by Piper Rayne
They don’t buy it though, based on Charli’s furrowed brows and Claire’s pursed lips.
“Fine,” I say—louder than I mean. “I might have been scared about admitting it. Because that would make it real, and then I’d have to tell everyone when it ended too,” I explain.
Hearing it out loud sounds even more depressing than I thought it would.
“But why did you expect it to end?” Claire asks and Charli nods alongside her.
“Well, all relationships do. Especially ones with friends,” I say, hugging myself even tighter. But as my eyes flick back and forth between their beautiful faces—the two of them both in relationships—I stumble over myself to add more.
Foot in mouth.
“Okay, not all relationships for everyone. But all of my relationships have ended. So that’s what I expected.”
“You know…just because others have in the past doesn’t mean this one had to end,” Charli says with kindness, like her words are trying to hug me since she can’t at the moment.
“And babe, you’re fucking blind if you don’t see the way he looks at you. The way he’s always looked at you. From day one,” Claire says, her words a lot less soft.
“He’s been in love with you for years. And if you can’t see that, you’re either in denial, or delusional. Or both,” Charli says, trying to make me laugh.
It’s almost works. Claire smiles.
But all I can do is shrug, shaking my head. All of my energy to argue is spent.
“Okay, well believe us or not. But you don’t have the option to wallow anymore. Get your ass up,” Claire says.
“Bossy, bossy,” I mumble.
“We’re going to have a girls day. Pampering session and then a girls-only dinner too,” Charli says, all instructions and business now.
“Got it?” Claire asks with a smirk.
I nod, sighing, knowing there’s no way they’ll let me out of it anyway. And maybe I’ll feel better, like I should anyway.
No matter what they say, I did the damn right thing.
“Finish up. We’re not leaving without you,” Charli says.
“And if you take too long, I’m going to break into the mini bar, on your tab,” Claire adds with a wink on her way out of the bathroom.
21
When I get home, I think I need to invest in a massage package somewhere. I don’t think my muscles have ever been so relaxed in my entire life.
Maybe the girls were right, and a spa day is what I needed.
Because this pedicure is almost as heavenly as the massage was.
I do wish I wasn’t alone getting my pedicure, but I got the most expensive one, and I don’t regret all the extra time and attention. Though, it would be nice to chat with my babes too.
They’re already on to their manicures.
And too much time by myself is either going to be great or twist my insides up a little more—just when I got everything all smoothed out.
Leaning back into the massage chair, I let my eyes close, and try to focus on the scrub that’s being rubbed on my calves. Tune almost everything else out. Feel the relaxation dig into me. Listen to my breathing and the soft music playing through the spa speakers.
For the first time since…for the first time this afternoon, I start to feel better. Not just my body, because the massage was heaven on the physical parts of me. But inside. My heart isn’t pinching quite like it did before.
I’m definitely not thinking about Colton.
No way.
Though, it gets harder to focus on what I’m trying not to think about when a couple other women sit down a few chairs over for their own pampering.
And since there’s two of them, they’re talking.
Not that they shouldn’t, because the world doesn’t revolve around me—as much as I sometimes like to think that it does. But if I’m honest, I mostly feel like a creep for eavesdropping.
But after a few seconds of trying to meditate the chatter away, I just give up and listen intentionally. They’re so loud. I swear I can’t help it. At least, that’s how I’m rationalizing taking in their gossip.
The woman who sounds farther away is clearly a horndog.
More power to her too.
But apparently she can’t quite snag the guy she’s been chasing.
“He’s an idiot, I swear. I wish he’d have stood me up instead of showing up to say anything,” she complains.
My feet soak in the warm water for a few minutes before whatever the next step is. And the vibrations beat into my back.
And while I’m here for all the complaining, her friend is having none of it. It would look so fucking creepy, awkward to the max, to smile while my eyes are closed and relaxing. So I bite down on my lip, hard, to keep from reacting to the conversation.
“Girl, move on. We’re in paradise. There are so many other guys you can get instead,” the second one tells her.
“He must be blind. Or going there. Because this body is rocking. And I know I’m more interesting than his other choices. Plus, I have the skills where it’s important. I mean come on. Total package. He’s just dumb for losing out on all of this,” she talks herself up. I guess we all have to feel superior when we can.
Even though my eyes are closed, the urge to roll them is overpowering, and I actually open them as I do it. It’s like a reflex, or instinct. I swear I can’t help myself.
But in the movement, I get a glance at something I wish I could unsee. I’d take back the damn sassy eye roll if I could.
The complainer, the one who’s so full of herself that she can’t believe anyone would turn her down unless they can’t see properly or they have something else wrong with them…it’s Stacy. And her whole voice sounds different when she’s not flirting.
But she’s definitely the Stacy who was chasing Colton. Complaining about Colton.
My Colton.
Though, I try to flick that little word away as soon as I think it. Closing my eyes again, I hope that maybe I can start humming to ignore them now that I have less than zero desire to hear it. Negative wants.
No such luck. Stacy’s friend goes back to her earlier comment, not letting it go. And I kind of like her a little. Though, she has terrible taste in friends.
“But why would you rather have been stood up anyway? Isn’t an actual conversation, with closure, better? Now you’re not wondering. Now you can move on,” she says. And it’s probably just me inserting that disdain into her voice, but at the very least, she doesn’t get Stacy’s stance on this.
I could totally be friends with this woman. In other circumstances, maybe another life. I like her a lot more than Stacy anyway.
And this time I really want to hear the answer, eavesdropping be damned. So I hold my breath, not even caring if that’s cliché or maybe doesn’t work. It feels like it’ll help.
“He just pissed me off, that’s why. He told me he’s in love with his best friend. And he has been since the moment they met. Love at first sight or some bullshit. He actually said to me that if he can’t have her then he doesn’t want anyone,” Stacy says with incredulity. “Isn’t that the most pathetic thing you’ve ever heard?” she adds.
“Actually, I think that’s kind of swee –”
But I don’t stick around to hear the rest. Hearing that, my own stupid heart swells, and it’s so fucking clear how I feel. So instead of sitting still and waiting, like a normal person, my hands start going crazy and my lips get ahead of my brain; I start babbling.
“Sorry. I’m sorry. I have to go. No, don’t finish,” I say to the manicurist—or is it pedicurist?—loud and rushed. “Really, I’m sorry, but I have to go right now,” I say.
It’s sort of a shout, and I know everyone starts looking at me as I hop up, jumping from the huge chair and to the side of the poor woman with huge eyes.
And like I deserve, when I jump up, nail polish goes spilling everywhere. I didn’t realize she’d been ready to start applying it. But at least the turquoise liqui
d goes all over my legs instead of the other woman.
Okay, I guess some lands on the floor too, because I slip for a second as I try to start running. There’s a moment when I worry—like actual panic tightening my chest—that I’m going to eat the damn floor and chip a tooth or break my nose. This fall won’t be as soft as when I hit the sand.
But I regain control after just a moment, only taking half a second to stoop down and grab my shoes afterward. Then I’m running toward the doors, in a legit mad dash.
“I have to do something,” I shout at Charli and Claire as I run past them. “I’ll pay you back,” I add realizing I’m dining and dashing too.
He better like hot messes, because that’s me. A thousand percent.
Charli starts whistling, and Claire cat calls.
“Go get that dick,” one of them yells just before I’m out the doors—running barefoot and dripping nail polish everywhere—and out of earshot.
Oh, I will.
I have to.
22
My nails can’t get any shorter.
I’ve been biting them since I got on the plane. And now that I’m standing here, in front of Colton’s apartment door, my nerves are even worse. I should have saved one nail for right now. For standing here, ready to do what I took the whole plane ride to plan—which by the way has us home a day early.
Colton flew home while we were on our girls day.
When Tom told me that, I think that’s when I started really freaking out. Because he left. He left vacation. And he left me there. Because I told him to.
I don’t know how long I’ve been standing here, gathering up courage. But I refuse to look down or evaluate how I look in any way, shape, or form. I ran straight from the spa to my hotel room to grab my suitcase, and then went straight to the airport. And when we landed in Minneapolis, I came straight to this door, bag in tow.
Honesty, I’m just glad I remembered to stop for my luggage in the first place.
There’s still nail polish all over my legs—it’s probably fused itself to the stubble that’s very much growing in at the moment. I think there’s a chunk between my toes too. But I don’t care. There’s so much more to focus on right now, right here.
And actually, that part earlier isn’t totally accurate. I made one stop after landing, on the way to where I’m standing. But only because it was an important one.
Essential to hopefully making this work.
I just hope it’s enough.
While we were in the air, over ocean waters and sparkling cities, I had plenty of time to think and strategize—playing devil’s advocate as often as I needed—in hopes of getting this just right. Because I’ll lose everything if I don’t.
Or well…I’ll lose it all again.
But now, with ratty hair and god knows what kind of breath, I don’t know if it’s as perfect as it seemed just a couple hours ago. Not that there’s really time to make any changes.
Fuck.
I’ve waited enough.
I’ve made Colton wait more than long enough.
So I raise my hand to knock, finally, but as my knuckles move toward the solid wood it pulls backward. I suck in a breath of surprise, almost choking, at the unexpected. My eyes close, a weird instinct, as my stomach jumps up into my throat. It’s like if I can’t see the thing that’s scaring me, it’ll just go away. But when my breath returns from wherever it sucked down to, I let out a scream. It’s a lot higher pitched than I’ll ever admit after this very moment.
And then in the midst of everything, my hand keeps moving, and I end up smacking Colton.
I fucking knock on his face instead of the door.
“Oh shit, fuck,” I spit out as Colton jumps backward. I don’t know if it was from the knuckles to his forehead or a delayed reaction from the scream. Or both.
“Damnit,” I add as I finally focus on his face.
There are so many things I want to start saying, telling him how wrong I was. But my lips won’t move. Though my eyes don’t have the same problem, and they search his face—every laugh line, every fleck in his eyes—I take in every inch, trying to memorize it.
Just in case.
And as I watch him, both of us embarrassed from whatever the hell that greeting was, the most awkward silence of my whole life starts to grow between us.
All the things I’m not saying start to press against me, pressing into me, hurting me. But I don’t look as hurt, as defeated, as he does. The sadness in his eyes is what breaks me.
It shakes something lose, getting me to wake the fuck up.
Before the quiet can stretch too long, or any longer anyway, I suck in another breath—this one steadying instead—to start.
“This is so not how I wanted to start this conversation. I imagined things going a lot smoother. But fuck it. I’m not going let any of that stop me. I have to keep going. Nothing I do comes out quite the way I intend anyway. Right? Especially when it comes to us.” I laugh, waiting for him to say something, to agree. But he just stares at me.
Unreadable.
He tips his head to the side, silently begging me to tell him whatever the hell I came here to say. To get it over with, maybe.
“Right. Okay, well, the point,” I say, wanting to let go of his solid gaze. The floor would be so much safer. But I can’t. So I let my lips rattle together as I breath out quick, trying not to let my shoulders fall downward. “I know I’ve done all of this wrong. I know I’ve screwed things up and not given you what you deserve. If I had done all of this right, it wouldn’t have taken me so long. But if I’m honest, if I’m the kind of honest that’s scary—terrifying—and actually hurts to admit, then I would say I was afraid. I was petrified of losing my best friend. Nothing scares me more than the idea of losing you. Nothing,” I say with force. “Somewhere inside my stupid brain, I thought that if I pushed you away before I lost you, then it wouldn’t really be losing you at all. If I was in control of it then I could make sure that we made it back to what we had before.”
My eyes almost hurt from being locked on his for so long. And this might be the longest speech in history, but I’m not even close to done.
The temptation to turn and run is strong, just to avoid the rejection that might be coming my way. Not that I wouldn’t deserve it. I know I would. But that doesn’t make it any more appealing.
I don’t, though.
I just blink, swallow, and then keep going.
“I think that we’ve both been dancing around the idea of us for a long time. You dated girls so wrong for you for so long, and part of me thinks that maybe it was because you were killing time. Waiting for me to wake up and realize what was right in front of me. And you know what? I’m glad you did. I’m glad you never fell in love with any of them. Because I did need to wake the fuck up. I needed someone to shake me and show me what I’d been missing for so long, what I knew deep down even if I couldn’t voice it,” I say.
After all of that, after the hard stuff—I get to what I’m ready for. The easy parts. Even if he slams the door in my face, I’m so excited to finally say what I should have years ago.
“That I’m in love with you too. That I have been for…I think since always. It took me almost losing you to realize it. And for that, I’m so fucking sorry,” I say and then gulp.
Colton is still frozen. I don’t even know for sure if he’s hearing any of this.
“But I also wanted to let you know that I stopped at the leasing office downstairs, and I put in my notice to move,” I add with a lightness that feels like a soft breeze in the spring.
Colton’s face falls, though, his eyebrows pulling together, and his chin dips toward his chest. I can see his hands clench at his sides, and I can’t rush fast enough to continue, trying to undo the wrong idea I’ve already given him.
“Would you rather have your best friend forever, as so much more than just friends—but she moves in with you—or would you rather she keep her piles of dirty clothes and freezing feet in her own apar
tment?” I ask him.
He stares at me.
He could be a statue right now.
“Because we already know everything about each other. And I’m so in love with you. I thought maybe we could skip ahead in our relationship to the part where we move in together,” I explain. “I mean you’re the one with the bigger apartment, so I didn’t think you’d want to move into mine.”
He’s still unreadable.
Maybe in shock that I’m so stupid.
But I can’t give up, not until he tells me to fuck off.
So I try one more time.
“Would you rather be with me forever, and move in together? Or would you rather I walk away?” I try again. One last time.
23
And finally.
Fucking finally, Colton’s stony face starts to give something away. His mouth, just one corner, starts twitching as he holds back what I hope is a smile.
“Can you say that again, Ev?” he asks me.
And I can see the dent in his cheek from the spot where he’s biting it. It could be to keep himself from swearing at me and screaming curses or insults. But just in case, in the sliver of hope I still have left, I can do it all over again.
“I know I’ve done all of this wrong. I know I’ve screwed things up and not given you what you deserve,” I say.
But I’m interrupted by Colton’s magical laughter.
And as much as I want to hear it, it gives me pause.
I won’t give up, though. So I try again.
“This is so not how I wanted to start this conversation,” I say, rewinding even farther.
Colton laughs even harder then, shaking his head. He’s smiling, and his eyes crinkle in the way I love. And before I can try one more time, he pulls me to him—a handful of my shirt in each of his fists once he gets a hold of me.
His lips feel like they were made to fit mine. They’re perfect, warm and so soft.
I’ve never wanted to kiss someone back more than this. My lips part, letting him into me once again. It’s gentle; it’s everything we haven’t had a chance to experience yet. Because of me.
