Chapter Thirty-Five #5
My heart gives an unexpected jolt at her words, and I study her face closely, trying to decipher whether her phrasing has a deeper meaning or significance.
Does she only mean that in the ‘just friends’ way?
Or is it possible she knows what’s really going on?
Her expression seems innocent enough, but it feels a little too on the nose to be pure coincidence.
Add the fact that she came in here to talk to me like this in the first place? It feels connected.
“Do you…” I start, giving her a hesitant look.
But the question dies on my lips the instant Marcus and Laura explode into the kitchen in a burst of furious excitement, and Laura shrieks with glee, “You guys missed it! Michigan scored another touchdown with only eight seconds left on the clock!”
My heart leaps from my chest, and in my panic, I take a step back, feeling my cheeks flush bright red. I’m vaguely aware this makes it look like Tiff and I were just caught doing something we shouldn’t have been, which doesn’t help. Tiff gives me a sympathetic look before shaking her head slightly.
“What did I miss?” Marcus arches a brow, his eyes narrowing as he takes in the scene before him, trying to piece together what he walked in on.
Tiff clicks her tongue and rolls her eyes, but then she chuckles.
“Isn’t it obvious? Ethan and I are madly in love.
In fact, we’re running away together.” In emphasis, she picks up my hand, pulling it against her chest, holding it above her breast. My eyes widen in shock, the flush on my cheeks going deeper at this unexpected twist.
But I can’t help but grin at her setup and the expectant look on her face, and I follow her lead. “Sorry, Marcus,” I cough out. “It’s true. You were never meant to find out this way.”
“After all, the heart knows what the heart wants,” Tiff adds dramatically, definitely sarcastic.
Then she takes it a step further by wrapping her arms around my neck and pulling me close, looking very much like she’s willing to kiss me for the ruse.
Instead, she gives me a little wink before jumping up without warning, leaving me no choice but to scoop her into my arms bridal-style like I’m going to carry her off into the sunset.
It works so perfectly that she and I break out into a fit of laughter at the bit of improvisation.
My knees go weak from the force of the unexpected glee, and we both go down to the floor, only causing us to laugh even harder with her sprawled over my chest.
Laura snickers at our little performance, and Marcus rolls his eyes and shakes his head, but he can’t keep the grin off his face. Then he shrugs, giving up trying to figure out anything more before he turns, making his way back out into the living room.
Eventually, Tiff and I settle down enough to disentangle ourselves and get up, high-fiving for our stellar improv skills as I wipe tears from my eyes.
But then she gives me a warm and meaningful look and a light kiss on the cheek before returning to cleaning up as if nothing happened.
I’m unsure how to interpret it. Maybe Tiff really does know what’s going on between Luke and me.
It might not be that surprising to her, given how well she seems to know Luke.
Or maybe I’m imagining things. However, while Laura sticks around to help us clear up the rest of the food, we can’t continue our earlier conversation, so I’m forced to let it go for now.
After we’re done packing everything up, the three of us head back to the rest of the group to celebrate our team's savage victory over State—forty-nine to zero. Poor Ben is taking it pretty hard. He’s distraught, lying on the floor like an emo kid in his feels, asking everyone to leave him to his misery.
It doesn’t last long as his kids use it as an opportunity to pounce on him until he’s forced to get up and chase them around the living room in retaliation.
For a little while, it’s easy to forget my worries and enjoy the rest of the evening with my friends. There’s so much laughter and joy that it’s almost impossible to think of anything else.
But later, after everyone’s finally gone home, and the house is empty again, the melancholy creeps back in as I think about going upstairs to find Luke lying alone in my bed and all the reasons this relationship is properly doomed.
I’m quiet as I head up in case Luke is sleeping, but when I open the door to the bedroom, I find he’s still awake, lying under the covers, staring at his phone in the dark, absently scrolling through TikTok.
He doesn’t say anything as I change into my pajamas and crawl into bed, but he shuts the phone off and puts it on the nightstand, throwing the room into total darkness.
He lets me pull him close as I settle in behind him, and he curls up in my arms with a heavy sigh, but I can feel how tense he is, his whole body rigid. We lay together for a bit, the silence surrounding us like a lead blanket.
Eventually, he’s the first to break the stillness. “I’m sorry,” he says, his voice soft. But I can hear how it frays at the edges. “I feel like such an asshole.”
“Don’t be sorry,” I reply gently, brushing my hand through his hair. “It’s okay, really.”
“But it’s not, though,” he states with a watery voice.
He sniffs with a wave of fresh tears. “I don’t like what’s happening to me right now.
It feels like I’m undoing all of the work I’ve done.
I put so much effort into getting better, and I’ve just backslid like a million steps. I don’t know what to do to stop it.”
I’m unsure how to respond, wildly out of my depth.
I’m not usually the one who plays therapist, always on the receiving end rather than giving the pep talks.
But I empathize with his pain, so much so that I feel it like a knot in my chest. I wish I could wave a wand and make it disappear so badly.
I’d always wished someone could do that for me when I was in the thick of it.
“What brought this on? Did something happen?” I ask.
Luke is quiet, a sign he’s struggling to put his feelings into words.
I’m patient, tracing circles on his arm and along his back, wondering if I’ll ever get an answer.
Eventually, he pushes himself into a sitting position, pulling his knees to his chest. He turns to look down at my face, and I can see the tension in his brow, even in the dark.
I reach out and put my hand under his shirt, rubbing my fingers along the soft skin of his back soothingly.
“There was a Halloween party tonight, and I missed it,” he finally says, his voice full of remorse.
“What?” I frown, tensing slightly. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“It’s not like I could have gone,” he clarifies quickly. “It was back home….”
“Oh.” Home. New York. Not here… Tiff was right.
“I didn’t expect it to hit me as hard as it did,” he says shakily.
“Seeing all of my friends together like that when I couldn’t be there with them…
I’ve done a good job of blocking them out for the last few months, thinking of them in the abstract.
Like I could just put them up on a shelf and think they’d still be there as if their lives shouldn’t keep going on without me. God, I’m such a shitty friend.”
“Hey,” I chide, sitting up. I put an arm around Luke’s shoulders, pulling him back so he’s against my chest, and I hold him there firmly. “You’re not shitty. If they’re your friends, they’ll understand.”
“I’m so tired,” Luke says softly, miserable.
Then he lets out a sob that moves through my bones at how wounded it feels.
“I miss my cat. She probably hates me or thinks I’m dead.
Or worse, she’s wondering what she did wrong for me to abandon her like that!
I miss my friends, my tiny bedroom… I wish I’d never come back to this fucking place.
I just want things to go back to normal. ”