“Is this because of your ex? That Haze guy? Are you not over him?” he accuses.
I open my mouth, ready to deny it, to call him insane but… I can’t go through with it, and my lack of a response is enough answer for him.
He scoffs. “Fuck this. I’m done.”
Two heartbeats later, he’s scampering down the stairs. I call his name in vain.
Then I hear the front door slam.
Mixing up the fruit punch with way too much vodka, I can’t find it in myself to listen to the story Allie’s been telling me for the past two and a half hours. She needed help to set up the party, and so we spent the entire day juggling last-minute tasks and running around her uncle’s gigantic boat—or is it a yacht? I don’t know. The guests should be here in a few hours. We’re still waiting for the guy who’ll be driving the boat all night.
I can’t stop thinking about what happened with Matt.“Why don’t you want this? I really like you, Winter, but it’s like your foot’s always on the brake. I’m so sick of this one step forward, three steps back thing.”
I know he’s right. We dated for three months without getting to second base. Truth is, I don’t want to. I get massive anxiety just thinking about it.
“Okay, what’s wrong?” Allie’s concern makes me jump.
“What?” I look at her.
“You know what. You’re somewhere else. What’s on your mind?” She empties a bag of chips into a bowl.
I suck in a breath.
“Matt and I broke up last night.”
A poorly hidden smile creeps its way onto her lips.
“What happened?”
I snort. “Don’t pretend like you’re not happy right now.”
“Okay, fine. Maybe I’m not a fan of the guy, but I’m your friend. If you’re hurt, I want to help.”
“He wanted us to… you know.” I shift from one foot to the other.
“Oh.” Her eyes widen. “And… did you?”
“No. That’s the problem. I told him I wasn’t ready, and he just… snapped. Started telling me I was still hung up on Haze. Then he left.”
Allie provides me with a brief “I’m so sorry,” and bites her tongue not to explore the matter further.
“Spill it.” I release her from the hell that’s keeping her opinion to herself.
“I mean, he’s not wrong,” she gives in.
“What? Of course he’s wrong. I don’t… I’m not…” I trip over my words. “Haze and I are over.”
“So?” She arches an eyebrow. “That’s not what this is about. This is about you still having feelings for him. And you clearly do.”
I don’t bother entertaining her drivel and walk over to the mini fridge to pack it with the last beers.
She follows me. “Come on, you two were epic. You were the Juliet to his Romeo. The glasses to his Harry Potter. The—”
“Al, I get it.” I laugh.
“I still think you’re going to get back together. Maybe in a year. Two years. Five years. I don’t know when, but you will. Which is why I might’ve kind of, sort of…” She pauses in anticipation of my reaction.
Oh no.