“Oh, Sunny. -My fingers palpitate on his shoulders, and I get lost in the sparkle of hope in his eyes. Hurting Sloane is enough to make me feel like I’m sick.
I don’t want to disappoint her, but damn… I can’t do this either.
“I’m not the guy you want to go with.” I’m… I’m looking for a good reason other than simply, I don’t want to drag it out. I am twentyfour years old. Really in the media right now. With you in high school, I’m not sure it was a good image, you know?
I try so hard to ignore that his eyes fill instantly. The way too quickly he nods his head.
-Oh yeah. -He turns away from me, my hands fall from his shoulders, and looks towards the living room-. Yes of course. Yes of course. Makes sense.
“We’re still friends, right?” I reach out to try to give him a reassuring squeeze on the forearm.
She throws her arm back and flashes a radiant smile.
-Yeah. Of course. We are still friends. Always. With another frantic nod, he turns around, but does not return to the family gathering. He disappears down the hallway that leads to the bedrooms upstairs.
I feel like shit as I say goodbye to a room full of wide-eyed, very uncomfortable family members. I don’t know what to tell you. I half expect someone to crack a joke, but no one says a word as I flee the house, and all it does is remind me how brutal that interaction with Sloane was.
Because even though there is a small part of me that thinks it would be nice to go with her, I know I can’t.
He needs to go have fun at his prom.
Have memories with someone your age.
He needs to have the best night, and I’m sure I can’t be the one to give it to him.
Sloane Winthrop has grown into an intelligent, beautiful and talented woman. She has a whole life ahead of her with a brilliant and rich boyfriend with whom she will fall madly in love while pursuing her higher education at a luxurious private university.
She no longer needs someone like me to hold her back.
By the time I get to the truck, I’ve almost convinced myself that I’ve done the right thing. But as I pull away down the driveway, remorse hits me.
I look in the rearview mirror and see Sloane.
Sitting on that roof alone.
Probably realizing what I already know.
That I’m not good enough for her.
I’ve never been. I will never be…
I wake up with Sloane’s forehead resting in the center of my chest. His hands are curled into loose fists and clenched under his chin, as if he’s trying to avoid touching me while he sleeps.
I don’t have the same doubts. My arm is hanging casually over his petite body and one leg is extended possessively over both of his.
It goes too far. If we are friends. But we are also a man and a woman. Alone and barely dressed in a bed that was too small.
And he’s still wearing my shirt.
Friend. Friend. Friend.
I put the word in my head over and over again as if it were going to solidify it somehow. I imagine it for four seconds, the letters appearing as if I were typing them next to a cursor. As if that stopped me from asking myself: What if we weren’t just friends? What if we were more?
Sure, I closed things between us when she was practically a kid. And even, not long ago, she made a joke that hit too close to home for me while I was helping her mount her TV on the wall.
I laughed even though I didn’t find it funny. I told him it would never happen. Again.
Because how could I?
But that day he planted a seed. One that has grown into a question I’m afraid to ask.
Now I’m lying here wondering… why the fuck can’t it happen? There was a time when I was convinced that I couldn’t be the guy to give her what she needs, to make her happy.
She loved me, and I screwed her up, like I always do.
But that was before. And this is now. I’m not the same scared child I was then.
The word friend fades the more I look at her: the slightly upturned tip of her nose, which twitches a little when she speaks. His high, noble cheekbones that are perfectly rounded when he laughs. Her eyelashes, clean of mascara and pale brown, spread over her soft skin.
Her engagement ring, the one she still wears, shines blindingly under her chin.
And it’s the dose of reality I need.
Proof that I arrived too late. That no matter how much I work on my reaction time between the pipes, my personal life has always been a big failure. I paralyze. And while I lock myself in my head, the world keeps spinning.
Because while I wonder if we could ever be something more, feeding all my complicated emotions, the reality is that she almost made it to the altar with another man. Any feelings he once had for me must have long since disappeared.
To tell the truth, I can’t say what he feels right now. She may say she’s not sad, but I’m familiar with how grief works. I know it comes in waves. I know you can feel good about something one day and it can paralyze you the next.
Anger always comes.
And I know that what she needs now is Jasper, her friend. Not Jasper, who has been too cowardly to cross that line even though he has been thinking about it for years.
I carefully remove my limbs from her sleeping body, pushing away the wave of regret that washes over me when I let go of her. I force my eyes to look at the floor, watching my toes against the wooden floor as I search for any clothes I can find.
And then I leave the room, too weak to stop myself from looking at his sleeping body one last time. It seems small and fragile, too thin. She looks exhausted and I hope she sleeps. I hope he eats.
The door closes quietly behind me and I take long strides to the kitchen, not knowing what I’ll face when I get there.
I’ll be the first to admit that I don’t handle emotional situations well. Trauma? I already have enough, thank you. Feelings? Too many too.
I turn the corner and enter the large farmhouse kitchen, with its worn wide-plank floor, dark wood cabinets, and dark green walls. The whole house is dated and yet… it’s not. It looks like it came straight from the set of Yellowstone.
Complete with two country boys sitting at the table with a cup of coffee.
“Have you dressed in the dark?” – Cade snapped at me.
Harvey laughs and I look at myself, realizing I’ve grabbed a neon pink t-shirt with a yellow energy drink logo and black and white stripes on the arms. It’s really awful, but it was dark last night. I think it was promotional. I’m sure I’ve never worn it before. And it really clashes with the pair of army green joggers I’m wearing.
My lips twist.
“Listen, the day I accept fashion advice from someone as old as you, who barely leaves this ranch, will be the day I die.”