Then it dawned on me that if Seth and I broke up, I’d basically have to give up on all those friendships I’d made as well, which meant I was completely alone.
And of all the emotions circling me like hungry wolves, shame was the worst of them. I’d trusted Seth so completely. I kicked myself for not seeing this coming. Or not picking up on the clues, but how could I have known unless he told me? My goddamned curfew made it so easy for him. He’d probably always been cheating on me. The thought that this had been going on since the beginning made me feel ten times worse. Thank God I made him use a condom. I should still get tested.
And then I just felt dirty and used and manipulated. And stupid for letting it happen. For jumping in head first. For believing his lies. Wash, rinse, repeat.
It went on like that for a couple more days. I’d wake up in the morning and hope to feel better, but each day that passed, I felt worse. In an effort to scrape my smooshed and barely beating heart off the pavement, I made plans to play pick-up basketball with some of the neighborhood kids. I tried not to think about the fact that those same courts were where Seth and I had met. Two games and I played both of them like shit. I was out of practice and unable to focus. They went pretty easy on me regardless. Word had gotten around Hilliard that Seth and I were on the outs. Seth had probably posted about in on Instagram. I vowed never to open that app ever again.
It was the weekend, and I was at the water fountain filling up after practicing hoops on my own for a couple of hours, cursing Seth’s name, when the man himself showed up. He must have been making the rounds in search of me, since we hadn’t communicated since that night at Corner Bar. He looked rough, like he hadn’t slept much in the past couple of weeks or bothered to shave. Maybe my absence had triggered one of his depressive episodes. As mad as I was, I still cared for him and hoped that wasn’t the case.
Thankfully I’d spotted him crossing the courts, which gave me enough time to think up what I was going to say to him. Or not say. I’d pretend I didn’t give a shit—about him, about us, about anything. It was what I did with my dad when he started in on me. Best-case scenario, I’d make it through a conversation without crying. I might break down every night in my bedroom, but there was no way I’d give Seth the satisfaction of seeing me in pain.
“Hey,” Seth said when he was a mere two feet away, close enough that I could reach out and touch him. He risked a glance up at me, then hung his head and looked sorry as hell, but who could tell if it was genuine remorse or only an act? I couldn’t trust anything he said ever again.
“‘Sup?” I said like a bro. I took a slow drink of water, letting it work its way down my esophagus and settle in my stomach. I wiped my mouth with the back of my sweaty wrist and glanced around. It was nearing dinnertime on a Sunday afternoon, and the park was dead—just him and me.
“Can we talk about it?” Seth asked while wincing like he was in pain.
I’d heard everything he had to say already, and nothing had compelled me to call him back. Every time I considered it, a vision of that kid on his knees assaulted me like a high-voltage electric shock.
“I got to get home,” I told him. “Streetlights and all.” I kicked myself for making a reference to the Before. In my mind, our relationship would forever be defined by that one event. Before. And After.
“I’ll walk you home,” Seth said. He didn’t even ask. Of course he wouldn’t. As far as he was concerned, he still owned me.
“No thanks,” I said, even though I wanted him desperately. Love is fucked up that way. Your rational mind can tell you that you don’t love someone, but everything else—your skin, your bones, your dick, your hemorrhaging heart—says otherwise.
“Please, Hiroku. I just want to talk to you.”
I gazed past him, not wishing to give him even my eye contact. “So, talk.”
I saw his shoulders slump out of the corner of my eye. I cared but didn’t show it. “Can we go over to the swings?” He gestured helplessly in that direction.
“Five minutes.” I strode over to the swings, not even looking to see if he was following me. I knew that he would.
I dropped my ball on the ground, plopped down on one of the old swings and gripped the rusted metal chains in both fists, thankful to have them to hold onto. I dug into the ground with my heels, but I didn’t try to swing. I was already nauseated.
Seth kneeled in the dirt before me, ass resting on his heels as though about to bow down in prayer. He was prostrating himself before me to get back on my good side, as if submitting physically would somehow convince me to let go of my anger.
“I am so sorry, Hiroku.”
I felt nothing at hearing him apologize. Absolutely nothing.
“Sorry for getting head from John Deere or sorry for getting caught?” I asked ferociously.
“You know which one I’m sorry for.”
I gazed out at the line of trees darkening in the setting sun. My throat was thick and making it hard for me to speak. “No, I don’t.” I dared to look him in the eyes. God, the aching was unbearable. Like a vacuum slowly sucking my heart through the gaps in my ribcage and tearing it open in the process.
“Then I’m sorry for both. And that you had to see it.”
I didn’thaveto see it, but I wasn’t going to argue semantics with Seth—he’d probably win that argument anyway. “How long have you been getting head and whatever else from other people?”
“It was just sex,” Seth said.
I grinned, but there was absolutely no joy in it. “You say that like it’s borrowing a pencil.”
“It’s the most basic bodily function.”
I chuckled snidely. “Riiight. So, it’s cool for me to go get head from randos as well?” Seth’s expression darkened. He was jealous and possessive as hell. He once told off a guy for dancing too close to me at a club. He couldn’t even fake being open to that suggestion. I nodded. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
