Chapter Twenty-Seven
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” I jumped off the bed, quickly tugged on my jeans and pulled on a faded sweatshirt that had been hanging on the doorknob.
“What?” He was genuinely confused. So confused that everything he said came out like a question. “I thought we were on the same page? You knew I had a girlfriend? We’ve been going out for almost six years? Everyone knows that?”
“I knew you had a girlfriend.” I was trying to keep my voice down so we wouldn’t wake Quinn and it came out sounding like a growl.
“No.” He still looked confused. “I have a girlfriend.”
“What are you doing with me then?”
“What do you mean?”
Jesus Christ, he was dumb. “Why are you here? With me. Without your shirt on. Kissing me. Flirting with me. Why are you doing all of this if you still have a girlfriend?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know, I thought you were into it.”
“And what made you think that?” I hissed.
His confusion was slowly turning into anger. “You flirted back.” He gestured towards me. “You took off your shirt. You kissed me too. I wasn’t alone in all of this, you know.”
I shook my head with frustration. “Yes, I did take my shirt off because I thought you were single. You never talk about your girlfriend. You never mention her when you talk about your weekend plans. I had assumed—and I wasn’t the only one, by the way—that you had broken up with her. I assumed—because you never, ever, ever talk about her, and because you are constantly talking to me, and because we went on that date or whatever it was, and because you’re currently sitting shirtless on my bed—that she no longer existed. But clearly that was my bad.” I held up my hands in mock defence. I could barely contain my fury.
“I never said that was a date.” He didn’t even have the gall to look ashamed. To look guilty. Was this just what he did? Cheated on his girlfriend as if it were no big deal? Something he didn’t think twice about? Thinking only of himself. Not even considering who else was involved. Not thinking that if I had slept with him, I would have unwillingly been a part of whatever bullshit dumpster fire his relationship appeared to be.
“And besides,” he continued, “you didn’t seem too fussed about it the first time.”
My head snapped up. “What?”
He chuckled. “I knew you didn’t remember.”
“Remember what?”
He shook his head as if to say it wasn’t worth talking about. “Never mind, it doesn’t matter.”
“It does matter.” My breath came out fast and shallow. Prickly beads of sweat poked through the skin on my chest. “Remember what?”
He pulled his shirt back over his head and ran a hand through his messed-up hair. “A few years ago. We met at a bar. You were super drunk or high or something, I don’t know. You could barely walk. You took me home to your apartment and I had to help you up the stairs. We had some wine. One thing led to another and then, you know. You didn’t care that I had a girlfriend then. You didn’t even ask my name.”
That fucking wink when we’d first met at the office. That’s where it had come from. I felt sick.
“Why didn’t you say you knew me on my first day at work?” I whispered. I couldn’t believe this was happening. I mean, it would have only been a matter of time before I came across someone I had slept with and didn’t remember, but I couldn’t believe it was happening now. It felt surreal, and awful and disconnected. I almost felt like I was floating outside of my body.
“I dunno.” He shrugged again. “I just thought we were pretending it didn’t happen, like it was just one night of fun. Isn’t that what women like you do?”
Women like me. I swallowed down the bile that had crept up my throat.
“I stopped drinking. I’m getting better.” Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.
“How was I supposed to know?” He looked me right in the eyes. “You seem the same to me. This is not my fault. You were into it as much as I was.” He smirked. “Until you weren’t.”
Fuck you,I thought, seething. “I guess the only difference this time was that you weren’t having sex with someone who was too drunk to make proper choices. Someone so drunk that you needed to help her up the stairs. But you fucked her anyways. Because that’s what you wanted. You didn’t even consider that she might not know what she was doing.”
“But you did know,” he said, his eyes narrowed. “Women like you always know.”
“Get the fuck out of my house,” I said, my voice low and even. I pointed my finger at the door like I was banishing a misbehaving dog.
He sighed and opened the bedroom door, pretending to cough into his hand. “Cocktease.”
“Get out!” I screamed. Not caring if I woke up Quinn. Not caring if I woke up the whole world.
“Okay, okay.” He held his hands up in front of him, grabbed his jacket and shoes from the floor and opened the door. “Is work going to be weird on Monday?”
I shoved him out and slammed the door, sneaking one final look at Quinn who was still snoring away.
I went into my bedroom and closed the door, sliding onto the floor. It had finally happened. My sordid past had caught up with me. In the worst way possible. Now what did I do? How did I go to work on Monday? How did I ever face Ethan again? How did I face myself? What was this whole year for if I couldn’t escape all the shitty things I’d done? I had worked so hard to put my life back together and now it was, in every way, falling back apart around me.
I felt gutted. Empty. Embarrassed and ashamed. Nothing had changed. All the things I had done, the person I was. The feeling of being out of control. It was all back. Like it had never left. Like I had never tried. How was I going to deal with this?
I pulled out my phone and clicked on Luke’s number: I think I made a big mistake, I typed. Can you talk?
But I couldn’t hit send. We weren’t close friends anymore. We weren’t anything.
I was on my own.