“Yeah, it’s in the brochure,” she sighs, as if I should have known.
“Are we doing the escape room?” I ask, trying to mask my unease with a casual tone.
“I’d like to. I think it would be fun,” Tessa replies, her enthusiasm doing a lousy job of masking the weird tension between us.
She touches my arm again and lowers her voice to a whisper, “How have you been? I’m sorry if it’s uncomfortable with Jonathan. I didn’t think you were coming.”
I glance down at her hand, noticing the slight tremor in her fingers. “I’m fine. You know I never miss one of our getaways,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. I could swear I emailed her about coming.
“Well,” she pauses for a moment, “it’s…good to see you,” she murmurs, her eyes darting away. “I was worried things might be...awkward.”
“I’m fine, no worries,” I lie, because if I say it enough times, maybe I’ll start to believe it.
She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. I want to tell her not to worry about me—she tends to overthink everything, often to the point of getting herself sick. But the way her eyes scan my disheveled appearance, she wouldn’t believe a word I say. Her gaze softens with pity, and I can almost hear her thoughts: How much worse could I look? Is there anything she can do to help?
I have to look away. Stare out the window for a beat.
“You know…if you need anything…” she says softly, trailing off.
“I’m fine, really,” I say just as softly. Nothing another drink or three won’t fix.
Jonathan and Marissa saunter over to the window to join us. They’ve finished checking in, so I suppose I should make my way up to the desk. But I don’t want to move just yet. I don’t want it to look like the minute they come over I need to walk away.
My phone vibrates in my pocket as they greet Tessa with tight hugs and warm smiles. Tessa’s eyes dart between me and them, and she starts babbling nervously about the brochure and weekend plans, chewing her thumbnail down to a nub. It’s like watching a squirrel on caffeine.
I sigh and pull out my phone. It’s a text from Jonathan. Seriously? I’m standing right in front of him, and he’s texting me like some middle school kid too scared to talk in person.
Jonathan: I didn’t think you were coming.
I punch out a long answer full of anger and accusations. I write about how pissed off I am for him lying, for his audacity to show up here with her like I never mattered. I accuse him of being a cheater and a liar and a loser and a coward. And then I delete the entire message and shove my phone back in my pocket.
It’s heart-wrenching to give someone the best parts of yourself, only to watch them choose someone else. Sharing yourself with someone and then—it’s just that…sometimes, I wish I could take back all my secrets, everything I ever told him, everything we ever did. Nothing is more humiliating than knowing he understands me in ways he never deserved to.
“Hello, Tori,” Marissa says, her smile sharp and cold as she pulls me into a limp, half-hearted hug.
I stumble forward, my arms hanging stiffly at my sides, fists clenched.When she finally lets go, Jonathan leans in to brush a quick, insincere air kiss to my cheek. “Hey, Tori. Haven’t seen you in a while. How’s everything?” His casual tone feels like an open-handed slap.
I take a step back, biting down the urge to scream.Don’t pretend I meant nothing to you. I was there. I saw the way you looked at me!But I stay silent, because his expression remains indifferent, as if I’m some random acquaintance he once knew, and not someone he shared intimate moments with. And that’s when it hits me—I'm waiting for an apology that’s never coming, from a version of Jonathan that probably only ever existed in my head.
His eyes slide right past me, as if I’ve already faded into the background.
Fine, whatever. I guess what happened between us was nothing. Just a figment of my imagination. Now all I feel is disgusted with myself, and the sight of him is making me a little nauseous. “I’m great,” I reply, mustering a smile. In two months, he’ll do the same thing to Marissa that he did to me. I’ll be there for both of them when it happens—to laugh my ass off.
The mood shifts as the rest of our friends burst through the front doors: the loud, obnoxious Griffin, announcing his arrival like he’s the star of the show, and the gorgeous Hayes, with his smile that lights up a room. They lift me off my feet and taketurns spinning me around.I belt out real laughter for the first time in what feels like months.
“Wow, you came!” Griffin exclaims, eyes wide with surprise. “I didn’t think you were going to make it.”
“Yeah,” Hayes adds, his voice tinged with disbelief. “Tessa said you were a no-go.”
I plaster on a smile, trying to ignore the tiny stab of doubt. “Well, here I am,” I say, injecting a bit too much fake cheer. “Surprise!”
The awkwardness lingers as Tessa clears her throat. “We just…haven’t spoken much lately,” she mutters, barely audible.
I shake off the uneasy feeling, pushing down the urge to hop back in my car and head straight home. Instead, I pull Griffin and Hayes into tight hugs. Hayes’s hug is particularly comforting because he’s just so…Hayes.
The first time I met Hayes, I crashed into him coming out of my dorm bathroom, with one of my towels wrapped around his waist. It was freshman year, the first week of school. He backed two steps away from me and froze. “Hey,” he said, looking at me with a pair of strikingly gorgeous gray eyes.
My brain was doing a weird ping-pong betweenHow far away is my pepper spray?andGod, I wonder how smooth that large expanse of his chest feels?“Um…hi?” I managed to say, talking directly to his chest.
