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“I'm not taking you home,” Luke says. “I don't want you stuck alone with him.”
“I can look out for myself.” It would be nice if Luke really could protect me, but the only person I need protection from is myself. If anything, he's more likely to pull me apart than to protect me. I already lost it once because of him, and that was over something so minor…
“We both know what happens when he gets home,” Luke says.
“And?”
“And you promised me you wouldn't fuck him.”
I should object. It's not fair. It's really not fair for Luke to ask so much of me, but I can't blame him. I'm sick over the idea of him and Samantha and all the love he still feels for her.
“Just drive,” I say. “Somewhere quiet and far away from here.”
He slides the key into the ignition and turns the car on. I squeeze his hand as we pull out of the parking garage, drive around the side streets, and find our way onto Pacific Coast Highway.
***
The car hugs the gentle curves of PCH, driving further and further away from Marina Del Rey, from Ryan, from all of my thoughts. We drive until we are far enough into Malibu that we can see the stars. The sky and ocean bleed together, a brilliant blend of black and blue. We park on some side street, up a hill, next to 10 million dollar mansions. Luke has a blanket in his backseat. Was he using it with her?
The stars are bright here, brilliant balls of light in a sea of darkness. I take my spot next to Luke on the grass, blanket pressed around our shoulders. He puts his arm around me. I rest my head on his shoulders. I want to stay here forever. It is so comfortable. So peaceful. So quiet.
But I can only think of what I've done to Ryan. I hurt him so much. I drove him to a drunken stupor. I made him angry. I try to convince myself it's not my fault, that Ryan is an adult, the responsible one, but no matter how many times I tell myself, I don't believe it. Of course it's my fault. This wouldn't have happened if I wasn't fucking Luke. This wouldn't have happened if I played my role. I am supposed to be the good, trophy girlfriend. I am supposed to be happy in my glass palace, with no responsibilities and all the free time I could want. I am supposed to be happy that Ryan takes care of me.
Or maybe I should be miserable that Ryan treats me like a child.
I shake my head and push away my thoughts. I can deal with Ryan later. But I might not get much more time with Luke. I should savor it. I lie back on the grass and wrap my arms around him. Our chests are pressed together. Our legs are tangled. I can hear him breathe. I can hear his heartbeat. I close my eyes and soak it in.
“Why do you put up with him?” Luke asks. So much for a romantic mood.
“You know why I put up with him.”
“He helped you through a rough time last year. You don't owe him anything.”
“Why do you keep asking the same question and expecting a different answer?”
“Because I want to change your mind.”
“I can change my own mind,” I say.
“He treats you like shit.”
“I'm cheating on him. I'm worse than shit.”
“You're not,” Luke says.
“You have this idea in your head of what Ryan and I are like, but you have no idea. Yeah, he gave up all his hobbies in favor of work, and he can be a little condescending, but he cares about me. He's always been there for me.”
“Then tell me,” he says. “Give me an idea.”
“He was my first real friend. Before that, it was just books. Morbid books that ended with the protagonist drowning herself or jumping off a building because she couldn't stomach the cold, cruel world. He was a little controlling, but I needed someone like that. I hated everything in my life except acting—it was the only time when I allowed myself to really feel things. But it was like opening Pandora’s Box. It was too many feelings all at once, and I had to shut them down. So, I'd get drunk with the burn outs, but that would only make things worse, and I would call Ryan, crying into the phone, telling him I didn't want to do this anymore. That I didn't know how to handle life anymore. But he always took me home and calmed me down. He helped keep me on level ground.”
“Or maybe he kept you from feeling.”
“He was the only person who ever listened to me or took me seriously,” I say. “It was the same when I got sick. He took me home and calmed me down. He lectured a little, sure, but it was the same as in high school. I was eating and throwing up instead of drinking. And I didn't want to do it anymore. I didn't want to do life anymore. I was so trapped and I hated myself so much. I didn't think I deserved to be healthy. I didn't think I deserved another moment of happiness.”
“I'm sorry. That must have been so tough, but you got through it. You're so strong, Alyssa. You can handle so much more than you think you can handle. You can handle it without him.”
I shake my head. “It's been such a long time since I've been okay without him. I can't go through all that again. I won't survive it this time.”
