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As my full name rolls off his tongue, I do something I have never done to anyone. I slap him across the cheek, and I hold nothing back. I put all the anger I’ve locked away for the last year into my hand, and deliver it right to his face. Although he deserves that hard slap, guilt takes over. But then he laughs. He laughs at me. That same self-gratifying laugh he had the night I found Jake with Savannah. My guilt disappears, and I slap him again, harder this time. That did it. His remaining laughter dissolves in the air, and his expression turns flat.
Without looking at me, he opens the door, steps out of the car, and stalks away from me.
That’s exactly what I want, so why does it hurt so much?
I’m trembling with emotion, and near tears, but I hold it in. I will not cry over a guy, because I promised myself I wouldn’t after I cried for three days when Jake and I broke up. Something else I can add to the long list of reasons I hate Jake. Remembering the expression on Brady’s face before he got out of the car makes me almost break my promise. My eyes sting, but I don’t want to let the tears fall. It’s too much, though, and I can’t fight it. I immediately wipe my skin clean.
Liv tapping on the widow startles me, and I look up at her through sticky wet lashes. Mascara and tears don’t mix.
Brady
My cheek is on fire from where she smacked me, but I’m positive I’ve finally convinced her to hate me, beyond any doubt. When I came up with the plan, I thought it was brilliant. But when I opened my eyes and saw her, I knew I’d made a huge mistake. I wanted to explain, so I chased her like the idiot I am. I can’t shake how hurt she’d looked when I found her. I’d already broken her. When she spoke, I knew explaining was not an option; letting her go is the only way. Not fixing it is making me insane, but it’s the right thing to do. Prince Charming is out there somewhere, ready to give her the fairy tale she deserves. As much as I want her, she’s better off without me in her life. She’s better off with the fairy tale.
I blame my parents. This bullshit all started when their dirty little secrets came out. I lost my parents – or at least the illusion of my parents – and then Vanessa, and now Tori. In the last year, I’ve destroyed everything I care about. So I do what any guy my age would do to cope; I go to my buddies to drink myself into a stupor and forget about life.
When I enter Jesse’s apartment, he’s on the couch, sprawled out in nothing but his underwear and scratching his balls. Beer cans line his coffee table, and bottle caps are pressed into the popcorn ceiling above his head. I shake my head. He’s a slob, but he’s my closest friend.
“Let yourself in if you want,” he grumbles.
“I will, thanks.” Without bothering to stop, I walk straight to his kitchen in search of my good friend Jack.
I’m scouring the cupboards when Jesse hops over the back of his couch and joins me in the kitchen. “You look like shit, bro!”
I don’t respond. I’m still rattled, and I’m not up for discussing the reasons. Sparking up a conversation for the sake of talking isn’t Jesse’s style, which means he’s digging.
“Another fight with your folks?”
Yep, exactly what I thought.
“Not this time. I don’t want to talk about it, either. I came here to drink.” Bingo. I pull a bottle of Jack from the cupboard and set it on the counter while I look for a glass that’s not filthy. “Can I crash on your couch? I can’t go home tonight.”
“Mi casa, su casa, man. If you’re not fighting with your folks, then why can’t you go home?”
“Not your concern, Jess.” I find a clean tumbler in the dishwasher and hold it against the handle on the fridge while I crush ice into it, and ignore Jesse.
When the noise of the ice maker stops, I turn around and see Jesse’s eyebrows are raised. He’s not going to drop this. “What’d you do to Tori this time?” he asks.
“What makes you think she has anything to do with it?” His assumption pisses me off. He’s right, and that makes me want to punch him. As I pour the amber liquid into the tumbler, I decide to skip adding Coke, and just pour until the tall glass is nearly full.
“I don’t think, I know. You have the same pathetic look on your face you had when you set her boyfriend up with Savannah and she told you to fuck off.” Jesse knows truths in my life that most people don’t. Right about now, I’m wishing that wasn’t the case.
I shrug and down half the glass of Jack. Jesse’s smiling at me, which isn’t helpful. It’s patronizing. “It’s nothing. She just gets under my skin.”
“Just tell her how you feel about her,” he offers, his tone casual and still demeaning, like I’m too big of a pussy to tell her. Maybe I am.
I blink, surprised. Jesse’s never had a serious girlfriend. Why would I take advice from him? “Come on, Jess, you know me better than that. I’m fucked up. My life’s a mess. A girl like Tori deserves better than me.”
Jesse picks up the bottle of Jack and chugs down a few swallows. He sets it back on the counter. From the look on his face, he thinks I’m a lost cause, and I am. “Dude, you’re an idiot. She’s not a kid anymore. If you ask me, she’s old enough to decide for herself what she wants.”
My lip curls, and I snarl at my soon-to-be ex-best friend. “Yeah, well, I didn’t ask you, fucker.”
He shakes his head and pulls from the bottle again. I grab it away from him and set it back on the counter. I need it a hell of a lot more than he does.
“You’ve got to let Tori in. Get over Vanessa, and move on with your damn life. And quit blaming yourself for how it ended.”
Like I hadn’t already thought of that. Seriously, what the fuck? I shake my head and fight the urge to throw the glass of Jack, and anything else that’s breakable, against the wall. “I’m trying, Jesse.”
“Yeah, well, try harder,” he says. He’s messing with me, but the sarcasm in his voice is irritating. He picks up the bottle again, and starts to leave the kitchen. I grab it back, scowling, and he chuckles. “I’m going to crash, but the couch is yours.”
