Anyone but Him

by Cassie Graham

  I’m an idiot.

  I’m an idiot.

  I’m an idiot.

  I’M AN IDIOT WHO MADE the right decision, but an idiot nonetheless.

  I haven’t talked to Whitley in weeks. Every day is the same. I wake up; go to the gym, because what else is there to do? Come home and think about Whitley. I go to table reads for my guest appearance on Holli’s show occasionally, but that doesn’t last long enough for me to stop overanalyzing everything I did. I decided to take the role the minute I broke up with Whit. It was something to look forward to and school is just depressing. I don’t have a class with Whitley anymore—hell, I don’t see her ever. Oliver has tried to text her, because I’m a spineless fucker, but she hasn’t said anything back. She’s pulling away from everyone it seems. I’ve spoken to Holli on a few occasions while at the studio, but she pretty much gives me the death stare and I steer clear. She gives me a pointed, “hi,” but refuses to listen to my reasoning for breaking up with Whit. Not that I blame her. What I did seems like a prick thing to do, I know, but Amy is so off her rocker, I’m not sure what she’ll do if she gets her hands on Whitley. I can’t even give the thought the time of day. Anything or anyone hurting her is enough to set me on a rage filled tirade. And at this moment in the game, it’s best for me to let the police do their job and find her. I don’t want to set Amy off any more than she already is. I haven’t been seen in public with Whitley, so I’m hoping that’ll take the target off of her back. Amy is very flighty. Any woman I’ve ever been seen with, got over looked, so maybe because I traveled with Whit, Amy thinks it’s more serious than it really is? Actually, there’s no seriousness at all, I walked away. But, throughout my entire career, I’ve never done serious, Amy probably knows this. She knows my ways, she knows the things I do and the things I don’t. She knows women come and go. Whit was a player in her game that she wasn’t expecting. So, she acted on instinct. She had told me many times that “I’m hers,” and I never actually took her seriously. That was my first mistake. I should have never thought Amy wasn’t a threat. I should have always had it in the back of my mind that she was always out there. Always lurking. I let her have the upper hand, and I failed Whitley.

  I feel like an animal. Trapped in my own little world with nowhere to escape.

  I know I made an error in judgment. I know I fucked up the only good relationship I’ve ever had. I know I’m screwing with Whitley’s head because I gave her that note.

  I know…

  But, the idiot in me wanted her to know that this isn’t what I really want. It’s what I think is best. She may not understand it—hell, I don’t really understand it, but it feels like the smartest thing to do. I recognize the dangers of keeping her in my life. It entails Amy going off the rails and doing something senseless—illegal…unsafe. I’d rather she go after me than take it out on Whitley.

  “Dude,” Blaine says, snapping his fingers in front of my face. “You with me?”

  I shake my thoughts of Whitley and look away from the window. I have no idea what’s up with the weather lately, but it seems to match my mood. Dreary and angry. If the sky isn’t spitting rain, it’s yelling thunder. And, at the moment, it’s doing both.

  “Yeah, man.” I take off my sunglasses and set them on the table. “Sorry.”

  His slicked back black hair lusters in the lighting and he smiles, his green eyes looking concerned. “It’s cool. What’s going on with you? Bradley told me something was up. You’re not the same Jennings who’s constantly busting on my balls. I miss him a little,” he mocks.

  I roll my eyes. “Shut up, dick. I’ve just got a lot of shit going on.”

  He gives me a level stare. “Like, wrecking Whitley?”

  My eyes shoot up. “I wrecked Whit?” My heart begins to speed up at the mention of her and the fact that I broke her heart. I thought she would have moved on by now.

  “God, you’re a douche.” Blaine snaps his skinny suspenders. Yeah, he’s the type of guy who wears rolled jeans and Toms. I’d make fun of him but I kind of dig his original style. “She’s—not great. And, that’s all you’re getting. I’m already on Holli’s shit list for meeting with you.”

  I drag my hand through my hair, pulling the ends. “She’s pretty pissed at me.”

  He snorts in his drink. “No, shit. But, there’s a reason for us having lunch and it’s not to discuss the catastrophic shit storm you have brewing above your head right now.”

  I narrow my eyes and look up. “Shut up.”

  He clasps my shoulder. “Sorry, buddy.”

  “So, why are we meeting?”

  He signals the waitress, subtlety and I hide my face. Having lunch in downtown Calabasas probably wasn’t the best idea. Stewart snuck me in the exit and got us a table in the back, but that doesn’t mean this entire secretive operation won’t be shattered by one click of a camera. “The wedding is in December and I want you to be my best man.”

  “Really?” I clarify. I figured I’d be in the wedding party. Blaine and I are pretty close, but I didn’t think he’d want me to be his best man.

  He rolls his eyes. “Yes, really. Now, look away, the waitress is coming.”

  I move my eyes back to the window and watch a group of teenagers play a game of volleyball in the sand by the water. In California, people still hang on the beach even when the weather is crap. A hurricane could hit and there would probably still be people out surfing the waves.

  As they volley back and forth, I notice a couple holding hands and kissing just down the way. They look in love and it sort of pisses me off. Will I ever have anything like that? Will Amy make it impossible for me to have a relationship?

  Blaine gives our order and I look back.

  “Holli has the entire month planned out, and it’s going to be hell to get everyone here, but it should be fun.”

  “The press junket for The Last of You starts in December, but I’ll make it work. I should be good to go. Where are you having it?”

  Blaine looks clueless and fishes out his phone from his pocket, tapping the screen. “Some winery upstate.”

  “Nice.”

  “So, you’re good?” Blaine asks slowly, his anxious expression back.

  “Yeahhh,” I drag out, giving him an odd look.

  “Whitley is the maid of honor,” he mumbles under his breath, looking in all other directions.

  Slam. Gut punch. My nasty reality slaps me in the face and now I understand why he was so apprehensive to ask.

  I clear my throat. Being in the same room as her will kill me, but I’m not going to lie, it gives me something to look forward to. Death by sight of my girl, I’ll take it.

  “It’s fine.”

  “Sure it is,” Blaine leers, kicking me under the table.

  I jump. “The fuck, dude?”

  “Waitress.” He points.

  “Idiot,” I mutter as I run my head away and lower the hat on my head.

  “Holli!” I shout. “Holls!”

  I’m tired of her Ice Queen act. I’m going to corner her and make her hear me out. Her show has decided to keep me on for a few episodes so I’ve been bouncing back and forth between Vancouver and L.A. almost every day for the past month and the only thing she gives me is daggers of hate. I’m ready for it to be done so we can get back to being friends. Bradley has been out of town filming his next installment flick and I’ve missed being a normal human being as opposed to being stuck in this rut of my own doing.

  “What?” she snaps, spinning on her heel as I grab her upper arm, hoping to stop her from slamming her door in my face.

  “Hear me out,” I beg. “Please.”

  Her eyes pointed, she pokes me in the chest. “You are a ruiner of love.”

  I back away from her potential murder finger. “What are you talking about?”

  She bares her teeth and her face becomes a shade of red that makes me fearful for my life. “You, you dick. Whitley. She’s in love with you and you ruined everything.”

&n
bsp; I shake my head. “She doesn’t love me, Holli.” She can’t.

  “Not now, she doesn’t!” she yells, throwing her hands in the air.

  “Good.” I cross my arms. It’s better this way. They still haven’t found Amy and I know she’s out there lurking. Waiting for me to mess up.

  “Good?! You think that’s good? What the hell, Jennings? You left her when she needed you most!”

  I can just see the exclamation points falling out of her mouth.

  I feel my face drain of blood. “What happened?”

  She pulls me in to her dressing room and slams the door, shoving me toward the couch and sitting on a chair across the room. “Shit hit the fan. That’s what happened.”

  I stay quiet.

  She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. “It’s not my story to tell. Not at all. She kept it from me all of this time.”

  “Kept what from you?”

  She shakes her head. “Her past. What happened to her in Kansas.”

  “She never told me.”

  Holli sits back in the chair, her chocolate hair falling in her face. “Yeah, well, now she never will. But, she needed you when you guys got back from vacation and you left her.”

  “Because I had to!” I stand up.

  “Bullshit,” Holli retorts, rising from her seat, looking me square in the eyes.

  “Holli,” I exhale. “It’s Amy.”

  She immediately sits down. “Oh.”

  I follow. “Yeah, oh.”

  “Whitley didn’t go into detail about what happened with you two. I just assumed you were finally living up to your playboy status.”

  I snort, not amused. “You think very highly of me, Holli Sloane.”

  “Sorry.” She cowers.

  “We’ll talk about it later. What happened with Whitley?”

  She crosses her arms and legs. “I’m sorry, Jennings.”

  Damn, she’s not budging.

  I clasp my hands and rest them on my knees, and I feel myself tearing up. I swear I’ve only ever cried one time in the past ten years and both involve Whitley. I’m falling apart. This woman has ruined me. “Please…please Holli.”

  A tear escapes her eye and she swats it away. “Here’s what I can tell you…”

  I WAS FIVE DAYS SHY of my seventeenth birthday when I stopped believing in fairy tales. It was that same day I stopped believing in anything real. I just stopped feeling. Stopped seeing the good in things. Only saw the reality. And most of the time, reality sucked.

  I was one month shy of my eighteenth birthday when I met Holli and she chiseled her way through my barriers. She brought camaraderie into my life, and a place to feel safe. I went to college with a plan. I wasn’t going to be the broken girl. I was going to be a Whitley who knew how to guard her heart and not get hurt. I was going to stop being the comatose zombie, walking around without hope and I was going to find a way to get my shit straightened out and live a life that would piss Cade off. I wanted his threats and promises to mean absolutely nothing. I wanted to spit in his honor…his memory because he ruined everything good in my life. He forced me to give up my life. He helped play a big part my in escape. Paved my way to banishment. No one wanted me in that little town when he was done with me. Not that I wanted to stay after what happened. All of the side glances and judgement, I was glad to leave. I couldn’t take the scrutiny. After the trial, my life drastically changed. I was a headliner in every news outlet within a three hundred mile radius. “Little Black Widow Removes The Poison,” the headlines read. The events that led to me putting Cade away are still too much to think about.

  So, now I’m a month shy of my twenty-fifth birthday and I’m about to go back to Scarsdale, Kansas to defend my reasoning. I never thought I’d be here. After everything that happened, I thought I’d be done. Done with the nonstop questioning, done reliving the most painful parts of my past, done watching my hurt lay out on the table as a jury and a board of people, apparently, dissect it. I thought Whitley Hayes could move on and leave Whitley Sanders in the dust.

  I was wrong.

  “So, are you thinking about what you want to wear for the wedding?” Holli asks as I watch her try on the twenty-second wedding dress.

  “It’s your wedding, Holls. You tell me what to wear.”

  She twirls around, lifting up the dress. “In that case…” she stops, using her pointer finger to tap on her chin. “You should wear something like that.” She points behind me and I turn.

  “Oh, God.” I cover my mouth, laughing. “I take it back. That abomination of a bridesmaid dress should be burned. Not showcased on a poor helpless mannequin.”

  “It looks like someone threw up ruffles.”

  I giggle, giving the dress one last look. “It even has shoulder pads. Now that is some serious fashion.”

  Holli rubs her forehead and looks at herself in the mirror. “God, why did we come here, again?”

  “Because it doesn’t matter how much money you have, you want a one-of-a-kind dress. Not something everyone has seen.”

  She scowls at me in the mirror. “Must you remember everything I say?”

  “Yes, dear,” I singsong.

  “Fine. Maybe it’s time I talk to a designer.”

  I look at her dumbfounded. “I suggested that months ago.”

  She steps off of the pedestal and turns her back to me, asking to unzip the dress. “I know. I was hoping to find a vintage dress. One with character and a story. I wanted…”

  “A dress like your mothers,” I finish for her.

  Her mouth moves to the side and she gulps. “Yeah, kind of. I wish this wasn’t so hard. I have the perfect fiancé, why can’t my family accept my life and be here for me?”

  I wrap my arm around her and rest my head on her shoulder. “I don’t know, Holls. Sometimes people take for granted what they have.” We look at each other in our reflections. “Sometimes, people can only live in the past because the future is too out of the unknown for them. Acceptance is acknowledging that they have to change. It scares them.”

  She nods. “Does the future scare you?”

  “A little,” I admit.

  “Me too.”

  “How are we doing, ladies?” the middle-aged shop owner asks, clapping her hands together.

  Holli and I separate and I can’t help but wonder if I just voiced my own fears and if Holli was scared for her future or mine because I’m not so sure.

  “You’ll call me as soon as you land?” Holli affirms as I’m walking out of the door.

  “Yes.”

  “And, you’ll meditate before you get on the plane?”

  I snort. “Yes, Jesus.”

  “You’ll need him, too.” She winks, pulling me into a hug. “I wish I could go with you.”

  I concentrate on not crying. “Me too.”

  “Be strong, Whit. He can’t hurt you anymore. Even if, God forbid, he gets out, he can’t touch you here.”

  She doesn’t know that. He’s a sneaky bastard and I wouldn’t put it past him to do something like following me to California. “I know,” I lie.

  “You sure you can do this alone?”

  No.

  “Yes. I’ll be fine.”

  Liar.

  “And, what about school? They know you’re leaving?” she confirms. She’s only asked seven times—today.

  “Yep.”

  Oliver texted me yesterday asking if I was okay and it took everything in me not to tell him what was going on. I desperately wanted to tell him what happened with Jennings and with Cade. But, if I’m being honest with myself, just seeing him around campus cuts me deep. Not only do they look so much alike, if I didn’t know better, I’d think it was Jennings walking around campus. Rumors are beginning to surface about Oliver being related to Jennings. It seems I wasn’t the only one to take a while to figure it out. But, now the campus is running rampant with off-the-wall stories.

  I’ve heard from a very unreputable source that Oliver is Jennings’ twin and
they were separated at birth. A love child of a famous Olympic swimmer and George Clooney. That one is my favorite.

  Other stories entail the government cloning Jennings because we need better male specimens in the world. Oh, and he’s out fighting crime at night because scientist gave him superhuman strength. Where was his ass when Cade hurt me? That’s what I’d like to know.

  Another story is that Jennings and Oliver are in fact the same person, but Oliver wears disguises to help himself blend into the everyday crowd. That one is my least favorite. In fact, I hate that one.

  So, I’ve stopped listening. The mention of Jennings’ name makes me nauseous anymore. His final goodbye still haunts my dreams. Days after he walked away, I relived that moment over and over again, trying to figure out what I could do to make him stay, but I come up short. Every single time.

  Two months later and I think I’ve finally started to get myself together. Two months since I’ve started collecting the pieces of my heart that I gave to him. Two months since I’ve loved the sound of rain. Now it just mocks me, splish splashing on my windowsill, looking all romantic and shit. I hate the rain. I also hate the stars—and the moon for that matter. They all remind me of whom I’m trying to forget. It’s not easy forgetting someone who you don’t actually want to forget. Because despite him leaving, I still wouldn’t take back what we had. It isn’t every day that you find happiness in someone. I’ll look back on our time and know that I finally stepped out of my box and tried. I tried to grasp love. I did love. I just loved wrong.

  Again.

  “Alright, I love you. Be safe.”

  Holli and I hug one last time and I get in my car and head to the airport.

  I might need a sedative…

  So, apparently, mediating before a flight works. I didn’t have a minor freak out or require a sedative.

  Scarsdale still looks exactly the same. The airport is still its dismal, dreary color. The carpet is still old and tattered. The seats still squeak when I sit down and creak if I move in the slightest.

  Home not-so-sweet home.

  As I was flying in, you’d think I’d be giddy, excited to see my parents, but honestly, I was sick to my stomach. I haven’t been back for a reason.