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“Even if that was the case,which it isn’t, I think the situation would be considered a bit toxic to even entertain.” Pianna opens her mouth to push her point further, but I cut her off. “I thought we were on the same page with this?”
“Well, I mean, I was all for the ‘let’s castrate them,’ but then I started thinking about this a little more.” She tilts her head. “It sounded like you were having fun, besides the whole being blackmailed part. Especially there at the end.”
I shake my head and look away from her. My jaw clenches together as I think about them. “They don’t understand when to stop. It was always a game to them.”
“Ok? And? Were you not having fun playing their game?” Pianna pushes curiously. Heat warms my cheeks as I think about all that I’ve done with them. “Look at your face. You’re turning pink.”
I want to object but I can’t find it in me at the moment. All Pianna’s relationships have been shitty, minus this one with Miguel. It’s not like I can take her relationship advice seriously.
“Ok, so, let me ask you something,” Pianna leans forward to look me straight in the eye. “What if they took the game away? What if they just wanted a relationship?”
I roll my eyes. “Let’s not chase a fantasy.”
“A fantasy?” Pianna tucks a wave behind her ear and laughs. “Girl, you fantasize about being withallof them? Not just Mr. Curls?”
The tension in my chest unravels as we giggle at the ridiculous name I gave Jason.
“I don’t even want to entertain the possibility that they feel anything other than possessive of their toy. Dealing in what-ifs will drive me crazy.”
Grant left me, and the worst thing that could happen, did. He left with alaugh. A wretched chill races down my spine. He went too far. The fact that they have all gone to the extreme at one point or another tells me they’re insane and selfish. They don’t care about me. All the guys care about is having their needs fulfilled and chasing a thrill. That’s not ok, and not what I want.
“Listen to me, Bri,” Pianna orders when we make eye contact. “You have always had a better head on your shoulders when it comes to dating.”
I snort. “Just because none of my guys tried to kill me, doesn’t mean I was dating princes.”
“True,however,” she rolls her eyes. “Heed my advice. If you like them, even just a little bit, know that this might be an opportunity for something amazing. Yes, they fucked up and they’re going to need to do a lot of groveling but think about it. They’ve been obsessed with you. Do you know how hard it is to capture the attention of any guy for, like, even ten minutes? If you feel anything for them, anything at all worth fighting for, try to communicate what you’re willing to accept in order to have something awesome with them. Whether it’s just sex or something more, you won’t know what’s possible unless you ask, ok?”
I stare at my best friend, loving and hating her at that moment. She’s right. As much as I dread dealing with them when I get back, a part of me feels a little lonely. They’ve been such a big part of my life the past few weeks that I feel weirdly empty without them. It’s not the terror I miss, but the company. Sometimes, I even really enjoyed that company. But there’s no way after what happened, that they’d entertain anything with me. Not after all the trouble I brought to their door. And I don’t know if I’m willing to consider a relationship with people who don’t abide by boundaries.
The silence stretches between us until Pianna asks, “Do you want Miguel to send Trip away?”
My knee-jerk reaction is to say yes. I might consider what Pianna’s suggested but not tonight. Maybe not for a while. I’m so angry and, if I’m being honest, hurt. Maybe I let myself carea littlebit there at the end. Those last few days with them, I had been sure there was a shift between us. But I guess I’d been wrong.
“Give me a second, I’ll grab a towel and deal with him.” I don’t miss the smug smile on Pianna’s face. “Don’t get the wrong idea.”
She shrugs.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Pianna climbs to her feet and heads to the door. “Let me know if you need help.”
“I think I can dry myself.”
“I meant with the asshole outside,” she says, slipping out before I can tell her to stop giggling like a schoolgirl.
* * *
After dryingoff and piling my wet hair on top of my head, I slip on one of Pianna’s sweatshirts and gingerly pull on some leggings. Setting my shoulders, I step out of the little apartment onto the sidewalk of the quiet street. The night is cool, but not cold. With a tentative step forward, I move further away from my safe haven. I scan the street and immediately find Trip.
Standing across the street, Trip leans against a lamppost, with his arms crossed over his chest and staring directly at me. Unease curdles in my gut as I stand there, watching him. What does he want? Has he really been hereallday? Why? I could ask him, of course. But that would require me to move toward him. To lift one foot then the next until I stand before him.
Then what?
We talk? I roll my eyes.Wewouldn’t talk. Trip will either threaten me or put me in my place. Am I ready for that? Just thinking of being reminded about who and what I am to them is mentally and emotionally draining. I’ve yet to hear from the police. Is that his and the others doing? Are they keeping my whereabouts silent in the hopes of holding what happened over my head too? The thought makes me nauseous.
I can’t do this. Not right now. My head begins to swim and tears well up. I’m not ready to run back to reality yet. I took off a week from work to come here and recover. That gives me four more days to mentally and emotionally prepare to deal with the consequences of my actions. Standing here, I realize that I’m going to need all four days. Maybe then some.
“Go home, Trip.” My voice isn’t loud, but it doesn’t need to be. The silence around us carries my voice easily over to him.
He straightens, then takes a step toward me. I take a step back, my heart racing.
