My Best Friend's Ex

by Hazel Kelly

  “Not that,” she said, crossing her legs. “I want to know why you ran out of the room like the heels of your feet were on fire.”

  “I guess I can only take so much, ya know?” I ran my hand through my hair, and a chunk that was damp with sweat fell in front of my eyes. “I find the social events fun and everything, but after a while, I need a break.”

  “Which is why it’s so surprising you’re in a frat at all.”

  “Is it?”

  “To go from being an only child to living in a house with- what- fifty guys?”

  “Your family broke me in.”

  “That’s different,” she said. “You had your own space when you were living with us.”

  My chest warmed at the thought of the small loft over their double garage. Mr. Petersen had been so apologetic about not having space in the house for me, but it was perfect. Just what I needed. And more than I deserved.

  “Did you get tired of living on your own?”

  I folded my arms and shook my head. “No. It’s not that.” I couldn’t imagine not being on my own. Even with Piper I was alone. That’s what attracted me to her in the first place. She was lonely, too, and we were good at being alone together… and good at self-medicating with sex. Looking back, it was probably destructive for us both.

  When I lifted my gaze to Zoey again, she was leaning back in the broad chair, her delicate forearms draped across the wide armrests.

  “Why did you do it then?” she asked.

  “I wanted a change.” And a support system. People I could count on. “It seemed like the right move at the time.”

  She closed her eyes and her dark lashes fanned against her cheekbones.

  Why was she always doing that? Was she thinking or simply enjoying her buzz? And why was I so drawn to her peaceful expression when it seemed to contradict everything I understood about the world?

  Her eyes popped open a moment later. “So you’re Mr. Social Butterfly until you have to withdraw or you go crazy?”

  “Basically.”

  “And do you think you chose well? Like, of all the frats on campus, would you pick this one again?”

  “I think I would,” I said. “But it’s like any family, isn’t it?”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Well, there are always going to be family members you’re cool with and others who mightn’t have been your first choice.”

  She cocked her head.

  “I never would’ve picked you for a sister, for example.”

  “What?” she asked, straightening up in the chair.

  “You know what I mean.”

  Her eyes searched mine. “I’m not sure I do.”

  My stomach knotted. “How ‘bout that fresh air?”

  T H I R T E E N

  - Zoey -

  Logan rose from his chair and moved towards the window.

  “What do you mean you wouldn’t have picked me for a sister?” I asked again, a swarm of butterflies taking flight in my chest.

  “Nothing,” he said, forcing the stiff window open. “Forget it.”

  Not wanting to let the issue go, I pushed myself out of the deck chair, but I misjudged my steps, and my oversized boots kicked my cider bottle into a spin. “Shit,” I said, scrambling to grab it before more liquid could foam against the sawdust-covered carpet. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” he said, not even bothering to come look at the spill.

  “Do you have a towel or something?” I asked, watching the sticky puddle spread towards the legs of his chair.

  “Back of the door,” he said, swinging a leg out the window.

  Between panicking over my mess and wondering if I’d driven him to jump, my adrenaline spiked through the roof. Fortunately, I managed to soak up the spill before it reached his chair. But as I panted on my hands and knees, I realized the cloth bunched in my hands had probably been all over his naked body mere hours ago.

  Even worse, I wasn’t even moderately disgusted by the thought. On the contrary, I felt the same curious excitement I used to feel back home when I’d catch a glimpse of his boxers in the laundry room. Fuck. Who was I kidding? I wouldn’t have chosen him as a brother either. No woman would. You’d have to be a complete sadist.

  “You alright over there?”

  I stared down at the yellow stains on his white towel and cringed. “I think I’m drunk.”

  He let out a raspy laugh that reverberated so deep in my bones I was relieved he couldn’t see my face.

  “Don’t worry about it,” he said, appearing at my side and reaching a hand down to help me up.

  I didn’t take it. I was too busy dying of embarrassment. “What do you want me to do with the towel?”

  “Honestly?”

  I nodded up at him, realizing I’d never seen the fit of his jeans from this angle.

  “I want you to leave it there and not worry about it.”

  My forced smile was heavy with guilt as I took his hand.

  He pulled me to my feet like I weighed no more than a kitten.

  “I’m really sorry, Logan.”

  “I’m over it, Zo.”

  “I guess it’s not like I’m the first woman who’s spilled her fluids in here.”

  His face dropped.

  I felt mine go so red I thought my head might pop off. “How ‘bout that fresh air?” I asked, pushing past him and going over to the window. When I stuck my head out, I was surprised to see a tiny balcony nailed to the roof. It was made of the same light wood he used to make his furniture and barely looked big enough to hold two people. “Holy shit.”

  “I know,” he said, stepping up behind me. “Fresh air’s the best, isn’t it?”

  To be honest, it was a nice change from the strong… lived-in smell the rest of the house had, but it was the homemade porch that surprised me. “Did you put that there?” I asked, standing up so fast I banged my head on the window frame.

  I must’ve knocked it pretty hard, too, because when I looked up, Logan’s face was filled with panic. “Are you okay?”

  “Apart from my ego,” I mumbled, rubbing the back of my head and wondering if I’d always been such an insufferable klutz. “Guess that cider went to my head.”

  “Yeah. Couldn’t have been the vodka or the sixteen rounds of flip cup you played.”

  Oh god, I hope it was less than sixteen.

  “Let me see.”

  Before I could insist I was fine, he pulled me close, pushed my palm off the sore bump, and started picking through my hair like a finicky ape.

  I stared at his chest, part of me hoping it was fatal so I could die happily in his arms. The other part wondered if I could get him so shitfaced he might forget this night ever happened. Seriously, though, why did he smell so good? Even after being so sweaty and splashed with beer? Weren’t brothers supposed to smell icky and gross?

  “Looks okay to me,” he said finally, smoothing my hair down with his fingertips. “We can ice it if you want, though. We have enough ice downstairs to build a glacier.”

  “Thanks, Dr. Logan,” I said, raising my face to his. “But I’m sure that ice can be put to better use.”

  “You sure?”

  “Positive.”

  “I should probably still let your dad know you won’t need stitches,” he said, pulling his phone from his back pocket.

  I gasped and pushed it down with my hand.

  “Relax,” he said, obviously pleased with himself. “That was a joke.”

  “Not funny,” I said, glaring at him. “At. All.”

  He ran his hand over the bump again, and every hair on my body stood on end.

  “I was going to invite you out to my balcony,” he said. “But after your last few wobbles, it might be best to just pull a chair up to the window.”

  “I couldn’t agree more.”

  He rolled his desk chair over and sat down across from me on his bed.

  “You sit out there?”

  He nodded. “More than
I care to admit.”

  “That’s your thing, huh? Isolating yourself and always being slightly out of reach?”

  His face twisted. “I get out enough.”

  “I’m sure you do.” I tipped my finally settled cider down my throat. “Anyone particularly special that you’re getting out with?”

  “I take it you’re not counting people who pop their collars and strictly communicate through drinking games and fart jokes?”

  I cocked my head at him. “Correct.”

  “Then no,” he said. “No one particularly special.”

  I didn’t get it. Did he prefer being alone? Ever since I’d known him, he could’ve taken his pick of girls.

  “Why do you ask?”

  I looked around the room at the lack of personal effects and realized he barely owned anything that he hadn’t made himself. “Just trying to figure out if you’re as big a heartbreaker now as you were in high school.”

  He furrowed his brow. “High school? Whose heart did I ever break in high school?”

  A lump formed in my throat, and I turned my gaze out the window to the dark branches on the closest tree.

  “She hates me, doesn’t she?” he asked softly.

  “Who?”

  “Piper.”

  I squeezed the bottle in my hand as my heart sank. And there she was. Coming between us again.

  F O U R T E E N

  - Logan -

  When Zoey didn’t answer right away, I was worried I said the wrong thing, but I couldn’t backpedal. After all, I did want to know whether Piper was okay after everything that went down before I left for college.

  My gut feeling was that she was fine. If anything, I always got the sense that losing the baby hit me harder than it hit her. Not in terms of the physical loss, which was a trauma I would never understand or be dismissive of, but because I wanted that baby more than she did.

  Whether that was because she lacked faith in me or because of the horrible things her parents said to her at the time, I’ll never know. All I know is that if my kid fell pregnant, encouraging her to abort my grandchild is the last thing I would do. It wouldn’t matter if I thought the baby’s father lacked pedigree… or whatever the hell they had against me.

  She stood up to them in the end, though, and said it was out of the question, said she wouldn’t dream of it when the two people she loved most had both been adopted. I didn’t think I’d ever be prouder of anyone than I was of her that day.

  So when she lost the baby, it felt like her parents had won. To add insult to injury, she was more relieved than anything. I don’t know what broke my heart more, losing the daughter that would’ve finally brought meaning to my life or Piper looking me in the eye and telling me we were “better off,” that we’d been given a “second chance.”

  As if I didn’t know all about second chances and how fucking overrated they were.

  That little girl was going to be my chance to do something right the first time around.

  I was building her goddamn crib when I got the call for chrissakes.

  “Actually, she asked me to say hi if I saw you,” Zoey said, still staring out the window. “I just forgot.”

  I raised my brows.

  “Speaking of which.” She looked down and pulled her tiny purse across her body before taking out a folded letter. “Your mail,” she said, handing it over. “Sorry it took me so long to get it to you.”

  “Thanks,” I said, tossing it on the bed and feeling sick at the memories I’d dredged up.

  “She’s okay, anyway. If that’s what you’re asking.”

  I nodded.

  “She doesn’t hate you.”

  I looked down at my hands gripping the now-empty bottle.

  “She doesn’t love you either.”

  I lifted my face.

  “Not in a bad way,” she said. “She’s just moved on. Like she’s not hung up or bitter or pining.”

  “Good.”

  She narrowed her bloodshot eyes at me. “Do you mean that?”

  “Mean what?”

  “You’re glad she doesn’t love you anymore?”

  “It’s not like she was going to love me forever,” I said, the truth hurting more than I expected. “Besides, it’s healthy that she’s moved on.”

  Zoey chewed on the edge of her lip.

  “I only want what’s best for her.” I picked at the edge of the label on the bottle. “It’s not like that’s changed.”

  She stood and walked towards the door.

  I straightened up but relaxed again when I realized she was only going to the mini-fridge.

  “Same again?” she asked, bending over to open it.

  My eyes climbed the back of her bare legs. “Please.”

  She only pulled one bottle out.

  “Grab one for yourself.”

  “I’m good,” she said, handing me the cold one. “Still working on mine. Thanks, though.”

  I set my empty on the bedside table.

  “Oh shit, it’s not a twist off, is it?”

  “Don’t worry,” I said, balancing the cap on the edge of the window frame before smacking it with the side of my fist.

  “Neat trick,” she said as I set the cap down on my nightstand.

  “Hey, if you’re lucky, you might be able to do that after two years of college, too.”

  She smiled and crossed her legs. “What about you, Logan?”

  “What about me?” I set the beer down and leaned back on my hands.

  “Have you moved on?” she asked. “From all the drama with Piper and… everything.”

  “Ah yeah, it’s history,” I said, feigning a casualness that didn’t quite come naturally. “I mean, it’s a shame things got so messy at the end. So ugly.”

  “Ugly?” she asked, leaning an elbow on the window sill.

  “Maybe ugly’s not the right word. The ends of relationships are just stressful, ya know? People say things they don’t mean, hurtful things. Things that aren’t even true.”

  “I wouldn’t know.”

  I studied her.

  “Not to make this super-heavy conversation about me and my embarrassing lack of relationship experience.”

  One corner of my mouth curled up.

  She looked down at her lap.

  “You’re not that inexperienced,” I said, realizing I had no fucking idea how much experience she had. I couldn’t remember her ever having an official boyfriend, but she never came up short when she needed a date to a school dance either. Then again, every time I tried to picture a guy she hung out with, red mist descended on the memory until his face was completely blurred out. “Besides, I wouldn’t wish what Piper and I went through on anyone.”

  “I blame my untimely braces,” she said, furrowing her brow.

  I was relieved to be moving away from the topic of me and Piper.

  “That and the fact that my signature style for most of my life has been hand-me-down couture.”

  I smiled at her light joke, but all I could think about suddenly was how much I didn’t know about her. “Better to be an awkward teenager than an awkward adult.”

  “So you agree I was super awkward?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  She scoffed. “You implied it.”

  “I implied that you’re a swan.”

  “A what?”

  “Oh come on. You know how the ugly duckling becomes a swan?”

  Her mouth fell open. “Now I’m an ugly duckling!”

  Fuck. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “Well, it sure came out wrong!” She leaned back in the swivel chair and shook her head out the window. “Jesus. I wish you’d say something to make me forget you said that. Anything at all.”

  “I thought you were beautiful.”

  Her eyes pinged back to me.

  “That first night your dad invited me to dinner at your house… I thought you were the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen.”

  She swallowed.

&nb
sp; “Braces and all.” I held her gaze, my heart racing. That hasn’t changed, I wanted to say. But based on her stunned expression, I’d already said too much.

  After a few seconds of heavy silence, she opened her mouth to speak but closed it again, trapping me in a torturous purgatory.

  “How was that?” I asked, affecting a light-hearted tone. “Did it work?”

  She searched my eyes. “Were you just saying that?”

  Lie. Turn it into a joke. Stop digging this fucking grave for yourself.

  “To cheer me up?” she asked. “After the ugly duckling debacle?”

  I slid my palms along my jean-covered thighs.

  Her eyebrows lifted in question.

  “I wish,” I said finally. “I wish I was just saying that.”

  An ambulance siren rang out in the distance, but she didn’t turn towards the window. Instead, she kept her eyes fixed on me with an intensity that made me wonder if she even realized she was staring.

  I wish you weren’t my sister, too, I wanted to add. I wish everything had gone differently.

  She snapped out of her trance when her phone buzzed to life and gasped for breath so hard I felt like I should’ve noticed she’d stopped breathing.

  I stood and went to add my empty bottle to the small collection of empties under my desk. Not because it was urgent, but because the air by the window had become stifling.

  “I’m going to head back downstairs,” she said. “Nina needs help getting her wasted cousin out of here.”

  “You need help?” I asked, torn between wanting her to go and wanting her to never leave.

  “What are you going to do? Drive us all home?”

  “I’m too loaded for that, unfortunately, but I could escort you on foot.”

  She handed me her empty bottle. “I think we’ll manage.”

  “Call if you need backup?”

  She nodded. “I will, thanks.”

  “Or if you need anything else,” I added, opening the door to the hall. “You know where to find me.”

  “Yeah.” She pointed at the window. “Out on the ledge.”

  “Seriously, though.”

  “I know,” she said, blushing before she tore her eyes from mine.

  I closed the door behind her and let out the biggest sigh of my life, convinced I hadn’t taken a regular breath since she stepped foot in my room. Then I collapsed on the bed and wedged my hands under my head, staring at the water-marked ceiling as I listened to the muffled music thumping through the floor. It was strangely hypnotic after a while, so I closed my eyes and wondered what Zoey saw when she disappeared into herself like that.