I text Liam,letting him know that I’m leaving the Fall Fest because I’m not feeling well. The text burns a hole in my retinas as I press send, knowing that I’m signing my own death warrant. I despise lying, and that’s what I’m doing. Lying to the one person who has only asked me for honesty.
Liam doesn’t deserve this from me, but even I’m not sure how this is going to play out. I’m not going to end my relationship over something that might be miniscule in the grandscheme of things. That makes me a shitty person, I know. But I do care for Liam, and I don’t want to hurt him.
I just need to figure this out for myself before I make decisions on anything else.
Liam:Do you need me to come over? I can bring soup. :(
I know he was looking forward to going to the Fall Fest, and I feel even worse knowing that he’s going to be disappointed. But I still don’t change my mind as I pull my truck out of the parking lot and head to Ema and Rodney’s house to pick up Raiden. He left the community building with his mom after he finished the last face painting.
The clock on the dash flashes with7:02.I told my mom my leg was starting to hurt, which is a cop out. I asked if she would mind me leaving her by herself, and she patted my shoulder telling me to take it easy and to ice the bottom of my leg. My leg is fine. The abundance of lies are going to crumple, but as I turn on the road to pull onto the familiar road my pulse skyrockets. Every small second has brought me to this big, life altering moment.
Raiden is waiting for me by the curb, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket.
I slow down, not fully parking while he walks into the street to hop into the passenger seat.
“Hey,” he says easily. He fiddles with the screen on my dash, skipping through the songs until he settles on one he likes. It's exactly what he used to do when we were younger, when there wasn’t this distance between us.
I don’t respond. I don’t have a word in my vocabulary that will escape my mouth. The warring emotions inside of me are fighting for release, and I don’t know which one will win.
He’s freshly showered, the strong scent of his body wash filling the cab of the truck. I suck in deep breaths, trying to keep it all for myself.
“I brought a movie, I wasn’t sure if you had it but I thoughtit would be like old times.” He rummages in a bag I didn’t notice before and my eyes widen. He packed a bag. A bag, full of things, that he’s going to bring to my apartment.
“What movie?” My voice is ragged and I tap my fingers against the steering wheel trying to keep my mind from focusing on what this means. It meansnothing.We’re two friends, hanging out and catching up on old times. That’s all. That’s it.
“The Best of Me,you still like that movie right?”
Why me? Why, why why?
I nod, keeping my eyes on the road while he tells me about watching it on the last tour he did. A different city every night, but he loved it. His favorite part was watching Nicholas Sparks movies with the rest of the dance crew.
“I loved watching them cry. Does that make me a sadist?” He cocks his head and looks at me. His lips are shimmery with the lip gloss I watched him swipe on.
“Definitely.” And that would make me a masochist by default since I’m willingly and knowingly subjecting myself to his special brand of torture.
“It also reminded me of you–it was nice to have that reminder of home while I was on the road. It felt so lonely sometimes. Don’t get me wrong, I loved my job. Being the head choreographer and dancer was everything I wanted, but it wasn’t enough. I still feel like I need more. I know what I’m missing, but I’ve been too scared to take it.”
“What are you missing?”
I know his answer before he even opens his mouth, and I tense my body waiting for the blow to land.
Even with my preparation I’m not ready for the single syllable word to be uttered into the cab of the truck, tainting it with this memory for years to come.
“You.”
21
JERICHO
This is a special circle of hell, one that was created for me, and me alone. I don’t know how to respond to Raiden’s blatant statement, so I do what I do best. Nothing. I don’t acknowledge his words. Not when I pull into the apartment complex. Not when I park my truck. Not when I open the door to my place and let him see it for himself.
There’s not much for him to see. A grey cloth couch in front of a TV, with an array of blankets lining the back because I never put them up when the guys came over. My kitchen is to the left, filled with stainless steel appliances. A hallway that leads to my bedroom and separate bathroom. It’s not much, but it's mine. The walls are bare, and the only thing on my mantel is my clock and a framed picture of me and my parents when they came to my graduation.
“This is…” Raiden starts, trailing his fingers across the blanket. I can see the trails his fingers are leaving in the fabric. I want to hide it away, frame it and keep it for a rainy day after he leaves me again. Because he will leave me. I can kid myself all I want, but him coming over tonight changes nothing between us. It’ll stay the same constant pushing and pulling until one of us breaks.
“Not up to your standards, you’re probably used to lavish penthouses and over the top decor.” I try not to sound bitter, I really do, but it's hard when I’m seeing him standing in my living room. I shouldn’t feel like I’m tainting him by just existing in the same place as him.
“I wasn’t going to say that,” Raiden snaps, whirling around to confront me. He looks like a pissed off kitten with his face scrunched like that. “Quit assuming the worst of me.”
