CHAPTER EIGHT #2
The suggestion practically offends me. “Yeah, there’s no way that I’m doing that.
She stopped talking to me, remember?” My mind taunts that I didn’t seem to remember all this when she was in front of me, and I mentally hush the thoughts.
The thumping against the walls gets worse and I sigh, knowing this party is just getting started and is already causing a headache to form.
“Look, Mom, I appreciate you telling me, but that ship has sailed. Bianca and I—” My traitorous heart clenches at what I was going to say. “We grew apart. Simple as that.”
A quick flashback happens in my mind, and I get up to grab the picture of us.
We’re little kids on Halloween wearing our favorite costumes—I’m a knight and she chose to be Cinderella for the third year in a row.
Her smile lights up the whole photo, and there I am, looking at her as if she’s my whole world.
I mean, she was at some point.
Aiming the picture down, tears of frustration well in my eyes at how crappy my night has gone. “Anyway, I’ve gotta go, Mom. I, uh, have a test to study for.”
“I love you, Liam,” she says, and I smile.
“I love you too. Say hi to Dad for me.”
“I will. Oh, and Liam?” I hum in reply, as I was about to hang up.
“Not everything is always as it seems. I know you guys had a fight, and I know it hurt you. Just remember, it went both ways. Think about what I said. It really could give you that closure to truly move on.” She hangs up and my hand clenches the phone.
I have moved on, and to think I’m gonna reach out to her .
. . I tried that and I was met with her voicemail.
Not a single message back from her, nothing.
I hadn’t been ready to give up on her, but she obviously was with me.
But . . . what if Mom’s right? Maybe there’s a chance we could talk it out. Hope starts a little fire in my heart, but as quickly as it started, I put it out, not wanting to think about what once was the best thing that happened to me.
We grew apart, that’s it.
I know I screwed up and I tried to apologize. To this day, I hate that I made her feel less important than she actually was.
But if she truly thought our friendship was special . . . and then her response was blocking me, and not even trying?
A knock brings me out of my thoughts. Chase comes in and I groan. Faux hurt crosses his face. His hand covers his heart and there are a couple of beer bottles in his grip. “Ouch, roomie.”
I take a couple Advil and lie down again. “Go away,” I mutter, and he shakes his head, taking his place on the bed opposite mine. He cracks open a bottle, offering me the other, but I shake my head and he shrugs as if to say “your loss.”
“So, I’m assuming Harrison is the reason I’ve never had to leave the room?”
I roll my eyes. “When did you get that close for the little nickname?”
He shrugs, but then raises his hands in surrender for the second time tonight.
“It’s not like that. She seems like a chill person, plus I’m her orientation leader.
” My heart eases at that, but I still give him a look of disbelief while he looks at me exasperated.
“Okay, not that she paid attention to me like that anyway. She only looked at you.” A blush starts on my face.
“You know, I’ve always wondered why you weren’t interested in dating. I get it now.”
I shrug him off. “You know nothing.”
“I know you’ve never looked at anyone else like you looked at her tonight, and I’ve known you for two years now.
” He doesn’t back down, and the fire in his eyes is matched with mine because I don’t do this.
I don’t talk about my feelings with people—I keep them to myself.
Even if I wanted to, Chase wouldn’t even be in my top five.
“She talked about you, you know.” My ears perk up at that and he looks at me with a slight smirk.
“When I was treating her ankle. I asked her if she knew you and she said ‘yeah, once upon a time.’ I mean, based on that answer, it seems like you must’ve done a number on her. ”
At that, the soft bloom of curiosity starting in my chest shrivels at the insinuation, and this is why I don’t talk to anyone. They assume that it’s my fault. Like I didn’t lose my best friend, the girl who ruined me for anyone else.
“Chase, you don’t know what happened, and I’d really appreciate it if you stayed out of it. You and I are roommates—nothing more—so stop trying to butt in, please. Let it go.”
His eyebrows scrunch slightly and he chuckles, somewhat annoyed.
He takes the other beer and leaves the room, closing the door, and I huff.
I think about our last phone call. The days following it.
How horrible I felt. I couldn’t believe I had messed up that bad. I thought giving her space would help.
I thought.
I thought we had something that would last forever, and while I want to be mad, to be angry at her, all that envelops my heart is regret and shame. We both felt discarded, and after what we said . . . Could we have still stayed best friends?
I throw on my jacket, ready to leave, my heart softening at the photo, and I hate the conflict going on inside me.
Half of me wants to go find her—she was limping, and Chase might not have even treated her ankle correctly.
The other half wants to transfer out of here to never see her again.
Yet, something simmers lowly in my chest.
Yeah, hope is gonna be the death of me.