by Bailey B
The tiny hairs on my arms stand on edge. A feeling of unease I can’t shake weighs me down. It’s heavy on my chest, heart, and mind. I think I would prefer a night with my thoughts, drowning in wonder, than have whatever conversation Liam wants to have.
“Did you have a good night?”
Liam lets out a long sigh and slouches until his head rests against the edge of the backrest. He stares up at my ceiling, at what’s left of the glow in the dark stars I never bothered to take down from when we were kids. A small smile tugs at his lips but leaves as quickly as it came. “I don’t want to do this anymore, Lainey.”
All of my senses hone in on the pang of fear rippling through me. I can’t breathe, can’t think, let alone speak. My mind races a million miles a minute, unable to focus on one thought for more than a second. Liam is not breaking up with me. He can’t. He wouldn’t throw years of, whatever you’d call us, away for a girl. A stupid girl he just started dating. This has to be some sort of misunderstanding.
“Do what anymore?”
“Us.” Liam pushes up out of the chair. He runs a hand through his blonde hair, shaved on the sides, long on top.
I hated the cut when he first got it. I thought it made him look like a tool, but it grew on me. Now it’s at the stage where it needs to be styled again. Even so, in his flustered state and through my emotional turmoil, I can’t help that my heart beats for him.
“It’s not fair to Corah.”
To Corah?
My lips turn down into a frown. What about me? What about us? We never explicitly talked about it, but we were going to go to college together. Get married. Be that one percent that stays with their childhood sweetheart. My mind reels. Images of the future I’ve dreamed about since middle school flicker, then shatter into tiny pieces, along with my heart.
When I don’t say anything, Liam adds, “I like her too much to hurt her. I think I might even love her.”
I stop breathing, stop thinking, and force myself to meet Liam’s gaze. His eyes are red and glassy. His lips turned down. He looks upset. Then again, he could be high.
“You can’t love her,” I whisper. Finding the courage to speak is like looking for a needle in a haystack; hard but not impossible. I clear my throat and force myself to talk louder. “It’s only been a few weeks.”
“It’s been seven.” He huffs.
I twist the edge of my comforter between my fingers, anxious to distract myself from the despair threatening to eat me alive. My diversion is not working. I still feel the pang of jealousy, the hurt of betrayal, and the desperation to make Liam realize that we belong together. “That’s not love, Liam. It’s lust and hormones.”
Liam’s dark brows pull together. Perfect plump lips press into a tight line. He’s angry with me. He’s never been angry with me, not even after I spilt red Kool-Aid all over his favorite baseball card when we were kids. Or when I slammed the window shut, breaking two of his fingers a week before playoffs last year.
“You don’t know what love is, Lainey. You’ve never even dated.”
“I love you.”
I’ve said those words a million times in my head, but never out loud. My heart races, pumping my blood so fast I’m dizzy. I think I might die if he doesn’t say it back. He has to say it back. When he does, he’ll know; it’ll hit him how perfect we are together and all of this nonsense with Corah will be over.
Liam lets out a strained breath. He steps forward and takes my hands in his, only there's no tingle with his touch tonight. No zing of excitement. “I love you too, Lainey, but not like I love her.”
The tiny cloud of hope I was floating on dissipates. I pull my hands from his and hook my thumbs behind my back, under the elastic of my pajama shorts. I can’t touch Liam, not if I intend to keep my composure. “I don’t get it. What makes her different?”
Liam shrugs and walks over to my desk, then picks up a framed picture of us from last summer. We’d borrowed his dad's boat and spent the day drinking with his friends at the sandbar. When the sun began to set, we found a tiny island to explore before exploring each other for the hundredth time. It was perfect. We were perfect. What happened to us?
“I don’t know. Corah just is, and I can’t do this with you anymore.” He looks up at me and sighs. “You don’t cheat on someone you love.”
Liam’s words knock me back a step. Every whisper, every rumor I’d told myself wasn’t true floods my brain.
He pities her. She’s his fallback girl. She’s pathetic; who lets her boyfriend kiss another girl? He’ll never date her.
Anger fights its way through the pain, morphing into a hungry beast. I taught Liam how to kiss. I gave him his first blow job. I helped him figure out that when you finger a girl, you don’t twirl it around like you’re mixing tea. I should be the person he’s worried about hurting because I came first! “But it’s okay to cheat on me?”
Liam puts the picture back on my desk. He turns to me, confusion etched across his face and the fact that he’s so ignorant pisses me off even more. “We were never dating, Lane. It’s not cheating if you're not together.”
All the air leaves my lungs. My jaw drops as I struggle to take another breath. Never dating? We’ve been hooking up in one way or another for the better part of five years! How can he say we weren’t together?
“That’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it?” Liam crosses his arms. He’s not being facetious. In his mind, I honestly believe he thinks everything between us is kosher. That this conversation would have been as easy as breathing if I wasn’t fighting for us the way I am.
Unlike him, my every breath is strained as I wrestle with the onslaught of emotions at war within myself. For the first time in my life, I’m seeing a side of Liam I don’t like. I think I put him on a pedestal, dismissing the stories about him and the flavor of the week. I knew he was playing the bases with these girls, but I assumed the only person he was sleeping with was me. I should have listened to the rumors, heeded the bright red flags that told me I was being used.
Oh god.
We never used a condom. I’m on the pill, but that doesn’t stop diseases. How many girls has he been with? How much has he exposed me to? My stomach twists and this time I think I might actually puke. “Get out.”
“Lane.” Liam’s arms fall to his sides. He steps forward and reaches for me.
The thought of his hands on my body sends a bubble of bile into my throat but I swallow it down. I lean back and out of his reach. “Don’t touch me, Gilliam.”
Liam’s jaw squares. He hates his full name almost as much as I hate mine. “Don’t be such a bitch, Elaine. We were having fun. That’s it.”
My fists ball at my sides. I'm trying hard to keep myself together because if I yell, I’ll wake my parents, and then we’ll both be in trouble. My dad likes Liam, but I doubt that affection would last if he caught him in my room in the middle of the night.
If I cry, Liam will know how much he’s hurt me and I don’t want that, either. I force a smile and stand from my place on my bed. With a restrained touch, I take Liam by the arm and lead him to my window, resisting the urge to shove him out of it. “Liam, I’m tired. Go home.”
He shakes his head but begrudgingly climbs out of my window. The pressure in my chest decreases with every inch that increases between us. Like this, I don’t have to look up to meet his gaze. We’re eye to eye. Equal, but apparently worlds apart.
“Want a ride to school in the morning?”
I nod, not trusting my words. I fear my voice will squeak and expose me for the mess that I am. I’m hanging onto my composure by a tattered thread. I need Liam to leave so I can hide under my blanket and cry.
Cry for all the years I’ve wasted and the lies I told myself.
I opt for a seat in the back of Ms. Honey’s homeroom class instead of my usual middle row table. The chances of anyone knowing about my conversation with Liam last night are slim, but this is high school. All it would take is for him to tell Co
rah we had the talk and rumors would spread like wildfire. People are pathetic, finding joy in other’s suffering, and I can’t stand the thought of anyone looking at me today, laughing at me.
I hug myself, pulling the oversized 5 Seconds of Summer hoodie I found in the back of my closet around me. It’s Liam’s, which both infuriates and depresses me at the same time. I’m pissed at him for how things ended. How he so carelessly threw us away. But the reality of it is, I’m more hurt than mad.
I thought what we had was unbreakable. I assumed the years we’d spent together, both as friends and more, were as important to Liam as they are to me. I guess it’s true what they say about assuming, because I was nothing to him. Just a warm body to hold when someone better wasn’t available.
Maggie strides into the room a few minutes before the bell rings. Her gaze skirts over the tables when she realizes I’m not at our usual spot. She finds me in the furthest corner of the room a half-second later and frowns.
“So, it’s true. Liam asked Corah to prom and dropped the L-bomb,” she says.
The realization of how serious Liam is about Corah knocks the wind from my lungs. I didn’t think he’d said those three words yet. Although, if he was willing to throw us away, it makes sense. I guess I just hoped he’d take some time to wallow at the end of our chapter. Maybe even think about everything he’s given up before jumping feet-first into a serious relationship. What he ended between us deserves at least a day of mourning.
I need to stop thinking this way. Clearly, there was no us. No secret romance. And certainly, no midnight serenades. It was all in my head. “Yup. I’m sooo happy for them.”
“Sweetie.” Maggie sits in the open chair beside me and wraps her arms around my shoulders. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”
I fight back a horde of tears and force a smile.
I.
Am.
Fine.
I’m fine. Me, yeah, this girl here, she’s fine. Completely unfazed that the guy I’ve been in love with since middle school doesn’t feel the same way.
I.
Am.
Great.
How many times do I need to tell myself that for it to be true? “Do I look that bad?”
“Yes.” Maggie grimaces.
I exhale a laugh that sounds more like a whimper, then fold my arms over the desk, and drop my head. My eyelids are heavy, but I keep them open, fearful of what I might see when I finally give in. I don’t think I slept more than an hour last night. I couldn’t. My mind kept pelting me with the names and faces of girls. Some I knew Liam to be with. Others rumored.
“Enough of this.” Maggie tugs at the hood on my sweater until I stand and she grabs my backpack. “You’re not going through the day looking like you got into a fight with a raccoon. Let’s go, missy.”
Normally I’d argue with Maggie. Most days, I don’t wear much more than mascara and keep my hair in a high ponytail. I don’t see the point in spending hours making myself look like someone I’m not. For one, I absolutely suck at makeup, and my hair never does what I want it to. But the main reason I don’t bother with that stuff is because Liam says I’m prettier without it. Today, though, I’m too tired to fight her on it.
Maggie walks with the confidence of a model on the catwalk as we cross the room. She’s beautiful, but not in a shove it in your face kind of way. She’s smart and witty too, which is what attracted Russell, her long term boyfriend, in the first place. But it was her bravery that drew me to Maggie freshman year. She defended a girl she didn’t know and put an end to her bullying. Maggie is my hero.
“We need to go to the bathroom,” she says the moment the bell stops ringing. “It’s an emergency.”
Ms. Honey closes the door and turns to face us. She takes one look at me. A real look, not the quick glance over she gave me when I walked in, and frowns.
Do I look that bad?
“Is everything okay, girls?” Ms. Honey asks.
“No,” Maggie declares, “but it will be. Please, Ms. Honey. You know Lainey. She’s a good girl. I wouldn’t be asking for a pass if it wasn’t important. I mean… look at her.”
I wasn’t worried about how I looked until now. I glance down at my hoodie and notice how people avoid eye contact with me when I raise my gaze again. The familiar sting of tears pooling makes me bite my bottom lip. I can’t cry. Not here, in front of eighteen people who are probably chomping at the bit to pull their phones out and record my breakdown.
After what feels like an eternity, Ms. Honey agrees to excuse Maggie and me and writes us a pass.
“Thanks, Ms. Honey,” Maggie says, pulling me by the hand out of the room. “You’re the best.”
Maggie takes me to the locker rooms down C-hallway, beside the gym. She twists the spindle on her lock and pulls out a big, black, duffel bag. When she unzips it, I almost laugh. It’s a freaking bedroom in a bag. There's a curling iron. A straightener. Six magnetic mirrors to make a haphazard full length one. A complete set of makeup. Extra clothes, shoes, and even undergarments.
“Sit,” she orders, pushing me down onto one of the locker room benches. “We have some work to do.”
Maggie spends all of homeroom straightening my hair to tame my flyaways, then twisting my thin strands into a loose side braid. She covers the dark circles under my eyes with concealer, then spends a solid fifteen minutes on my eyeshadow. She swaps my loose button-up with a fitted white polo and trades my baggy school pants with a thigh-length skirt. She even takes my sweatshirt—Liam’s sweatshirt—because, quote, “it makes me look like a hobo.”
When she’s done, I look better than I did at homecoming, which is insane because I paid my makeup artist a small fortune to make me beautiful that night. Money wasted, because Liam was too busy with the girl of the moment to notice me.
A high pitched shrill bounces off the walls around us when the bell rings. Maggie grabs my shoulders and looks me dead in the eye. “You have three classes until lunch. Everyone will be watching you. Micro-analyzing every detail for the rumor mill.”
Great.
“Don’t give them anything to talk about. Smile. Laugh. Pretend the sun is shining out of your ass. If these people want something to talk about, let them wonder why you’re not the same mess you were forty-five minutes ago.”
Maggie pulls me into a hug and I bite my lip to keep it from quivering. I can’t do this. I can’t face the wolves alone. I need her by my side, to keep me strong, but this is the only class we have together. I feel stupid and used by that jerk I thought was my best friend.
“No more of that.” Maggie pulls back and wipes my tears away before they run down my cheeks. “Liam doesn’t deserve your tears. Besides, it’ll ruin your makeup.”
I raise my gaze from my phone at the sound of a plastic tray settling on the table. I’ve managed not to cry in front of anyone this morning. A miracle if you ask me. I held it together when I saw Liam and Corah making out against his locker and even when I overheard the whispers of people asking if I’d cracked yet.
Apparently, the whole school knew I was Liam’s secret lover. If someone didn’t, they do now, because damn near every time I turn a corner, the conversation stops. Rumors about me are spreading faster than I can wrap my head around and, from what I can tell, Liam is doing nothing to stop them.
I hate today.
“You look hot.” Asher tucks his long, denim-clad, legs under the table. There’s a full meal on his tray, including a bag of chips and a Coke, which is odd because he rarely eats at school. He pulls the tab of his soda then lifts the can to his lips. “I mean, you always look nice, but today… wow.”
“Jeez, Asher, what the hell are you doing over here?” I don’t have the energy to deal with him. I’m barely keeping it together as it is, and Asher will likely be the straw that breaks the camel’s back.
Like Liam, he draws the attention of those around us merely by existing. It's part of the reason I chose to sit by myself today. At the furthest open table from ou
r usual one that I could find.
“See, this is why I don’t give you compliments.” Asher smirks and sets the soda on his tray.
I have no food in front of me and can’t stomach the thought of eating. He notices and tosses his bag of potato crisps across the table. It lands an inch away from the edge and bumps into my elbow.
“I don’t have the patience to deal with your crap today, Asher. What do you want?”
“I want to know why you're sitting all alone like a lost puppy in a cardboard box and not at our table.” He points to where a few of the cheerleaders have perched in the center of the cafeteria. They laugh at each other’s jokes while waiting for either Liam or Asher to join them. “Just because Liam pushed you to the back burner again doesn’t mean you’ve been exiled.”
I grab the bag of chips, having every intention of shoving it back at him, until my stomach rumbles. The pain from not having eaten anything since breakfast yesterday sets in and almost makes me double over. I begrudgingly open the bag of sour cream and cheddar and crunch on the first crisp I grab. It’s like heaven in my mouth, making my stomach rumble again, begging for more.
“I’ve never belonged with you guys. I’m not pretty like those girls, or popular,” I finally say.
“Don’t do that,” Asher demands, his tone serious and cold.
It startles me because, in Asher’s mind, I either don’t exist or have been put on the earth for his amusement. He takes pleasure in exploiting my quirks as entertainment for him and whoever else may be around. This new, somber side is unnerving.
“Do what?”
“Put yourself down. You're prettier than every girl in this room. Never forget that.”
I’m taken back by the compliment. I can’t tell if Asher is sincere or trying to make me feel better because of how shitty today has been. Either way, I don’t need him or his faux sympathy. I roll my eyes then crumble the newly empty chip bag and toss it back onto his tray. “Yeah, okay.”
