Pucked Up (Pucked 2)

“You mean still?”

“I have moments of insecurity. He’s good about it.” She spins her engagement ring around so the diamond is facing her palm. “What I have with Alex, it’s all-consuming when I’m with him, and when I’m not. And it’s rare. It’s not perfect, but we work, and that makes it worth fighting for.”

“I thought maybe I’d have that with Sunny. I guess not.” I saw how hard it was on Vi when Waters screwed her over. She bawled her eyes out over that asshole for weeks. And then just like that, they were back together. I’m angry at Sunny for not having faith in me, and for letting other people affect her decisions. But I still hope she doesn’t get back with Patchy McBushman Tiny Dick.

“You had an argument, Miller. That doesn’t mean it’s over.”

“I’m pretty sure I broke up with her.”

“It doesn’t have to be the end. I’m mad at Alex right now for being an asshole to you. I won’t be mad at him forever, but I’m going to let it ruminate for a while. It’s why he’s going back to Guelph with Sunny, and I’m here with you.”

“We fucked up a vacation for you, didn’t we?”

“Alex fucked it up by overreacting. I swear he could have a second career on the stage if he wanted. We can come back up once we get things sorted out. Sunny was willing to talk. I’m sure she still is. I think what it comes down to is deciding whether she’s worth the effort. Relationships take a lot of energy. I get that you want her to trust you, but you have to give her some time. One conversation about it isn’t a magic recipe for perfection. Loving someone is a lot of work, Buck.”

“Maybe I’m no good at relationships.” I don’t want to be doomed to a life of bunnies and no substance. They’re not what I want. I want someone consistent. But caring that much about someone gives them a lot of power, and that makes me nervous. Power hurts people. Then I admit the thing that’s been gnawing at me ever since I went to visit Sunny in Guelph and we finally sealed the deal: “I think I might have fallen in love with her.”

“Then you need to talk to her, Buck.”

“I need some time to think first.” I wipe away a trail of blood from the bridge of my nose. “I wish there was a drive thru for relationship problem-solving.”

Vi laughs, but it’s humorless. “Don’t we all.” She stands up and wipes the dirt off the back of her shorts. “Come on. Let’s see how Balls is doing. Then we need to get you to the hospital. You probably have a concussion, and I won’t be able to forgive Alex if anything happens to you. Then my whole future’s fucked, and I’ll have the moops for the next year, and I’ll probably start dating Balls because I’ll have to break off the engagement.”

I know she means it as a joke, or that’s how she wants me to take it, but there’s an undercurrent of worry she’s trying to hide.

Her phone buzzes again. It’s the song about peacocks. “I have to get this.”

She wanders out of earshot, but I don’t need to hear the conversation to read her body language. She runs a hand through her hair, stunted by her ponytail. Then she stares up at the sky.

Violet’s jaw is hard; her eyes glitter. I know this face. She’s holding back tears. She lifts her hand as the sun peeks through the clouds and watches the diamond catch the sun, sending prisms of light dancing over her face. Then she spins the diamond to face her palm and closes her fingers around it. She brings her closed fist to her mouth.

Maybe it’s better if I leave things with Sunny alone, even if it hurts more than a puck to the balls after being bitten by a damn spider. I don’t know if I ever want to love someone as much as Vi loves Waters. It seems to cause an awful lot of pain.***Apparently Lily wasn’t too happy about the pictures of Randy with the models at the fundraiser. All of his clothes have ASSHOLE scrawled across them in various colors of permanent marker. On the front of his boxers is the warning: SMALL DICK INSIDE. It’d be funny if it happened to someone else.

Usually he and Lance would laugh off something like this. Not this time. Randy looks legit sick over it, and not in an I-have-a-new-stalker way. It’s in a this-is-fucked-up way instead. He throws the last of his ruined clothes into his bag and zips it up.

“We should get you to the hospital; that needs stitches.” He points to my forehead.

“Vi’s gonna take me.”

“I can follow in the rental.” He picks up a note off the nightstand, flips it open and scans it, then shoves it in his pocket.