“Hey,” I call, my heart in my throat as I work to calm down the racing feeling of it. He’s obviously physically okay, which is what I’ve been the most worried about, but I’m still wondering where he’s been—almost to the point of desperation.
He turns around slowly, loosely, almost like he can’t really keep his feet beneath him, and his eyes are big and bloodshot. It hits me then that he’s drunk—very much so—and if possible, my stomach plummets even more than before.
“Heys, Lia,” he greets affectionately, his whole body swaying toward me as Yoko and I step out into the hall.
“Where were you?” I ask, cutting to the chase for the sake of my tired, stressed-out mind. “I’ve been worried. I…I tried to call you, but you didn’t answer. And when I texted Finn and Scottie, they didn’t know where you were either. I didn’t want to text Blake because I know he has the big game against Pennington later today, but I’ve basically been waiting around here all night, worried about you.”
He frowns. “Sorries, babe. Forgots my phone here. You were callin’ my apartment, I’m afraid, not me.”
He forgot his phone?What the hell? Ace Kelly never forgets his phone. Hell, what human being on Planet Earth forgets their phone nowadays?
I rub at my arms until Yoko jumps on my leg, and then I lean down to pick him up in my arms. He’s getting heavy, but somehow, holding his flaily body feels less awkward than standing here, vulnerable, without him.
“Where were you, though?” I press.
He smiles, looking up at the ceiling and touching a finger to his lips. “Out.”
“Out? Out where, Ace?”
He chuckles then, shaking his head and letting out a long,theatrical sigh before snapping his fingers. “With Lex-a-nator. Yeah, Lexi freaking Winslows.”
I frown. “You were out…until two in the morning…drinking…with Lexi Winslow?”
“I knows, babe!” He cracks up. “Crazies, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” I say quietly. It’s too crazy to be believable,andwhy does my heart feel like it’s breaking into a million tiny pieces?
I help him open the door when he fumbles and walk him inside, watching as he stumbles to take off his shoes. His shirt is sloppy and untucked, and a condom flies out of his pocket onto the floor.
Instantly, I feel like crying. I don’t know why, but I do, and I have to shut my eyes for a brief moment to keep the tears at bay.
He’s bumbling around in his living room, and wordlessly, I pull myself together and help walk him into his bedroom while Yoko bounces around us the whole time.
“Ah, yes,” Ace cheers. “My bed. I love my bed so much.” He awkwardly climbs under the covers, his stupid shoes still on, and I find myself removing them so he’s more comfortable.
Ace never lies to me, but tonight, I’m certain he did. I don’t like to make assumptions about anyone or anything without knowing all the facts, but my mind is telling me he was MIA tonight because he was out with another girl…orgirls. And all of those things combined hurt like a bitch.
I look into his eyes and find myself longing for the future I was quietly starting to dream about for us. For me to think he was past that phase of his life was a foolishness I’ll be feeling for weeks.
Still, he’s Ace. He’s my best friend. So, I tuck him in tightly and brush the hair out of his face as he closes his eyes.
“Mm,” he hums. “I love you, Julia.”
“Yeah, I know,” I say. “I love you too.” And right now, in this very instant, with my drunk, deceitful best friend half passed out in his bed, I’m starting to wonder if I’ve loved Ace more than it’s probably ever been good or healthy for me.
Sure, we made all sorts of decrees and promises when we werea couple of hopeful kids, but we’re not little kids anymore. We’re adults. And it doesn’t make any sense for me to be planning my future around something we promised each other when I was seven freaking years old.
I mean, that would be the epitome of naïve. Ever since we hit puberty, Ace has been very much into girls. Flirting with girls. Kissing girls. Dating girls. Hooking up with girls.
All girls who are not me, in fact.
His breathing evens as he falls asleep, and Yoko and I climb in beside him. I snuggle close and breathe him in, burrowing my nose into the skin of his arm and wrapping my leg with his.
He doesn’t smell like himself at all, and my back breaks with the weight of the realization, turning his fancy $10,000 mattress into a bed of nails.
I force myself to move away from him, pushing up to sitting and crawling to the edge of the bed.
With one last kiss to his cheek, I climb out of the bed and retreat across the hall to my apartment, shutting and locking both his door and mine behind me.
