52. Bellamy

FIFTY-TWO

bellamy

Something hit me in the face, and my eyes popped open to the early morning light.

"I don't like you!" Arlo shouted, then slammed my door.

I swatted his old, stuffed donkey from my chest to the floor. "What the…" And when I rolled over to grab onto Drew, she wasn't there.

I sat up, raking a hand through my hair just as the door swung open again.

Arlo stormed in, a SpongeBob pillow lifted over his head. "You're a butthole!" Then he lobbed the pillow at me.

I shot out of bed, snagging him by the back of his pajama top before he'd made it down the hall. "Hey, come here."

He attempted to wrestle free, but I picked him up and threw him over my shoulder.

"What's your deal?"

He pounded his tiny fists over my back. "You're a cockblock!"

Jesus…

"You didn't tell me Miss Drew had to leave!" His fist kept slamming against me, and I just stared at the end of the hall. Leave?

Without putting him down, I went back to my room and opened the closet. Her clothes were still there. Her suitcases stacked at the top.

Then I went to the window, twisting the cord on the blinds. Her car was gone, Hendrix's tarp that usually covered it, a messy ball on my hood.

"Put me down." Arlo kicked his feet at me, and I dropped him to the bed.

She left? I glanced back through the blinds. Left for work or to grab breakfast maybe… "She probably went to get donuts or something, Arlo."

"No, she didn't. She left me a note. You didn't tell me she had to leave…" His eyes watered before he threw himself face down onto my pillow.

She'd left and gone where? Back to her dad's? I mean, Jesus Christ, we'd gotten in a fight, then fucked and made up, and she left?

A soft knock sounded on my door, and I glanced back at my mom, standing in the doorway with a handful of cash fanned out like it was poker night. "Bellamy. Why was two grand in cash on the kitchen counter?"

It was Drew. The queen of overreaction. Of course, she had left.

I swiped a hand down my face and shook my head. "Drew...I guess."

"She can't just keep giving me money, Bellamy. She's…"

"I know."

Mom glanced at Arlo, sobbing on my bed, and frowned. "Why is he crying?"

"Because she…" And what was I supposed to say—Drew left and upset Arlo even more.

She was having a Drew moment, and by the afternoon, I'd have her back over here, pinned underneath me. "Don't worry about it. It'll be fine."

Mom stood there, glancing from me to Arlo, then back.

"I promise, Mom. It's fine, she went to work and…" I was going to kill her when she came back. Leaving Arlo a note was over the top.

Mom gave a half nod, then said she was going to start breakfast. The second I heard her in the kitchen, I glanced at Arlo.

"Where's the note, buddy."

"In my room. On my dresser." His muffled sob came from the pillow.

I went to his room and grabbed the note, skimming over it. Cryptic as hell—but at least he got an "I love you." I stormed back to my room and shot off a text: Seriously? Arlo's crying. WTH are you?

Message not delivered.

And that—that made me chuck my phone at the wall.

Ten hours later, she hadn't come home.

I was shitfaced at Hendrix's house when she finally texted back.

Baby Girl: I didn't mean to make him cry

Me: Where are you, Drew?

Baby Girl: France.

France? My grip on my phone tightened, my heartbeat pulsing behind my eyes. That was a joke. It had to be. How long did it even take to fly across the freaking Atlantic?

Me: You're kidding. Right?

Minutes passed, my knee bouncing like a jackhammer.

We'd gotten in, not even in a fight. Not even a freaking fight, and she had left and gone to France ? Not to Nora's house. Not back to her dad's or even a five-star hotel two cities over. France. Because that was Drew.

Me: Seriously, Drew. France!

Me: You want to get all pissy at me for trying to make sure you know what the hell you're getting into with being poor

Me: And you just leave. And go to France

Me: France

Me: FUCKING FRANCE!!!!!

Hendrix handed me a shot of whiskey, shaking his head. "I tried to tell you, but you wouldn't listen." He stared down at my phone, then snorted. "Never have I ever had a demon spawn Medusa fuck off to France to break up with me," He cackled, then kicked me. "Drink, you dickhead. Because that's you!"

I slammed the shot, then chucked the empty glass at him before going back to my phone. I wanted a reaction. Something because this— this hurt like a bitch.

I was drinking so I wouldn't cry, and my chest was all tight. All I could do was think about her because I could still smell her on my shirt. And I almost, almost told her I loved her last night because I felt that bad that she thought I would want her to leave. And then she does this...

Me: So what, are you too pussy to break up with me, Drew? That what it is?

Me: Fuck off to France so you don't have to break up with me?

Baby Girl: I don't want you to resent me.

Resent her? For what?

Hendrix dropped beside me on the couch, this time handing me the bottle of whiskey. "There are two ways to handle this. Listen to Sarah McLachlan and cry like a bitch or watch porn."

I glared at him.

"Wait. Pink Floyd goes with The Wizard of Oz so maybe…" He grabbed the remote and turned on the TV, then the stereo. "Arms of the Angel" blared through the speakers as some muscled up guy took a girl in a nurse's outfit, doggy style.

"If this isn't art," he said. "I don't know what is."

And I just stared at my phone, wishing I could hate her. But I never would.