by Kata Čuić
I roll my eyes, even though there’s truth in his statement that’s impossible to deny, especially in light of current events. “So, now I’m found. Thanks for the help.”
“I didn’t help you as much as he did.” Kieran’s eyes dull with unmistakable sadness. “But, I’ll be damned if I stand by and watch him tear you down after he spent years building you up.”
He can’t possibly be suggesting what I think he’s suggesting. “Jason? Jason hasn’t ever done anything but be annoyed by me. He treats me like crap most of the time.”
This week is a prime example of that, although I probably shouldn’t have admitted as much to Kieran.
A low chuckle rumbles through the small alcove. “I’ll be the first to admit the guy’s rough around the edges, but he also gave you something I never could.”
“And what, pray tell, is that?”
“I don’t know what it is. I just know he gives it to you.” He doesn’t smirk at the potential double entendre. His face is completely open with an honest expression. “Maybe because he’ll never fit in, he gives you the freedom to be yourself instead of worrying about what everyone else thinks.”
As much as his words resonate within me, defending Jason is a reflex that can’t be suppressed. “Maybe Jason has taught me what other people think of me isn’t my responsibility. He fits in better than you think. His appearance isn’t what matters. People gravitate toward him because he has so much to offer.”
“Yeah?” Kieran’s eyes harden once more. “And what has he offered you this week when it’s obvious, even to me, you’re struggling?”
Well, if that isn’t a million-dollar question.
“What did you do to him?”
I look up from the homework I haven’t really been able to focus on to find Rosie standing in my doorway, breathing so hard her chest visibly rises and falls. Her nostrils flare like an angry bull, ready to charge should I be so bold as to wave a red flag.
In my self-loathing, I welcome the opportunity. “If you’re referring to your bestest buddy, Jason, I gave myself to him the way you think he deserves. Although, I have serious doubts about his supposed feelings for me. He treated me like a one-night stand, and I haven’t heard from him since.”
It’s been a week. Other than the morning after when I asked about him at The Beanery, my pride has kept me from reaching out. He’s as capable of texting or calling as I am. I can’t always be the one to make the first move. At some point, he either has to get over what Hayleigh did to him or continue to live his life in hiding. That choice belongs to him. Forcing what I want to happen would make me no better than her, and I already feel so low.
My little chat with Kieran the other day only firmed my resolve.
Rosie narrows her eyes, looking me up and down with suspicion, but she closes the door and enters my apartment anyway. “What do you mean, you haven’t heard from him all week? He couldn’t drag you out of the party last Saturday fast enough. I thought you two were finally moving forward.”
My blood pressure skyrockets. “Why would you storm into my apartment, accusing me of doing something to Jason if you thought things were progressing between us?”
“Because he’s been an absolute bear to live with all week, and it’s only getting worse.” She collapses onto the couch beside me with a huff. “He spilled a bit of coffee this morning when he was filling up his to-go thermos before class. It was just a drop, I swear, but he acted like it was the end of the world.”
“What does that mean?” Why would Jason even brew coffee in his apartment when he works at a coffee shop? Come to think of it, why wouldn’t he just go straight to class from work, like he usually does?
“It means he threw the thermos across the room, covering the kitchen in coffee, then he threw the entire coffee maker in the trash!” Rosie hops up from the couch, then paces the living room. “I don’t know what went down with you two between Saturday night and today, but you need to fix it! How is he supposed to fight tomorrow night if he can’t control his temper enough to think straight?”
“How am I supposed to fix anything if he won’t speak to me? He has my phone number, a key to my apartment. He knows my class schedule as well as anyone. If he wanted to have a heart-to-heart about his feelings on the matter, he knows damn well where and when to find me.” I understand this ploy for what it is: Rosie is trying to give me insight into Jason’s mind over the past week of his silence. But, I’m done with the games. The lies. The truths spun by whoever is speaking. “You two have never shied away from talking about me behind my back. I’m sure you know far more about his mood swings than I ever will. I wouldn’t even be surprised if he told you in detail how I talked him into it, let him do whatever he wanted as rough as he wanted, and the only thing I asked for in return was to be held instead of being kicked to the curb as soon as he was satisfied. He likely only acquiesced to that demand, so I wouldn’t go running to you to complain about his behavior like I did about Kieran in the past. I’m sure Jason was focused on sparing your free time for more entertaining pursuits.”
Rosie halts her pacing, turning on me with crossed arms and a glare. “You know damn well why he’s running with his tail tucked between his legs. I told you why he is the way he is. He’s probably freaking out, thinking you’re going to turn on him the way Hayleigh did. You need to be the one to bridge this gap. He’ll never do it on his own. He’s been burned too badly in the past.”
“Yeah, he has. But, I’m not allowed to call him out on it or make any reference to what happened in his past. I’m not supposed to know about it, remember? You made me promise not to breathe a word of it. So, until Jason quits being a coward and decides to talk to me, on his own, I’m not doing shit.”
Rosie’s sharp expression softens. “He needs you, Emma. Don’t do this to him.”
“He doesn’t need me,” I insist. “If he wants me, then he’s going to have to show me.”
She opens her mouth to argue, but I hold up a hand to stay her. “I think you should leave. Nothing may have ever happened between us if you hadn’t betrayed his confidence and filled my head with stupid hope about him harboring secret feelings for me all this time. I’m not going to have a relationship that relies on a middle woman. I’d rather go back to being a fuck toy than to have a third wheel between us because we have no ability to communicate with each other.”
To my surprise, Rosie’s shoulders fall as she nods in agreement. “Are you still coming to the fight tomorrow night, at least?”
I tip my head, readying myself to study her potential reaction. “I’m not needed at the fights. The only thing I’m responsible for is the reveal contained in the texts. I have my hands full with that, and honestly, I need to keep my focus there.”
Her mouth forms a displeased horseshoe. “You’re still as selfish as ever.”
Lie: The best things in life are free.
If I wasn’t wide awake at one in the morning, the pounding on my door would be exceedingly annoying. Since at least some of my neighbors might not be getting their drink on or partying away their Saturday night, I scurry to the door to check the peephole. It’s not like I wasn’t expecting—hoping—for this scenario to play out.
I’d recognize that head of thick hair anywhere. I fling open the door.
He raises his bloodshot gaze at the sound. A red river trickles down his cheek as he leans on Rosie for support. “I was going to walk here by myself—I swear—but I got too drunk.”
Rosie eyes my protective stance, not allowing them easy entry. “I’m not being the middle woman for anything other than medical treatment. And I tried,” she shakes Jason a bit, “to convince him to come right after the fight, but he wanted a little liquid courage first.”
I ignore the fact they’ve obviously been talking about me…again. It’s not in me to refuse anyone help when they need it, so I gesture for them to enter. Nothing has changed—Jason still can’t go to the ER for treatment if it’s something I can patch up.
“Where do you want him?” Rosie grunts with the effort of keeping him upright.
“The bed,” he answers for me.
I leave them to their own devices while I gather the necessary supplies from the medicine cabinet. As much as my tongue burns with questions as to why Jason seems in worse shape than he did after he purposely lost a fight, and why he needed liquid courage to seek medical treatment from his fake girlfriend who he banged then ghosted, I’m determined to hold onto my silence. My skin pricks with the expectation Rosie will do all the talking while Jason remains mute.
He’s resting on his side of the bed, his hands folded across his bare stomach, his eyes closed, and his breathing even. He looks comfortable, like he belongs there. An epiphany stops me in my tracks. He does belong there. That is his side of the bed.
“Where’s Rosie?”
He doesn’t crack his eyes open until the mattress shifts under my weight. “She left.”
I dab at the cut, cleaning the blood from his skin before it can transfer to the white pillowcase and sheets. Not that they aren’t already stained in places from previous fights.
He sighs when I swipe antiseptic over the broken skin.
“Does that hurt?”
“No.”
No more words are exchanged as I go about the now familiar process of dressing his wound, then checking him over for worse injuries. Fresh bruises darken the skin on his chest, ribs, and stomach.
He sighs again when I press on the area. “Kieran’s mad as hell.”
If he said anything to Jason about what’s going on between us, I’m going to be mad as hell. Definitely pissed enough to haul my ass across campus in the middle of the night, knock down his door, and give him an earful. Maybe even that throat punch I was itching to deliver the last time we spoke.
“I lost again. On purpose.”
I pull my hands away as his words singe my skin. There’s no hope of holding my tongue any longer. “Why would he ask you to do that? Haven’t there been enough shake-ups lately?”
“He didn’t ask.”
As much as I’m ready to break and beg, I wait for an explanation while I get back to my work. I’ve already said more than I intended.
He folds his hands over my own which are palpitating his breastbone. “I knew you wouldn’t refuse me lying in your bed if I was hurt.”
I try to pull away, but he’s so much stronger. He holds my hands against his wildly thrashing heart. Instead of concentrating on his panicked expression, I count the beats in my head, willing myself to at least act calm in the face of being played yet again. I can’t give him the power of knowing how much he affects me.
“I don’t want to sleep alone anymore. I like sleeping with you. I like being here in your space.” He sucks in a harsh breath, then sits up and cups my jaw in his bruised hands. “I tried to push you away, but it only made me think about you more. I tried to keep you out of this mess, but you dug your heels in deeper. I’m sick of trying everything I can think of only to fail.”
I shake my head, biting my lips in an effort to stop the building sob ballooning my chest. I can’t be his failure. That’s not fair to either of us.
“Yes,” he insists, even though he can’t possibly have any idea why I’m silently saying “no.”
His lips brush over mine, just the barest caress of sensation. “Please. Please let me come home. I swear, I’m ready to try. I’ll give you my all. If it doesn’t work, well…all I taste is failure anyway.”
I know what that admission means to him; what it costs him to give. And yet I can’t say a word.
“Tell me what to do. I’m not a romantic guy, but I’ve been trying. If hugging and spooning aren’t enough, I’ll do the whole flowers and fancy dinners thing. Whatever you want.”
His begging rubs me raw enough to abandon my vow of silence. “All I’ve ever wanted is the truth, the real you. So, don’t make promises you can’t keep. You wouldn’t even be telling me any of this now if you weren’t drunk. Needing liquid courage and an excuse to be here is proof you’re not ready.”
“Okay, truth. You want truth?” He squeezes his eyes shut, then opens them again, leveling me with his deep brown gaze. “I’ve been following you around all week, working up the courage to even speak to you after the lousy performance I gave the last time I was in this bed.”
Kieran said he’d been following me around, too. He was suspicious Jason wasn’t. Even if I didn’t notice either of them, what are the odds they didn’t notice each other? Who’s lying? “What are you talking about?”
He releases me, then lowers his chin, mumbling something incoherent.
“What was that?”
“I was a two-pump chump, all right?” He shouts, even though I’m less than an arm’s length away. The volume makes me flinch. He softens his tone and hauls me against his chest which only makes him flinch at the obvious pain it causes. “I know I don’t have anything to offer you, okay? Insufferable asshole is my default personality. I’ll never be an attractive guy. I’m not even any good in bed.”
That’s what he’s worried about? His past with Hayleigh withstanding, the idea makes me laugh out loud. “I came twice,” I mumble. It doesn’t escape my notice his perceived shame and mine are on polar opposites of the same spectrum. He’s embarrassed because he didn’t think he performed well enough; I’m ashamed I enjoyed it too much.
He pulls away, blinking at me. It could be the alcohol, or he might not understand what I said, but either way obvious confusion descends on his face. “You mean, you came twice with the vibrator I bought you after I fell asleep, right?”
I study the suddenly very interesting pattern of my bedspread and shake my head. Why didn’t I just lie? I totally should have lied.
Unfortunately for me, my silence isn’t something Jason wants to suffer tonight. He grasps my chin, then tilts my head up toward his gaze. “I did that to you? For you?”
Oh, right. I suck at lying. I can’t even get it right when I try. I nod. As much as I’m able with him holding my face exactly where he wants.
He repeats his earlier question as a statement and with a tone bordering on disgust.
“It was probably a fluke,” I offer. The mounting sense of tension between us stifles my lungs, and I’ll do anything to breathe again. “It’s never happened before. I always thought multiple orgasms were some kind of myth, only found in daydreams and romance novels.”
His reaction is the last thing I expect. Instead of agreeing or clamming up and shutting down the way he usually does when something makes him uncomfortable, he reaches out, brushing a strand of hair off my cheek. “Your horny, kinky friends filling your head with ideas about me being some kind of porn star don’t help. I’m just a regular guy. With the exception of this.” He releases me to gesture at his face. “But, no one’s singing praises about the only thing that makes me different.”
“Will you stop with that already?” I hiss. “You make it a point to constantly remind me you don’t want pity. Why are you playing the face card so much lately?”
“You wanted the real me.” He smirks, but the expression looks deranged because of his busted-up face. “Here I am. All yours, for better or worse.”
That promise doesn’t soothe my bruised ego in the slightest. “You wouldn’t even be here, telling me anything at all, if you hadn’t had a ‘little liquid courage first.’” I make air quotes and practically gag out the words Rosie had used. “It seems any time you confess your secrets to me there’s alcohol involved. If the past is any indication, you’ll either forget all about this by morning’s light, or you’ll pretend it never happened.”
A slight pang of guilt makes me swallow the rest of my tirade. Rosie has also mentioned how terrified of me Jason is. Whether that’s the truth or not remains to be seen. All anyone does is lie anymore. Me included.
Jason nods, but his eyes are fluttering to half-mast more often. “I can’t quit you, Dr. Sunshine, no matter how hard I try. So, I guess it’s tim
e to try something new. I’ll be the best boyfriend you’ve never had. You’ll see.”
I narrow my eyes and push him onto his side like he’s a feather. “I’ve had a boyfriend before, thank you.”
He laughs, but the sound gets muffled in the pillowcase. “King doesn’t count.”
“Oh? And what makes you think you do?”
“Because I’d do anything for you.” He yawns. “Even push you into someone else’s bed. I didn’t know he’d turn out to be such an asshole. Guess that’s something else I have to make–”
The insufferable asshole passes out on me, mid-sentence.
Truth: If something seems too good to be true, it probably is.
“I’m hungry. Do you want to break for dinner?”
I peek over the edge of my biology text to stare at Jason on the opposite end of the couch. We’ve been separately reading together in this position with our legs tangled together in the middle. It should be comfortable, but it’s not.
“Emma?”
For hours, I haven’t felt the need to fill the silence between us with meaningless babbling. It should feel like we’ve crossed a bridge, but it doesn’t.
He sighs. “Okay. We’ll wait, then.”
It’s been a week. He hasn’t run, hasn’t pretended the night he came to me after the fight never happened. I should be learning to trust he’s in this for real, but I’m not.
“Are you going to whip me up a gourmet, five-star meal?”
“Do you have ingredients for a gourmet, five-star meal in your kitchen?”
“I do not.”
He narrows his eyes. “Then, no.”
And this is how the week has gone, which may or may not be contributing to my anxiety. Where he promised fancy dinner dates and flowers, I’ve gotten sarcasm and forced study sessions. The latter of which I’ve been neglecting this semester, so I’m somewhat grateful, but still. The bastard tempted me with his golden words. I’ve been daydreaming about a potentially romantic Jason all week.
