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“Talk to me,” she huffs, as if she’s been running for hours.
My eyes narrow on her. “Now you want to talk to me?”
I can’t contain my anger, not now when she’s been keeping her relationship from me. Sure, it’s her business. She can date whomever she wants, but I feel like she’s been keeping him a secret because she’s embarrassed to be with him, rather than protecting her privacy. Mike isn’t a bad guy. A bit dumb, but definitely not bad. He’s on the track team with Seth. Why would she want to keep him a secret from me? We could have been double dating this whole time and instead she’s decided Mike is too beneath her to have a public relationship with.
Charlie straightens, her shoulders rolling back and her lips settling in a deep frown. “Yes, I want to talk to you.”
I smile bitterly. “Fine. Let’s talk. How long have you been fucking Mike?”
Charlie winces but doesn’t say anything.
“Don’t want to answer that? Fine then. How long have you guys been dating?”
Charlie rolls her eyes. “Mike and I”—she sighs and shakes her head—“we’re nothing. It’s nothing.”
“It doesn’t quite look like nothing.”
“I don’t see what the problem is,” says Charlie. I hear Mike still stumbling in the room. How is he having that many problems putting his pants back on?
“And I don’t understand why you have to keep Mike a secret from me.”
Charlie scowls and crosses her arms in front of her chest. “I don’t have to tell you everything, Rachel. Not like you would listen anyway.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I shout.
“Oh please,” Charlie huffs. “You always seem to think that you’re the center of everyone’s universe. Reality check, honey, you’re not. I have my problems just like you have yours.”
“And I would listen if you just opened up to me.”
“Open up to you?” Charlie scoffs. “When can I ever open up to you? First, Seth is an asshole and you hate him and his bros with a fiery passion. That is, until you open your legs to him and all his friends. Now, you love them, they’re the greatest, but Mommy and Daddy can’t seem to provide you with the attention you need.”
“That’s not true!” I shout, stomping my foot like I’m an angry four-year-old. My eyes prickle with tears and I inhale deeply. I’m not going to cry in front of her. I’m not going to give her the joy of knowing she got to me.
“There’s only so much I can take, Rachel. I can’t be your on call therapist. I am a person, too. I have feelings, too.”
“Then why don’t you act like it?”
Charlie scowls but doesn’t say anything. Perhaps I hit a nerve?
“Friends are supposed to talk. You can tell me what’s going on, Charlie.” I take a step toward her but stop when I see her rolling her eyes and shaking her head. I don’t know what I did wrong here. I only want her to talk to me. It doesn’t even have to be about Mike. It can be about her family, about school, or whatever it is that is bothering her. I don’t like this feeling—that I want to be friends with her more than she wants to be friends with me.
“Whatever,” Charlie mutters while turning back around. “I don’t want to talk about it now.”
“Then when do you want to talk about it?”
“Never,” Charlie says while going back to the room and slamming the door shut.
I sniffle, trying to contain my tears. I have no clue what just happened. I have no clue what I did wrong. I run down the stairs and don’t stop until I’m outside, running down the sidewalk. I don’t realize where I’m going, where I am, until I’m standing in front of my apartment door, key in my hand. I left Seth and Alex at Mike’s party. They’re probably going to be pissed. I should text them, let them know I am safe.
As soon as I am inside, I take out my phone, about to message Seth, but I stop when I see Hunter’s name. He still hasn’t replied to a message I sent him this morning:Hey, babe! How’s it going?
It’s almost midnight and it still isn’t even read. Tears stream down my cheeks. Is he really still at practice? Or did he meet another girl—one cuter, thinner, and more fun than me? He’s an NFL star. Of course he’s surrounded by attractive women. I wish he would at least tell me what’s going on. Break up with me at the very least so that way I’m not pining uselessly away from something that is never going to happen.
Am I even going to be able to come for Thanksgiving? Or will he cancel that?
My knees drop to the ground and I can’t stop the sobs from taking over. I stab my finger on his contact and shove my phone near my ear, hearing the ringing tones, counting each and every one of them. I’m not going to hang up. I’m going to keep calling him until he picks up and then I am going to ask, once and for all, if he truly wants to be with me. Or would it be best if we went our separate ways? I don’t think I can continue like this.
“We’re sorry, but the caller can’t come to the phone right—”
