When I sobered up later that day, all I remembered was talking to Emily and this guy came up to me. I only remembered his face blurring around the edges. I do remember thinking he was Carter. He had the same soulful eyes as him and deep tanned skin. He looked harmless. Maybe it was all the alcohol I had but I could have sworn he sounded so much like him too. That’s why it was so easy to talk to him. It felt like being at the rockery again but with someone to speak back to me. I didn’t notice the phone in his hand though.
WHINY GUY COMPLAINS OVER GF WHO DOESN’T LOVE HIM ON NEW YEARS DAY,the caption read on every reposting account. Somehow, someone managed to identify me and spread it around NU. It’s one of the first scandals I’ve ever been involved in, and it doesn’t feel good. It was torture when Wren left a few days ago and I went downstairs to Evan and Xavier laughing at me. It got worse when I had to go into class with everyone snickering as if I wasn’t there.
If it feels bad for me, it must me a million times worse for Wren. It had to come out at the worst possible time for her and for us. She has all the drama with her family on her back as well as competition season. It’s the last thing she needs to deal with right now.
Hearing the video play on repeat and watching myself in a moment that I don’t remember is weird. It’s like I’m floating outside of my body, out of control of all the stupid things I said.
“Dude, this situation sucks but you’ve got to admit that’s it’s a little funny,” Evan mentions for the hundredth time in the last week. "I mean, you're fuckingcryingin the video."
That's pretty ironic coming from him but I don't say anything. He would kill me if he knew that I know about him and Catherine. We’re sitting in the living room, eating Chinese take-out in front of the TV. Xavier and I had a game earlier which we won, luckily. It was a lot tougher than our first game and without Wren there it felt strange. I don’t know why a stupid part of me thought she would show up when we haven’t spoken since she walked out.
“It’s embarrassing is what it is. For the both of us,” I say, running my hands down my face.
“This sucks, we know it does, but these things blow over. People will find the next thing for them to obsess over. We need to get through playoffs into the finals and we needyouon our team,” Xavier says, patting me on the back. “We only just got you back.”
“I know, Z. You’re right. I need to speak to her about it,” I sigh, stabbing some chicken with my fork.
“What is there to speak about? Just say sorry and move on. It’s not like you said you hated her. In fact, you said the opposite,” Evan suggests before shoving noodles into his mouth.
“I know but I shouldn’t have said it, that’s the thing,” I explain with a huff, running my hand through my hair.
“Why not? Did you not mean it?” Evan asks curiously, poking around his chicken before looking up at me.
“No, I did. I just don’t think me saying that, in that state, is a very smart move for our relationship. Especially when we’ve just started dating.”
“You‘ve been together since the end of September, right?” Xavier looks at me when the words leave Evan’s mouth.Shit.I almost messed this up even more. I forgot that he doesn’t know that it was fake up until a few weeks ago.
“Right, yeah. Regardless, I know how she feels about love. It’s still too early to say things like that, y’know,” I reply with more confidence.
“Whatever it is, Davis, text her, talk to her, fuck her. Whatever you need to do to get back into the game,” Xavier says sternly, pining me with a stare. I roll my eyes and pull out my phone, waving it at him and he drops his smile. I owe it to him and everyone on the team to keep my head on right while we compete this season.
I pull up Wren’s number and shoot her a message.
Me:Hey. Can we talk?
Wren:Yeah. Florentino's tommorow at 3?
Me:That works. See you then.
*
Ithought that waiting until Wren showed up would be the most torment. Though, it felt mostly self-inflicted since the guys forced me to go in early so I could look prepared even though I’m completely shitting myself.
We’ve never had an argument; we’ve never had a real reason to ignore each other for days. We have always had this underlying friendship between us even when we started fake dating. It was something undiscussed. We just worked. Even when she pretended to hate me at the beginning, I could tell that underneath it all, she wanted me or to be friends with me, at least.
What I wasn’t expecting was Wren to come in, sweaty from working out with an angry look on her face. I also didn’t expect it to turn me on so much. Her deep red facial expression is giving angry mom vibes which — come to think of it — I don’t hate.
I definitely didn’t think she would be completely silent after she slipped into her seat. I don’t know where her head’s at and I don’t know where mine is either. All I want to do is be with her, to have her even with all these complications.
At the same time, I say, “I’m sorry,” she asks, “Did you really mean what you said?”
I jerk back in my seat. “What?”
She crosses her arms on her chest, using it more as an embrace as she glares at me.
“Did you mean what you said about me not being capable of loving you — or anyone?” she asks again, her voice weighty with emotion. I watch as her jaw grounds together.
“No, Wren, I didn’t. I was drunk and it was my own insecurities and my subconscious speaking,” I whisper. I place my hands awkwardly on the table, not sure what to do with them while I link and unlink them. I can’t tell if I’m saying the right thing or not.
