Chapter 12 | Zoey

Chapter 12

Zoey

I toss the volleyball into the air and then tap it back up in a sad imitation of a set. It’s a good thing I don’t have anything to do with the volleyball sessions at work. Liz retreated to her bedroom after dinner, when she’d put on a pretty good show in front of Dad. With the thin walls between us, I could hear her on the phone with Cecilia, so I felt okay about leaving when Becca texted. Becca, who had returned from her trip with her virginity intact. My best friend’s willpower is unmatched, and Ben, hell, Ben is a saint or maybe a martyr.

Spending time with Becca should’ve made me feel better about Andrew, or Liz and Julian, or both. And it had for a while. I love seeing my best friend head over heels in love, but it hurts too. We were meant to share these moments together, to compare stories and styles and gossip and giggle. But every story I have is an Andrew story, and each of those moments is now viewed without the rose-colored glasses of love.

Now, only two hours after I left, I’m back. Liz is still locked in her room. As far as I can tell, she hasn’t even come out to pee. The only proof I have that she’s in there is the occasional shuffle of movement behind the door. I’m tempted to put on the emo-est music I own to help her through the pain. She would never admit it, but I think she would appreciate a good chorus of “Screaming Infidelities.”

My phone buzzes, and I expect another “save me” text from my college bestie. Home life and Haley are not a match made in heaven. At all. It’s comical only because I know she’s half serious in her desperation. Like tonight, she’s out with her hometown friends. Her socials are full of silly selfies at glow-in-the-dark mini golf. Haley might chafe at being back under her parents’ rigid rule, but she’s making the most of it. The text, however, is not from Haley or Becca or anyone I want to hear from. It’s Andrew. Again. I ignored his initial message when I was out with Becca. While my best friend might be oblivious in love, she would notice if I started texting with Andrew right in front of her.

I read this message despite my better judgement. Leaving Rob’s party now. Swing by and get you?

My stomach twists at the thought, and not in the usual “this is a bad idea but I’m going to do it anyway, to hell with the consequences” sort of way. This isn’t a brush of butterfly wings and a tingle of change. It’s wrongness and dread, a parasite rooting its way into my heart.

I type a single word— Can’t— then delete it. Can’t implies that I would if I could. I think of Liz standing up to Julian, demanding what she needed, and channel that strength.

I type the two letters that haven’t been in my lexicon with Andrew in over a month.

No.