Page 52 of The Has-Been

I know I’m likely the last person he wants to babysit him. But I also know there are other issues we need to address, not just me attempting to keep him close tonight.

When he walks into my room, he stands at the door, his eyes flickering around every surface. “It looks the same,” he states, and I wonder if he knows he said the words aloud.

“I’ll eat on my bed if you want the desk,” I offer, quickly curling up on my comforter.

Reaching for my remote, I find the power button and turn on the TV. I flip through the channels. I can’t help but blame it on fate when I see the perfect thing for us to watch.

Liam takes a bite of his dinner before spinning in my desk chair to see the TV. And for a second, I think he’s going to spit out his food.

“What the hell were we thinking? Screwing like rabbits to this shit,” he declares with a mouth full of food.

Titanic flickers across the screen, and I take another large bite of my own food as I laugh.

“Okay, even I’ll admit this is far too sad for trying to set the mood.”

“Oh!” He escalates out of nowhere. “Yeah, now it’s all making sense. I totally understand what happened,” Liam mumbles, and I can see he’s finally starting to relax, his back leaning against my chair instead of sitting upright. “You played this for Pierce. Trying to sex him up, and he kicked you out because he was too busy crying.”

I gulp down my food in one swallow.

The last time Liam and I talked about my absolute trainwreck of a date, we ended up screaming at one another, which afterward felt good—to release some anger bottled up from unresolved emotions over the last year.

But tonight…tonight I don’t want to argue. I don’t want to talk about Noah, or hockey, or fucking Titanic.

I just want to know he’s okay—that’s all that matters.

CHAPTER 10

A SINKING SHIP

LIAM

It was stupid of me to agree to this—foolish to believe I could pretend that for just one night we could put the past behind us and pretend like things never changed.

Burgers. Movies. Laughter.

There is no getting that back. Those possibilities ceased the same night that my heart did.

Left behind in a parking lot, when she walked away from me and never once looked back.

Because now, now we’re sitting in an awkward silence. She’s not even watching the TV. She’s staring off at the wall, her face ghostly white, looking nothing like the sun-kissed girl I fell in love with so long ago.

I don’t even know if that girl still exists, or if I destroyed her along with myself.

I don’t know this Aubrey Vaughn. I only see a version of her, an updated one that has surpassed me.

My mind is racing, no matter how much I beg it to slow down.

Titanic is still playing, and I’m thankful for the noise to break up the thick silence between us. A distraction from my tightening chest and overbearing thoughts. One tripping on the heels of another.

Why did she wait for me after the game? Why ask me to come in to have dinner?

WHY. WHY. WHY.

If Aubrey Vaughn could be a word, forever encroaching my senses over and over again, it would be that word: why.

Before I think any of my actions through, I stand, making my way to her bedroom door.

That’s the only thing that seems to snap her from her trance.