by Elena Monroe
“Layla won’t forgive me or fuck me.”
His voice sounded flat, “That’s a statement, Ollie, not a question. Aren’t you a lit major?”
I got tense and shoved my hands in my pockets, as they fisted up. I reminded myself he was too distracted to realize I was opening up—another thing I didn’t do often.
“How am I supposed to fix it?”
He chuckled, holding his beer to his lips, “Wrong guy to ask, buddy. I put my last girlfriend in the hospital for half a year.”
I was slowly getting more angry with him. “You’re the only one who dates. Who else am I supposed to ask?”
He sighed, taking his eyes off her, “You were her first everything, Ollie. Everything is more sensitive. Did you try asking her?”
He seemed annoyed, like he was explaining the concept of being forgiven to a five year old, and this was his fifth attempt.
“No, she made it clear that I won’t be forgiven.”
Aspen’s heavy hand fell on my shoulder, “Sex isn’t being sorry, Ollie. Not unless it’s making love, and I doubt that’s something you do.”
That one remark ignited the slow burn I felt at the bottom of my stomach turning into a raging fire. I wasn’t incapable of love; I was in love with Layla. I was avoiding making it worse—avoiding telling her and falling harder for her. It was a lost cause, because love was against everything I was.
My friends joked all of high school and freshman year of college that I must fall in love easy because I met Elizabeth, and we quickly started dating. Then I met Jade, and they all knew about her. I became as addicted to her as what she sold me. None of it was love, though; it was biding my time and entertainment. After everything fell apart with both of them, I became the villain who must have had a heart drenched in false depth and permanent black to hurt two people at once.
Caden was more familiar with recognizing my anger than Aspen. Aspen had only seen it in small bursts, while he was sober.
Caden swung his arms around both of our necks, whispering, “You’re both cute. I’m not breaking up another fight.”
We both laughed uncontrollably. Caden had a way of manipulating discomfort to something more tolerable: relief.
Hunter stalked over leaning over the pong table between us. “Have you seen Layla?”
I’m sure my face wasn’t scrunched up in a happy expression when I looked at him. It felt like a snarl. My silence wasn’t amusing, when he gestured to the air between us waiting for answer.
“Does it look like I’ve seen Layla?”
He straightened up, and I could see the protective defenses making their way to the surface. “I saw her go upstairs running after you.”
I folded my arms against my ribs, smirking at his concern for a girl he didn’t know the way I did. “If she wanted to be around you, then she would be, bro. She doesn’t do what people want. Clearly,” I told him.
Wasn’t that the truth. I wanted sex, and that hadn’t happened. I wanted to be forgiven and, instead, only cemented the fact that she always did whatever she wanted.
I could tell he was about to say something wild when his palms pressed against the wet pong table, and he leaned forward. “She does what I want. In fact, I got my way all of holiday break.”
I stayed so silent, forgetting to breathe, as I contemplated making my night worse or not. Layla wasn’t forgiving me; I was high again; so what did it matter if I showed zero restraint against his jabs?
Control flew out of the window when I grabbed his leather jacket, yanking him closer to me across the table. The pleasure of hurting him created an almost permanent smirk across my face. I leaned into him, slightly making sure to keep eye contact, as I growled, “Some hickies? That’s what you wanted?”
I heard the boys laugh, before I continued, “She thought of me the whole time.”
He was able to get out of my grip easily, but I didn’t expect him to overturn the skinny pong table between us and step over it without a care in the world. This behavior seemed as comfortable as my cruelty. He stood not even an inch from me, making sure I saw him. This must be the damaging version Layla knew so well and compared my reputation to.
“You were the furthest thing from her mind, while she was moaning my name.”
I knew she didn’t sleep with him. She wasn’t capable of lying like that, but his words irritated me in a way I had to act on. I grabbed him again, without the table between us, pulling him like a weightless rag doll.
Caden rushed to get us apart before it turned into breaking his nose again. I wanted to break something—anything, everything…
Caden’s hiss tried to fit into a whisper, “What the fuck is wrong with you, man? Stop letting him goat you!”
My hands loosened my grasp on Hunter, but I kept my narrowed eyes on him. He seemed like the type to talk shit and wait to catch you off guard by throwing a cheap shot. I didn’t trust him at all, and now Caden was irritating me just as much with his snap judgments.
My eyes didn’t leave Hunter, and his hands had balled up into tight fists, when I was really speaking to Caden, as I said, “Don’t start with me. I’m not gonna stand here and ignore the shit he’s saying about my girl.”
Hunter didn’t catch me off guard, but I wasn’t reacting quick enough either. “Get use to her not being your girl anymore.”
There were no more words after that—no more jabs exchanged. We started maniacally wrestling for control, just before her voice pierced right through my anger. I heard my name roll off her tongue: “Oliver!”
I knew I needed to stop, but something drove my fist into his jaw anyways. My hand stabilized his jaw, forcing him to look at me, and I said, “I will never stop when it comes to her. Do you understand me? She’ll never not be mine. Even if by some miracle she lets you fuck her, get used to being second best.”
I backed away, letting the space grow between us, and I watched him smirk, like he enjoyed the pain. I folded my arms against my chest, looking directly at Layla, who was staring at us, mortified and concerned. I wondered who the concern was for.
She walked over to me on fire, with anger so fierce it was poisoning the air around her. “What is your problem?! I invited him here. You don’t need to be destructive 24/7!”
I didn’t care that she was yelling at me, at least she was talking to me. “Keep your little fuck buddies away from me, Layla,” was my only reply.
I watched her face morph into an even angrier one. “Excuse me, Oliver? I told you what happened. I was honest, and I took the risk because you were worth it.”
She didn’t mean Hunter or my current anger. She meant us. She took a risk with her heart, and I didn’t risk anything for her. I got out before it became a real risk.
I leaned down in a condescending manner and said, “Well, maybe I’m the wrong risk.”
The party went on too long. After Layla ran away again, I started pounding alcohol like it was water and I was dehydrated.
I woke up in a pool of my own sweat, in my own bed, with no memory of how the night ended or how I got back to my room. I sat up grabbing my phone from the bedside table and read 1:30 PM. I hadn’t slept more than a couple of hours since, well, my benders before rehab. I forgot how easy it was to lose hours to a state of unbeing. I wasn’t wearing any clothes, and my eyes scanned across my room for any clues. Clothes that didn’t belong to me, a condom wrapper, or anything that didn’t fit.
Nothing was out of place, and before I knew it, my hands were prying my phone case from my phone, revealing the small bag hiding in plain sight. Autopilot took over even more, as I peeled apart the bag’s small press-and-seal system. My bathroom door flew open, and Elizabeth came parading out from my shower wearing my towel wrapped around her wet body.
Shit.
It was like she heard my inner thoughts when she said, “Oh my god, relax… we didn’t have sex. You got wasted last night, and I crashed here. I’m not using the community shower in a Frat house. Thank you, next.”
I
wrapped a loose fist around the baggy, making sure she wouldn’t see it and also that I wouldn’t lose any product with the seal gaping open still.
“My head is killing me, so take down the volume. I don’t have clothes on, Elizabeth. Care to explain that?”
She made her way to my desk with her clothes; that’s why I hadn’t been able to find any fabric that didn’t belong. She started rummaging through my drawers, as she spoke, “You undressed yourself, Ollie. We all get you love Layla. No one is trying to piss you off about her. We all saw the warning signs.”
I watched her eyes go wide, like I should contemplate being embarrassed, but that required remembering. She dropped the towel, pulling on a pair of my boxers and a plain T-shirt from another drawer. This felt like the past re-living itself without me.
“I don’t remember anything after Hunter flipped the pong table.”
Her face looked fresh and vibrant; she must have taken the night off from drinking. Who was I kidding? Elizabeth was the girl who could get wasted, still wake up at 8, and not have an ache in her body. That wasn’t what I was analyzing her for though; I needed to confirm we didn’t have sex.
She sat on the edge of the bed, looking at me worriedly, “Seriously? Nothing?”
Now I was kind of worried too. “Why? What?”
She made uncomfortable faces as she explained, “You got into it with Hunter again, then you and Layla argued in front of everyone about you being destructive, even with her, and then you made a crazy announcement after somebody hit on her. That she would always be yours.”
I only responded in my head: Fuuuuck…
“Can you get the fuck out so I can put some clothes on?”
It was harsher than I intended, but she stood up slowly. “You really are an asshole sometimes. Think of how embarrassing that is for her—everyone in the middle of her relationship drama. Half the campus was here last night. Oh, excuse me, not ‘relationship drama’, I should say, ‘fuck buddy drama’.”
I stood up after closing the baggy under the blanket and pushed the covers off my body. I looked at her with instant anger. “She’s not a fuck buddy.”
She stopped at the door, “Then why won’t you let yourself love her?”
I waited for the door to be closed without answering her rhetorical question, before I reopened the baggy and sat there with my elbows on my knees. Today was the day I was going to stop. Today was going to be the day I begged for her forgiveness, regardless of whether or not she forgave me Today I was going back to chasing the high of Layla, not this shit in my hand.
The thought of Hunter thinking he had a chance was more motivating than the torture I had been living with. That torture was comfortable.
I grabbed my phone and texted Layla: Meet me at Intuition in 30.
I closed my eyes, as the baggy dropped into the toilet, and I flushed it quickly, before I had the chance to fish out the protected product, with its own version of a scuba suit.
My phone buzzed against the counter loudly, and I read her reply: Why? Didn’t you do and say enough last night?
I looked up at the ceiling with my phone in my hand, like somehow the answer would just fall down on me. I typed with fierce honesty, instead of cruelty: Because you terrify me. Because you know all my secrets and sins. Because it doesn’t matter if I fight this, I still feel it. Because I’m destroying myself without you. Because I don’t care how much you’ll regret me 10 years from now if it means having you now.
I felt my body get weak, submitting to the feelings that had been growing since the day I met her. I looked in the mirror for any obvious changes, and the only ones I could spot were backlash from doing blow for two months. My eyes carried puffy bruises from being tired; my lips were cracked and dry; and my muscles looked slightly deflated.
I wanted to break the mirror for not giving me the confidence I begged it for. Now I was vulnerable, weak, and being too honest about how I felt. Great. This shit better not be permanent.
I got dressed and headed downstairs towards the familiar voices. Everyone was in the living room, including B, but no Layla. I didn’t stop to say hey or ask what was up. Caden saw me breeze by to put my shoes on when he came over to me, “You’re still using? Last night made that obvious. Old destructive Ollie made an appearance.”
Why was everyone using this buzzword all of a sudden? Destructive.
I rolled my eyes, staying quiet. I didn’t have time for this.
Caden didn’t whisper, but his voice was low enough, “We can talk about this privately or publicly, Ollie.” He grabbed my arm, stopping me from leaving, when I kept ignoring his attempts for my attention, he said, “Great. Family meeting it is.”
He announced it to the group, and we all knew that meant something serious—so serious he had to remind us to think of each other like family to get through whatever it was.
Fuck.
I pulled my arm back. “Seriously. I’m busy. I don’t have time for this.”
He leaned against the wall, giving me space, “You’re not busy. You just don’t wanna do this.”
Aspen asked, “What’s going on? Last time we had a family meeting it was about me and the crash.”
I went to rehab before that, so Caden missed his chance to hold some meeting to keep everyone on the same page, like he did when Aspen got in above his head. It wasn’t really a family meeting; it was what I would call forcing everyone to babysit.
This was a lot heavier than making sure Aspen was scared straight. Off the booze and checking all the boxes the court told him to.
Caden’s attention didn’t leave me, and he ignored Aspen talking all together. My snarl was so tight it was painful. He stared at me, trying to peer beyond my anger.
“Tell me you stopped, and we don’t have to do this.” He was begging me to tell him what he wanted to hear. “You’re fucking using still because of some bitch. Seriously, Ollie?”
I took a big step into his anger. “Don’t fucking call her that.”
His words didn’t go unheard when Elizabeth stood up repeating him, “You’re using again?”
I closed my eyes, hoping this was some kind of bad dream. I was forced to respond, when it was asked twice.
With one heavy sigh, I answered, “It’s not that serious. We don’t need to do this. I have somewhere to be.”
Elizabeth looked like she’d burst into tears at any moment. This was getting too emotional. I already dumped my hidden feelings in a text to Layla. My phone buzzed in back pocket, and I reached for it, reading, from Layla, a simple: Okay.
As much as she hated me right now for hurting her, she was still taking all the risk by giving me a chance. We both knew that.
Caden snatched the phone from my hands and tucked it in his back pocket. “Is that your dealer? Is that where you need to be?”
I gave him a look like I couldn’t believe he said that out loud. I wasn’t that far gone.
“Are we done? Is everyone on the same page enough for you, Caden?”
Elizabeth sat back down, as Hayley coddled her through the news. “Is it because of her?”
Caden spoke for me: “Before she left for holiday, that party, I found him with Jade doing blow. I gave him a one day pass, because she was leaving, but I guess he really never stopped.”
I closed my eyes again, pushing all of the voices behind the black of my eyelids. I could feel the judgment seeping in without the matching faces. I leaned against the doorframe of the living room. “Yes, I’m in love with a girl who left me for months. Shocker: I’m not great with abandonment or having zero control over how I feel for her. So I did some fucking blow and stayed numb until she was back. I’m good now.”
Aspen looked at me, as the most betrayed, and I couldn’t place why. Maybe it was having overlapping stays at the same rehab. He asked, “Were you ‘good’ last night? Is that why you lost it… more than once?”
I rolled by eyes and let my tongue suck my teeth, trying to push back the cruelty that would only make
this worse. “No, Aspen, I wasn’t good last night. I was high and drunk as fuck. You were a fucking wreck over Maddison, but I can’t act the same way over Layla or Hunter disrespecting me?”
Caden stood up, hearing my temper start to crack in my voice.
Hayley got a say next: “Are you going back to rehab?”
I shook my head no, hoping that was gonna suffice. I looked to Palmer, who was quietly observing, “Well, you wanna fucking add anything?”
“We’re here for you, Ollie… always.”
She was the only person in the room with that opinion. She had the most experience with all kinds of people. She was the most unfazed when it came to heavy shit. Everyone else took it personal, like the biggest deception and move in betrayal I could have ever come up with. I ruined their hope in me, their confidence, and trust.
I was stuck hearing more of their opinions and questions as they searched for the role they played in my demise. None of their reactions felt new; this is exactly how every acted once I was out of rehab: blaming themselves, hating me for the displaced blame, and no one asking me what was wrong with me instead—not that I would have been able to tell them anyways.
It felt like hours later by the time I found an opening of silence that I could escape. I noticed B sitting in the corner chair, completely shocked by everything she shouldn’t have witnessed.
She was easy to miss when not imitating a traffic sign—loud and attention grabbing. I walked over to her, leaning down into her personal space.
“You aren’t a part of this family. You’re some girl Caden hasn’t gotten bored with fucking yet. If Layla finds out about anything said here, I will find exactly what destroys you, and I won’t stop until you know exactly what it’s like to wanna get high to turn everything off. Do you understand me?”
Caden didn’t bother stepping in. We both knew he wanted to be this cruel when it came to this group’s privacy, but he couldn’t—not unless he wanted to stop fucking B altogether.
I walked past Caden, pushing out my hand and demanding my phone, which he fished out rather quickly. I looked at my phone. It had been an hour and ten minutes since I sent my first message. I had exactly four messages—all from Layla:
