More Than Her

by Jay McLean

  It gets worse.

  The day after he was caught, he cleared out all the bank accounts, including my and Ethan's college funds.

  He never said goodbye to us.

  Devastated doesn't even come close to how we felt.

  Mom had to call my grandma for a loan, but there was only enough money for one of us to go to college. Grandma, being old school, was adamant that Ethan be the one to go, considering he would one day have a wife and kids to take care of. So really, I was out of options. Which really didn't make things any easier when I had to make that phone call to Ty.

  At first he was pissed off for me. And then he was just pissed.

  We'd both been so excited to start our lives together, and just like that, it was all over.

  ***

  I don't know exactly what happened, but after that news, it felt like something in him switched. Almost like he'd given up on us. He became so tied up with school, and work, and had even taken up an internship over the summer. He barely had time to answer my calls. Occasionally, when he did call, it was in the middle of the night and he'd just be getting home. The night before graduation, when he hadn't called all day, I decided to try at two in the morning. Only it wasn't him that answered. I don't know who it was, honestly. Just some girl, in a loud room full of people, who was more than happy to let me know that she had no idea Ty had a girlfriend.

  He didn't call me for three days after that.

  When he did call, he was completely closed off. He complained that he was exhausted and rushed to get off the phone.

  And to me, it felt like the beginning of the end.

  That was the last I'd heard from him by the time Logan Matthews walked into the diner. I'd been ignoring his calls, and his texts hoping that he would just go away. Because for the first time since I'd started dating Ty, I was physically attracted to someone else. But that's all it was. Just physical.

  Even if you asked me now, I couldn't tell you why I agreed to the date. I even gave us a one-week cooling off period. It didn't help. He called or texted every day. And when my own boyfriend didn't call me once during that week, the attention from Logan made me feel something. It made me feel wanted. And after the shit that my dad pulled, it was exactly what I needed to feel.

  ***

  Not for a second did I expect to have the kind of time I had with Logan. He brought out parts of me in that one night that I hadn't felt for a long time. Not since the beginning of my relationship with Ty. With Ty—it was different. It was a gradual build up, a slow burn before acceptance. With Logan—there was nothing to accept. It just was.

  So the entire ride home at four in the morning, after an amazing first date, I began to panic. It wasn't like I was instantly head over heels in love with him. But I thought, that given time, maybe I could be. I had no idea if he felt the same thing I did, in fact, I had no idea how he felt at all. And then he reached over, took my hand in his, gave me a small smile, and that was it.

  That was all I needed.

  Stupid.

  Ty answered on the second ring.

  "Hey," he said quietly, followed by a sigh.

  It sounded like I was the last person he wanted to speak to.

  "Were you sleeping?"

  Another sigh. "No, Amanda. I just got home."

  He never called me Amanda. Since the day I brought him home to meet my parents, and he found out they all called me Dimmy —and why—he started calling me that, too.

  "What's up?" he said. "Why are you calling me so late? Or early? Or whatever."

  I swallowed down the knot in my throat. My eyes stung with tears.

  "We need to talk," I managed to get out.

  Nothing.

  "Ty?"

  "You're breaking up with me, right?" He said it so quietly; I thought for a second that I imagined it. But then it all made sense. He was expecting it. Waiting for it. Wanting it.

  "I met someone else," I told him.

  I could hear him blow out a breath, then movement, like he was standing up and walking somewhere else.

  "You did?" he asked.

  That's when the tears fell. Like a damn that'd been broken. And I don't know if it was just Ty, or the lack of college plans, or any future plans at all, or if it was the fact that I still hadn't heard from my dad. Most likely, it was all of it.

  "Who is he?" he said, when I hadn't spoken.

  "Just a guy. You don't know him."

  "And?"

  "What?"

  "You want to be with him now?" His voice broke. "You don't want to be with me anymore?"

  I thought about my next words carefully, "Are we, though? I mean, are we together? I haven't spoken to you in weeks."

  "The phone works both ways, Amanda."

  He was right. It did. But the first few times I called him he didn't answer. He was always so busy that I didn't want to disturb him. "You're always busy."

  He laughed once, but it was a bitter laugh. "Yeah, fuck, Dim. I'm sorry I'm in college, and working, and doing this stupid half assed paid internship just to be treated like scum everyday. I'm sorry that I don't have time to talk to my girlfriend 500 miles away. I'm sorry that I'm here and you're stuck all the way over there and there's not a Goddamn thing we can do about it. I'm sorry my life is so busy and complicated, while you're what? Meeting random guys and going out with them? I'm really fucking sorry." His voice got louder with every word, his tone icy.

  I bit my lip, trying so hard not to break down.

  "So that's it, huh?" he continued, "We're done? You want to be with him?"

  I nodded, and even though he couldn't see it, he must've sensed it.

  "What the hell happened to us?" he said, but it was more to himself.

  I wiped away the tears and gripped the phone tighter. "I don't know Ty, you tell me. Where have you been? We barely even talk anymore. Ever since I told you I couldn't go to New York, it's like you've shut me out completely. And I don't know why-"

  "It's not important...not anymore," he cut me off.

  "Ty..." I tried to reason with him.

  "Look, Dim. I just need some time," he paused. "Just please don't call me, okay? I'll call you when I'm ready."

  And then he hung up.

  He didn't call me.

  But neither did Logan.

  ***

  Two weeks passed, and I was a mess.

  I had come to terms with the fact that I was also a fucking idiot.

  Because I let some guy I didn't even know unknowingly work his way into my heart. So I did what I thought was right at the time. I called Ty and begged him to forgive me. I begged him to take me back. I needed him to take back.

  The first thing he asked was whether I slept with Logan, and when I told him I hadn't, he said it was worse. He said that maybe he could have forgiven me if it was just sex—if it was something physical. But the fact that I actually wanted to be with someone else, spend time with someone else, give my heart to someone else - that he couldn't forgive me for. He couldn't understand how after years of making things work long distance, and how strongly we felt for each other—how I could just throw it all away.

  I sat there, on the edge of my bed, and listened to everything he had to say. And he was right, about all of it.

  But then I brought up the fact that I thought he wanted me to break up with him. I mentioned that he stopped calling, and that he was always busy and it seemed like he stopped caring about me— and that's when he told me. He told me he was trying to keep up with classes while working two jobs as well as a shitty internship because he was saving money to get an apartment for us. So that even if I wasn't going to school there, we could at least be together.

  And I ruined it. I ruined us. I broke his heart. I broke mine. I broke us.

  I fucked up.

  And I couldn't even blame Logan.

  As much as I tried, I couldn't.

  It wasn't his fault I was stupid enough to believe him.<
br />
  ***

  The night I saw him at the club, making out with another girl, just happened to be the same night Greg was there. Greg—Ty's best friend. He caught me on my way out, with tears streaming down my face—tears I shed for a boy I barely knew.

  He was with a bunch of his friends, most of them I knew—only in passing—because they were Ty's friends, too. "Hey," he soothed, lifting my chin so he could see my face. I'm sure I looked as messy on the outside as I felt on the inside. "Are you okay?" He's brows creased with what I believed was genuine concern.

  I bit my lip to stop the sob escaping, but it didn't work. The next thing I knew I was in his arms as he led me to his car. He didn't say anything, and he didn't ask me to, either. When the crying finally stopped, all he said was, "You want to tell me how sucky your life is?"

  It made me laugh, and I did. I wanted to tell somebody. So I told him. I told him about my dad, and about Ty, and how I felt shut out after I told him I couldn't be in New York with him. I told him about how I thought it was over between us, and I even told him about the stupid date with Logan, and the phone call I made after. I told him about how I fucked up with Ty, and even though I begged for him to take me back, he wouldn't, and I had to accept that.

  Greg—he remained silent, listening to every word I said. And when I'd finished pouring my heart out to him, he just looked at me, a sad smile on his face. "You know what you need?" he said.

  I shook my head.

  He smiled. "A banana split."

  So that's what we did.

  I texted Lexie and told her I was safe, and that I'd call her later.

  Greg took me to the grocery store and bought all the ingredients to make the perfect banana split, the same type they make at the steak house he worked at. We then went back to his apartment, which he shared with two other guys, and he proceeded to cheer me up.

  By the time the sun came up, we hadn't even realized how much time had passed. He drove me home and asked if he could see me again, it didn't even have to be a date, he said. He just enjoyed my company.

  The rest of the summer, he made every effort to woo me. He'd surprise me at my work with flowers, and called or texted regularly. He told me often that he missed me, and at one point he even said the he was falling for me. And soon after that, I found that I was beginning to hate myself less and less. The guilt of what I did to Ty was slowly fading, and even though I thought of Logan often, I began to not hate him as much, too.

  I didn't even think about how a maybe relationship with Ty's best friend would affect Ty. Like I said—stupid.

  By the end of summer bonfire party, Greg and I had unofficially become exclusive. We spent as much time together as possible, and he even made an effort to hang out with Ethan and my friends, which is why he was there at that party. He was almost 21 - and could really do without the high school parties, but still—he was there.

  And so was Logan.

  As much as I could try to deny that seeing him that night didn't affect me, it really did. It brought back memories of that one night we had together, and all the feelings I had when I decided to break up with someone that could have so easily been my future.

  Greg knew something was up the rest of the night. I don't know if he knew that it was Logan I was speaking to when he interrupted us, but he didn't ask any questions. He just allowed me to drink away my emotions. Looking back on it now, it was almost as if he encouraged it.

  I decided to stay the night at his house, too ashamed to go home in my drunken state. Even though Mom was probably passed out on the sofa, worse off than I was.

  That night, he climbed into his bed with me and he held me, and then he told me that he loved me. And I needed it. I needed it more than anything in the fucking world. I needed someone to love me, and he said he did.

  So I slept with him.

  And then I must have passed out.

  Because I don't remember him pulling the covers off me.

  I don't remember the flashes as he took the pictures.

  And I sure as hell don't remember him fucking me without me knowing.

  Or taking more pictures of my most private parts as he was doing it.

  What I do remember—is loud banging, and then Ethan, his best friend Tristan, and Lexi kicking down his bedroom door.

  I remember Lexi wrapping a sheet around me and then helping me walk out to the car.

  I remember throwing up on the way there.

  And I remember Ethan coming back with a cut lip, broken nose and blood all over his knuckles.

  I couldn't look at him—too much blood.

  "What happened?" I said to no one in particular. My head was throbbing. I finally managed to face Ethan, "What happened?" I repeated.

  He didn't say anything, just wrapped me in his arms. I could feel his body trembling, and he started to cry.

  Ethan never cried. Ever.

  Not when dad left.

  Not even when we were twelve and he pushed me out of the way of an oncoming car and got hit.

  Not even when he broke so many bones in his lower body that they broke skin, and blood was everywhere. It's the reason I can't stand the sight of it.

  He didn't even cry when he had to have surgery to put pins in his hip and all throughout his legs.

  But now—he was crying.

  "What happened?" I asked again, my voice strained from holding back my sob.

  He held me tighter. "I'm so sorry, Dimmy. I'm so fucking sorry." He repeated the words over and over.

  Then he showed me the pictures on his phone.

  I spent the next two days and nights throwing up.

  And the next two weeks in a zombie state. I didn't eat. I didn't sleep. I didn't talk to anyone.

  Ethan begged me to press charges, but I just wanted to forget it. He said I was stupid, and we fought about it. I didn't say goodbye to him when he packed up and left for college.

  I didn't take care of my mom, who hadn't even realized that something had happened to me.

  Ethan drove two hours home, almost every day to take care of me.

  And then one day, out of nowhere, I picked myself up, sold all my shit, left mom behind and flew to New York.

  I knocked four times before Ty answered. And when he did, he was shirtless, his jeans roughly pulled up, his fly undone. But that's not what I noticed. All I could see was the girl in his bed, with the sheets pulled up to her neck, hiding what I'm sure was her naked body.

  "Dimmy?" I heard. I knew it was Ty, but he sounded far away. The girl in his bed's jaw dropped, her mouth forming a perfect O.

  "Dimmy?" she repeated.

  "Huh?" I said, then managed to pull my eyes away from her to look up at Ty. I don't know which one of the two hurt more to see.

  "Tyson?" the girl asked. Her voice was laced with confusion, but behind that, there was a plea.

  He stood there, between his past and his future, looking from one to the other.

  Finally, I spoke, "I'm sorry, Ty," I said, looking him clear in the eyes. And then I turned and walked away. He called out, but I didn't stop. I just wanted to be somewhere else. I didn't know where I would go. I didn't want to go home. I couldn't face it another day. I couldn't stay in New York. And I was broke. I left his dorm and sat on a bench just outside, waiting for something to change. Hoping that something would happen soon. Because I wasn't sure how much more I could take.

  It was only a few minutes before he came out, bed girl in tow. I watched as he kissed her goodbye. I could see the panic on her face, but his body language was re-assuring. He kept shaking his head, holding her hands in his. He walked her to her car and waited until she drove away before looking around. I saw his body visibly relax when he saw me, his hand going up in a small wave. I tried to smile, I just couldn't.

  He took a seat next to me and nudged my leg with his. I didn't speak, and neither did he. Not for the first hour.

  "Where are you staying?" he asked quietly
.

  "Hotel," I lied. I had no idea what I was doing.

  "Have dinner with me first?"

  I couldn't. "I don't think that's such a good idea, Ty, with your girlfriend and all."

  "Yeah," he agreed. "Ali—that's her name."

  I nodded and tried to compose myself. Seeing a girl in his bed hurt, but not as much as him admitting that he belonged to her. Ali and Tyson. I rolled their names around in my head.

  I couldn't even be mad about it. I had no right. It was my fault.

  "So you and Greg, huh?"

  My eyes snapped to his. "You know?"

  He looked confused for a moment, "That you started dating my best friend? Yeah, I know. I'm not gonna lie, Dim, I'm pretty pissed off about it."

  I breathed out, relieved.

  But then something else took over, and I broke down.

  For the next four hours I sat on that bench and told him everything. About Logan, about breaking up with him, about what happened the weeks after, all the way up to the night of the bonfire.

  He sat quietly and listened to it all. When I got to the part about the pictures, his head fell between his shoulders. His grip on the bench caused his knuckles to turn white. I could see the muscles in his jaw flexing.

  "You should have told me earlier," he stated, when I was done speaking.

  "I couldn't," I cried.

  "Dimmy." He sniffed back his own tears. "I'm so fucking sorry that that shit happened to you. I should have been there. You should have told me. I could have come for you. I could have done something—anything. You'll always be important to me. I'll always love you," he said.

  But just not in that way.

  Not anymore.

  After a few more minutes of silence, I stood up, wiped my face with the back of my hand and said, "I better go check into the hotel."

  He nodded, standing too, "When do you leave?"

  "Tomorrow morning."

  "You came for one night?" he asked. I could tell he knew I was lying, but neither of us was going to call each other out.