Let’s just say, I can be a bit impulsive at times. So, given my history of bad spur-of-the-moment decisions, I should probably take a few hours (or days) to fully consider the ramifications of my actions. But then I wouldn’t be me now, would I?
I open the van door and step down into the parking lot. It’s probably ninety degrees outside, which is bad enough, but with the heat radiating off the asphalt, it’s like I’ve walked into an oven. My stomach churns with nerves, but I keep putting one foot in front of the other until I come to a stop at the glass door leading into the shop. The sign says it’s open, so I let myself in. A bell chimes over my head as I enter, and I only have to wait about thirty seconds for Ryan to step through the door in the back of the room. He’s busy looking at a clipboard, so he doesn’t notice me at first. When he lifts his head to greet me, his chest goes still.
“Hi,” I say.
“Hi,” he parrots. Setting down the clipboard, Ryan steps around the counter, but he stops short, leaving something like twenty feet between us. He can’t seem to figure out what to dowith his hands. First, he crosses his arms, then drops them to his side, on his hips, in his pockets, and all the while, he’s rolling back and forth on the balls of his feet like a little boy. It would be cute if it weren’t for what his nervous behavior signifies.
We just stand there a while, looking at each other, and it’s so fucking confusing because even though he’s undoubtedly blowing me off, I swear I can see longing in his eyes. “Uh… Hi,” he says again, ending our standoff.
I clasp my hands into fists and spit the words out before I chicken out. “What’s going on, Ryan?”
For a moment, he just stares at me, his lips pressed into an angry line, incongruous to the devastation coloring his eyes. Then his gaze drops to the floor, and I know we’re finished. “I’m… Uh… I don’t think we should see each other anymore.”
Maybe it’s that there are too many emotions pummeling me too quickly for any single one to stick, or I’m in shock or just straight-up denial, but when I finally find my voice, it comes out cold and flat, “Why?”
He blinks, like my question caught him off guard, but recovers quickly. Squaring his shoulders, he looks me dead in the eyes and says, “I don’t think we’re right for each other.”
It’s a lie. I don’t know how I know, but I’m sure of it. Someone doesn’t do a one-eighty like this for no reason. I take a deep breath, squashing the sadness crushing my heart like a vice, and settle into my anger. “Bullshit,” I say. “Tell me the truth, Ryan.”
“That is the truth.”
“Please,” I say, crossing my arms to hide my shaking hands. “That’s the lamest brush-off in the book. You might as well have said, ‘It’s not you, it’s me.’”
He blows out a breath and turns toward the countertop, his hands gripping the edge like it’s the only thing keeping him upright. “What do you want me to say, Charlie? We’re toodifferent. You’re from a nice, middle-class family and I’m… me. It’ll never work.”
“You didn’t think that a couple of days ago.”
“Well, I was wrong,” he says, his voice turning hard, angry.
“Look at me,” I say. Ryan’s head swivels to face me, but his gaze continues to flit between me and the floor. It’s enough to see the glassiness building in his eyes. “Please, tell me what’s going on.”
Nostrils flaring, he slams his fist on the counter and shouts, “I don’t want to see you anymore. Jesus Christ, Charlie, isn’t that enough?” Then, without waiting for a reply, he tears around the counter and through the back door, slamming it behind him hard enough to rattle the wall.
In his wake, all that is left is an oppressive silence closing in around me. I try to hold on to the anger. It’s so much easier to manage than sadness, but it slips away as quickly as it appeared. My chest aches like someone played whack-a-mole with my heart, and I rub it absently with the heel of my palm, knowing it will do nothing to ease the hurt. I straighten my spine, blink back the tears in my eyes and head for the door. The sweltering heat hits me like an anvil the moment I step outside. Legs wobbling like a newborn fawn, I make my way across the lot, climb inside my mom’s van and shut the door.
Then I burst into tears.
Chapter 9
Automatons Don’t Cry
Ryan
It’s the strangest thing,this emptiness. I’d expected depression or anger or something after having to dump Charlie, but right now, I don’t feel anything. We’re about twenty minutes into our lunch break and I haven’t said a word to Trey or Garrett. I just stare at nothing while eating my sandwich—bite, chew, swallow—like an automaton. My brothers are watching me, their faces tight with worry, but I’m too numb to care.
I should have never asked her out in the first place. At least, when I was watching her from afar, it was only a fantasy. I could push it aside and move on. But now that I’ve had her, it’s like each memory of her taste, her touch, her laugh is a knife jabbing and twisting in my gut.
I set down the remainder of my sandwich; I’m not hungry anymore.
I gulp down some water and start packing up my lunch when Garrett breaks the silence.
“Are you going to tell us what happened, or do we have to guess?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I reply, not meeting his eyes. If I look at him, I’ll break down, and right now, I’m content in my bubble. I can function—mostly—but the minute I open my mouth to tell them what happened, it’ll burst. I finish packing up my food and push to my feet.
“Sit the fuck down,” Trey says. He’s using his tough guy voice—the one that immediately makes a grown man want to crap his pants and do whatever Trey says so he doesn’t beat him into a steaming pulp. Unfortunately for Trey, I know it’s all bullshit.
“Fuck off,” I say and head to where the small fridge is hidden beneath the counter. I put my leftovers away and turn around to find Trey’s chest in my face. When I tip my head back to look up at him, I can see he’s pissed. Rage twists his features and his eyes are barely slits. Right about now is when I should be backtracking and doling out an apology, but I won’t. I just don’t want to deal with him right now. “Let me by, Trey.”
