The air in the apartment sits flat and devoid of the usual energywe bring. It’s the emptiness of a freshly bleached hotel room, and we’re two strangers who’d planned to part ways since we met.
It’s over. Before we even got started.
~
A few hours later, our bags are packed, flights booked, and I’m in bed, hating every part of it. It’s not fair. Yes, nothing in life is fair, but I don’t understand why it had to flip upside down so quickly.
Maybe it’s a sign—a big, flashing billboard telling me to stop what I’m doing with Bri. It’s undeniable that I’m attracted to her, and as aloof as she pretends to be, she has to see how willing I am to cross the line and let her be the start of my next chapter.
But she doesn’t want to be in a relationship, she wants sex, and I don’t know how to have sex with someone without falling for them. We mesh so well, but our needs clash. Is this the universe’s way of ending it before I have a chance to spoil what we’ve had? Is life telling me not to walk into her room and ask her to get naked with me, ending our friendship? Does it want me to be alone and full of regret all over again? While fate is trying to save me from myself, the regret of not crawling to her is too painful to ignore.
Fuck it.
I slip on some pants and leave my room, heart thudding in my chest.
“Hoodie?” Bri calls from inside. She must be able to hear my heartbeat through her door.
“Hi. Can I come in?”
“Of course.” Relieved, I open her door to find her under the sheets, leaning against the headboard, hair down. She hasn’t finished getting ready for bed. “Can’t sleep either?”
“No.” My lack of sleep might be for a different reason than hers. “Can I hang out for a sec?”
“Duh. Come here.” She lifts the blankets beside her, inviting mein.
I go to her, sliding in beneath the sheets, settling on the pillow next to hers. She does the same, slinking down and turning to face me. She grins, but there’s sadness hiding behind it. I can feel it.
“I can’t believe we’re leaving each other,” she says. “For months, we’ve joked that we weren’t going to know each other once we leave, but it’s real this time. It feels like I’m right back to day one in the city, losing everything all over again.”
“I feel the same way.” Of course I do. When do we not feel the same? I hate that I’ve been lying to her, and I’m afraid she’ll hate that I’ve been lying to her too. It’s only fair she knows before she goes home to her friends. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
“There’s something I need to tell you too.”
I wasn’t expecting that. “Is yours good or bad?”
“Bad. What’s yours?”
“Also bad.”
“Should I be scared?”
“I’m scared you might hate me.”
She reaches forward and scratches her fingers against the back of my head. “I could never hate you. Tell me.”
How do I say this? “My big client.”
She waits for me to say more. “Uh-huh.”
“It was David’s company.” I look into her eyes, ready to face the anger she’ll throw my way. Her fingers stop their movement, and her brow furrows. “I’ve seen him almost every week since we’ve lived here.”
“You have?” she asks. I nod, not noticing I’ve been holding on to her forearm, keeping her hand on my head, as if that will keep her from leaving me.
“That’s not the worst part of what I have to tell you,” I continue.
“It’s not?”
“No. I’m sorry.” I swallow my fear and admit the truth. “The celebration dinner I went to last night. David was there, and I ran into him. He started saying shit about breaking up with his girl two months ago—like his only relationship was with you—and it pissed me off. He asked me if I was seeing anyone, and I lied and said yeah . . . her name is Ambrielle.”
