be used against me, FOR A BOY, no less!” My hands are waving around my head dramatically.
“Celeste…”
“Don’t you ‘Celeste’ me! First names are saved for big conversations,” I yell. I’m acting hysterical, I know it.
“Okay. Pinky, I love you, sweetie,” she says pointedly, “but please stop yelling. It sounds like you just said ‘don’t you molest me’ and I know for a fact my neighbours like to listen through the walls.”
Delaney sighs and looks at her hands folded in her lap, which only makes my anger flare hotter. It feels like she’s picking her words carefully for a petulant child throwing a tantrum. She’s freaking gentle parenting me.
She looks up at me from her spot on the couch. “Celeste, maybe you should tell him.” My breath catches in my lungs. “I think that he needs to understand why you have this perspective. Why you want your fairy tale, why you need control. And, why loyalty means so much to you.”
“No, he can’t know.” I shake my head, willing it away.
“Honey, he’s not your dad. He’s not going to leave,” Delaney says as she pulls me down beside her and tucks me under her arm, holding me. I let the tears fall.
“I’m scared, Lane.” I look at her, a sob ready to burst free.
“I know. Love is messy.” She starts rocking us back and forth gently as my brain trips over her use of the L-word.
“Let me,” She swipes my phone from the coffee table, opening my messages and begins typing.
“I’m texting him saying it’s me, and asking him to give you space for a bit.
” She gives me a soft closed-lipped smile as she passes it back so I can read over the message before she sends it.
I sniff and nod my approval before opening my laptop again.
That damn medical school application question seems to have come to life and is taunting me.
I tried. I tried my dating experiment and look where it got me.
Stress, anxiety, and heartache fill my chest to the brim.
I tuck myself under a thick blanket and let more tears flow as Delaney sends off the text and confiscates my laptop. I’m so thankful to have a best friend that knows exactly what I need.
“Okay, before I forget, I’m going to go clean my skeleton!” Delaney pops up from her nook on the couch.
I resist my eye roll but answer her absurdity anyway, “Just say you’re brushing your teeth, you absolute freak.” Lane blows me a kiss from her bedroom doorway and now I can’t suppress the eye roll any longer, but I do it with love and sheer affection for my odd best friend.
She’s the one that tells me things I need to know, even when I don’t want to hear them. Delaney is right. I think I need to be honest with myself. I think I have real feelings for Dominic. I think it’s time I’m honest with him, about everything.
Just not today.