7. Allie
ALLIE
I mentioned to Declan months ago that I don’t like arugula because it tastes like peanuts, yet here I am, pushing the salad around my plate because he decided to order on my behalf before I arrived. Chicken arugula salad.
I’m living in Pacific Shores for the summer so I can work full time at the bakery, but during the school year, I rent an apartment on campus at Golden State, about twenty minutes from town.
Declan has a summer internship in the area, so he's still living near school, and I made the drive over this morning so we could meet for lunch and talk about our relationship.
Willow advised me to ignore Declan for at least forty-eight hours following the shit he pulled on my birthday, but I went a step further and didn’t speak to him for a week.
Every single person in my life has encouraged me to end things with him for good, but if I did, then I’d be alone when autumn rolls around and I go back to school.
Willow dropped out of Berkeley, but she’ll get accepted elsewhere.
I doubt she’ll want to attend Golden State—she’s too prestigious for a state school.
Archer will go back to Texas, and Zander’s hockey schedule leaves him almost no free time.
I take dance classes at a studio near campus, and there are a handful of girls I get along with, but it’s not deep friendship.
Not that my relationship with Declan is deep, either, but I guess I hate the idea of going to sleep alone every night, and he’s better than nobody at all.
“You believe me when I say I’m sorry, right, babe?” he asks, grasping my wrist from across the table.
I believe him. I just don’t care. “Mm-hmm.”
“I shouldn’t have acted the way I did, and I’ll apologize to your parents too, if I must.”
I lift my eyes, shooting him a glare. “You must.”
His lips flatten, but he nods. “It’s just that… I don’t think I can trust you around that guy.”
You can’t.
I do feel guilty about that. Maybe it’s another reason I’m continuing to entertain him. While he may act like an ass, he’s not wrong about my feelings for Archer, and he should be concerned.
Every man I date for the rest of my life should be concerned, because I’ll spend my entire existence making comparisons to my best friend, already certain that no one else will measure up.
“Why don’t you trust me?” I murmur, dropping my gaze back to my food.
“You were in love with him,” he rasps. Still am.
“I can’t allow my girlfriend to hang around a guy she’s had sex with.
” He shrugs. “I mean…maybe if you’d do it with me, I’d feel differently, but how am I supposed to allow you to hang around a guy you’ve given it up for when you won’t do the same for me? ”
I scoff and lean back in my chair. The feet screech against the tiled floor of the stuffy restaurant he brought me to, and Declan winces at the sound.
“So you’re again going to try and tell me who I can and cannot spend time with?
Attempt to dictate what I do or don’t do with my body?
” I cock my head. “Didn’t that backfire last time? ”
I may yearn for Archer until I die, but I’m not a fucking cheater. If I give Declan my word that I won’t mess around with someone else, he should trust that.
Declan’s jaw ticks, nostrils flaring as he runs a Rolex-clad hand through his perfectly coiffed hair. “Of course I want to discuss this in a calm and mutually respectful manner, but…” His brown eyes land on me, dark and assessing. Testing. “You’re not going to be around him ever again, Allie.”
To both of our surprise, I bark a laugh. A cackle, in fact. A ridiculous noise to follow a ridiculous statement. Dec glances around the restaurant to ensure I haven’t caught the attention of other patrons, clearly embarrassed by my outburst.
“Yeah…” I drawl. “That sounds like a you problem. Archer’s my best friend, and I’m meeting him for dinner this evening, actually.”
It’s a family dinner, but Declan doesn’t need to know that.
“The fuck you are,” he snaps, voice rising enough that a couple at a nearby table looks in our direction. Dec closes his eyes, gripping the edge of the table as he inhales deeply. “If we’re going to make this work, Allie, we need to respect each other’s wishes.”
“Okay.” I flash him a smile. “I wish you’d stop attempting to dictate everything I do. Are you going to respect that?”
He growls, dropping his head into his hands as he begins to massage his temples. “You are so difficult.”
“Yeah, well…” I pick at my nails. Bored. “You’re insecure, and it’s unattractive.”
The slow rise of his head draws my attention, and when his eyes meet mine, they’re simmering with a rage I’ve never seen before. “You’re being a bitch.”
“And that’s my cue to leave.” I push my uneaten salad toward the center of the table, standing up and tossing my purse over my shoulder.
“Wait.” Dec snatches my wrist as I try to maneuver around our table. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t you ever tire of saying that?” I roll my eyes, popping a hip as his grip tightens.
“It’s not unreasonable for me to be uncomfortable with you spending alone time with an ex-boyfriend.”
I bristle at the term. I’ve never referred to Archer as an ex.
Partially because I never really called him my boyfriend to begin with, but more so because those labels were insignificant to the way I felt about him.
The way I still feel about him. Boyfriend cannot portray the intensity of the connection between us, and ex could never accurately represent the devastation I experience in his absence.
“Discomfort is one thing, forbidding me is something else entirely, and I won’t tolerate that.”
“Okay…that’s not the right word, but I’m not going to budge on this, babe.” He lets my wrist go, tapping his fingers on the table as he extends his other arm toward my empty seat, beckoning me to sit.
I don’t. “Guess we’re at an impasse, then.”
“Unbelievable,” he scoffs, shaking his head. “You’re going to throw away our entire relationship for one month with a guy who’s going to take off back to Texas and forget all about you.” He huffs a laugh. “Pathetic, Allie. Truly.”
That stings.
I know Archer doesn’t forget about me when he’s in Texas, but Declan isn’t wrong. I have a nasty habit of ending relationships or ghosting flings the moment Archer rolls into town, and it is pathetic because he always leaves.
Every guy I date is intimidated by the all-consuming love from my past, the one I clearly can’t let go of, the one who lingers in everything I say and do.
So, of course, when it becomes a point of contention time and time again, I walk away.
I run to Archer, and he runs back to football.
I find someone new, and the cycle repeats.
I sigh. “Look. Why don’t we take a break? I’ll call you at the end of the month, and—”
“A break?” he says, seething. “You’re serious? So you can fuck someone else and then come crawling back to me after he leaves your ass again?”
His words are like daggers right through the center of my chest.
“I’m not going to fuck Archer,” I snap. “But if it makes you feel better, then consider it a hall pass!” I throw my hands up in frustration. “Have sex with whoever you want. I don’t care.”
“You are fucking crazy, Allie.”
I know he means to hurt me with that statement, but I was raised to believe words like crazy, wild, and loud were terms of endearment. Synonyms for unique and bright and fun.
“I’ll call you in a month,” I mutter, spinning toward the exit.
“Call me when you stop being insane!”