33. Gigi
CHAPTER 33
Gigi
EIGHTEEN YEARS OLD
“I don’t get it,” Andrew scoffs, shaking his head. He is smiling, but he’s anything but happy. “Why won’t you say it back?”
I almost laugh in disbelief, but doing that would cause us to fight again, and that’s something I’m just not going to waste my energy on. We closed that fucking chapter. Shut. There’s no need to rehash old wounds. “I’m just not ready yet.”
“We’ve been going out for a long time, babe.” When I don’t answer, he places his elbow on his knees, his eyes looking to the floor, solemn. “Is it because I cheated?”
The thing is, I know he regrets it. I believe Andrew when he said that it was a one-time thing. Once a cheater always a cheater doesn’t really apply to him, at least I don’t think so. Andrew was a mess after it happened. He even stopped going to church with his parents altogether so that he didn’t have to see her. It didn’t matter if they were angry or we were already meeting the other six days of the week, despite not even living in the same town. People who don’t feel guilty don’t do that. Guys who plan on cheating again also don’t give their girlfriends full access to their phones and laptops. In one of his apology letters, I even got a sticky note with all of his passwords—his school email, cash apps, and streaming accounts included.
“No,” I answer, grinding my molars. “It’s because you won’t tell me the reason why you cheated.”
“Giuliana,” he says my name half pleading, half in a warning tone. I start feeling the anger come back. I’m Giuliana now .
“Just tell me the truth. I don’t get you. You don’t go from planning your first fuck with your girlfriend to banging someone else without a reason.”
“We’ve been over this, Gigi.” He pins me down with an exasperated stare. “I thought we were done with this.”
“Well, you brought it up.”
Andrew sighs. His hand runs through the dirty blond waves of his hair. “Me telling you wouldn’t do us any fucking good.”
Why can’t he see that him not telling me is also not doing us any good?
Fighting the tears that are about to break free, I look up to the ceiling. “Take me home, please. I don’t want to be here anymore.”
“Gigi.” Again, my name comes in a half-pleading, half-warning tone. He wants me to drop this. I think it’s unfair that he wants all of me, all my love, but I can’t get all of him. I accept the cheating. I accept the slip-up. I just want to know why.
“Don’t Gigi me,” I say, seething.
“I love you,” he dares to say. “Don’t say it back. Say it back. You know I do.”
And I hate that I know it’s true. But I can’t speak the words and give myself fully unless I know. “If you really love me, then tell me the truth,” I beg, hoping this one will finally do the trick. “I need to know why you chose Rachel instead of me. I need to know why you chose to lose your virginity in some bathroom at a fucking house party.”
“Don’t push me, Gigi. You don’t know anything about anything!” His blue eyes turn icy, and I feel the hair on the nape of my neck stand up. Yelling is not something that we do to each other. He’s been like this lately. Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Even before Rachel. If he wasn’t pleading his case every second of every day, I’d think he was going to dump me.
“Take me the fuck home.” I try to keep my voice stern, but inside my brain is scrambled.
“You want to know why I did it?” There’s no stopping him now. “Because I was drunk. Because you weren’t there.” Andrew’s eyes meet mine, and this time they’re glossy. “I was fucking stupid. And believe me, I know I messed up,” Andrew sobs. The sounds coming out of his mouth splinter my heart more than his confession. “I’m sorry.”