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Twenty-Two
Adrienne
The heavy cloud hanging in the room when Phillip left was nothing compared to the weight pressing on my heart on Dustin’s behalf. On my own. Why did this hurt so badly?
“So, we should go.” Dustin nudged me upright as he spoke. “Thanks for tonight.” He choked off the words. He’d picked me up because he said Brandon’s house was hard to find.
“Sure.” Brandon’s retort was weak.
I walked to Dustin’s car with him, close enough the heat from his arm brushed mine, but feeling a chasm between us at the lack of physical contact. The silence was enough to gag on, and Dustin’s blank stare as we got in his SUV made me hurt even more.
He sat there, keys in the ignition, engine off.
“I’m sorry.” I had to shatter the quiet. I couldn’t stand it anymore. “I’m not here to take anyone’s place. I never—”
“Don’t.” Dustin squeezed my thigh. The heat of his palm and his tight grip shocked my system. “You’ve been told, never apologize for being you. Or for being here. Or anything. Don’t.”
I swallowed past the lump in my throat. “Okay.”
Dustin raked his free hand through his hair. “Do you want to come back to my place?”
“I don’t want to be your rebound lay.” That was a bad reply, even for me. But I didn’t know what to do. What to say.
Dustin’s laugh was strained. “Not for sex. This is going to sound dumb.”
“I doubt it.”
“I’ve had extra people in my house for days, and hearing this... I thought he was a better friend. I thought I was a better friend. I don’t...”
…want to be alone. That was my answer, whether or not it was his. “Your place sounds good.”
The drive to Dustin’s was quiet. I kept my window cracked, hoping the cool night air would calm me. It didn’t work.
At his house, he showed me to the guest room—which was the same as the photography room, but with the cameras put away—handed me a shirt to sleep in, and told me good night.
I wasn’t sure what I expected, but this wasn’t it. An ache set in my chest from what I witnessed at Brandon’s, between Dustin and Phillip. I hadn’t imagined Dustin’s hurt. Or how fake Phillip’s indifference was. “Do you want to talk?” I asked.
“About what? Not him.”
That wasn’t a good sign. “Something else, then. If you go to bed now, you’ll be up all night stewing about things.”
“Most likely.”
“I can’t make you talk to me, but I’m here if you want.”
He shook his head. “You’re welcome to the shower, towels are in the closet, kitchen is yours, make yourself at home.”
“Thanks.” The people in my life would be impressed. Something had knocked the words out of me.
Dustin turned away and disappeared into room across the hall and one door down.
How fucked up was tonight? It felt weird being in this room again, considering the first time I was here. It felt weird missing Phillip, though he wasn’t gone yet. It felt weird stepping into someone else’s shower.
The need to rinse off the hurt and disappointment before I fell asleep—like sleep was going to happen—won out over awkwardness. I cleaned up quickly, and changed into the shirt and shorts Dustin gave me. I pulled the drawstring tight, and managed to get the bottoms to hang on my hips.
I could scroll social media, see if that put me to sleep. Play a mobile game? Head into the living room and watch TV? That definitely felt weird.
Before I could decide, there was a knock, and I opened the door to Dustin. His hair was damp, he was only wearing a pair of sweats, and he smelled like soap.
