Selena rolls her eyes, leaning back against the couch. “Sorry, but how many times have you told me that you faked an orgasm with Paul and his pencil dick? And it’s been what … four months since you got laid?”
Eight.
“Not only am I betting on them winning the World Cup this year, but I bet Noah can make you come apart just by taking his shirt off.”
My face heats up in response, but I point at her. “World Series! You’re worse than Paul was.”
“Hey!” A jelly bean hits the side of my face as Selena groans. “First of all, ew. I will never be worse than Paul in any sense. And secondly, it’s basically the same thing … but that's not the point, miss blush-y. When was the last time you saw him shirtless?”
Chewing on my lip, I mentally picture Noah’s perfectly toned back. “I saw his bare back the night after you left. His stomach though, before he left for college. We spent a lot of time at the beach that summer.”
“Yeah, probably so he could check you out in a bikini all day.”
My phone vibrates from the coffee table and a name I didn’t expect to ever see again pops across the screen.
Paul: Can we talk?
Selena peeks at my screen and shakes her head. “What does he possibly have to say? Is he going to pitch a three-way again?”
I shrug, deleting the text but when I open Instagram, a sharp laugh escapes me. I’d deleted Paul from all my social media, but one of our mutual friends posted a picture that speaks volumes.
“What’s that saying … a picture is worth a thousand words?”
“What?” She grabs my phone from me, coming face to face with Paul and a woman. Not the blonde woman who I met, but a dark-haired woman, beaming as their hands wrap around her belly.
What catches me off guard is she’s got a noticeable bump, it’s not a “two weeks ago” thing. She’s got to be at least five months along.
“Holy fucking shit.” Selena glances between the phone and me, trying to gauge my reaction.
Even though it hurts, I don’t cry. It’s like the final nail in the coffin falls into place. He doesn't deserve my anger, because clearly our relationship was over long before the breakup.
He must've had his fingers crossed behind his back every time he told me he loved me. Honestly, I couldn’t care less at this point because I’m realizing he never felt like home to me and he was never my best friend.
I screenshot the picture and send Paul one final text.
Audrey:I think this picture says more than enough.
“Sel, I think I just had an aha moment.”
Selena lets out a squeal. “You sure did, bestie. Go get your man, they have a game this weekend, don’t they?”
They do. And I think it’s time I live selfishly.
I text Connor.
Audrey:Have room for one more in Baltimore? It’s time I use up some of my vacation days.
I shake my head.
That's not selfish enough.
Audrey:Actually, no. I take that back. I think I’ll take up your offer to come for the season. Are you fine with another roomie for a few months?
Connor:FUCK YES!
The next day, my suitcases are full, a U-haul trailer is packed, I’ve handed in my notice effective immediately, and I’m setting my alarm to hit the road first thing tomorrow. After Selena leaves, I pull out the DVDs Noah bought me all those years ago and I fall asleep watchingThe Notebook.
On-screen Noah may have written Allie a letter every day for a year and built her their dream house, but he’s got nothing on Noah Benson.
