“Sloane,” I warn her. “Just take her home. Please.”
“Whatwereyou two doing?” she asks, salaciously. “Actually, never mind. Ew. Forget I asked.”
I roll my eyes, slowly adjusting myself so that I can better support Gen as we try to hoist her up. I’ve been trying to rouse her since I stopped texting Sloane, but she just keeps nuzzling her head into the crook of my shoulder. I’m not complaining, but I doubt she wants to wake up to a hangoverandthe sight of dingy mop buckets.
“Gen,” I murmur into her hair, softly, running my hands over her shoulders. “It’s time to go.”
“Sloane! My savior,” Gen beams between yawns, shuffling her way to her feet as I help her up.
“Yes, it’s me. The best person you know.” Sloane winks at me as she loops an arm around Gen, supporting her as they make their way out into the blinding lobby. “The car’s already pulled up, so we gotta go babe.”
“Don’t show off, okay?” I tell her. She just got her car back, and I know she probably sped the whole way to her art show with the top down.
“I’m not goin’ to endanger her, Grant. You forget that I like her, too,” she tells me with a quick eye roll, her grin honest and warm.
I hang back in the closet for a few minutes longer, giving our departures enough distance before reentering the ballroom, the entire scene feeling different than before.
Despite the way my night started, I wander back into the ballroom in a totally different headspace, still high off holding Gen against me as she slept. And while the logical part of my brain knows that her alcohol fueled confession might not make it into her memory bank tomorrow morning,the part of me still holding onto the hope of an eventual us can’t stop replaying it.
I care, so much,she’d said.It’s you.
Lost in thought, I head to the lower patio for some non-fragranced air, and catch Ben way too fucking close to Olivia to seem anything but cozy and intimate. I walk over to them, shocked by their audacity. I know there’s something going on between them but this…I can’t even imagine being that careless.
I pretend like I have no idea what’s going on once I finally approach them. Just like I play dumb when they ask me where I’ve been.
Then, all hell breaks loose.
17
Gen
I feel like a shell of myself as the sun peeks through the blinds. I crack my eyes open and immediately regret it. Nausea roils in my stomach, intensifying when my brain starts to replay the events of the previous night.
The argument with Will. Sobbing at the bar with Olivia. Seeing Grant.
Grant.
I feel my face flush as I remember waking up on his chest in a janitor’s closet, the memory of him and Sloane taking care of me softening the dull ache in my head. I roll my lips together, fully aware that I’m laying in bed more hungover than I’ve ever been in my life, smiling to myself. My mind shifts again, a different closet coming into focus as my eyes catch on the winter coat I had on over my gown, now sprawled over the chair in the far corner of my room.
The coat closet. A girl—not Liv. Will’s walk of no shame at all.
The acidic remnants of last night’s drinks crawl up my throat and I sit up, bolting to the bathroom in a blur, barelymaking it into the toilet before retching. My eyes water from the force of it as I rest my forehead against the palm of my hand, waiting for another wave before I get up to wash my face.
I stare at the back of the toilet seat, remembering everything Will and I said in the car, and sadness threatens to overwhelm me. Olivia sat at that bar, commiserating with me to an extent, but she was sookaywhile I was…distraught. Watching Will walk out of that closet with that raven-haired girl felt like the biggest slap in the face. It wasn’t that he’d hooked up with someone who wasn’t me—I mean, story of my life, at this point. It was the realization that I can’t stop his spiral like I once thought I could. It was the look in his eye when he saw me spot him. Like he wanted me to see him be so reckless, wanted to try to hurt me because maybe I hurt him by not being there for him the way I always have. Did it because the thought of me not needingonly himis new and maybe painful.
The memory has my bones feeling heavy, makes it hard to stand up off the floor and wash away the remnants of last night. I love Will. I will always love him, but not in the way I have. I can’t.
The realization has hot tears bleeding into the water I’m splashing on my face.
Letting go of the way I loved him feels like a betrayal. But holding onto it won’t help him, and it’ll only hurt me.
I look at myself in the mirror, try to manifest this new, done version of me. A shower helps, the lather of my shampoo and the hypnotic rinse of my body wash lulling me into an avoidant trance. But as soon as I step out of the shower, there’s Will calling me, the pieces of my fractured heart floating to the surface. I ignore the call, knowing it’s far too soon for him to have meaningfully reflected on whohe’s become, and immediately see hours old texts from Grant.
Grant
I know you won’t see this till you wake up, but I just wanted to tell you how glad I am I got to see you tonight.
And I hope Sloane’s driving didn’t scare you.
