Chapter 65

I didn't mean it. I don't hate you.

Well, sometimes I do. But I hate me more. For not staying outside the hotel with you. And now, for kissing Mason…

As good as it felt in the moment to unload on him like that, I just feel empty now.

But what else is new?

I didn't see him again after that. Well, except for when he blew through the diner, before going out back with his mom and Gavin. I made sure to leave before he came back.

He hasn't texted or called since and it's been 24hrs.

I know I should be relieved. Glad he did as I asked. I saw his face… I know what I said hurt him. I wanted to hurt him. Maybe I should regret that, but I don't. Not completely.

What led him to kiss me again before that… I have no idea. All I can think is he was doing it out of pity. Guilt. To convince us both that he didn't fuck everything up for nothing.

I don't even want to consider any alternative reasons. Each one just ends with me feeling used.

Well, guess I got what I needed. My final nudge. It's time to move on. For good.

After tomorrow night that is… Definitely should not have told Ivy and Will I'd stop by the bar. I'll just have to leave before the guys finish their set.

Well so much for that.

So I was in my first bar brawl tonight.

Actually, I guess you could say, in a way, I started it. Threw the first punch and everything.

(Not that the asshole didn't deserve it, because he totally did, and I know you would've done the same if you were there.)

Did Mason ever tell you about the time he taught me how to throw a punch? We were fourteen. It was the night before we started high school. He snuck out and rode his bike over. Texted me to come outside. I was so confused…

I'd never snuck out at that point, not even to just go to the treehouse, which is where he took us. He said he wanted to show me something.

We didn't turn on the lights because we didn't want to wake anyone up. So we only had the stars and moon to light our way. It was full that night—a blue moon. That's what I heard on the radio earlier that day. And I remember looking up and squinting because I actually thought that meant it would turn blue. I swear it had a tint. When Mason asked what I was looking at, and I told him, he laughed. And I remember thinking how much I liked his laugh, just like that, with nothing but crickets and rustling leaves surrounding it. It felt…special.

Anyway, he taught me how to make a fist that night and had me practice hitting his hands. Then he wanted me to hit him in the face, but there was no way I was doing that. Not that I thought I could actually do any damage…but still. He's such an idiot.

When I asked him why he was teaching me this, he said it was so I could fight back if kids started picking on me again, now that I'd be going to public school again.

I think that was the night I really accepted that I was well and truly fucked, you know? It was only a few weeks after that stupid game you made us play, and I still couldn't get that kiss out of my head. And here he was luring me out of the house while everyone's sleeping to teach me how to fight so I could protect myself from high school bullies. And his laugh…

His laugh that felt all mine, and no one else's.

Anyway, whole lotta good any of it did, seeing as it only took me seven years to actually put those punching lessons to use.

Not to mention, out of all the times I decided to hell with it and fight back, I punched a grown ass man—a drunk one at that—who happened to have a whole ass harem of more drunken grown ass men and?—

Well you get the picture. It could've been reeeeallly bad. Lucky for me, Will and Way stepped in right before I could get the shit beat out of me. And then Mason all but threw me behind the bar, before joining the fray.

The bar got trashed. Police were called in. Will got punched and Way's PTSD was triggered, so…

Yeah. I feel like shit about it.

No one blames me. At least not to my face. They assured me of that–Will, Mason, even Shawn. Still…I feel bad. Feel like I made something out of nothing. It's not like what that asshole said was anything I haven't heard before.

I've just been so angry lately. So fed up. With everything. With everyone. With Mason. With myself…

Anger is a lot easier to deal with than guilt.

I try to imagine what you'd say, if you knew what happened. If you could somehow…respond.

Or maybe you're looking over my shoulder right now, reading everything I type.

I'd like to think you'd understand, given the circumstances and all. That you'd be…forgiving, or better yet, you'd approve of it. Not that that really solves anything, even if you could somehow send me a sign or message.

Because at the end of the day, it doesn't change the fact that Mason's attraction or whatever for me is a manifestation of his grief over you. I'm just another thing to fill the void left behind, and you could literally pull a Patrick Swayze right now and flick the pen out of my hand to tell me to go for it—that it's okay—and it still wouldn't make a difference.

I actually just sat here waiting for you to do just that. How pathetic is that?

AGE 21, NOVEMBER

My phone vibratingnext to my head wakes me from a deep sleep.

Groaning, I blindly feel around the pillow for it, and automatically silence it before cracking open an eye to see who it is.

Mason.

A glance at the time in the upper corner of the screen shows it's only a little after nine o'clock. I haven't been sleeping well, so I took an Ambien as soon as I got home from my shift at the cafe I'd been working at for the last couple months.

Frowning, I let it go to voicemail, and turn and bury my face back in the pillow.

We haven't talked in weeks, not since the night a brawl broke out at O'Leary's, and I'd stormed out once the dust settled. All because he told me he'd wrap my hand and called me JJ like everything was just fucking dandy and back to normal, and like he didn't fucking kiss me two nights prior. Like I didn't tell him I hate him and to leave me alone and I was done.

All that effort I put into rationalizing what happened in the cemetery back in September—convincing myself that Mason would surely regret it. Not only that, but agree with me that it was a grave mistake, one made in the heat of the moment, born out of his grief over my sister finally coming to a head…

All that effort thrown out the window the second he backed me against a fucking wall and put his lips on mine.

Asshole.

Now I'm just pissed off and confused.

My phone vibrates again, this time with a text message.

Blowing out a harsh breath, I mutter curses to myself as I roll onto my side, unlock my phone, and pull up my messages, squinting as my eyes adjust enough to make out what it says.

Mase Face

I know you don't want to hear from me, but I found out about Will nd Way earlier

My brows knit, and I knuckle some of the grit still clinging to my eyes. Pushing up on my forearm, I squeeze the phone in my hand, rereading what he wrote.

Three dots appear, and a moment later another message comes in. Followed by several more in quick succession.

Will said you knew. Everyone knew apparently except for me.

I guess I just feel like a dumbass and idk, i always come to you when i feel like a dumbass

I hate that Way didnt feel like he could come to me

And here i thought you and Will had something going on LOL

I make a face at that, and shake my head, "What the fuck?"

Fuck. Sorry. Just ignore these.

A sharp exhale leaves me, and I go to lock my phone and do just that, when three damn dots appear again, disappear, then reappear, and finally?—

Maybe you were right. Maybe I am just confused. I'm so scared of losing you, J. And when I'm scared, I get desperate and impulsive and latch on like my life literally depends on it. It's actually something I've been working on in therapy… stuff that goes back to when my dad left. And it just got worse after Izzy

So i get why you're angry and done with me. I put you in a shitty situation all because i don't know up from down anymore, and i'm so sorry. I'll never forgive myself if we can't come back from this. And even if we do, I still prob won't for what I did later that night

I never would've called you by her name in my right mind. You have to know that. You have to know you two have always been separate to me. Before she was gone, and after. This codependent thing we've got going on… it's a me thing. Not a her thing

I frown, reading that, fingers clenching around the phone.

Three more dots appear, disappear, then reappear again a moment before another message appears.

I don't know who I am without you. And I'm not just saying that cuz of these last four years. I hate myself for jeopardizing our friendship. For hurting you and not thinking things through first. You mean too much to me to gamble what we have, just cuz kissing you felt good

Everything in me stills at those four words.

Kissing you felt good.

"Fuck you," I choke out quietly into my empty room, just as another message comes in.

Def shouldn't have said that last part. Fuck, I wish there was a way to unsend messages. I'm just gonna stop now. I'm sorry. Night Jeremy

Seconds turn into minutes as I wait for more dots to appear, while simultaneously debating with myself.

"Don't do it," I whisper.

My thumbs hover over the keyboard.

What do I even say to all that anyway?

I could call him…

Absolutely not.

Grimacing, I lock the phone when it's clear he's done messaging me, and toss it to the side. Not like he'll know I read them, seeing as the second I switched from Android to iPhone, I made sure to turn that little option off.

Groaning—again—I flop onto my back, glaring blearily up at my ceiling.

After what happened that day in the cemetery, and then in his room later on, I was prepared for him to freak out once he sobered up. Prepared for the regret.

Hell, when I found out he'd immediately checked back into rehab that following morning, I spent the next month bracing myself for what he'd say the next time we saw each other, mentally reinforcing all my defenses so he wouldn't see how crushed I'd be when he told me it was a mistake.

What I wasn't prepared for was him to murmur my name and hold my face and kiss me like it's all he's been waiting to do.

What I wasn't prepared for was him to find what little pieces of my heart remained, and grind them into dust just by not reacting the way I expected.

What I wasn't prepared for was how much more crushing it was to feel his lips a second time.

It would've been far easier if he did freak out. At least then, I wouldn't feel so fucking unimportant to him that he'd risk our friendship to experiment this newfound bi-curiosity of his.

Of course he had to go have that realization now, after the fact.

Too little, too late, I think bitterly.

He might be fumbling in the dark right now, but I've never seen things clearer.

And I know without a doubt, that in time, he'll see it too—he'll see this exactly for what it is, see me for what I am to him…

Just another vice in his endless chase to replace her.

Our friendship died with her, just like I told my mom. I see that now.

What was once pure and innocent, and, okay, maybe a little messy thanks to my secret crush on him, became this ugly, twisted thing, built on heightened fears and desperation, and longing for something that we'd never have again.

"‘They cannot scare me with their empty spaces,'" I recite quietly into the empty room, "‘Between stars—on stars where no human race is. I have it in me so much nearer home, to scare myself with my own desert places.'"

I huff a quiet, humorless laugh to myself.

Guess Frost was onto something there.

Izzy is our desert place.

And in that emptiness, what remained of us latched onto each other.

We could stare up at the stars and make wishes and pretend there's something more out there—something more here… between us.

I could give in, and let him explore whatever it is that prompted him to kiss me outside the diner. Finally have a taste of what it's like to be loved back by Mason.

But then what do I do when he finally realizes it wasn't real, not for him—that I'll never be enough to replace her, and the void in him she left behind?

What do I do when I'm left to wander alone in this desert place?

"Fuck it," I mutter, and grab my phone. I let my fingers fly and hit send before I can second-guess myself.

I'm scared of losing you too, but this is what I need right now.

As soon as I hit send, I regret it.

What happened to icing him out?

It's just the truth… a small truth, I tell myself. It doesn't change anything.

Maybe now he'll finally listen and stop trying to bridge the distance.

I don't wait around for a response. Or to see if he reads it. Unlike me, he doesn't care about that sort of thing, and leaves his read receipts on.

Powering my phone off, I toss it on the floor, roll over, bury my face in my pillow.

And I let myself cry for the first time in years.