Page 106 of The Cheerleader

“You’re supposed to always tell me the truth, Bry.” She’s smiling and being self-deprecating the way she was trained from a young age, but her words trouble me for another reason.

I haven’t been telling her the truth. I’ve been keeping how I feel about Susie from her, concealing everything about how I met Susie and how I’ve dreamed about her and how much I want her. Worst of all, my wanting Susie is at least part of the reason that I don’t want Liz, not for anything more than a friend, and I’ve been keeping that from her.

Shit. I turn us away from the woods and tug on Liz’s hand to go back to the apartment.

“I am telling you the truth, Liz, about how well you’re doing. I would never lie about that.”

“No,” she says as we walk. “Can I stay tonight?” She stops, forcing me to stop, forcing me to tell her no, forcing me to decide whether I’m going to lie again about why she can’t stay.

“No, Liz. We’re not like that. We’re never going to be like that.”

She heaves a breath and, to her credit, remains clear-eyed. She doesn’t seem drunk at all now. “Why not, Bryan? Tell me the truth. I can take it.”

Compared to facing down the biggest defensive lineman out to take my head off, facing Liz now, to tell her the truth about Susie, is worse by a million gigawatts of pain, worse than being branded by a white-hot cattle prod burning through my heart.

I swallow as she stares, waiting.

“There’s someone else.” My gruff words tear a hole in the night, tear a hole in my gut. It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her that someone else is Susie, but I can’t. I can’t say it because I don’t really know what’s between Susie and me. I only know what I want.

And it feels disloyal down to my bones to even contemplate saying Susie’s name. It’s not my place to speak for her.

“Someone… who?” Her voice sounds sharp and wounded.

I shake my head. I’m not going to tell her.

She slaps my face. Hard. I step back, keeping eye contact with her and absorb the sting.

“You fucking liar.” Rage deepens her voice. She pushes my chest and punches me. “You cheating bastard.” Tears erupt now, exploding from her as she pummels my chest. We’re out in the open behind the apartment, and the people out back by the kegs turn their attention to us.

I pull her in close, wrapping my arms around hers to stop her punches, murmuring to her that we’ll be okay, that we still have us, we’ll always have us if she allows it, that I’ll never not be there for her no matter what.

She sobs against my shirt, calming, wrapping her arms around my waist. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t mean any of those things. I’m sorry⁠—”

“Shh.” I stroke her hair and her back like she’s a hysterical child, and she quiets.

When we get back inside, Susie is nowhere to be found, but Liz’s car is still here, so I drive her home. When we get to her dorm, I drop her off and park her car in the lot.

Then I walk back to my apartment. I don’t feel the cold, but I feel the desolation.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Bryan

The phone rings as I walk into the kitchen, but it’s not a coincidence. Mom always calls before seven a.m. on Mondays when the long-distance rates are cheaper. I thought she might skip this week’s call since I saw her Saturday. I grab the receiver off the wall phone and hold it to my ear with my shoulder as I get some milk out of the fridge.

While I guzzle my milk, she tells me Dad’s back is bothering him, but he refuses to slow down and refuses to go to a doctor.

My chest tightens, not because I’m worried about him. Because I hate how much like him I am. My response is a grunt of commiseration.

“Don’t worry,” Mom says.

I snort, and she ignores it. Her theory is that deep down under the crust of our antagonism, Dad and I love each other. Unfortunately for me, she’s right. But the more important truth of the matter is that I’m losing respect for him.

No matter how much I might love him, I’m growing to loathe him.

“How’s English comp?” she asks.

“Why do you ask?”