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But as the world blew into smithereens in front of my eyes, I pretended nothing was wrong and even teased Astrid about her relationship with Levi.
I acted normally while my heart was bleeding on the floor.
I smiled while I was ripped open from the inside.
Then, when Astrid, my brother, and I got together to go bowling, I remember the doomsday-like feeling that crowded my spine.
I remember not hearing a word they were saying. The sounds and colors became gray and I was seconds away from snapping.
So I told them I was getting drinks. Instead, I drove straight to Astrid’s house. To Nicole.
I had to talk to her.
To ask her why the fuck she chose someone else.
Then I recalled that I’d flung girls in her face like they were shiny toys. I remembered that she often called me Astrid’s loser friend and looked down her aristocratic nose at me.
I recalled that I was nothing.
But I stood there like a creep for a whole hour, until I was sure one of the neighbors would call the police.
Then I went to the liquor store, got drunk on the cheapest whiskey available, and called the first girl on my contact list.
That’s when Nicole found me.
Drenched in the rain, her eyes deep and dark and a little lifeless, now that I think about it.
That’s how we ended.
When I told her she was nothing to me.
A few weeks later, her mother got arrested for killing Astrid’s mother and nearly murdering my best friend in that hit-and-run.
Nicole disappeared soon after.
And I left England the same calendar year.
“I never fucked that girl,” I say slowly as I drive.
Nicole, who’s leaning against the door with her knees pulled to her chest, flinches. “What girl?”
“The one you found me with that night. I kicked her out soon after you left.” I got drunk on more cheap whiskey and stared at the fucking snow globe she gave me all night long.
It was the first and last time I knew what a broken heart felt like. Excruciating pain, epic hangovers, and model-like blondes with vicious character.
It also included living with a heart that had a hole the size of a fist in it.
I filled it up with booze, sex, and a social life fit for Victorian courts. But it was never full.
Not really.
“Doesn’t matter,” she whispers, her voice haunted, a bit hoarse.
“It matters to me. I didn’t fuck her the night you were hurt, Nicole.”
“I believed it.” She laughs, then breaks down in tears. “That night, all I could think about was you with her. Guess I should thank you for the distraction. God, I was so stupid.”
“You’re not stupid.”
