Page 87 of Playing the Player

“He came to see me last week.” She hangs her head as if she’s ashamed to admit that. Every muscle in my body tightens and my stomach twists painfully.

“He what?”

“Last week.”

Last week? She saw him last week. He was here in this apartment and she never told me? Sasha and I tell each other everything. Or, at least I thought we did.

“Anyway, that’s not the point.” She fists the ends of her top while I wait for her to speak. “I don't know how to say this.”

“Then don’t.” Please don’t.

“I think…” She closes her eyes, letting out a heavy breath. “I think we should stop seeing each other.” Everything inside me goes still. “I don't need you anymore.” Sasha’s eyes fly open. “Wait, that came out wrong.” Too late.

I don't speak. I don't trust my voice right now. Sasha drops to her knees in front of me. “You helped me when I needed you. I helped you.” She smiles sadly. “It just… It went on longer than it was meant to.”

I stare at her, unable to speak. Unable to breathe. Unable to believe I got this all wrong. I am one stupid mother fucker. This whole time, I thought she actually liked me. We bonded, we became friends. I thought we had become more than that but clearly I was wrong. “So,” my voice sounds hollow. “You were just using me?”

“You knew the arrangement.”

“I knew the arrangement before this became real.”

“It didn’t become-”

“Yes, it did!” The words explode out before I can stop them. “It became real. We kissed because we wanted to. We slept together because we wanted to. We spent every second together because we wanted to. So don’t stand there and tell me that none of this meant anything.”

She reaches for me but I back up. “It did mean something.”

“Then why are you ending this?”

Tears spill down her cheeks and it’s fucking breaking me. “I can’t-”

“You promised me you wouldn't run from me again.”

“I’m not running.”

“It sure as hell feels like it.”

“No.” She shakes her head. “This isn’t about you.”

“Then tell me what it’s about.”

“I…” She can’t even say it. I stand. I need air. Fuck, I need out. “We can still be friends.” She whispers behind me.

I laugh, but it’s bitter. Broken. “I don’t think we can.”

Sasha rushes after me towards the door, stepping in front of it before I can leave. “Why are you acting like this?” She asks through the tears.

“Because this isn’t fake anymore, Sash.”

“It was always fake.”

“No.” I shake my head, not meeting her eye. “It stopped being fake a long time ago and we both know that.”

“I don’t want you out of my life.”

“It feels like you do.”

“No. I just-”