Play On (Game On 4)

“What am I going to do?” I said aloud. “What the hell am I going to d

o?”

A loud knock on my door broke into my thoughts and jolted me back into the real world. There was no way I was answering the knock. Not while I still had no idea what to say to anyone.

The knocking grew louder, more persistent and I took a few long breaths. They’d give up when I didn’t answer; for all they knew I’d stayed somewhere else for the night. That’s what a smart person would have done. I should have gone to my mom’s house to avoid reality until I absolutely couldn’t put it off any longer.

“Freya, open the damn door!”

The voice accompanying the banging belonged to Leah, who was just about the last person I was ready to face. I contemplated ignoring her but she didn’t stop hammering. “I can stay here all day pissing off the neighbours, Freya! Let me in!”

Crap. I leapt off the bed and ran down the hallway. Leah’s arm was poised ready to knock again when I flung the door open. When she saw me, still in my nightclothes and my hair in disarray, she lowered her hand.

“I was about to admit defeat,” she said softly, her eyes fixed firmly on mine.

My tears fell harder and I lowered my head. I knew she wasn’t mad at me and it made me feel worse. She should have been mad. Instead, her eyes only held kindness and I sank to the floor, eaten up with guilt.

Leah squeezed through the gap in the door, closing it behind her, and reached down for my hands. “I’d sit beside you, but if I get down there I’ll never get up again.”

An awkward snort/giggle erupted from me and I let her pull me to my feet and lead me to the living room. The moment we sat down on the sofa, Leah and I wound our arms around each other and I sobbed into her shoulder.

“I’m so sorry, Leah. I’m sorry.”

“What’s happened?” she asked, gently. “Tell me.”

“You don’t know?” I lifted my head, my eyebrows pulling together in confusion.

Leah shook her head. “I’ve been on the wrong end of misunderstandings so I don’t believe anything until I’ve spoken to the person involved.”

“You know something.”

“I heard some things last night.”

I couldn’t tell what she was thinking; her face was totally neutral and I shuffled back a little, readying myself to confirm the things she already knew. With a sigh, I ran my hands through my hair. “Could you make this easier for me? What did you hear?”

“Tommy said he saw you and Miguel kissing last night.”

“Is that all?”

Leah raised an eyebrow. “There’s more?”

“No! Yes. I don’t know.” I plucked out the pillow from behind me and hugged it close to me. “The thing about the kissing is true. I don’t know what else to tell you.”

“The truth would be good.”

With a sigh, I lifted my legs and tucked them underneath me, still clinging to the pillow like it would somehow help me explain to my best friend why I’d made out with her ex-boyfriend. Could I really tell her everything? Right from the beginning? Or would I think up an appropriate cover story, like I’d told Miguel I would? I wondered if anyone had called him too, demanding an explanation. What would he say to them? We hadn’t reached a decision on what to do; we both stupidly thought we’d have the day to figure it out. But of course people would want answers before then. This was Westberg.

“This is so messed up,” I mumbled, trying to hold back a fresh wave of tears. “I didn’t mean for you to find out this way. I didn’t mean for anyone to find out until I know if there’s anything to tell. I don’t want you to hate me.”

“Why would I hate you?”

“You need a list? Because of Will, and because you and Miguel used to date, and-”

“Hey.” Leah sat up straighter, looking into my eyes again. “Please, just tell me what’s happening.”

With a sigh, I started to explain everything that had occurred since the night at the club. The uncensored version, including sleeping with Miguel and how messed up my feelings had been since then. Leah listened without interrupting but I couldn’t look her in the eye. In fact, I looked everywhere but directly at her most of the time I spoke. I’d done way too many things I was ashamed of; things that would hurt her and our friends.

When I finished, with the way Miguel and I left things the night before, I still couldn’t look at her. I just waited, head down, staring at the fibres of the pillow until they began to blur in front of my eyes.