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“But that’s what it is, though. You used me for friendship, for that stupid challenge.”
“Lucy, I promise. It may have started that way, but that’s not how I feel about you now.”
“How do you feel about me now?”
“You’re my friend,” he says, his eyes crestfallen.
“But that’s not friendship,” I say, shaking my head, the movement making water droplets fall onto my shoulders. “It seems like a real player move to me. Maybe I should have listened to Kyle.”
“Lucy,” he says, moving toward me.
But I let go of the edge of the pool and quickly swim over to the ladder and start to pull myself up. Before I get to the top, I look down at him—at his face, his handsome face, and his shining blue eyes. “I don’t want to see you anymore. Whatever this was to you ... I’m done.”
“Lucy,” he says, shaking his head. “Please.”
I don’t say anything else. I just climb all the way out, grabbing my towel from the bench as I walk as fast as I can to the locker room.
“YOU’RE A STINKY DIAPER PANTS,” Caden says to everyone as we sit around the dinner table, celebrating my dad’s birthday.
“Caden,” my sister-in-law Carrie says, her tone scolding. Milly giggles, and the rest of us try to hold in our laughter.
Well, everyone but me. I’m too busy trying to hold in my heartbreak, and also my hatred of mankind in general, present company excluded. Although I do hate Kyle. Because he befriended Graham and brought him into our lives all those years ago, making my current life feel like a big gaping wound now. If I’d never met Graham, there would have been no connection, no reason for him to befriend me for his therapy or whatever.
I don’t really hate Kyle; I just need someone to be mad at right now. Because my anger at Graham isn’t enough.
I don’t understand. I don’t get it. I feel so many things right now. I feel hurt and used and played.
That last thought makes unwanted tears pool at the bottoms of my eyes, and I blink them back when I think about him. Freaking Graham. If my family were paying attention, they might think I’ve developed some sort of twitch, since I’ve been doing this all night. Thank goodness there are so many of us—no one has said a thing.
Under the table, Morgan grabs my hand and squeezes it because she’s noticed. She also knows why I’m tearing up since I called her right after leaving the pool. I also may have directed some of my anger at her. She started this whole thing with her dumb challenge.
Look at me, a month later, and I’m actually worse off than if I had just stayed in my little rut. Year of Lucy, my butt.
I appreciate the gesture, her holding my hand. What I don’t appreciate is that my dad had to be born on this day, forcing me—his only daughter—to come celebrate with him tonight. It seems sort of rude and insensitive, even though you can’t really control the day you enter this world, and also, he has no idea I’m basically heartsick right now.
Graham was supposed to be here tonight. He never said he’d come, but I think I would have talked him into it. I could picture it, him seeing my family again, mending things with Kyle. It was a lovely happily-ever-after movie in my mind. Instead, I’m here by myself, feeling like I’ve been run over by a truck.
“Shall we have cake?” my mom asks, after Ryan and Derek have cleared the table.
Milly and Caden cheer excitedly as my mom goes into the kitchen and grabs the cake. It’s double-layered and covered in chocolate frosting. My guess is yellow cake, since that’s my dad’s favorite.
“Did Lucy make this?” Derek asks as my mom sets it on the table in front of my dad, with candles shaped like the number sixty-six sticking out of the top.
“No,” I say, the words coming out thick. Stupid Derek. He had to ask if I made it, which in turn reminds me that the last—and only—time I made a cake was with Graham. And Graham is a burnt bag of popcorn. Actually, he doesn’t deserve my kinder insults. He’s a jackass that I don’t want to think about right now.
“What’s going on with you?” Kyle asks, looking at me from his seat across the table. “Are you sick?”
“I’m not sick,” I say, and then mentally punch myself because it would have been a great excuse. Then my dad would tell me I should go home and rest, and I could leave this party and go have the proper cry in my bed that I deserve. I’ve already cried in the car, and in my living room. The bed is next.
“Are you crying, Luce? Why are you crying?” Derek asks, his brows pulled together, concern on his face. For once, could he not be the freaking middle child who notices everything and tries to fix it?
“I’m fine,” I say.
“Is this because of Graham?” Kyle asks, his gaze fiery.
“No,” I say, at the same time as Ryan says, “Yes.”
“Ryan,” I say through gritted teeth. How does he know? Oh, that’s right, Morgan.
