by Lina Langley
You can email her: [email protected]
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If you like this book, you might enjoy my other books:
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Also available:
A La Carte Friend
Chasing the Sea
Be Mine
Gilded Silence
Until We’re Home
The Powerless (Free!)
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The Powerless: Part Three
Switch (Free!)
Home for Christmas
Promises of Eternity
Rainbow Rebel
Under The Rug
And The World Begins With You
Finding Home
On The Beat
Literary:
Welcome To Crash
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Six Worlds
About the author
Lina Langley is a first-generation immigrant. She currently lives in sunny Florida and spends her time slashing hot strangers while getting coffee.
Her past is haunted by spies, thieves, tyrants, and murderers. A resident of the world, she’s lived on three different continents. She first saw a radiator when she was twenty-two years old, and one time she followed a cat instead of going to a house party.
She likes to read, watch TV, and play video games when she’s not developing them. The rest of her free time is spent recreating her own characters in The Sims and hoping that people don’t look at the back end of her games.
You can email her: [email protected]
Chapter SIX
I want to call Cyrus and ask him what’s going on, but if he’s not sticking around, it must be for good reason. I don’t want to overstep his boundaries, and in truth, I need some time to think about it too. I don’t know if it means anything. Everything feels like it’s up in the air now for me, for both of us.
I told him that it doesn’t have to happen, that neither one of us has to leave, but that doesn’t feel like the truth. I don’t want to be the person who stops him from achieving his dreams, especially not when everything about my own life feels like it’s hanging in the balance.
And I need to talk to Montgomery, too, because I didn’t want him to feel bad. I want things to be okay between us, or as okay as they can’t be. I wait until he’s home, getting a beer from the fridge, before I approach him.
“Hey,” I say. “Do you have a minute?”
He looks me up and down. “You want a beer, choirboy?”
I blink. “Sure,” I say. “Thanks.”
He leans over and grabs another beer from the fridge. When he passes it to me, our fingers touch for a second. “What is it? Spit it out,” he says, a little smile on his face. “You’re making me nervous. Are you sick or something?”
I snicker as I shake my head. I don’t want to hurt his feelings, but I don’t think I’m going to be able to stop myself from doing that. “No,” I say. “I’m not, you know, I’m not sick.”
“Good,” he replies, then raises his eyebrows as he watches me take a sip of the beer. I make a face, which makes him laugh. “You’ve said beer tastes, and I quote, like alcoholic bathwater,” he replies.
I shrug. “Yeah, well, it’s not about how it tastes, right?” I ask before I take another sip. “I mean, that’s what I’m starting to get.”
“It’s not,” he replies. He leans against the counter next to me and looks me up and down. “Anyway. Are you going to tell me or am I going to die in suspense?”
I lick my lips. “I, uh, look,” I say. “I appreciate that you have a crush on me.”
He laughs, throwing his head back. “What am I supposed to say to that?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “I just… it’s not, it’s not you. It’s me.”
“Wow,” he says, tutting as he shakes his head. “And we haven’t even broken up yet.”
I take a deep breath. “I’m serious,” I say. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I, you’re cool, but I have too much going on.”
“I know,” he replies. “You’re going to be a priest.”
I nod and swallow. “Yes and I slept with Cyrus.”
He raises his eyebrow. “Say again?”
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I shouldn’t have, but after we talked, I—”
He holds up his hand. “Ouch,” he says. “I mean, we’re not dating, and this whole honesty thing seems unnecessary.”
“I’m sorry,” I say again. “I just wanted things to be clear between us.”
He smiles. When he speaks again, he’s quiet. I’m certain I’ve upset him but I don’t know how to make it better. “There was nothing between us,” he says, then puts a hand over his heart. “Now I’m hurt. Thanks a lot, choirboy.”
“No,” I say. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I’m sorry.”
He closes his eyes and takes a deep, shuddering breath. “No,” he says. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. You and Cyrus, you two are very cute together. I always expected something like that. I mean, I expected you to leave me for Jesus, in any case. Cyrus is the next best thing.”
I watch him. “Is that supposed to be an insult?”
“Sure,” he says, a smile on his face. Then he looks me up and down and wets his lips. “Are you going to leave him?”
I blink. “What do you mean?”
“For Jesus,” he says. “Are you going to leave Cyrus for Jesus?”
I blink. “That’s not how it works,” I say, more to myself than to him. He tips his beer at me and then walks to his bedroom, closing the door softly behind him.
CONTINUE
Chapter SIX
It’s early when I knock on Cyrus door. I know that it’s very likely that he’s sleeping, but I need to talk to him. I don't care. I need to talk to him, and I need to do it quickly. He needs to know that I've decided to leave, that I can’t stay here, not as long as he's not okay with me.
I shake my head as I approach his place. I can’t tell him that, because I don’t want to guilt trip him into making me stay or anything like that, I just want him to hear it from me, as soon as possible.
I knock on his door very loudly, almost certain I’m waking him up. I’m about to start kicking it when he comes to the door.
He opens it, looking like he hasn’t gotten a wink of sleep. He looks me up
and down before he opens it. “You call people before you show up,” he says. “That’s basic manners. Amparo would be so disappointed.”
I roll my eyes. I didn’t want to guilt trip him, but of course he started this conversation by name dropping my mother.
“Can we talk?” I ask.
He rolls his eyes, but he moves away from the door. He’s wearing nothing but a shirt and these boxers that look like they’re far too big on him. I would normally tease him about it, but right now, it feels unimportant. “I told you I needed space,” he says as he walks with me toward the living room.
“I know,” I say. “Any other time, I would have given you space. Right now, this is too important. I didn’t want to tell you over the phone.”
“You didn’t want to tell me what over the phone?” he says, looking me up and down.
I think there might be a chance he might be expecting me to say something else, but even if there was anything else to say, it’s too late for that. Too many things have changed and I’m going to leave. I’m going to be a priest.
I don’t even sit down as I turn to speak to him. “I’m leaving,” I say. “I’m going to seminary.”
He stares at me for a second, then drops his gaze to the ground. He clears his throat before he speaks. “Good,” he says. “It’s what you’ve almost wanted to do, right?”
“Right,” I say. “I don’t—I don’t want to leave with things being bad between us, Cy.”
He smiles at me, but it never quite reaches his eyes. “They won’t be,” he says. “I’ll get over it.”
I don’t want him to get over it. I want everything to be okay now, I want us to be okay. I want everything to go back to normal.
“I owe you an apology.”
He shrugs his shoulders. “No, you don’t,” he says. “I expected you not to make things awkward and I did a pretty good job of that myself.”
“It’s okay,” I say, closing my eyes. “I just want things to be the way they were before. Before any of this happened.”
He laughs quietly. “I don’t,” he says. “Have you ever thought about what I want?”
I nod. “Of course I have,” I say. “You want to go to LA, make it in the music business. Right?”
He glares at me, but then he sighs. “Sure, I guess.”
“Is that not what you want?” I ask.
He scoffs, his arms now crossed over his chest. “Don’t, okay? Don’t.”
“Cy…”
He sucks in his cheek. “This is why I wanted space,” he says. “Because I knew talking to you would be hard. Because I thought I would end up saying something that I regretted. And now you’re here and I’m just going to say it, because honestly, you need to hear it.”
I watch him, saying nothing.
He gets close to me, so close I can feel his breath on my skin. “You should become a priest,” he says. “Because you’re one of the most selfish, entitled people I’ve ever met. Maybe it’ll teach you how to look around you and stop being such a dick. You think you’re the only one who is affected by your insecurity? By how wishy-washy you are? You think I haven’t second guessed myself because I don’t know what you’re going to do?”
“Cy—”
“No, you’re going to listen to me,” he says. “Because you never fucking do. You always make assumptions and you never ask me how I feel.”
“I didn’t—”
“Don’t,” he says. “Don’t talk. Be a priest. Maybe it’ll teach you how to be a good person.”
“That’s not fair,” I say.
He nods. “You’re right,” he says. “It’s not. Now get out of my house. Oh, and Alex? Drop the whole ingénue act. It’s grating.”
By the time he’s done, there are tears welling up in my eyes. “Cy—”
“Out,” he says. “Get out of my house.”
CONTINUE
I call Lawrence a few weeks later, when I’ve spent most of my time fucking around and doing nothing. I could go to the airport alone, but I don’t think I want to do that. I don’t think I want to face this by myself. I would have rather reconciled with Cyrus by now, but it’s not looking like it’s going to happen.
Lawrence picks up the phone almost immediately after I call him. “Alejandro,” he says. “What a pleasant surprise.”
“Thank you,” I reply. “It’s been a minute.”
“It has,” he says. “How has your summer been thus far?”
I want to reply that it has been weird and I sort of wish it hadn’t happened, but that’s not really any of his business. “It’s been okay,” I say. “I need a favor.”
“Sure,” he says. “What can I do for you?”
I swallow. Any other time, I would have asked Cyrus to take me to the airport, but not now. There’s no way I can ask Cyrus to do anything for me now. “I need you to drop me off,” I say. “Before I go to seminary. I don’t—I don’t want to take a taxi to the airport.”
There’s a pause before he answers. “Of course,” he says. “That’s absolutely no problem.”
“Thank you,” I say. “I appreciate it.”
“Of course,” he reiterates. “Are you nervous?”
“Yes,” I say. “I thought I would be more excited by now.”
“You’re not,” he says. It’s not a question, but I can tell that he’s probing.
I swallow. “There are a few things that are going on in my personal life,” I say. “I think they might be making me feel less excited about it than I should be.”
He waits for a few seconds. “Do you want to talk about?”
I lick my lips. I didn’t realize how dry and chapped my lips are. “I don’t know if there’s anything to talk about,” I say. “My best friend and I are sort of in a fight and I’m worried that I’m going to leave without making up with him.”
“And you feel like you can’t reach out to him so that you can reconcile?”
“I’m… I don’t know how to apologize,” I reply. “I don’t know where to start. But I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be burdening you with this.”
He laughs quietly. “I asked,” he says. “And I’m glad I did. Because it seems to me like you needed to talk.”
I smile. “Yeah,” I reply, knowing I won’t talk any more about this. “Thank you. This is helpful.”
“Of course,” he says. “Just send me the details and I’ll make sure to pick you up.”
“Okay,” I say. I can feel a tug at the corner of my lips. “Thank you. I really appreciate that.”
“Don’t worry, Alejandro,” he says. “You’re not alone.”
I thank him again and scramble to get off the phone, because I’m pretty sure that if I keep talking to him, I’m going to burst into tears and make a fool of myself. I stare at the phone after I’ve hung up and then lie back on the bed and stare at the ceiling. Lawrence is right, I need to speak to Cyrus, and nothing is going to feel okay until I do so.
I grab my phone and scroll until I get to Cyrus’ contact card. He’s smiling at me in his picture. I don’t know how many times I’ve just looked at his picture and thought about getting in touch with him.
I press my finger on the call button and sigh. I expect that he won’t pick up, but he does, after only a ring.
“Alex,” he says. “Hello.”
“Hey,” I say. I should have been more prepared for him to pick up, but I really thought he was going to send me to voicemail. I swallow. “Cy, can you talk?”
“Sure,” he replies, then takes a long time before he says anything else. “What?”
“I—I’m going to leave soon,” I say. “And I just, I don’t know, I guess I just wanted everything to be okay between us.”
He sighs. “Alex—”
“I miss you,” I say. “Everything is going to change once I leave. I just want things to be okay between us.”
“Don’t worry,” he says. “I’m leaving before you.”
I blink. “You are?”
“Yes,” he says. “T
here’s nothing left for me here.”
“Cy—”
“Or for you,” he says. “Good luck, Alex.”
Then he hangs up the phone. Now I can feel the tears on my face. I don’t think there’s any way for me to fix this, so maybe it’s better if I just go and don’t try anymore.
CONTINUE
I’m sitting in Lawrence’s car and trying my best to make it seem like I’m not struggling with this decision. My bags are in the back of his SUV and they keep moving around the vehicle every time he takes a turn. Montgomery gave me a hug before I went and told me not to be too good, so I had a smile on my face until we took a corner and stopped seeing my apartment building. I’m leaving my life behind and I should be happy, but I’m not. I’m just worried about what life is going to be like when I get there. I haven’t yet made arrangements for when I get there, except for a room for a week in a motel, which should allow me to do that.
I should feel relieved. I don’t feel relieved, I feel the pit growing in my stomach as we get closer and closer to the airport. Lawrence looks at me. “Are you okay?”
“I don’t know,” I say, shifting my weight. “Things are still weird between my friend and me.”
“Do you want me to stop at his place? Before you go,” he says.
I look at him, my eyes widening. I never thought I would have an opportunity to make it up to Cyrus. I don’t know if this will, but maybe it will clear the air with him.
“You still have some time,” he says. “Before your flight takes off.”
“Okay,” I say. “Yeah, that sounds good. He doesn’t live far from here.”
Lawrence nods. He drives us there without complaining, and even though I’m sweating by the time we arrive, I ask Lawrence to wait and practically run toward Cyrus’ door.
I knock on it, hard, loud. I need him to come to the door as soon as possible. He does, eventually, though it seems to take forever. He looks like shit. He has lost weight, so he’s all cheekbones and teeth, and there are dark circles around his eyes. “Alex,” he says when he sees me.
