He did less than nothing for me.
“Don’t you want to know what it’s like to be with someone who doesn’t regret it the next day? Because I promise you, Judels, I won’t regret it.”
“Romeo,” I slurred. “I only want Romeo.”
For the first time in my life, I didn’t look forward to summer. I dreaded it, and I was right to dread it. It was awful. I was home, but nothing feltgood. Romeo was there with his big fake smile and that weird look in his eyes. He said all the same things he usually did, but they sounded completely different. I’d never imagined a world in which I could feel uncomfortable around him, but it turned out that world existed. We hung out with Dan and Ollie more than usual, and Romeo tagged along but didn’t really talk or contribute to the conversation.
It drove me insane.
By midsummer, I’d passed through the worst of the shock of his rejection and found myself wading knee deep in simmering anger. That’s what happens to pain that goes untreated. It morphs. Transforms. It changes into something stronger and uglier.
It was the weekend of the Cherry Festival. It was always a big deal in Alabaster, and something Romeo and I had found deeply cringe as teens. As we got older, it had started to seem, well, not cool by any means, but not like a complete waste of time.
It was a clear day, blue sky and sunny with only a smattering of clouds, just enough to keep it from being uncomfortably hot. The town center had been decorated with red, pink, and green home-sewn bunting, and stands were set up everywhere, selling every conceivable product that could be made from cherries.
Romeo and I were standing with Ollie and Dan, drinking cherry juice we’d laced with vodka, when she walked by. Ollie’s head spun. It actually spun, swiveling around so hard it looked like his head was about to detach from his shoulders.
She wore a white sundress with cherries embroidered all over it. The deep-red thread caught the light and made the white fabric seem whiter than white. Her hair was shoulder-length, dark, and so glossy it almost didn’t look natural. Her face was neat and sweet. She had big brown eyes that were far from sweet.
“Holy shit,” said Ollie. “Who’s that?”
“Oh, her? That’s Selby Rhoden. She just started at Brooker and Bradfield.” Dan made it his business to know as much as possible about every woman between eighteen and forty who set foot in Alabaster. “You got no chance, bruh. She’s a lawyer and like twenty-seven or twenty-eight. She’swayout of your league.”
Dan and Ollie were still looking at her, eyes big and vacant. Romeo was too. I saw him. He wasn’t craning his neck or anything, but he was following her as she moved through the crowd. He clenched his jaw slightly and quickly relaxed it, breaking into a big, dazzling false smile when he caught me looking at him.
Suddenly, my anger wasn’t knee deep. It was chest deep, neck deep, nose deep, and climbing. It was thick and hot. Rancid. Poison that twisted my guts and put words in my mouth.
“An older woman, huh?” I sneered. “Sounds perfect for you, Romeo. You should get her number. She might be just what you need to work out your mommy issues.”
I regretted it as soon as I said it. Ollie and Dan tittered uncomfortably, unsure where to look or if they should laugh. As a group, we were prone to bursts of sarcasm and cutting humor. Most friend groups are. It’s normal. In our case, it wasn’t a big deal. It was always meant as a joke and was usually taken as one. It was just that I’d never made a joke like that aimed at Romeo before, and I’d never let anyone else make one in my presence either.
Romeo’s mouth scooted to the side but no lines formed on his cheek. Not even shallow ones. His eyes were like mirrored glass. Jagged and hard. He raised his glass to his lips and took two slow sips.
“Hold my drink,” he said, holding it out to me.
In my dreams, I call him back.
In my dreams, I chase after him, fall to my knees, apologize, and beg for his forgiveness.
In reality, I watched, immobile, blood running cold as he sauntered through the crowd, long, loping strides growing fluid as his arms and hips moved together and he closed in on Selby.
21
“A pair of star-crossed lovers”
Now
Selby dumps a store-boughtpotato salad into a large blue-and-white bowl and hurries us out the door. “Come on, come on, we’re going to be late,” she cries.
We get to Ollie’s, and I’m immediately enveloped in a cacophony of arms and chests and fist bumps and cheek kisses. Ollie and Dan have visited me separately in New York, and the three of us met up in Vegas for a long weekend a couple of years ago. I haven’t seen either of the Olivias for years, though, and this is the first time I’ve met Dan’s girlfriend, Leigh.
“How awesome is she?” Dan says out of the corner of his mouth immediately after introducing me. “Seriously, how awesome?”
I nod and do things with my eyebrows to suggest that the woman I’ve known for all of two seconds is indeed awesomeness personified.
“Not being funny,” he says as he hands me an icy beer and leads me out to the backyard, “but I think she’s theone. I can’t feel my face when I’m with her. Or my hands. Or my legs. It’s scary as shit, but I like it.”
I laugh and throw my arm around his neck. Fuck, it’s good to see him. Especially like this. Impersonating a grownup, living in a place that only looks a little like a frat house, and so in love he can’t feel his face.
