Rumor Has It: The Complete Series

by Tucker, RH

  Getting back to the apartment, I flop down on the couch, pulling out my phone once again. It’s been my go-to spot and activity for weeks now. Stalking her social media pages, pulling up pictures of us. Bringing up her phone number to maybe call her only to turn my phone off and internally scream at myself. I hate sleeping in my room. Our room. There aren’t any sheets on my bed because I pulled them off to wash a day after our argument in the morning. I don’t want to clean them and lose how they smell of her, but I don’t want to sleep on them either.

  Hearing a giggle outside of our door, I grind my teeth.

  Taylor’s been really considerate—especially considering it’s Taylor—to keep the noise down around the apartment, but I can’t do this right now. Maybe if he would’ve just left me alone to stew tonight, I’d throw on my headphones and ignore him, but I’m over everything Taylor related.

  “Micah,” he calls out, walking in. When I turn around to give him a blatant hint that I’m not in the mood to put up with his shenanigans, I find not one but two girls with him. “Come on, we’re going back out.”

  I wrinkle my nose, shaking my head. “What? No. I’m done for the night.”

  “Stop that. Let’s go. Mandy and Willow know of this party on the beach.”

  Turning back around, I fall back onto the sofa. “I said no. Go have a threesome or something.”

  I hear a scoff from one of the girls.

  “Hey, dick, that’s rude,” Taylor’s stern voice echoes in the apartment.

  For all his promiscuous tendencies, he’s always straight-up with every girl he talks to. He doesn’t want any type of serious relationship, and he makes sure they know it. And as much as he talks a big game to his other friends, I know he’s masking what’s really going on with him.

  Even knowing that, I’m still annoyed with him. “I don’t care.”

  “What the hell, Micah?”

  “Should we wait outside?” one of the girls asks.

  “No. Micah, you don’t want to go, fine. You want to wallow here in misery? Whatever. But you owe them an apology.”

  He’s probably right, but I don’t care. “Apology?” I shout, getting back to my feet and turning around. “Mandy?” I point to the girl standing next to him. “Sorry, okay? You might want to get tested tomorrow because he just slept with a different girl last night.”

  Her jaw drops.

  “Micah!”

  “Screw this, I’m leaving. Let’s go, Willow,” Mandy says and storms out of the apartment with her friend.

  “You asshole!” Taylor yells at me, and I know it’s not because I just cost him a possible night with a girl. He’s pissed. “That was totally uncalled for. If you want to cry yourself to sleep every night because you’re too much of a coward to step up, I don’t give a shit. But don’t act like an asshole with everyone else.”

  “Go to hell. I’m doing the best I can, all right? I screwed up everything and have no idea how to fix it. One girl wants me, and now because of a damn history lesson, I’m wondering if I really should give her another chance. Meanwhile, I threw every insecurity Veronica has in her face, and I loved her more than I ever did Lana. So, excuse me if I’m not acting according to the timeline you think I should.”

  “Are you listening to yourself?” He walks over in front of me, putting a finger in my chest. “‘Oh, there’s a girl out there who loves me, and I’m not sure what to do.’ Is that the argument you really want to have with me? Because I’ll tell you right now, you’re gonna lose that battle.”

  “Get out of my face.” I push his hand away. “Go find a nameless bimbo and have another one-night stand.”

  “No, you need to listen to me.” He presses his hand against my shoulder.

  I push it off. “I said leave me alone.”

  “I’m not going to leave you alone until I talk some sense into you.”

  This time I’m the one putting my hands on him, shoving him back. “Yeah, like I really need to have you talk to me.”

  “Don’t push me, bro.”

  “‘Endorphins, man,’” I mock him. “‘Let’s hit the weights. Oh, what’s that? Feeling down again? Let’s just go hit on some chick at the beach, bring her back, screw her sideways.’ Huh? Is that it, Mr. Casanova? You want me to screw everything that walks, hiding what’s really going on inside?”

  “Micah, I’m serious, take a step back.”

  Stepping closer, I push him with both hands. “Or what? What are you gonna do, Taylor? You have no idea what I’m going through right now.”

  “You know that’s bullshit. I know exactly what you’re going through. The only difference is, you have the chance I’ll never have. So don’t come at me with that crap, just because you’re too much of a coward to make a move.”

  Before I know what I’m doing, I cock my fist back and swing. My knuckles connect with the side of his mouth, making him stumble back. Snapping his head back at me, his eyes lock on mine. It’s not rage that they’re filled with, it’s exasperation. But I know he’s infuriated because his next move is to leap, wrapping his arms around me, sending us crashing down on top of the couch.

  I swing again, but he moves out of the way, locking one of my arms into the air. “Let me go, Taylor.”

  He doesn’t answer, and I flail around on the couch, trying to counter his moves. Struggling, we slide up the top of the sofa, and I know what’s he’s trying to do. At the gym, we have different classes, and he takes boxing and jujitsu classes. I’ve sat in on a couple of the jujitsu ones, and the ways he’s moving, he’s trying to put me in a hold.

  “Let me go, asshole!”

  “Not until you listen to me.”

  I don’t listen. Squirming again, trying to get away from him, I swing my free arm and elbow him in the ribs. He growls out in pain but doesn’t let go. Instead, we’re teetering on the top of the couch, and then we both tumble over it. Putting my hand down to break our fall, he makes his move and finally has position, locking his arms around my neck in a rear naked choke—a sleeper hold.

  “Micah, calm your ass down, or you’re going out.”

  I squirm, trying to claw my fingers into his arms, but it’s no use. He’s got the hold locked in. I wave my arms around, trying to get an angle to elbow him again, but I can’t. I feel his grip getting tighter.

  “Micah?” he asks. I grunt back, half still struggling, half giving up. “Micah!”

  “Fine,” the word chokes out.

  He lets me go, and the sudden rush of air streams into my lungs. Scooting over to the side, he lifts his knees, resting his arms on them, letting out a long sigh. I continue to hold my neck, gazing at the carpet in embarrassment, still gasping for air.

  “Damn it, Micah,” he groans out.

  “Sorry,” I whisper.

  “Yeah … me too.”

  Leaning against the back of the couch, I see him pick at the carpet. The silence drifts between us a few minutes before he finally speaks ups again.

  “Man, you’re my best friend. When I transferred to Woodbridge, not knowing anyone, I was hoping I’d just drift through my senior year. But here we are, two years later, and you’re like a brother, Micah.” I look over at him, finding his eyes for a brief moment before his gaze drops back down to the carpet. “I hate that you’re going through this, I really do. But you know I know what it feels like. With Lana, I couldn’t care less. But with Veronica, I’ve seen it. You were happier these last months with her than I ever saw you with Lana. That’s why I’m pushing you. Not because I want you to give up on that, but because I don’t. I want you to snap out of it, and finally do something. Because take it from me …”

  He picks at the carpet some more. I’m not sure if he’s going to finish his thought, even though I know the direction he’s heading in. Maybe it’s best left unspoken. If not for me, at least for him. But before I can respond, he starts up again.

  “I know what you’re going through. I know what it feels like to try and breathe, and it hurts. To want to do
something, but you know there isn’t anything you can do. Suck it up and go to her. Figure it out. Because sometimes you don’t get a second chance.”

  I nod slowly, peering back at the carpet. There’s a sniff, and when I glance at him, his arm brushes across his face. Without looking over at me, he holds out his fist, and I silently bump his knuckles.

  “I’m gonna take off,” he says, getting to his feet. “You good?”

  “Yeah,” I reply. “Just gonna sit here a while. Try to figure out my next move.”

  “Okay.”

  I stay seated, leaning back against the sofa, staring up at the ceiling. What could I possibly say to make this right? Obviously the truth, which is I don’t think she’s too good for me. I think she’s perfect for me. But will she want to hear it? Would I even get to tell her, if her brothers are there? I know they probably hate me more than she does right now.

  Screw it.

  I need to do this. Going to my room, I get the key I had made for her. I don’t have a clue what I’m going to say, but I know what I want. I want her. Maybe if I just try to explain that little part, we can start there and work on everything else.

  More urgency in my steps, I swing open the door to leave and nearly crash into her.

  “Veronica?”

  Her hand is up like she was just about to knock. “Oh, hi. Were you … were you leaving?” She looks away, and I can see her holding something. A paper she clutches to her chest. “I can come back. This was probably a mistake.”

  “Wait.” I step back, opening the door wider. “Do you … do you want to come in?”

  “No, I better not.”

  I frown, wanting to know why she thinks she shouldn’t come inside but don’t ask. “I was just on my way to see you actually.”

  “You were?”

  “Yeah.” I nod. “I want to apologize. I want to fix this. Us. Here,” I pull out the key, “I had this made and never got to give it to you. It was supposed to be, I don’t know, a small token. I miss you, Vero.”

  She takes the key, inspecting it. “I’m not sure I should have this.”

  A piece of my heart cracks. Powering through her doubts, I motion into the apartment again. “Please, come inside. Let’s talk.”

  Her fingers tighten around the paper, which looking again appears to be an envelope. She leans closer, peering into the apartment, almost like she’s afraid to take a step inside. “No. I only came by to give you this.”

  Slightly creased and wrinkled, she hands me the envelope.

  “What’s this?”

  As she turns her head away from me, I can see her swallow nervously. She bites the edge of her lip, her eyes looking anywhere but my own. “It’s … it’s just something I need to tell you. But I’m not … I thought it’d be easier to write.”

  My face drops. “Is this a Dear John letter?”

  “No,” she says, offering a shake of her head, her eyes finally finding mine. “At least, I hope not.” She takes a tiny step closer, and it’s all it takes for my mind to go into overdrive.

  I want to hold her. Stare into those dark brown eyes and kiss her, forgetting all of these issues we have. Her next words make me realize we can’t just forget our issues. We need to fix them.

  “It’s just words I’m not brave enough to say out loud.”

  Chapter 36

  Veronica

  The bell rings, and as everyone hurries to leave and get to their next class, I sit quietly at my desk. It’s a graphic design class, and I should be doing what everyone else is doing. Seats are always hard to come by the first week of the semester, not to mention the first day of classes. But I can’t focus. Micah took this class last year. Same professor. Same room. Trying to listen to the lecture and syllabus for the semester, my mind has drifted the entire time, wondering what seat he had.

  It’s been three days since I dropped off the letter.

  When I got home, I told Yesenia that I dropped it off. I was still nervous about doing it, and she must’ve been able to tell because she didn’t say anything, simply giving me a supportive hug, letting me know again she was here if I needed to talk.

  The first thing I told him was something I’m not sure he knew. I knew him in high school, but we were properly introduced at a bonfire after we graduated. When I saw him around school, I thought he was cute, but when I met him at the bonfire, that’s when I started to crush on him.

  And the letter just escalated from there. Talking about times during our first semester I saw him, and even though I wasn’t sure if he was dating anyone, I never dared to speak more than a couple of words to him because of how insecure I was. I am. How if I went to his gym, I’d take a hoodie in case he was there so he couldn’t tell who I was but I could see him. I know, stalker much?

  Then when the second semester rolled around, I told him how I thought I was finally working up enough courage to talk to him. Not to ask him out, but just try to have a fully functioning conversation with him. That’s when I saw him with Lana. I hadn’t seen him with her much the semester before, but I remembered them together back in high school. I told him I thought she was perfect for him. Not too short, a slim, athletic figure that seemed to go hand-in-hand with his. I could daydream all I want about him, but I wrote that I’d never be as good of a match for him as her.

  But then he kissed me.

  Honestly, I wasn’t expecting to write as much as I did. I thought I’d get out a few words and crumple up the paper, never giving it to him. Or, if I was able to put together enough words to tell him how I felt, I thought it’d be a paragraph. Maybe two, at the most. I didn’t expect it to be eight pages, all written on lined notebook paper. I guess I had a lot more to say about my feelings than I thought.

  I told him how he made me feel in the beginning. When he kissed me, or when he took my hand as we walked through the street fair that first night. Even the night we had sex and the next day when he told me he loved me. I told him I believed him then and I still believe him. But the most important part was to tell him that when I’m with him, I believe his words. I believe I’m beautiful, and sexy, and wanted. But they’re like a shield. A force-field that blocks out all my negative feelings about myself, but it’s only for a limited time. Because when I leave his arms, I’m thrown back right into the real world. And in the real world, girls like me don’t get guys like him.

  It reminded me of my discussion with Sofia. How I was telling her she was wrong about the same insecurities I was feeling. And I didn’t feel like I was lying, but when the conversation was over, I didn’t know how to believe them myself.

  I told him so many things that I thought it was too much. That he’d read it—after waking from fainting over the number of pages in the envelope—and that it’d be over. We’d be over.

  But then he called me that night. And I ignored his call. He texted me. And I ignored that, too.

  I don’t know what he wanted to tell me, but I told him I wasn’t done. I’d written so much, but I ended it telling him I still needed time. I need to get a grip on this and that there’s something else I need to say to him. I want to be with him. I want to know he’s my future and that I’m his. But I don’t know how to actively pursue that future and at the same time, fight off every insecurity I feel after I leave his arms.

  So I asked him for time. Time I don’t even think I deserve because who tells someone they want to be with them but asks them to wait without telling them how long. A week? A month? Why would he wait for me when girls are lusting over him on a daily basis? And there are the worries again, flooding through me like an avalanche.

  I finally make my way outside. My next class isn’t for an hour, so I asked Cindy to meet me at the café. As soon as I walk in, I see her waving at me. I’m about to wave back when I see Micah and Taylor walk in on the opposite side. Spinning around, I hurry to a restroom. As I scurry over to it, I duck my head between my shoulders, staring at the ground, hoping he doesn’t see me.

  Getting inside, I lean again
st the door, feeling hopeless. We aren’t broken up. Estranged, sure, but he’s still my boyfriend. Why am I acting like this? He obviously wants to talk about what I wrote, or he wouldn’t have called and messaged me. But I’m not ready. I need to get the last part out of me.

  I feel the door push against me, and I step out of the way.

  “What are you doing?” Cindy asks, walking inside.

  Moving over to the wall, I cross my arms and hang my head. “I saw Micah behind you. I can’t see him right now.”

  “He saw you.” She sounds perplexed.

  “He did?” I cover my face.

  “Yes. What’s wrong? He asked me if I thought you wanted to end things. He says you haven’t returned his calls.”

  I haven’t told Cindy about the letter. Only Yesenia knows I gave it to him. “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know if you want to break up?”

  “No, I don’t want to break up. I just don’t know what’s wrong with me. I gave him this long letter, basically telling him how I felt when we got together and these last couple months, and how I’ve always just felt like a side dish and never the main entrée with him.”

  “You did?” She cringes, making my embarrassment rise.

  “Yes! And I told him I don’t want to break up, but I still need time, and I have to figure everything else out.” I expect her to counter my arguments like she’s done in the past. To tell me I’m wrong or give me some kind of pep talk, but she doesn’t. She takes a step closer, wrapping an arm around me, nodding. “Did he … was he upset right now when he saw me?”

  “No, not really. He just seemed confused.”

  “Is he still out there?”

  She shakes her head. “He left. He said to tell you he wants to talk.”

  Letting out a long breath, I nod. I know we need to talk. But I have to get these fears of my future out, too. And I need to do it soon.

  Chapter 37

  Micah