6. Luke
CHAPTER 6
Luke
Gigi’s eyes are giving me a glimpse into her mind. Stormy gray, troubled, and having a problem staying still. I bet her brain is churning, trying to figure out how to get herself out of this situation.
“ Please ,” I say in a mocking tone as I open the door to my room, willing her to follow me so that Kai and Zoey don’t hear us. “Explain how you sunk your claws into Andrew and ruined his life.”
“I didn’t.” She closes her eyes, her lips in a tight line. Gigi takes three deep breaths before opening them again. “I didn’t ruin his life, Luke.”
My fist curls when I remember what was on that letter.
Please don’t break up with me. I don’t know what I would do without you. I’d probably have to jump off a bridge or something.
“But you knew he was having problems.”
Again, Gigi takes deep breaths. “I didn’t know. Luke, please, you have to believe me.” Her voice is breaking.
Considering how drunk we both are right now, I’m pretty sure nothing good will come out of this fight, but grief is a funny thing. It has a mind of its own. “That’s bullshit, Gi. He basically spelled it out for you. And you didn’t do a goddamn thing!”
Opening my closet, I pull out a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie. They’re for me. I gather both items in my hands, holding them in a rumpled ball. A giant stress ball so that I don’t punch another hole in the wall. I’m halfway out the door, about to shower and leave her in her spot when Gigi says something that makes me freeze in position.
“The letter had nothing to do with that. He…he slept with somebody else.” Her voice is croaked, and I bet if I look at her, I can see tears. “But we made up. We were fine.”
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.” He would never. We might not have been that close in blood, but I know him. He was my best friend. Andrew was the boyfriend equivalent of a soft baked, chocolate chip cookie. The kind your mother makes during the Christmas season. No hard edges, gooey, sweet. Makes everyone happy and your teeth ache. Goddamn perfect.
As a family, he was the same. I'm proof of that. When everyone kept on comparing us because we were of similar age, Andrew always changed the topic. When my dad shut down and the only job he could hold down was the one that would take him away from me and Becca for long periods of time, Andrew and his family rallied around and begged people who knew us to babysit Becca in rotation, knowing that we were too proud to ask for help.
As a friend, he never once listened to his athlete friends when they questioned his decision to hang out with me. Andrew always hung out at my house, even though his place was three times the size, knowing that it made me uncomfortable to be at his home. Knowing that it was too far of a bike ride to go there.
I turn on my heel, facing Gigi and fighting the urge to shake some sense into her. “Don’t you dare lie about shit like that. Not about him!” I yell.
She takes a step back, the gray orbs turning scared. Yet undeterred, Gigi sticks with her story. “Defend him all you want, Luke. It’s the truth. Stop acting like you’ve been around to know what he was like.”
“Say I believe your delusion. Who was the girl, huh?”
“Rachel.”
The laugh I bark out startles her. God, she’s so pathetic. “This is how I know you’re definitely lying. Rachel from church? You seriously want me to believe that my cousin cheated on you with Rachel from his church? Are you out of your fucking mind?”
“It’s fucking true!” she screams through her cries, strands of her dark hair sticking to her wet face. Why she’s continuing to stand on this faltering house of lies, I have no clue.
“I’ve known Rachel since I was a child, Gi. I’ve lived in that dumphole longer than you. There is no way that happened.”
Andrew. The son of the pastor. Stepping out on his girlfriend with Rachel from church. Andrew’s not squeaky clean, but he’s not that bad, either. Gigi should be a screenwriter. A sitcom is what this is.
“Then what do you think happened?” She throws a question back. “If you’re so sure Andrew didn’t cheat on me, why did you think he wrote that letter?”
That’s a good fucking point, but I’m far too angry to give her a pat on the back for pointing that out. “You probably got mad at him for something stupid and overreacted,” I say after deliberating. “I expect no less from someone as high-maintenance as you. Or maybe you were the one who cheated and fucking gaslit him.”
Gigi flashes me a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes, turning her head to the side so she doesn’t have to look at me. I don’t need to see her full profile to know how she’s feeling. The heartbreak can be seen from the moon. Suddenly, I get a sinking feeling in my stomach telling me that, possibly, I took it too far.
“You don’t know me, asshole. You never even tried to get to know me, so don’t make assumptions.” She sprints out of my room and a few seconds later, I hear the slam of the front door.
Dead people can’t talk, but if Andrew were still alive, what would he say to me? Guilty or not guilty, how would he feel if I told him that I just kicked her while she was down?