Page 81 of The Has-Been

Noah never once looks back at her sputtering behind him.

Aubrey’s face goes white from across me. She grabs up the bra and tucks it in beneath the booth, like it’s going to prevent me from seeing what it was.

But I already knew that she went on a date with Noah.

It was the same night I saw her walking back to her condo, and I offered her a ride. The first time we tried to have an actual conversation since the breakup, but ended up screaming at each other instead.

I know we weren’t together. I know it’s her body, and she can sleep with whoever she wants.

But it still doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.

Suddenly, I’m no longer hungry.

I fish out money, well more than our meal cost, and throw it out on the table unconcerned with my change.

As I stand, I can feel Aubrey behind me, following me outside as we make our way to the Jeep.

The frigid cold of Michigan’s winters is in full effect.

Unlocking the car, I hear her calling my name. But it’s too cold to have this conversation outside, or in front of the many college students filing in and out with pickup orders.

I turn the engine over, waiting for her to climb in even though I’m spiraling. I’m not mad at her. Not really.

“Go finish your food, Aubrey. I’ll wait for you out here.” I insist, turning up the heat, shivering from the brief exposure to the cold.

“I’m not hungry now…” She eyes me slowly. “And I kind of spit up one burger on another.”

I chuckle, regardless of everything I’m feeling. I rest my head back on the headrest, forcing myself to take a deep breath between laughter.

“Please tell me you didn’t order three burgers on your first date with him,” I say, slowly turning my head to face her.

She has her winter jacket zipped to her chin, her hood pulled up. I know she’s freezing; she hates winter. “So, you’re admitting it wasn’t five!” Aubrey jokes, cracking a smile. I scoff, remembering what I said moments before Noah arrived, about her ordering five burgers on our first date. I always knew it was three. I remember everything about that night.

“I remembered. I⁠—”

“I didn’t sleep with him!” she blurts, blowing out a deep breath as her shoulder sinks in relief. “Sorry—I just really needed to say that. And I need you to believe me.”

I shake my head, holding up my hands.

“You don’t have to explain, Aubrey.” I swallow. “It’s not my business. We weren’t together. I shouldn’t have gotten upset. I should have known there were other people after me. I’m sorry, I—” I rub the back of my neck.

“There hasn’t been anyone…not since you.” She confesses delicately.

My eyes go wide, chest heaving a sigh—and I finally feel like I can catch my breath.

“I mean, I went to his place, and I-I tried—” she swallows, and I shake my head; she doesn’t need to explain. I don’t want to hear her explain. “But then he called you a ‘has-been’—and said you were a dumbass for fumbling me⁠—”

“What!” I spit, a rush of anger heating me. My hands shake as I try to find the door handle, intending to hunt down Noah’s car and see if he thinks this has-been can still remember how to throw a right hook.

But Aubrey’s hands find my chest, pushing me back into my seat. I refuse to look at her.

“I bolted and was so desperate to get out of there that I left my bra. We kissed, and it really didn’t go beyond that.”

“Oh.” Those are the only words I can manage. When I finally meet her eyes. I see a heat dancing behind them.

It’s eerily quiet as we stare at one another. Her hands are still on my chest, pressing my back against the driver’s seat, but I’m not complaining. I’m desperate for any touch she’ll spare me.

“Hey, Aubrey?” I ask after a while. I’m irritated by my own tone—God, why do I sound so desperate?