35
Conor
I technically shouldn’t be driving. The only reason I can get away with it is because my truck’s automatic. One hand on the wheel is all I need. If aunt Dee heard me saying that she’d be giving me a good slap around the head.
I took a trip down to the big supermarket about ten minutes away from my apartment, getting all the ingredients to make Sasha a traditional Canadian dish that my mom always used to make.
After everything she’s done for me, I wanted to do something special for her.
I wouldn’t say I’m the best chef in the world, but I make a damn good poutine.
I’m only a few streets away from my apartment when my phone rings through the Bluetooth speaker.
My whole face lights up when I see Sasha’s name.
Is it normal to feel so much when you see that one name flash up on the screen?
I should actually ask someone who knows what they’re doing in relationships.
“Hey, pretty girl.”
“Hi.” My smile falters. Her voice is flat. Heavy. Sad.
She’s been different ever since I got back from Canada last week. She’s been distant. Quiet. She insists that nothing is wrong, but I know her too well to believe that.
First she blamed it on her period. Except she doesn’t get periods with the contraception she’s on. Then came the ignored phone calls, the one word replies. When I try to make plans, she mysteriously doesn’t see the text until the next day. She’s avoiding me and I fucking hate it.
“What’s going on, eh?”
“Nothing.” She sighs heavily on the other end of the phone before speaking again. “Can we talk?” That phrase, mixed with the defeated sound of her voice makes my stomach drop.
I grip the steering wheel tighter, so tight that my knuckles turn white. “Sure. What’s up?”
“Not over the phone.” Her voice cracks, the sounding hitting me straight in the chest. “Can you come over later?”
“I can come now.” I just want to get this over with.
A long silence greets my ears.
I know what she’s going to say. It doesn't take a genius to know what’s going on. We’ve been tiptoeing around this since her friend's engagement party was over, finding excuses to keep up this ruse of being together. I knew this day was coming eventually, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.
“Okay.” She whispers down the phone. It sounds like she’s barely holding herself together.
“Okay.”
Twenty minutes later, I pull up outside Sasha’s apartment building. I would have been here sooner, but I needed to put the food away before it rotted in the warm heat of my truck.
I’m spiraling. I have been since we ended the phone call.
What if I don't go in? What if I just drive back to my place and forget all this shit? I could just pretend that nothing happened.
Coward.
Slamming the door of my truck, I force my feet to move inside the building. I feel more nervous now than I ever have before a game and it’s fucking with my head.
Sasha’s apartment is on the second floor so it doesn’t take long to walk up the two flights of stairs. This reminds me of the first real fake date I took her on, only whatever I’m feeling right now is the complete opposite from that night. Every step closer feels heavier than the last.
Like that night, as soon as I knock on the door, it swings open, but Sasha isn’t standing there in a beautiful dress that accents her tanned skin. Her eyes aren’t bright and full of excitement. Her beaming smile and rosy cheeks are gone.
Instead, she’s in sweats, a baggy t-shirt and her eyes are red rimmed from crying. Her smile is nowhere in sight and her skin is ghost white.
“What’s wrong, Angel?” Without thinking, I pull her into me. She freezes. Her body goes completely stiff. She doesn’t want me touching her. I release her, looking down into those sad, brown eyes.
She swallows hard, not meeting my eye. “Come in.” She softly closes the door when I walk through and we both move to the couch. She sits as far away from me as physically possible. That hurts a lot more than it should. “How’s your shoulder?”
“It’s fine, but you would know that if you hadn’t been avoiding me all week.” Sasha flinches. Shit. I didn’t mean to say it like that. Before she can respond, I ask the only question that matters. “Why am I here?”
Silence. God, she won’t even look at me. “Max and Jessica broke up.” She says, biting on her lower lip, driving me mad.
“How do you know that?”
“He came to see me last week.” She hangs her head as if she’s ashamed to admit that. Every muscle in my body tightens and my stomach twists painfully.
“He what?”
“Last week.”
Last week? She saw him last week. He was here in this apartment and she never told me? Sasha and I tell each other everything. Or, at least I thought we did.
“Anyway, that’s not the point.” She fists the ends of her top while I wait for her to speak. “I don't know how to say this.”
“Then don’t.” Please don’t.
“I think…” She closes her eyes, letting out a heavy breath. “I think we should stop seeing each other.” Everything inside me goes still. “I don't need you anymore.” Sasha’s eyes fly open. “Wait, that came out wrong.” Too late.
I don't speak. I don't trust my voice right now. Sasha drops to her knees in front of me. “You helped me when I needed you. I helped you.” She smiles sadly. “It just… It went on longer than it was meant to.”
I stare at her, unable to speak. Unable to breathe.
Unable to believe I got this all wrong. I am one stupid mother fucker.
This whole time, I thought she actually liked me.
We bonded, we became friends. I thought we had become more than that but clearly I was wrong.
“So,” my voice sounds hollow. “You were just using me?”
“You knew the arrangement.”
“I knew the arrangement before this became real.”
“It didn’t become-”
“Yes, it did!” The words explode out before I can stop them. “It became real. We kissed because we wanted to. We slept together because we wanted to. We spent every second together because we wanted to. So don’t stand there and tell me that none of this meant anything.”
She reaches for me but I back up. “It did mean something.”
“Then why are you ending this?”
Tears spill down her cheeks and it’s fucking breaking me. “I can’t-”
“You promised me you wouldn't run from me again.”
“I’m not running.”
“It sure as hell feels like it.”
“No.” She shakes her head. “This isn’t about you.”
“Then tell me what it’s about.”
“I…” She can’t even say it. I stand. I need air. Fuck, I need out. “We can still be friends.” She whispers behind me.
I laugh, but it’s bitter. Broken. “I don’t think we can.”
Sasha rushes after me towards the door, stepping in front of it before I can leave. “Why are you acting like this?” She asks through the tears.
“Because this isn’t fake anymore, Sash.”
“It was always fake.”
“No.” I shake my head, not meeting her eye. “It stopped being fake a long time ago and we both know that.”
“I don’t want you out of my life.”
“It feels like you do.”
“No. I just-”
“Are you going back to him?”
“What? No.”
“Then why?”
“I told you why.”
“No you didn’t.” I meet her bloodshot eyes, my own burning with unshed tears. “I want the real reason.” I don’t want the excuse or the rehearsed speech. I just want the truth.
She shakes her head, eyes pleading with me. “Why are you making this so difficult?”
Because I’m breaking. Because you’re breaking me. “Because I fucking love you!”
The room falls silent. The words hit me harder than they hit her. Her eyes widen and fresh tears spill down her cheeks. And finally, mine do too.
I back up, needing space, pacing around the small room. Sasha moves towards the couch, sits at the end and just watches me.
“I…” Pause. “I…”
“I need to go.”
“No, Conor. Just wait.”
I make it halfway to the door before another thought crashes into me. I stop and slowly turn around to face her. “You’ve had weeks.”
She frowns. “What?”
“After that engagement party, you could have ended it. You didn’t. You could have ended it after Liam left. But you didn't. You agreed to go to the Halloween party with me. You didn’t have to agree to that. So why now?”
The answer slams into me before she says a word. My stomach drops. Of course this is why. My biggest fucking fear, playing out right in front of me. “Is it because I can’t play hockey anymore?”
“What?” She stares at me, huffing out a disbelieving laugh. “You can’t be serious.”
“You’ve known for weeks. So why now?”
“It has nothing to do with hockey.”
“You’ve had every opportunity to walk away.”
“So did you!” She fires back. “You could’ve ended this too, so don’t you dare blame me for any of this.”
“It was all your idea!” I take a deep breath, trying desperately to calm the racing thoughts.
Sasha hangs her head in defeat, lowering her voice to just above a whisper. “I told you, after Max, I’m not ready for anything yet.”
“That was before.”
Sasha rubs her temples with her fingers. “I need to be alone for a while, Conor. I-”
I cut off her, my own thoughts coming through before I can stop them. That has always been my downfall. “You need to be alone for a while? In other words, you just don’t want to be with me.”
“God, Conor! Will you just let me explain?”
“I don’t think you need to. We’re done. There’s nothing to explain.”
I turn on my heel, storming to the door. “Conor, please don’t go.” Sasha cries. Everything inside me wants to turn around. To pull her into my arms. To tell her we’ll figure it all out together. To kiss away every tear running down her face.
But I don’t. Instead, I walk out. And this time, I don’t look back.