18. Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Eighteen

Opening the door to my flat, I watched as my mail slid across the floor. The sweet, artificial scent of the Christmas berries’ air freshener clashes with a pungent, rancid odour that assaults my nostrils. My bags hit the floor with a thud as I dump them, and I go straight to find the culprit. Following the rotten smell through the living room, to the kitchen, I see the fridge door is slightly ajar. Crap, I must not have closed it properly in my haste to leave. Pulling open the fridge, I nearly gag.

Brie.

I was too heartbroken to even eat at the services on the drive home, so luckily, I have nothing to throw up. Using kitchen tongs, I pick up the fluffy cheese and throw it away. I quickly tie up the bag and take it outside to the bins.

Standing in my living room following CheeseGate , I take in the dusty bookshelves, the worn cream rug, and the faded white wallpaper which all remain the same, but in me, everything feels different.

My body gives way to my emotions, and I sink into the deep green cushions of my sofa, letting out a heavy sigh. I think I might have fucked up. I feel terrible, but I had to do what was best for me and try to protect my mental health. My heart sinks in my chest. I knew what was coming. I knew how this would end. Dax was going to tell me that our ‘fun’ had reached its end and that he didn’t want anything serious. I couldn’t bear the pain of hearing him say those words out loud.

So, I left.

A cunty move, sure. I took the coward’s way out. And I feel shitty about it.

Waking in his arms as the first rays of dawn kissed the sky, I heard a faint sound that sent dread to my core. Rain. Drumming a steady rhythm on the windows, it was like the sound of doom, telling me the snow had melted. It was time to leave. To leave behind the bubble we’d created where we briefly allowed ourselves to forget about the real world. I knew once Dax woke up, we would end up having a quickie before the awkwardness would inevitably settle between us. Neither really knowing what to say. The predictable conversation would follow; we could still be friends, and nothing would change between us, but the words would feel like a flimsy bandage over a gaping wound. I just didn’t have it in me to hear them. I couldn’t.

So, I packed up my meagre belongings, trying to be as quiet as possible, and was grateful I didn’t have much. Most of what I had brought was food, and it was nearly all gone. Dax would have to deal with the rest.

Standing at the cabin door, I wanted nothing more than to return to a sleeping Dax and curl up beside him on the sofa. It had felt like time was standing still as we kissed the night before, creating a memory, a timestamp that would last a lifetime. At least for me, anyway. Dax had made me feel special. The fact he had kissed no one else since that night we met… it had to mean something, right? But in the cold light of day, I knew it wouldn’t be enough. The sting of rejection would be bad enough, but coming from Dax, it would have crushed me completely.

“FUCK!” I shout into the cushion, the word vibrating through the fabric. “Why did my heart have to choose him out of everyone? You’re so stupid, Tris.” For good measure, I give the poor pillow a good whack. Then the tears come as I recall how he held me, the smiles and smirks that lit up his handsome face. The way I had to show him how to make my sandwich. The way he ripped my clothes from my body and fucked me so hard I saw stars. The way his cologne mingled with the scent of his skin, the way his lips felt against mine, soft and warm, and how we lost track of time as we kissed. It’s what dreams are made of. And now all of mine are shattered.

“Why him?” I keep asking myself. Choked up, I whisper, “Of all the men in the world, I had to fall in love with Dax.” The pain is unbearable, and I cry until I can’t anymore. Until sleep takes over.

When I finally get up to use the bathroom, darkness envelops the room. I reach for Dax’s cardigan I’d pinched as a memento of our time. Of him. Its familiar texture and scent bring a sense of comfort to the all-too-quiet room. The lingering scent of his aftershave is all that’s left, and the memories it triggers cause me to sob uncontrollably. It feels like I’ve become a master of throwing myself pity parties. Why does it hurt so much? I knew from the beginning that it was temporary, but unexpectedly, everything I’d envisioned for my life began falling into place. As the saying goes, “If it sounds too good to be true, it likely is.”

For the next three days, I lie like a dirty slob on my sofa, empty food containers littering the surrounding floor, the scent of my unwashed body hanging heavily in the air. Eau de Body Odour . I’m a mess, but I can’t even be bothered to care. Ugh, Dax is all I can think about. I’m miserable. I’m drowning in tears, a hollow ache in my chest. Oh, and did I mention that I’m miserable?

Sniffling, I wipe my nose on the cuff of the cardigan, its once-familiar scent of Dax now completely gone. It smells like that Brie I tossed. Stale and mouldy. Like me. My puffy, sore eyes feel raw as another round of tears spills down my cheeks. The guy on TV is showing the proper way to chop wood, and it brings back memories of Dax, causing me to have another emotional breakdown, my 157th to be exact. Then the cooking show featuring Britain’s best sandwiches reminds me of Dax and we’re cueing ‘Emotional Breakdown episode 158.’ You get the picture. I’m a train wreck.

The sudden banging on my door makes me jump out of my skin. What in the world? Who’s visiting me? Everyone I know will be celebrating with their friends and family, not checking on me. I ignore it, just in case it’s someone who goes around looking for sad, heartbroken guys to murder at Christmas! Maybe if I cover my head with the pillow, they’ll leave. Or maybe they’ll think the house is empty and decide to break in. I don’t want to be murdered and end up on one of those true crime shows. The knocking starts again.

“Tristan, if you don’t open this door, I swear I’ll knock it down myself,” a familiar voice threatens. “I know you’re in there. I can smell you!”

Jake. Great.

My foot collides with a pizza box, the scent of pepperoni and cheese still lingering. “Two slices left,” I muse. “Perfect for a midnight snack.”

“Tristan!” he yells. “You have till the count of three...”

Before he can finish, I fling the door open. A look of concern, perhaps even disgust, crosses Jake’s face as he takes me in. He looks good. His brown hair, so like his dad’s, hangs loosely with a slight wave, reaching just past his ears. He wears a red college hoodie that fits his five-foot-ten frame perfectly. Black Converse complement his snug-fitting blue jeans. Jake was always too plain for my taste, but I can see why Lewis is drawn to his fresh-faced, boy-next-door charm.

“Are you gonna keep ogling or let me in?” he says, brushing right past me.

“Well, hello to you too,” I say sarcastically. “And ewww , I wasn’t ogling you.” I shut the door and trail behind him.

“What on earth happened in here?” he exclaims, surveying the chaotic scene. “It smells like something died in here. And don’t get me started on the state of you right now.” Running his hand through his hair, he takes the mess in with a sigh.

“If you’re just here to be mean, you can leave.” I sink back onto the sofa, crossing my legs, and then my eyes catch a stain on my shorts. It’s probably mayo from my lunch. Grabbing a pillow, I plop it on my lap to hide it. I had to change out of my three-day-old sweats earlier because my drink, in a fit of fizzy rebellion, decided to explode all over me. But I’m keeping this cardigan on, even if Jake has to bury me in it.

“I’m not being mean. I’m telling you the truth. And… I was worried about you. Seems my instincts were right,” he says as he flicks a takeaway box onto the floor and then sits down beside me.

“Well, as you can see, I’m doing just fine.” Crossing my arms, I stare directly into his eyes, challenging him. Jake is my best friend, and he can see right through me. He knows I’m struggling. With a slight tilt of his head and a raised eyebrow, the sympathy in his gaze is enough to send me into another round of tears.

“Shit, come here.” In an instant, he sweeps me into his strong arms, his embrace tight and comforting. “What’s going on, Tris? Is it your mum?”

“No,” I choke out, the sound muffled by my sobs.

“You wouldn’t be in this state if it wasn’t something bad. I called your phone and left messages. Since when do you not reply to me?”

“I don’t even know where my phone is,” I tell him. It’s likely still in my bags by the door.

Jake squeezes me tight. “Talk to me, Tris. What’s going on?”

Releasing him, I bend and snatch a takeout napkin from the floor—it looks mostly clean—and wipe my face. Jake’s face twists into a grimace as he looks at me. I know it’s pretty gross, but I’m definitely embracing the ‘ I haven’t showered in days ’ vibe, so a half-used napkin is practically a spa treatment compared to my current state.

I let out a sigh. I desperately need to talk to someone about Dax, and while I’m not sure if his son is the right person, it’s not like I have anyone else. Jake has never judged me in the past, so I just hope he doesn’t start now.

“I’m... heartbroken.” The knot in my throat tightens as I try to swallow the lump before the tears fall again.

“Heartbroken? How? You’ve only been to the cabin—” One look at me and the dots must connect. Me. His dad. A cabin... “Oh. Ohhhh ... You didn’t,” he says, shaking his head and rubbing his nose with a weary sigh.

“I did,” I whisper, my bottom lip wobbling ominously. “I did.”

Jake pulls me in for another hug. “Shit, Tris. You had to fall for the one guy who’s scared of commitment!”

“You’re not upset with me?” I murmur against his shoulder.

He chuckles softly. “No, I’m not upset with you, you dingbat. I knew you liked him, but it’s obviously more than just a crush now. I’m definitely taking the award for being the worst friend ever because I should’ve seen the signs a mile away.”

A shared chuckle rumbles through us as we settle back onto the worn cushions of the sofa. “I’m here now. Tell me what happened. Something happened, right?”

I laugh as he rummages around on the floor, his hands moving like he’s trying to avoid a contagious disease, finally pulling out a napkin for me.

“Yeah,” I nod, letting out a deep sigh of relief. “Something totally happened.”

“All right, let’s start from the beginning. Tell me everything.”

“Well...” I start, but I’m cut off.

“Wait!” Jake stops me with his palm up. “I’m amending ‘ tell me everything .’ Can you filter some things, please? I do not need to know about my dad’s...” He motions at his own groin area. “You know.”

I burst out laughing. “Okay, no talking about your dad’s dick.”

“Tristan!” he shouts, covering his ears.

And so, I spend the next few hours telling my best friend how I fell in love with his dad.