The absolute worst part about everything Nico said is that he’d been right. Of course he was. Everything, even the bit about not having self-respect, had been spot-on.I wish I had been able to realize it earlier, before all this effort and without all this drama.
I had gotten here, though. Even if it had taken so much time. And maybe that’s just what being eighteen is: knowing that you have to move forward, move on, move out, even when there’s nothing you’d rather do than stay in the past. What I hadn’t said to Nico is that, even without his input, I’ve always known that if I see Wes tonight, it will represent the closing of a chapter instead of the start of another. I’m sick of having my mouth taste all dry and icky. Sick of feeling nauseous all the time, wondering if he’s going to text me back. Sick of spending all my time and thoughts on someone who doesn’t do the same in return. Sick of being stuck to my phone, on his hook, perpetually waiting for him to get back to me.
Tonight is going to be the night I say goodbye to Wes.
Even if my friends never speak to me again, and I am alone forever, I have no doubt at all that I’m doing the right thing.
I can’t help laughing as I approach the address Wes texted. Of course it’s a club.Of coursethat’s the backdrop he’s chosen to try to woo me back. But it’s okay. Wes is in his frat-boy party era, and that’s his journey. In a way, I’m thankful he’s making this easier on me. For the first time in a long time, I feel free.
I squint as I approach. Wes is standing out front, wearing a white T-shirt so tight it could be cutting off circulation to his biceps, talking—no, maybe even flirting—with two girls. My chest constricts in its habitual weighted blanket of jealousy. But this isn’t my battle to fight anymore. I push past those feelings and take a deep breath, steeling myself. It’s all for nothing, though, because when I get closer, I realize that he’s not flirting, he’s fighting for his life. And those aren’t two random girls; they’redefinitelyAnya and Marisol.
It’s hard to hear what they are saying, even as their voices get loud, because they’re all talking over one another. Anya is nearly eye level with Wes and, judging by her face, she’s spitting pure fire. Snippets and words break through:who do you think you areandwhat do you think you’re doingandfuckboy. I freeze, unsure if I should keep walking.
Anya and Mari might not want to see me, and I don’t even know if they want to keep being friends, but here they are, defending me. Just as I’m deliberating, though, I see Anya get closer, up in his face, and Wes, whether reflexively or on purpose, shoves her, and she stumbles back.
Ohhellno. Before the thought even clears my brain I am moving, grabbing the first thing I see, which is a pitcher of beer off a nearby table. I ignore the shouts of objection from the surely lovely people who planned to enjoy that beer and I march over to Wes and dump it all over his head.
CHAPTER 36
Wes spins around, ready tofight. “What the hell?”
“Do nottouch my friends.” I’m not as tall as him or Anya, but I draw myself up to my full height and put myself between them. Anya and Mari are staring, shocked, but I think I also detect a hint of pride as the faintest of smiles ripples across Anya’s face.
“I barely touched her! She was literally spitting in my face.” Wes is trying to wipe up all the beer with his hand and the dry parts of his shirt. “Can we talk somewhere else, please? Away fromthem?”
“I think right here is fine.” I refuse to move. What I have to say I want Anya and Mari to be close enough to hear. Wes looks annoyed, uncomfortable, like he’s been caught out. His eyes dart around to identify any exit routes, a hostage plotting his escape. I take a deep breath and try to summon the courage to get out what I’ve been needing to say for ages now. “You know, Wes, I really thought we could have had something. A big love. You have a knack for making life so fun, for making the little things feel significant, for making me feel better when I’m down, but I’mnot okay with the little things anymore. I’m not okay with being led on and strung along and placated withmaybes andsomedays. I’m not okay with trying so hard to act like I’m cool with it to impress you, make you love me back.”
“Jesus, Sora, what’s the issue? I thought we were good. You know how I feel about you.” Wes is exasperated, dripping a puddle of beer where he stands.
“Do I?” I cross my arms. “I’m not a mind reader. All I know is you’ve never acted like I was a priority. I choose you above everything else, over and over again, and you only choose me when it’s convenient. When it’s fun. Love isn’t one-sided like this. Love isn’t just words. Love is making sure someone knows how much you care. It’s planting ten thousand lemon trees.”
“Lemon trees? What does that even mean?” Wes is annoyed.
“It means I’m done. I don’t want to see you anymore. Nothing ever changes with you, and the one thing I can count on is how I’m always left feeling like absolute garbage every time I think things are finally happening with us. I thought I loved you, but I’ve finally gotten to the point where I want to love me more.”
It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to say to anyone. Wes is standing there, head hanging, his arms dangling at his sides. He looks almost… dejected. And while I wish I wouldn’t have needed to say all those things, I don’t exactly want to take it back, either.
Anya and Mari rush up and wrap me in a hug. In my periphery, a small group of Wes’s friends are walking up to us. It becomes apparent fairly quickly that they’ve overheard most of my big speech. And it’s also clear that they don’t think very much of it.
“Told you she wasn’t worth wasting any time on, man. Come on, let’s go.” His friend Graham narrows his eyes at me as he slaps a hand on Wes’s shoulder.
Freddy adds his two cents. “You can find a girl who sends actual nudes instead of those tame lingerie photos. Literally a dime a dozen.”
“Shut up, Freddy,” Wes hisses.
But it’s too late. I’ve heard everything. My gut sinks so low inside me.
“Are you serious, Wes?” I flush hot. Wes had shared the private photos I sent him with all his friends? He was making fun of me with them?
Wes doesn’t even have the decency to admit it. He just stares at an imaginary spot on the ground. I’m so furious I’m shaking, and he can’t even look me in the eye. Can’t even apologize.
“You guys are pigs,” Mari spits. Everyone freezes. Sweet, innocent Mari hurling insults is something you don’t see every day. In the moment, I’m so thankful to have my friends here, estranged or not, to defend me.
“Pigs!” Anya seconds her. She grabs an abandoned drink from a nearby table and throws it at Freddy. The liquid hits him right in the face.
Mari, feral, grabs two more drinks, one in each hand, and douses Wes and Graham individually.
“Psycho bitch!” Freddy yells as he shields his face.
