27. Clarissa

I stand in the kitchen,stunned as Tyree yells at Tyson to speak. Speak about what?

“Tyree, can you calm down?” I ask, putting my martini glass on the counter.

“Yeah, listen to your fiancée. I promise you don’t want me to speak.”

“What does that mean? I wouldn’t have asked. You walking around here like I don’t feel it. Like I can’t see. Have you slept with Clarissa?”

I gasp and back up. “What?”

“No, Tyree, I’ve never slept with your fiancée,” Tyson says in a tone I’m not sure what to do with. It’s a controlled anger. His accent twists with his words, and I dip my eyebrows.

Tyree scoffs and scratches his jaw. “But you want to.”

“I want a lot of things, Tyree.”

His response is a surprise, and there’s a collective hush over the crowd. Rissa comes up to my side, giving me a what the hell look, and I shake my head.

“That’s too bad. I didn’t think I’d have to say this, but Clarissa is mine. Back the fuck off.”

“Shit, or what?”

“Aye, man, Tyson, Tyree, y’all have to chill! Come on, Tyree, let’s get some fresh air.”

“Nah, I’m all out of fresh air.” Tyree walks into Tyson’s space. “Or I can show you better than I can tell you.”

Tyson nods and crosses his arms over his chest, and before I know what’s happening, Tyree lunges forward. People are moving back, and Tyson flips Tyree onto the table, knocking over all the bottles. Glass shatters and liquor splashes, but they keep going.

“Oh my god, stop!” I scream, and Rissa pulls me back. “August, somebody, y’all stop this!”

Tyree lands a punch on Tyson’s eye, and all hell breaks loose—as if it could get looser. They were more or less wrestling, but now punches are flying, and only my screams are heard in my ears. I keep trying to break them up, but Rissa and a few other people I don’t know hold me back.

August finally gets in the middle, and he’s punched in the mouth by Tyson. “Fuck, man, cut this shit out. We supposed to be boys! We’ve known each other too long. What the fuck are y’all even fighting for?”

At the question, Tyree and Tyson’s eyes dart to mine, and my stomach sinks. I back up, and Tyson is looking at me with so much pain I feel a fracture in my chest.

“It’s never happening, Tyson. You look at me, goddammit!”

He breaks his focus from me to Tyree and shakes his head. “You don’t know what you have, Tyree. We’ve been friends since college, and I love you, but this is eating me a-fucking-live,” Tyson says, wiping blood from his lip with the back of his hand.

“Fuck that. Fuck this. Fuck a friendship ‘cause I know you not saying what I think you’re saying.”

Tyson lets out a breath and shifts his gaze to me. Tyree loses it. I’ve never seen him so angry. He’s fighting to get free, and August is trying his best to hold him back. His words are nonsense as he shoves and twists to break free from August.

“Come on, Tyson, what are you doing?” August says, still pushing and pinning Tyree to the wall.

Tyson is still looking at me, not even paying attention to Tyree and the grunts coming from his side as he fights to move.

I crease my brows and look around the room. Is this really about me?

“Issa, it’s true.”

“What? What’s true? I don’t understand what’s happening.”

“Come on, Issa, tell me you feel it too. Tell me your gut twists when we’re in the same room or that your heart pounds in your ears when I’m next to you.”

My eyes are the size of saucers, and I can’t muster any words. I can feel Rissa at my side cursing and a buzz from the crowd, but I only see Tyson, those impossibly dark and demanding eyes pleading with me. My heart splinters, and I swallow hard.

He walks closer, and Tyree breaks free. The scream of the crowd is only drowned out by my own. He tackles him from behind, and my throat is like sandpaper. Rissa is trying to move me, but I can’t.

“Stop! Stop!”

A few other guys run past me and shove them apart.

Commands for them to break it up are flying, and I don’t know what’s happening.

“Oh my god, Tyson!” his date says, and his words filter back into my mind.

Tell me you feel it too.

Tell me your gut twists when we’re in the same room.

The crowd is pushed back, and I faintly hear people leaving. Tyree is being held down by two guys, and Tyson is restrained by August.

“Tyson, this shit is fucked up. What the fuck are you doing?” August screams, and my chest splits further.

Tell me you feel it too.

Tell me your gut twists when we’re in the same room.

“Issa.” He says my name, and the pain in his voice guts me.

“Tyson, I can’t. I—” I don’t finish my words because he’s laughing now. He shoves August back and twists his face in a scowl.

“Fuck this. Fuck everything.”

“I didn’t ask for this!” I scream as Rissa holds me up.

“Right, and I did? You think I wanted to fall in love with my best friend’s fiancée? You think I wanted to watch you kiss him and spend time with him? To fucking love him!”

He paces a small space in the kitchen. Broken glass crunches under his foot, but he pays it no attention as he shifts his focus to the ceiling and then back at me. “You didn’t ask for this?” He laughs again while wiping blood from his nose. “Did you ask for a motherfucker who can’t remember you hate oranges?”

I bite my lip as tears well up.

“How?! Please tell me how a soul so fucking precious, so fucking perfect, ends up with a motherfucker who can’t see you?”

The tears sitting on the brim burn my eyes. His image is watery before they spill down my cheeks, hot and thick. There are so many I can’t see in front of me.

“Fuck!” Tyson screams.

“I’ll fucking kill you. It’s over. Let me fucking go!” Tyree growls and grunts. There’s a deranged glare in his eyes, and I cry harder.

Tell me you feel it too.

Tell me your gut twists when we’re in the same room.

“If you tell me right now I was wrong, I’ll let it go. You can ride off into the sunset with this sorry ass?—”

Tyson doesn’t get to finish because Tyree is punching him again from behind. I scream and step forward.

“Lis! Let’s go, now!” Rissa screams and pulls me away from the kitchen. The room is in complete chaos, and I can’t tell where one person ends and another begins.

“Rissa, wait!” I cry.

“Wait? For what? For you to get hit too? Hell no!”

She has to drag me because I plant my feet, not wanting to leave. “Please, wait!”

“Lis, stop!”

“Please!” My vision gets more blurry.

Tell me you feel it too.

Tell me your gut twists when we’re in the same room.

I fight to be free, to say something. To say what? What would make this better? What would bring everything back to the way it was?

The kitchen is in disarray; food is thrown and spilled on the floor. The refrigerator is dented and smeared with blood, and I cry harder.

I stop fighting, and Rissa continues to drag me. Tyson’s date is missing, along with most of the party guests. Cold air slaps me in the face as Rissa walks me out the front door. My hot tears are turning to a chill so deep I shiver. My shoulders shake, and Rissa is still pulling me away from the house.

Tell me you feel it too.

Tell me your gut twists when we’re in the same room.