by Kira Barker
With that, he turned around and stormed back into his room to change into street clothes and grab his laptop, which made his subsequent exit a lot less dramatic than he’d probably intended. It didn’t matter, because both Simon and I watched him leave in silence, incapable of doing anything until the front door was shoved shut with a booming sound. Seconds later Jack’s motorcycle roared to life, and then silence fell.
Deafening silence.
One thing I’d always been proud of was that I rarely started to cry when I got emotional, but suddenly the lump in the back of my throat was making breathing hard, and I felt tears burn in my eyes. Angry pants turned to shallow breaths, and my fingers trembled when I stretched them out from the fists they’d been in for what felt like forever.
Turning slowly, I looked at Simon, but he was ignoring me, his eyes still fixed on where he’d last seen Jack.
I should have probably said something. Anything, really, but I simply couldn’t. I knew that I would start bawling like a child the moment I opened my mouth, and if Simon had ever been completely incapable of acting like a functioning human being, it dwarfed how he looked now. Lost, devastated, guilty, all alone in the world—exactly how I felt.
So I did the only thing I could, and left.
Chapter 16
I wasn’t exactly sure how I made it home. I might have hit the wrong train, gotten off at the wrong stop, but it was early afternoon when I finally shut the door to my apartment, sagged against it, and started to cry. Marcy was thankfully out and about, or working, or screwing some reckless intern silly, I really didn’t care. I was alone, and I wanted to be alone, because no single person could have helped with the deep-rooted feeling of utter loneliness that spread through my heart.
How could I have been so blind? And on so many levels?
What bothered me the least was still the actual physical hookup between the guys. Sure, it rankled that I hadn’t been along, and if everything else had been okay I would have given them both shit for it, but it paled in comparison to how much everything else hurt. Like me taking forever to sort out my feelings for Simon. How he had been oblivious of them, and how quick he was to reject me. How he clearly was head over heels in love with Jack, which I figured had been the chink in Simon’s armor that Jack had used to turn our combined world upside down. What I didn’t know was whether Jack felt the same way about Simon, but while that idea hurt on a different level than his betrayal, it didn’t really matter. In the end, Jack had pulled the exact same move on me, only I hadn’t been stupid enough to fall for it.
Maybe things would have turned out differently if I had. My vanity insisted on it, made it easy to believe that Jack had just used Simon to get back at me for rejecting him.
And it was likely that same vanity that had caused this shit-storm of epic proportions, and what hurt the most—more than rejection, more than betrayal—was the guilt that slowly ate me up from the inside.
The game Jack had played was one thing, and it was easy to hate him for doing this to me, but that didn’t change the fact that the more I thought about his accusations, the more I tended to agree with him. And when I started looking for clues, I found them, enough to stop the tears and make me miserable for simply being a fucked up, egotistical bitch.
I’d always known that I was likely a little too dismissive of Jack to be healthy for our friendship, but it had never been a problem. Things had always been like this, from the first day on. I guess I’d always figured he knew that I didn’t mean it, that I was simply a little too blunt for my own good. I’d always been the intelligent one, while he’d been the smart one. Some kids who lost a parent had a hard time in school because they couldn’t concentrate. For me, excelling at everything I did had been my way of dealing with that bleeding wound in my soul that could never fully heal. Meanwhile, Jack had always been the one who had friends who covered for him or helped him cheat, and it wasn’t like he was too dumb to study on his own, he was just lazy. Being the son of a single mother who was working herself to the bone on minimum wage jobs to support herself and him, while half raising me along with Jack had left a certain parental freedom that just begged to be abused by the charming little git he’d been.
But never, not once in my life, had I ever felt like I was better than Jack, just different.
Thinking back to our conversation in the car en route to the lake, his words cut even deeper. It had been right there, his insecurity, his feelings like he thought that he just wasn’t good enough for me. And what had I done? I’d brushed it off as teenage stupidity and never wasted another thought on him.
The truth was, if we’d been born a couple of decades earlier or hadn’t gotten the scholarships that allowed us to go to college, we likely would have ended up getting married before we were twenty, with a bunch of kids to follow soon after. That thought had always amused me, and more than just alienated me—I loved my job, and for nothing in the world had I ever wanted to give it up—but sitting here, knowing that I’d not just lost but shoved my friend away one stupid remark at a time, I asked myself if that wouldn’t have been a better life. At the very least we would have been equals, and maybe then I could have shown him just how deeply I cherished and appreciated him.
Not that it mattered now, and I was aware that I was wallowing in self-pity more than anything else. If we’d never gone to college, we would never have met Simon, and life without him would just not have been the same.
Thinking of Simon made me hurt even more, but I tried to put a lid on that can of worms. It was easy to jump to conclusions, but in the end, we hadn’t exactly ended things between us. Not mended them, either, but maybe with time, we could probably find a new balance. I felt vaguely ashamed for gushing about my feelings for him like that, but his rejection hadn’t been painful enough to make me give up on us completely. Maybe turning thirty last year had left me cynical, but even if he wasn’t about to confess his sudden, undying love for me in turn, I wasn’t ready to give up on being his sub. Unless that was a deal breaker for him, which I didn’t know as we’d never even broached the topic of what would happen if feelings got involved.
Guess it all came back down to one fact: we really needed to talk.
But not now. What I really needed now was ice cream.
I was halfway through the carton of creamy deliciousness when my phone went off. I ignored it, mostly because there was an instant flare of hope deep in my chest that it would be Simon, and I couldn’t let reality whip that right out of me again.
Five minutes later, the doorbell rang, making me go still, the last scoop of ice cream melting on my tongue.
The bell chimed again, then kept going when whoever was pressing the button downstairs didn’t stop.
Holding my breath, I walked over to the intercom, cutting the annoying sound short when I activated it.
“Who’s there?”
My voice was so hoarse from crying that I could barely understand myself, making me hope that it would be enough to fend off whichever idiot was interrupting my pity party.
Idiot was right, I realized, when Jack’s voice came on, distorted by static.
“Erin? Can we talk?”
I considered just walking away without even giving an answer, but something in his tone made me pause.
“Why?”
“Please, can I come up?”
I considered for a moment. Ignoring him was still an option, but frankly, after his tantrum it was surprising that he showed up here, and although I felt even worse than during the fight, the vindictive part of me wanted another chance to tear into him.
Taking a deep breath, I buzzed him in, then waited until I heard his steps in the corridor. Making sure that the chain was on, I opened the door as far as it would go, peeking outside.
Quite frankly, Jack looked like shit. His eyes were red and swollen, his posture barely better than a slouch, and if the sight of him hadn’t rekindled the anger simmering inside of me, I might have even felt pity for him. The fact that h
e still looked better than I felt negated that, though.
“What do you want?” I bit out as soon as he looked at me, although it came out a lot more petulant than angry.
“Can I come in? Please, just for a few minutes. Just hear me out, okay?”
Right then my neighbor’s door opened next to mine, and the last thing I needed was for the old gossip to harangue me over “young men loitering outside my door” the next time we crossed paths. Sighing, I closed the door, unhooked the chain, and opened it again, just long enough to let Jack squeeze through.
I’d never seen him look so damn uncomfortable standing in the small space that was supposed to be my hallway. Suddenly tired of this, I turned and walked back into the kitchen, on the way dumping the half-empty ice cream tub in the trash. Sitting down, I looked at Jack again, who had remained standing just inside the door.
“You want to talk? Well, talk.”
Instead of opening his mouth, he just looked at me, and it took me kicking out a chair and shoving it in his direction for him to take a seat.
“You’ve been crying,” he said, his voice cracking and thin when he finally managed to speak up.
“What did you think, that I’d dance around, whooping?” I shot back, then let out my breath slowly. “Just say what you’re here to say. I’ve had enough of your games for a lifetime.” Not the nicest thing to say, but he’d hurt me too much that I couldn’t resist taking a jab at him.
He made a face but didn’t protest. When he did start speaking, his voice was a little less thin, but still didn’t sound normal.
“I came here to apologize.”
I waited for more but he’d fallen silent, studying his hands where they rested, twined around each other on the table top in front of him.
“So far you’re doing a shit job of it,” I told him, my voice holding less anger than I wanted it to.
“I know.” More silence followed before he looked up, the skin around his eyes crinkling from the obvious pain he felt. “I fucked up. I know that. I never wanted to hurt you. Not like this. Please, you have to—”
“I don’t have to do anything!”
He stared at me, wide-eyed, then let his head fall onto his hands, effectively hiding his expression from me. Even though there was still rage churning in the pit of my stomach, it hurt to see him like this, but I had no intention of easing his torment.
“I lied,” was what I think he said next, muffled until he raised his head and looked at me directly, tears threatening to fall from his eyes. “When I said I’d done it all because you both deserved it.”
I didn’t even try to keep a frown from showing on my face, but didn’t say anything. He sighed, then looked away, but his eyes returned to my face when he started anew.
“Not that you two don’t deserve to be pulled down a few notches, but if I couldn’t handle the finer points of your casual conduct with the world at large, I wouldn’t have put up with it for so long. But it wasn’t the reason why I did what I did.”
He stopped there, and the temptation to just shake him to get him talking again was strong. His words made the ache in my chest swell to its previous height, but this time I let it. I knew that he could see it on my face, in my eyes, and somehow it still hurt him, too, and I had no attention of sparing him that.
“Then why did you act like an even bigger asshole than usual? Just so you know, Simon and I might not be without fault, but you’re not an angel yourself.”
“I know.” More hesitation, then he visibly pulled himself together, his voice gaining a little more strength. “I did it because it was the only way I could think of to pull you two apart. And I’m not even sure I managed that much.”
That wasn’t exactly news, and I opened my mouth to tell him so, but he forestalled me.
“Not because I think he’s not good enough for you, or hurting you besides what you obviously get off on. Because I want you, and as long as he’s in the game you don’t even see me.”
That was news to me, and not the kind that made my heart beat faster with excitement.
“Jack, what the fuck?”
He gave me a blithe smile back.
“See? Exactly what I’m saying.”
“You’re not making any sense here! What do you mean by you want me?”
Probably not the best way to phrase it, because that part was obvious, but thankfully he didn’t take me literally.
“I wouldn’t mind it that much if you two were just screwing around, but ever since things got more serious between you and him, you’ve been completely ignoring me, and you have no idea just how much that hurts.”
“But you never said anything!”
He opened his mouth to reply, anger now seeping into his pose, but after a few seconds he closed his mouth again and visibly deflated, then put his elbows up onto the table and hid his face in his hands.
“I know. And that’s not making anything easier.”
That he was confusing the hell out of me didn’t help, but I forced myself not to tear into him right there, but waited until he looked at me again. I couldn’t tell for sure, but it seemed as if he’d tried to hide a few tears spilling from his eyes.
“I love you, Erin. Not just some random infatuation—I’m not just ‘in love’ with you. I’ve always loved you. And you don’t even know.”
The panic and frustration in his tone cut into me and made it even harder to keep up the hard, unforgiving exterior. Sure, I was still mad as never before at him, but that didn’t mean that I’d burned all the bridges between us. Reaching out, I hooked a finger around one of his so I could pull his hand toward me. Twining my fingers with his, I brushed my lips softly over his knuckles, then caught his gaze again.
“I do know.”
“No, you don’t,” he chuffed and blinked, tears spilling from his eyes now unhindered. “You think I like you, like my sister, but that’s—”
I shook my head and pressed my mouth against his hand again.
“Why did you never say anything?”
He exhaled slowly, his eyes now fixed at where our fingers were knitted together.
“It wasn’t that obvious. There’s no one who can look inside your heart and qualify what you feel for another person. Guess I’ve simply known you for too long, know what I mean?”
I nodded, because I did know, and that made his entire confession so much worse.
“And it’s not something that suddenly changed,” he went on. “I didn’t just wake up one morning and, bam! And it wasn’t really… acute, for lack of another word, until a while ago. Guess turning thirty pulled a number on me, or something.” He looked away, then back to my face. “I feel old sometimes, you know? Not geriatric, pensioner kind of old, but when I hang out at a club and there are all these perky twenty-somethings rubbing themselves all over me—”
“A truly horrific fate, I’m sure,” I interjected with a small smile, simply because I had to.
Jack barked a brief, harsh laugh, but it seemed to lighten his mood a little.
“Hey, I’m not gonna change just because I’m getting a little weird in the head, okay? You know me better than that.”
“I do.”
“Anyway. Makes me realize that I’m no longer the guy who just wants to pick up some chick, have a good time, and then move on. I know that you probably think that’s as deep as I go, but—”
“Hey, give me some credit here, asshole!”
Now his smile held a little longer, but it disappeared as he had to blink away tears again.
“Shit. Can you please stop interrupting me? I’m trying to pour my heart out here, and all you do is try to make me laugh.”
“I’m a terrible person, I know.”
He stared back for another second, then shook his head.
“Whatever. It’s not that I want to settle down and have a bunch of kids, but there are days when I just want to stay home, curl up on the couch with pizza and a beer, you know? Snuggle up, maybe fool around a little bit—”
“Only fool around? You’re disappointing me.”
He rolled his eyes, but seeing him not about to sink back to the bottom of depression lifted some of the weight off my chest.
“There might be some bending you over the couch and fucking you silly involved, too, but that’s not the primary thing anymore. Five years ago I would have laughed about this notion, but now…” He paused. “Remember when I flung that tidbit into Simon’s face that he’s been lusting after you for a while?”
“You really think I could forget that?”
He shook his head.
“Truth it… it was less like stupid puppy dog love that I tried to make it out as, and more basic carnal interest. He brought up the idea a couple of times but I always ignored it, and for whatever reason he didn’t feel like making a move on you on his own. Guess because sometimes he can be one hell of an insecure fucker, even if he doesn’t show it often.”
“Which you exploited, shamelessly.”
Just because it made me feel better to make him smile, I wasn’t above putting him down again where he deserved it. Jack looked away and sighed.
“Guess I deserved that one. Yes, I did. But back to before that. At that party, you made it so fucking difficult to resist you, and then those girls kept rubbing themselves all over me and all it did was annoy me because what I really wanted was to fuck you. By now I guess you’ve realized that Simon can be one observant fucker, and he got wind of that even before I could make up my mind. I think I don’t need to recount the outcome of that?”
I shook my head, although like always, thinking back about our first threesome gave me the best kind of tingles in all the right places. It was muted by my general dark mood right now, but not much.
“Anyway, that was fun. And not much different than anything else. Sorry if it bothers you to hear that—”
“It doesn’t.”
It did, a little, but in the light of what else he’d coughed up already, I could very well live without instant love at first fuck confessions. Jack gave me a look that told me that he knew I was lying, but let it slide.
