Chapter Sixteen #2
I don’t bother helping Trinity, I already know she’s going to get a salad—she always does right before a big photo shoot—and when she puts her hand on my leg and points to the one she wants, I know it’s because she wants me to order for her.
When the server comes back and asks, with a thick French accent, if we know what we want to eat, Brian looks expectantly at me. “Do you need an interpretation?” To his credit, he appears genuine and not as condescending as I would’ve expected.
“I’m good, thanks.” I order a salade mesclun et croquettes de chèvre for Trin, and a filet au poivre for myself. In perfect French.
Brian stares while Jules glares as if she knows I was trying to outdo her boyfriend.
“I took French for six years and studied abroad in France for a year.” I hand our menus to the server, who seems amused. “Just trying not to let the knowledge slip, you know?” I add meekly because of Jules’s unamused expression.
Jules closes her menu and also orders in perfect French, giving me a look that says she doesn’t believe my bullshit for a single second.
Brian orders in English and clears his throat once the server leaves. “So, Trinity, are you from New York?”
“Michigan, actually.”
“Did you always want to go to NYU?” Jules asks, jumping in the conversation. And it’s then I realize, that for as long as she and I have been dating, this is only the second time she and Jules have spoken. The thought kind of bothers me.
“I did, but I would’ve moved here regardless of whether I was accepted.” She smiles and glances at me. “It just happened to all work out.”
“And you’re originally from Ohio?” Brian asks, and I notice he’s focused on me.
“We moved to Virginia from Cincinnati when I was seven.”
“Julia said you like the Reds.” He smiles and takes her hand, placing them on top of the table. “Did you see many games when you lived in Cincinnati?”
“No, not really. We couldn’t afford to go,” I answer honestly, staring at the way his thumb gently strokes her skin. When no one says anything, I meet his gaze. “My dad liked them. Had them on all the time before he left us. Guess it kind of stuck.”
He nods like he gets it, but I know he doesn’t. According to Jules, he grew up with an abundance of money and both his parents, so there’s no way he can understand.
I debate telling him as much, but Jules gives me a pleading look from across the table. One that I interpret as “He’s trying so, why can’t you?”
I clear my throat. “Where are you from?” I ask, doing my best to play nice.
“Chicago, originally. My family now lives in Maryland.”
“O’s fan?”
“Eagles, actually. I don’t really watch baseball.”
I wrinkle my nose. It’s not that I don’t enjoy football.
I just don’t enjoy the Eagles. There’s a quip about baseball being America’s favorite pastime for a reason that dangles precariously off my tongue, but I bite it back when Jules kicks me under the table.
There isn’t a lot of force behind it, but it’s enough of a warning that I get the message not to go there.
I kick her back.
“So, Trinity, you seem to be catching fire,” she says, as if I didn’t just strike her bare shin with the toe of my boot. “Chloe and I saw you in Vogue.”
Trin seems genuinely surprised. “You did? What did you think?”
“You looked amazing,” Jules gushes. “Do you get to keep any of the clothes?”
“I wish,” Trin says dreamily.
“Me too,” I add with a smirk. This earns me a pinch from Trinity and an eye roll from Jules.
“What’s next for you?” Jules presses, leaning in and ready to gossip. She’s always been good at this part, connecting with people and keeping a conversation going.
“Well, I can’t get into specifics, but I might be signing a contract soon,” she teases.
“A big one,” I add. That earns a slap to my arm. “Ow! What? I’m proud of you.” She shakes her head, but I can see that she’s smiling. Technically, I was sworn to secrecy regarding all details of her working with a major lingerie brand, but I know she’s not really angry.
When I turn back to Jules, I notice she’s watching us carefully. I start to ask her how her semester’s been so far, but she leans back toward Trinity and plasters on a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.
The rest of our meal is filled with small talk.
Brian explains that he’s also at Wharton, concentrating in business economics and public policy.
He starts talking about investing, and for some reason, Trinity seems genuinely interested and asks him a million questions about it.
To be honest, I don’t understand half of what he’s saying, so I keep my mouth shut.
Once our plates have been cleared and we’ve put in our orders for dessert, Brian excuses himself to take a quick phone call. When Trinity slips away to use the restroom, I let out a long breath, grateful for the break.
Jules and I look at each other from across the table.
“You look really nice,” I tell her. I’ve wanted to tell her that since I saw her standing outside of the restaurant and again when I saw her dress.
“Thank you.”
“The color of your dress brings out the blue in your eyes,” I tell her. She blushes but doesn’t say anything. “You know what would make it even better?”
“Don’t.”
“Heels.” She sighs and reaches for her water, taking a sip and avoiding looking at me. “I’m just saying, I think it’s weird—”
“Alex,” she warns, her tone dangerous. I snap my mouth shut. She glances at Brian pacing outside of the restaurant windows and leans in. “You don’t get to do that.”
“Do what?”
“Flirt with me and give me crap about who I date,” she says in a low, venomous whisper. “You moved on, and now I get to do the same. And I would appreciate it if you’d would stop being a fucking dick to my boyfriend.”
I stare, stunned at her outburst. She sits back in her chair and smiles just as Trinity returns from the bathroom.
Trin puts her hand on my shoulder. “You okay?”
Jules takes another sip of her water.
“Yeah,” I say, trying to shake myself out of my confusion. “Just surprised at how windy it seems to have gotten.”
I’m not sure Trinity believes my sad excuse, but she lets it go, jumping easily back into conversation with Jules about some kind of fashion trend. I don’t join in, choosing instead to sit back and wonder what the hell just happened.
Once the meal is over and we’ve ordered cars to pick us up, Jules seems like her normal self. Maybe it’s because I tried extra hard to be nice to Brian all through our crème br?lée.
The entire ride back is silent, and I’m grateful. Trinity answers messages on her phone, and I stare out the window, still trying to figure out what Jules meant when she said it was her turn to move on.
“That was quite the display of machismo back there,” Trinity says once we’re back in her apartment. She drops her purse on the counter and slips out of her heels.
“I didn’t think Brian was that bad.” I close the door behind me and pull the silk blouse out of my jeans, itching to get out of it and into something more comfortable.
“I’m not talking about Brian. You were rude and spent the entire evening trying to one-up him. What the hell was that about?”
“I was not,” I say defensively.
“Alex, please. You made the whole meal awkward. Julia was clearly excited for you and Brian to meet, and you turned it into a pissing match.” She turns around and motions toward her zipper, which I quickly oblige.
“I didn’t mean to.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” she says, glancing over her shoulder. She scoops up her heels and heads briskly down the hall. “I’m going to change and answer a few emails.”
She leaves me standing alone in the middle of her apartment contemplating how much of an ass I had to have been to piss off both Trinity and Jules. I glance down the hall at the light from her bedroom spilling out into the hall, and I pull out my phone.
I’m sorry. I was out of line earlier. Brian seems really great. I’m happy for you.
I stand there waiting, hoping for a reply. When nothing comes through after a couple agonizing minutes, I check our thread one last time and then turn off my phone.
God, I’m such a selfish jerk.
It takes two weeks after Jules’s visit to New York for us to get back to normal.
Sort of. She doesn’t talk about Brian much, not that I blame her, but our conversations are friendly, and she seems to have forgiven me.
Again. Not that it’s stopped me from moping around.
This roller coaster we’re on is exhausting, and I’m not sure what to do about it.
So I’ve spent most of my free time pouting and continuing to wonder why Jules would say she wanted to move on.
Move on from our night together? From me? I don’t understand it because we’ve had conversations, and I thought we agreed that—
“Alex.”
“Yeah?” Startled, I look at Trinity watching me from the kitchen with her hands on her hips.
She lets out a frustrated sigh. “I asked if you wanted chicken or beef?”
“Whatever is fine with me,” I tell her and go back to analyzing Jules’s latest Instagram reel where she’s surrounded by a field of flowers.
“Would you just pick one? Please?” She sounds tired and annoyed. A common tone from her in the past couple of weeks.
“Beef,” I decide. Her shoulders slouch, and she comes over to the couch to sit, tossing her phone on the table and appearing defeated.
“Chicken’s fine, too,” I tell her, clearly having made the wrong choice.
When she doesn’t say anything, I start to navigate to the website of our favorite Thai place. “Do you want me to order?”
She tucks her hands between her knees and stares at the darkened television.
I wait for her to say something, to tell me what she wants me to do, but if there’s anything I’ve learned in the nine months we’ve been seeing each other, it’s that over-asking her if she’s okay will only irritate her more. So I stay silent and wait.
“How long have you been in love with Julia?” she finally asks, catching me completely off guard.
“What? I’m not in love with Jules.” I try to ignore the way my voice hitches and the panic creeping through my chest.
When Trinity laughs, it makes my skin prickle. “Either you’re lying or you’re an idiot.”
“Hey,” I say, hurt at the cruel jab and wondering where this is coming from.
She looks at her hands in her lap and shakes her head. “I don’t know what I was expecting, really. I think I’ve known all along.”
“Known what?” I ask, the panic starting to ramp up. “I love her, but I’m not in love with her.”
“Are you sure?” she asks quietly. And when I don’t say anything right away because, no, I’m not sure, she glances at me and blinks back tears before tilting her head back to stare at the ceiling. “It doesn’t matter anyway. You’re moving, and it’s not like you’ve asked me to go with you.”
“Trin,” I say carefully, wanting to try to get my words right, “I’m not moving for another five months. I thought…” I don’t know what I thought. I’ve been trying not to think about it. “Your career is here. What kind of person would I be if I asked you to give that up?”
When she flinches, I know I’ve said the wrong thing. “A person who thought that maybe we had something special and who cared enough to fucking try. I’ve been waiting…and you haven’t even asked what I wanted.”
The tears quickly follow. I want to take her into my arms and assure her that everything will be okay. Except I have a sinking feeling they won’t be.
I didn’t ask her to go with me to London because I assumed she wouldn’t want to. I didn’t ask her to wait for me or if she wanted to try to make it work long-distance because I think, deep down, I knew it was something I didn’t want.
I avoided it because it was easier.
We never said those three little words to each other, but something tells me she wanted to. And that makes me feel worse. Especially because I do care. But not in the way she wants. Not in the way she deserves.
She doesn’t ask me to stay the night, and I don’t ask to. When I leave her apartment, I know, in the pit of my stomach, that we’re not coming back from this.
It surprises me how much it fucking hurts.