Chapter 45
TJ
Ibroke my one rule for hookups—the one I put in place with the hope of maybe one day getting back with Cornelia. So, in a way, it was fitting it went down the drain along with any hopes of us getting back together: never sleep with girls she knows or could potentially ever know.
The reasoning behind the rule was simple.
This way, I couldn’t lower my already slim chances of getting back together with her, and if we ever did, it would prevent future problems. I knew how much Cornelia hated that before her, I’d slept with other girls at boarding school, girls she had to see regularly.
In a way, it was also Cornelia’s fault. After the club, I couldn’t shake the image of Cornelia with Benedict from my mind.
She seemed happy, and while it made me happy that she was, I hated that she was happy with him and not me.
Every time he laughed with her, or kissed her, or touched her, it felt like she was being pulled farther and farther away from me.
I thought seeing them together would help, but I was fucking stupid.
Instead, it made the image more vivid than it already was.
One thing led to another, and I had sex with Weberly.
She kept talking about them, especially Benedict, and having sex with her shut her up.
“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Weberly says cheerfully when she notices I’ve woken up.
I stretch my arm to grab the glass of water beside me. “Morning,” I tell her, then take a few sips.
I had actually woken up a while ago, but I was hoping that if I didn’t open my eyes, what happened yesterday would somehow undo itself.
I don’t know why I even slept with her. She doesn’t look like Cornelia; she’s ginger, hazel-eyed, and not even close to the same height as Weberly is five-foot-five.
She’s the first person I have slept with that doesn’t resemble her, and I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad one. Maybe it’s healthier.
For a while after Cornelia and I broke up, I thought about seeing a psychologist, but I don’t like the idea of sharing my thoughts with a complete stranger. I don’t like the idea of talking to someone about what happened. Because what if I did… What if they… don’t believe me? What if I said yes?
Besides, Cornelia’s been going to one every week for years, and she still doesn’t recognise her issues, which—while I don’t find a problem with one of them, I actually find it quite cute most of the time—her second one does worry me.
But I also know she’s not trying. She only goes because Anthony makes her.
“—And I’ve spent every night of the last few weeks here, so we’re boyfriend and girlfriend?” she asks. The last words catch my attention. She was saying something else, but I got carried away by my thoughts and didn’t listen to the first part.
I don’t know what to say, so I say, “Yeah, sure.”
That seems to make her happy. She gives me a quick kiss, gets out of bed, and heads towards the bathroom.
Yeah, sure—was that the best thing I could come up with?
I should have said, No, I don’t believe in relationships unless they’re with Cornelia.
I’m pretty sure those were the exact same words that got me into a relationship with Bianca Harrison at Edelweiss—if you can even call what that was a relationship, which Cornelia does.
But that time with Bianca, alcohol was highly involved.
Before entering the bathroom, Weberly says, “Boyfriend,” more to herself than to me. “I love that word.”
I think it’s too late to back out now, isn’t it?