“No one,” I say, giving myself a moment to regain my balance before moving again.
Bradley is no one, and I force another breath into my lungs.
“Al, you’ve taken enough shots to knock out a horse. You’re drunk, and it’s cold as hell out here. Let’s go back inside,” he says when I remove his hands from me.
“You don’t tell me what to do,” I say, because I can’t go back in there. I can’t be the smallest version of myself again, and Bradley has a way of making me feel microscopic.
“Alondra,” Jack says, his footsteps following me.
“Go away, Jack.”
He scoffs, and I trip on a crack, except this time I catch myself without his help. “For fuck’s sake, will you just slow down and tell me what’s going on before you get hurt?”
I wrap my arms around myself, trying to conserve my body heat, but it’s colder now than it was when we first got to Twin City. “Jack, go back inside. We’re not friends—you don’t need to follow me to make sure I’m okay.”
“Why are we not friends again?” he asks, appearing unfazed by the temperature despite only wearing a short sleeve and jeans.
“Because you’re you!” I shout, throwing my hands out in frustration.
“I’m me?” Jack has the nerve to look hurt when I’ve been nothing but honest about wanting nothing to do with him from the moment I learned who he was.
I have no desire to have the conversation regarding my daddy issues or my complex relationship history with him ever, but especially not now.
“Jack, it’s nothing personal, but I don’t want to be friends with you. I’ve done the whole ‘hang with the jocks’ before, and I can’t make myself small enough again for your ego to fill a room.I’ll tutor you, but that’s all you’ll get from me. Tonight was a mistake.”
He doesn’t have a chance to say anything before my stomach rolls, and I’m bent over into the bushes, vomiting. I’m too busy losing all of my pride to protest when he pulls my hair gently out of my face, and I only feel worse because I wish he wasn’t so damn nice to me, especially when I just insulted him.
I wipe my mouth on the sleeve of my sweater, feeling more disgusting than I ever have before. Jack hooks an arm around my waist, helping me up, and I’m afraid to look him in the eye.
“C’mon, Al. Let’s get you back home,” he says, and it’s the tenderness in his touch that causes a flicker of doubt in my resolve to not let Jack anywhere near my heart. It’s already been broken more times than I can count, and I’m not sure it’s possible to rebound from another one, but it seems inevitable where Jack is concerned.
The next morning, I wake up with a pounding headache, feeling like the biggest bitch in the world as the events of last night replay in my mind. Jack drove me home and helped me to bed without a single complaint.
A wave of nausea rolls in my stomach when I remember what caused me to flee the bar in the first place.
I knew at some point I would run into Bradley, but I was naive to think I’d be unaffected. Unfortunately, thinking you’re prepared andactuallybeing prepared are two different things.
I wasnotprepared is an understatement.
My phone vibrates on the nightstand, and I unplug it, seeing dozens of texts from Macy and Ellie—some legible, but most a random collection of letters put together. The most recent oneis from Jack, reminding me to take the pain meds and drink the water he left on my nightstand.
Today is a day I’m pulling the covers over my head to hide from the world when I should be hiding from myself.
Am I being too mean to Jack?
Absolutely.
Am I afraid of becoming friends with Jack?
Yes.
Should I become friends with Jack?
Potentially.
I groan, twisting to shove my face into my pillow. I need to make things right with him by trying to explain my apprehension.
Jack isn’t the same as Bradley, and it was unfair of me to take my fear for one out on the other.
