I ask him about his new tattoos, the ones lining his arms that weren’t there the last time we were together, and smile when he tells me how he got the one of the American-style fish to remind him to go with the flow. He asks me how the job hunt is going, and I fill him in on my latest embarrassment, making him laugh so hard he has to pause his work in the kitchen to brace his hands on his knees.
Back and forth, question after question, we catch up like two old friends. We talk about school and work, I catch him up on the girls while he fills me in on his work at the Miami branch of the nonprofit so far. We even talk about me and Kade, and he tells me about his short stint dating a girl in Manhattan who turned out to be on the run from a grand theft she’d committed in Nebraska. He’d been in her apartment when they found and arrested her.
The later it gets, the more the cold medicine swims through my system like a tall glass of whiskey. I feel my eyelids getting heavier, my words harder to get out.
“Mmm,” I say when we’re finally sitting on the couch with a bowl of soup in each of our hands. “Seriously, this is the best soup recipe in the world.”
“It’s about the only thing I know how to cook well, so thank you.”
I smile, sipping on the creamy potato broth. “It’s your mom’s recipe, right?”
Something passes over him, and he pauses where his spoon is lifted, taking a breath before he answers. “It is.”
“I remember the first time you made it for me, and you told me the story…” I frown, stirring my spoon in the soup. “Why didn’t you tell me back then that you had brothers?”
I can see it happening, as if in slow motion, all the warmth draining from him, the gates closing, walls going up. He shrugs. “Didn’t think it was pertinent information at the time.”
“Okay,” I concede, because at that point, we hadn’t even defined what we were. “But even after we were officially dating… you never told me… I always assumed you were an only child.”
“My family life is complicated,” he says, lifting his eyes to mine. “My dad is a piece of shit and an addict. My mom died when I was young. I don’t have a good relationship with either one of my brothers.” He sighs, staring down at the soup in his hands. “And if I’m being honest, I’ve tried my whole life to grow outside of who I was in that family, to leave that shit behind, and I didn’t want it to be part of my story when it came to you.”
My heart squeezes painfully in my chest. I know enough to know I’m fortunate to have grown up the way I did, with money and parents who gave a shit. College was the first time I woke up to the fact that not everyone has those luxuries. Hell, I used to give Skyler shit for playing poker all the time instead of partying with us, until I found out her situation.
I reach over and squeeze Jarrett’s wrist, and when I do, a shiver rolls through me that I hope he can’t see. “I get it,” I say with an understanding smile. Then, I lean in to whisper, “You just wanted me to focus on the tattoos and general badassery, instead.”
“Damn straight,” he says, and I feel him lighten with the tease. “These tattoos are my armor.”
I chuckle, but as Jarrett takes another bite of soup, a yawn rips through me, so long and strong it makes my eyes water and sends another shutter through me.
Jarrett smirks. “I think someone’s ready for bed.”
“No, no, I’m fine. Tell me what else you’ve been up to.”
He chuckles, setting his soup aside and standing. He reaches his hand down for mine. “There will be plenty of time to catch up. Right now, you need rest.”
I just stare at his hand for the longest time, like it’s a wire that I’m not sure is safe to touch or will blow me to smithereens.
“Come on,” he ushers, wiggling his fingers.
So, I set my nearly empty bowl aside, slipping my hand into his, and do my best to fend off the blush that heats my cheeks as he pulls me to stand.
Even though he’s the one guiding me, I have to tell him which room is mine. He helps me get into bed, and then turns down all the lights, save for the lamp by my bed. I have the corner room, the one with the floor-to-ceiling windows lining two walls, so the city lights stream in even when Jarrett turns off the lamp.
He’s sitting on the edge of my bed, helping me pull the comforter up to my chin, and he smiles when I’m settled. “I think those meds are knocking you out.”
“I feel loopy,” I say with another yawn.
“Good. Hopefully you’ll get a good night’s rest.”
Maybe it’s the medicine. Maybe it’s the virus. Maybe it’s the way the lights streaming in from the windows remind me of the way Jarrett looked every time we’d video chat when he lived in the city. Whatever the reason, there’s no way to stop the question that tumbles from my lips.
“Jarrett,” I whisper.
“Yes?”
“Why did you break up with me?”
The breath he inhales is stiff, and he looks away from me, out the window. I expect him to say we shouldn’t talk about it, that I should get some sleep, but instead, he answers with brutal honesty.
“Because I was a fucking idiot.”
The words slam into my chest like an anvil, and I roll my lips together, forcing a swallow and waiting for him to continue.
“I let other people get inside my head. I was just… I was so impressionable, this new fish in the big city, and I thought everyone else knew better than I did. When I told my team about how you were reacting to me working with Jenny, not a single person said you had a right to be upset, that long distance was hard, that I was doing a shit job of being a good boyfriend from afar.” His eyes find mine. “Which I was, for the record.”
I sigh. “No, you weren’t, Jarrett. I was young and sus—”
“Normal,” he finishes for me. “You were asking the exact questions I would have been asking in the reverse. But I was so fucking stressed out. We were working all the time, and I forgot I had a life outside of that office, outside of those people. So, when they started talking about how you were young and jealous, how I’d outgrown you… I listened. And they were with me the night I saw that post of you and Greg. They hyped me up, saying how childish it was, how you were playing games and I was above it all and I just… I don’t know. Something inside me snapped.”
“Nothing happened with Greg,” I assure him. “At least… not that night. Not until well after we’d broken up. And even then, it was just a temporary… thing.”
“You don’t owe me an explanation. I know you didn’t do anything with him that night. But I think, in a way, I also knew that I couldn’t be what you needed. Not at that time in my life. So, I just…” He inhales another stiff breath. “I let you go.”
God, I wish I hadn’t taken that cold medicine, because I’m so fucking drowsy I can’t even convince myself that I’m not dreaming all of this.
Jarrett brushes my hair off my forehead, his eyes searching mine in the low light coming in from the city. “Get some rest, Jess.”
“Wait,” I say, reaching for him. “Don’t go. Not yet.”
He smiles, and I don’t miss the way his next swallow is strained. “I’ll wait until you’re asleep, okay?”
I nod, and then, even though I have a million questions racing through my mind, I succumb to the drowsiness slowly pulling me under.
And I feel him there beside me, staying just like he promised he would.
Maybe I’m dreaming. Maybe the medicine is still making me loopy. But I swear it’s not long after sleep takes me that I feel Jarrett lower his lips to press a kiss to my forehead.
But I can’t quite make out what he whispers in my ear before he goes.
I NEVER KNEW NUMB could be felt so hard.
When you hear someone say they’re numb, you think it’s this state of nothingness, of insensitivity, of apathy.
But the numbness I feel when I take first place in my category at the pole competition I’ve been preparing for for months now is an all-encompassing heaviness.
I feel weighed down as I stand on the platform, smiling and thanking the organizers as they place a gold medal around my neck. My arms are too heavy, my head too slow, like I’ve been drugged or am existing in an underwater hell.
I should be light and airy and happy right now. I should be ecstatic that I hit every move just how I planned, that every trick was executed flawlessly, that my hair and makeup and outfit are on point, that the crowd went absolutely berzerk when I finished.
But I feel… nothing.
Other than a sick longing to call Brandon.
I hate that I can’t enjoy this moment because my thoughts are on him, but ever since the launch party, he’s been an all-consuming thought. His eyes haunt my dreams, and where I’d felt like I was finally moving on, I now feel like I’ve taken so many steps backward that I’m no better off than I was the second I left his condo and felt my heart break inside that elevator.
I want to be happy and celebrating my win.
But more than anything, I want to be celebrating with him.
I wish he was here. I wish he would have seen my routine. I wish I would have heard his cheers in the crowd. I wish I had his arms to run to right now, that his lips would be on mine as he congratulated me.
I wish he were still in my life.
Period.
“Holy fucking shit, Lei!” Jess says, she and the other girls sprinting to me once I’m off the platform. The entire room is buzzing now that the ceremony is done, the chatter loud even over the music the DJ is playing. “I knew you were talented, but I had no idea you were that strong.”
“You made it look so easy!” Cassie says.
“That move where you were hanging by just your knee pit!” Skyler chimes in.
“No, no, when she hulked herself up and held her entire body to the side like a freaking Olympian! What even was that?!” Erin asks just as excitedly.
I chuckle. “Iron X.”
“You literally defied gravity!”
The girls ramble on, hooking their arms through mine and dragging me out of the convention room into the hall. The hotel bar is already crawling with competitors and spectators alike, and even though Jess is still recovering from her cold, she promptly orders us each a shot of tequila.
“To my best friend, Ashlei Fucking Daniels, and her insane badassery that no one else can touch.”
“Hear, hear!” the girls all chant in unison, and then we down our shots, grimacing and sucking on a lime to ease the burn.
“Okay, I’ve decided. We should all take a pole class,” Jess declares once her shot is gone.
“Oh my God! Yes!” Cassie agrees.
They’re already pulling out their phones to find a day on the calendar that works for all of them when I quietly excuse myself to the bathroom. When I’m in the stall, I finally find a breath, and as if on autopilot, I pull out my phone and tap away until I’m staring at Brandon’s contact.
The picture I assigned his number in my phone is one of us on his yacht, the sunshine bright above us as we hold onto each other, swimsuit clad and laughing. I can still remember the day that photo was taken — how effortless it was, the two of us together.
We were meant to be.
Until I fucked it all up.
Tears prick my eyes as I hit the message button, and I type out a long text to him that would make even a middle school girl cringe. It says how much I miss him, how sorry I still am, how I wish on everything that I am that I could take back what happened. It says how I won first place and yet I can’t even be happy without him. It says how much I wish he was here.
And as I flush the toilet, I stare at the text with my thumb hovering over the send button.
But I never let it drop.
ERIN LOOKS WAY TOO fucking beautiful when I pick her up on Saturday night.
She rushes out the doors of the skyrise building she, Jess, and Ashlei live in, her hair flying back behind her as the breeze hits her cheeks. She’s smiling wide and bright as she jumps into the passenger side of my truck, and even with strands of hair sticking to her glossy lips when she turns to smile at me, she’s an absolute vision.
It damn near kills me.
“Hi!” she greets, situating her purse by her feet. As soon as she does, she’s rummaging inside it. “Before we go anywhere, I have something for you.”
“For me?” I smirk, mostly at the fact that she’s so goddamn oblivious to how gorgeous she is, and how her simply getting into my truck felt more like her stopping the record of my life mid-song with a dramatic scratch.
When she sits back up, it’s with something hidden in her hands, and she bites back a smile as she looks at me. “Close your eyes.”
“Okay,” I oblige.
“Hold out your hand.”
When I do, I feel her place something small and light into my palm.
“Okay. Open!”
I smile at the absolutely hideous crocheted bracelet in my hand. Not only is it made with the worst color combination — burnt orange and shit brown — but it looks worse than the ones elementary girls make.
“Um… thanks?”
Erin laughs. “It’s our friendship bracelet, silly. See?” She holds up her wrist, and sure enough, she’s wearing one identical to the one in my hand. “I know they’re kind of… ugly. But I’m out of practice, and honestly, I think it gives them charm.”
I smile, handing her the bracelet and holding out my wrist. “They’re perfect.”
Erin blushes a little as she ties the thread around my wrist, and then our eyes meet, and I hold her gaze for a long moment as I shove down everything I want to say.
“Alright,” I finally declare, putting the truck in drive and tearing my eyes away from Erin and back to the road. “You ready to get your ass kicked in some skeeball?”
“You wish. I’ll have you know, I’m the skeeball champion back home.”
“Well, you’re about to be dethroned.”
It’s kind of an awkward silence after that as we make our way closer to one of my favorite off-campus hangs. It’s a newer bar with arcade games lining every wall and a giant dance floor that usually has a live band playing on the stage above it. When Erin said she wanted to get out of the house, I figured it was just the spot.
“It’s kind of weird, isn’t it?” Erin asks when I put the truck in park. “Me and you hanging out after all this time.”
“It doesn’t have to be.”
She gives a sigh of a laugh at that. “I’m not sure how it couldn’t be.” Her little mouth pulls to the side when she looks back up at me. “Clinton, I know I’ve said it, but I’m sorry for—”
I cut her off by reaching over the center console and grabbing her hands in mine. I pull her to face me, lowering my gaze to meet hers with a smile.
“Stop apologizing. Okay? We’ve hashed out all of the shit in our past. Yes, we’ve both been assholes along the way, but I don’t want to think about any of that anymore. I just want to hang out with you and catch up and beat your ass in every game inside that bar,” I add, nodding toward the building.
Erin laughs, but I don’t miss the way her eyes gloss over. “Yeah. I like that plan.”
“Good,” I say, and then I realize I’m smoothing my thumbs over her wrists where I hold them, and both our gazes fall to the point of contact.
We pull back like a jolt of electricity stung us, and before the awkwardness can seep back in, I hop out of the truck and jog around to open her door.
When we get inside, I head for the bar to get us a couple beers while Erin hits the token machine. We meet at skeeball first, and after a quick cheers, the games begin.
I’ve seen Erin in many situations — all dolled up for formal, looking hot as sin in a swimsuit on the top deck of a cruise ship, crying in my shower as I hold her together as much as I can, running a Kappa Kappa Beta chapter like a bad ass, pouring her heart out over a candlelit dinner.
But I’ve never seen her like this.
I’ve never seen this bright, unbreakab
le smile. I’ve never heard this carefree bubble of a laugh.
And yet, underneath it, I can sense something is off.
That’s how it’s always been with me and Erin. We’re in tune in a way that no one else is. Sure, with Skyler, she’s one of my best friends and I know when she’s hurting. But Skyler is also open with me when it comes to what’s going on in her life. I’m usually one of the first she runs to, and she’s one of the first I go to, too.
But with Erin, it’s like no matter how we try to hide the truth from each other, it’s always there, buzzing under the surface like a live wire.
We can’t ignore it.
We can’t run from it.
We can’t let each other go.
“So, how are things going with Gavin?” I ask as casually as I can after Erin absolutely wrecks me at a round of air hockey.
She’s still a little out of breath when she plops down at one of the high-top tables in the center of the bar, and I take the seat across from her. “Really good,” she says with a smile.
I wait for her to continue, but that’s all I get.
I arch a brow, taking a sip of my beer and trying again. “He was busy tonight?”
“He’s been busy a lot lately,” she says with a sigh, and her eyes fall to where her hands are around her beer. “I think… I think I might have scared him a little.”
“How in the world could you possibly scare anyone?”
She chuckles. “Well, in case you missed it over the years, I’m a hot mess with a pretty impressive load of baggage for a girl who’s fresh out of college.”
“You don’t have baggage.”
“Come on, Bear,” she says. “I’ve had a miscarriage, been gang-raped, fucked over my closest friends under the guise of self-therapy, and I’ve lied to even those I love more than anyone in the world just to save myself the pain of telling the truth.”
Her eyes find mine with those last words, and I feel the full weight of them — the full weight of everything that’s happened between us.
Hazed: A New Adult College Romance (Palm South University Book 6) Page 11
