14. Nik
Nik
When I woke this morning, I was still equal parts pissed and worried. I’d been on cloud nine after watching him cut Tristan and his friend down in the parking lot. And I was still riding that high as I finished my shift and clocked out before practically floating out of the building.
Then, he wasn’t there, so I waited.
And waited.
And waited.
When he still didn’t show up after an hour, I’d pretty well fallen all the way back down from that cloud and caved, calling my mom.
“Uh-oh. I know that look. Who are you gonna murder this time?” Akers asks as I climb out of my car and storm across the parking lot at the shop.
I glare, walking past him. “Shane was supposed to pick me up from work last night, but he never showed.”
He lifts his brows. “Oh fuck.”
“Yeah…”
“Well, you can’t say I didn’t tell you. I love the guy, but I’m not a bit surprised.”
I roll my eyes. Like I needed him to tell me that. In what world has I told you so ever made anyone feel better?
There’s this nagging feeling in the back of my mind. I don’t know how I know that he stood me up and there isn’t a reasonable answer for all this, but I do. I can feel it, and with every step, my blood boils a bit more.
I’m a gas can full to the brim by the time I reach the front door. And that mop of brown hair I can see through the window tosses the match.
I’m going to fucking kill him.
The door flings open so hard under my grip that it smacks the outside of the building. The receptionist lifts her eyes but doesn’t say anything as I march through the waiting area and into the garage. He’s bent over a car at his station.
“You must be out of your goddamn mind!”
Every mechanic in the shop whips in my direction, but I don’t care. Let them watch. He’s the one who should be embarrassed.
“Please tell me you’re not still alive and breathing while I sat outside Dee’s for an hour last night waiting for you!” My feet don’t stop until I reach him, shoving his shoulder so he stumbles back into the car.
“Nikki—”
“Uh-uh. Shut up! I don’t know what kind of idiot you take me for, but when you say you’re gonna be somewhere, you better fucking show up because I will hunt you down!”
His eyes dart around the room.
“Michaels, take your bullshit outside,” his boss snaps, crossing his arms over his wide chest.
I’m about to tell him to fuck off when Shane grabs my arm and pulls me out the door.
The moment we step outside, I yank my arm away. “Don’t fucking touch me!”
“Nikki, I’m sorry—”
“You’re sorry? Sorry!? You left me at work! I thought something might have happened to you!”
He runs a hand over the scruff on his face. “I know. I—Fuck. I fucked up.”
“You fucked up?”
He sucks his teeth. “Yeah. Look, we should’ve talked about all this before now. I just got wrapped up—”
“Wait.” I laugh, rearing back like he’s smacked me. “Wrapped up? Are you breaking up with me? After you left me at work!?”
He sighs, biting his top lip, but his eyes don’t meet mine.
Heat spreads over my cheeks, racing down my neck and chest. I blink and my lip’s part, but I can’t wrap my brain around what in the fuck is happening. What about our real life? That wasn’t even twenty-four hours ago.
Scoffing, I say, “You’re joking.”
He shakes his head. “I’m sorry. I like you. God, I really fucking like you, but I am a bad bet. I won’t be good for you. If I hurt you, my sister will never forgive me.”
“Your sister! Shane, this isn’t about Ash, and I think that ship has sailed! You don’t think I’m already fucking hurt?”
When he doesn’t speak, I shout, “You’re a fucking asshole!” as I spin and stomp away from him.
“Where are you going?”
“Wherever the fuck I want. Go to hell!” I shout, flipping him off as I storm to my car.
Fuck him. I’m not about to give another second of my time if that’s all I’m worth to him.
My palms itch as I climb into my car and peel out. I’m not gonna cry over some guy who’s willing to leave me just waiting for him.
I rub my thumb against my palm, steering the wheel with my wrist. An entire ocean rages in my ears. The burn from the friction of my thumb slows it a little.
But not enough.
I’d do just about anything not to feel like my heart’s breaking, but my chest aches all the way home, and it doesn’t ease as I crawl into bed, curling up under the covers, not leaving my little cocoon until the sun comes up the next morning.
The feeling’s still there, but I get up and go to work like nothing happened.
Turns out, the days tend to bleed together when you don’t talk to anyone. I might not even realize how long has passed since the last time we spoke if it weren’t for the way I reread our texts, watching as the simple days of the week switch over to actual dates as a week passes, and then two.
I’m lying in bed doing my nightly ritual of bouncing between missing him and being so pissed I’d like to run him over with my car when he texts out of the blue to say he still wants to be friends.
Ha! You don’t fuck your friends.
Instead of responding, I swipe out of the message thread and throw my phone onto the floor.
The cold, empty feeling has slithered back into my muscles and attached itself to my bones, leaving proof on my arms to mark the moments when it’s boiled over. I’m careful, though. I don’t want my mom to find me on the bathroom floor again after I scared the shit out of her before.
She keeps asking if I’m okay. I think she knows I’m not, but she doesn’t push when I tell her I’m fine, or when she asks where Shane’s been and I tell her he’s just been busy.
Akers invited me to a party at his house tonight. I’ve blown him off every time he’s tried to call since finding out Shane’s a lying, no-good shithead. I don’t want to talk to anyone because I feel like an idiot for thinking he gave a shit about me.
But after his third time asking, I finally said yes. Now, I’ve had about three shots too many and am having a bit of a tough time staying upright. I flop down in the grass next to Akers a few feet from where the rest of the party is raging around the bonfire.
“So, what’s the deal with you and Shane?”
“No deal.” I shrug, slipping my feet out of my boots and placing them beside me.
“You’re really just friends.”
“Nope.” Laying back, I stare up at the dark sky full of stars. “We aren’t even that.”
And I think that fact might be slowly killing me.
It’s not just the fact that my heart’s broken anymore though. I do really miss my friend. But I think I’d be lying to myself if I pretended I could be just his friend. If we went back to that, I’d always wish it were more.
He drops his gaze down to me. “You’re still mad he forgot you at Dee’s?”
“No. He’s just an asshole.”
“Right, but like… he’s always been an asshole.”
“Can we not? I’m trying to forget about Shane, and his pretty brown eyes, and his sexy tattoos, and his massive fucking pierced cock…” I whine, then shake my head, snapping out of my pity party. “And you’re making that kind of hard.”
He wrinkles his nose. “Okay. I did not need that information.”
“The worst part?” I roll my eyes. “I’d fuck him right now if he were here.”
As fucked up as this might sound, sex has a way of making all the other shit feel a little less suffocating, even if it’s meaningless.
Akers laughs. “You could just fuck someone else.”
“Like you?”
“God, no!” He rears back. “You’re not my type.”
I smack his arm, pretending to be offended. Akers and I have never been like that. We made out one time at a party we were both wasted at, and it was easily one of the worst experiences of my life. It felt like making out with a member of my own family.
But I can’t help but think he has a point. I’m so fucking tired of being sad. I’ve been sad for two fucking weeks. And maybe it would be nice to feel something else. Anything other than sadness.
I stand, brushing off my hands and slipping my feet back into my boots. “I’m fine. I just need to drink some water and go home.”
Stumbling through the crowd, I make my way to the cooler and my head swims. I should not have had that last shot. You’d think I’d learn that I’m self-destructive when I’m sad and avoid drinking under those circumstances, but here we are.
A line of coolers sits near the trucks parked in the empty field. Lifting the lids one at a time, I scan the contents for water.
“Beer, beer, beer…” Lifting another, I groan, “Oh, and more fucking beer.”
A familiar voice comes up behind me, sending nauseating prickles up my spine.
“Where’s your boyfriend?”
I narrow my eyes at Tristan. “Don’t have one.”
He hums. “Figured you out already, didn’t he?”
“Fuck off.” When I bend over to grab a lone coke floating in the melted ice of a red Igloo, he runs his hand down my back and across my ass. Shooting upright, I push it away. “Stop.”
He chuckles. “You’re gonna act like a prude now?”
“No. I just don’t want you touching me.”
He wraps his arm around my waist and presses his mouth to the shell of my ear. “You always liked when I touched you before.”
I wish his breath on my skin didn’t cause a reaction, but it does. And that makes me feel a little sick.
His lips brush my neck, and I jerk away.
“What happened to you thinking I was just some slut?”
He laughs. “Why do you think I’m over here?”
My cheeks heat with humiliation, but I don’t push him away again.
That’s what I’ll always be, isn’t it? Wade used me for one thing. Then, Tristan. Now, Shane.
And at what point does it become true?
At what point will I get it through my head that I’m not worthy of whatever it is I thought Shane felt for me? What I thought Wade felt for me?
I’m the common denominator.