“Have you talked to him about it?” Ellie asks gently.
I open my eyes and scoff. “No. We’re both not saying anything at all like the classic avoiders we truly are.”
A sigh escapes Hayden and she pats my back. “A simple conversation would fix this.”
“A simple conversation would ruin everything,” I insist. “We’ve been…playing at having a relationship. Playing house. Playing friends, playing lovers. We don’t have the guts to stick it out and make it actually work.”
“You really think Caleb couldn’t stick it out with you for the long term?”
I think of how great he’s been since that camping trip at the beach. Even before that, he treated me with respect. Reverence. Like a friend, but so much more. We were having so much fun, until I had to go and say something so flippant, as if he doesn’t matter to me.
Caleb matters. More than I want to admit.
“I’m the one who can’t stick,” I practically wail. “I fuck it up every time. I messed this up. He’s mad because he heard what I said, and I hurt him. Though he’s never admitted it to me.”
He doesn’t have to. I can see the hurt on his face. The distance that’s growing between us like a chasm, wider and wider, until we won’t be able to cross it anymore. It feels like we crested the mountain of this relationship we’ve entered and now we’re barreling downhill, heading straight for the bottom AKA the end.
Oh my God I’m thinking in analogies or metaphors or whatever. I’m ridiculous.
They console me with kind words and more tissues, eventually leaving me alone so they can finish their tasks. Ellie serves plates heaping with steaming hot Chinese food—chow mein and sweet and sour chicken and pork fried rice. My stomach growls despite my growing sadness and I settle in a chair, letting my friends serve me. Grateful that they came in my unknown time of need.
Hayden brings us salt-rimmed glasses full of frothy margaritas accompanied by neon pink straws. I immediately start sucking down the alcohol, wincing at the overwhelming taste of tequila flooding my mouth.
“You need it,” Hayden says as she watches me. “We’re going to have a hard conversation here in a minute.”
My stomach bottoms out and to fill it, I start shoving forkfuls of food into my mouth. It tastes amazing. Funny how I’ve always been one who could stress and stress, but never lose my appetite. I suppose it’s a gift, or a curse.
We eat and talk, me bracing myself for the verbal blow my friends are about to rain upon me. My thoughts are dramatic and over the top and I start to slow in my eating, the buzz of all that tequila a steady hum in my blood stream. Hayden and Ellie chat about nonsense and I interject here and there, but otherwise I’m not feeling it.
All I can think about is him.
Finally, Hayden sets her fork on her empty plate, sending a meaningful look in Ellie’s direction before she turns to look at me.
“I have an observation,” she states.
I frown. “What is it?”
“You mentioned earlier that you think you broke Caleb’s heart, but that’s not the case. I believe you are the one who’s heartbroken,” she says, her voice gentle.
I stare at her, blinking slowly. “No. That’s not possible.”
Hayden frowns. “Why not?”
“He’s the one who was always going to fall in love with me, not the other way around.” I don’t fall in love. Not really. I’m in love with the idea of love—chasing after it. That first rush. The first touch, glimpse, slow smile. The long stare, the laughter, the kiss. Touching. Teasing. Even sex, though that didn’t happen with every guy. I thrived on that high, and when it started to dissipate, I was out.
I never stuck around long enough to actually fall in love. I don’t even know what that’s supposed to feel like.
“Um, Gracie.” I turn to look at Ellie, who’s watching me with her dark, kind eyes, her lips curled up faintly in amusement. At me I guess, because I’m in full-blown denial? “I think Hayden’s right. You’re in love with Caleb.”
I sit there, pondering their words, my thoughts coated in tequila. No way am I in love. Am I?
I think of Caleb’s face and I smile.
I think of the silly, sometimes crude things he says to me and I want to laugh.
The way he touches me…sigh.
The way he looks at me.