Fake It 'Til You Break It

“She knows.”

My head snaps his way. “What do you mean?”

“Demi. She knows why you and Josie split.”

“You tell her?”

He licks his lips, looking off.

“Trent.”

“Nah, man. I didn’t tell her,” he says. “But I confirmed it when she asked.”

“What the fuck, man?!”

“Not confirming would have been just as much confirmation at that point. She asked me point blank. What was I supposed to say?”

“No. You say no, asshole, or better, tell her to talk to me, and I’ll tell her no.”

“I tried that. She asked me a while ago, and I told her to ask you. What’s it matter anyway? It’s not like she wouldn’t eventually find out, right?”

“I wasn’t ready for her to know yet.” I frown. “This is why she’s been quieter than normal.”

Trent eyes me. “Why didn’t you want her to know?”

“Why you playin’ dumb?” I ask him.

“I’m not, but don’t you think you’re running with this a little too hard? I heard you kissed her in class this week, and I saw you kiss her Monday night.”

“And you care why?” I glare. “I was on her, and? She fucking let me. Baited me the same, if you really wanna fuckin’ know. She’s been single a long ass time, Trent. She likes this.”

“Likes pretending?”

I study him. “Likes the playfulness, the attention, the lack of pressure. I’m telling you, you think she’s this schoolgirl who likes studying but lightly parties with her friends. She is, but she’s not. She’s bored.”

“You hardly know her, Nico.”

“You think you do?” I turn toward him. “’Cause your ma and hers are friends? That don’t mean shit.”

He looks ready to say something but thinks better of it and looks away. “No, you’re right. I don’t.”

I sigh, putting my helmet back on and strapping it up. “Look, shit’s twisted right now, so I’m not trying to complicate it even more. And I know the girl better than you think.”

“I’m just saying be careful, she’s had a thing for Alex for a long time. What do you think happens when she finds out the truth, the entire truth?”

Coach Park’s whistle rings through our conversation, so I squirt some water on my mouthpiece, quickly looking back to Trent.

“I don’t know, but don’t help her out anymore, huh?”

I jog back on the field and get into position. I’m not mad at his ass for this because he’s right. If he didn’t answer her straightforward question, that would be an answer in itself. I’m pissed off he has my mind spinning now.

What would I do if she found out now, before I’m ready for her to?

Damn fuckin’ good question.

One that’s on repeat the rest of practice, leaving my chest feeling heavy and my mind muddled when I finally step off the field.

I hang back after everyone’s gone, taking a long shower to try and clear my head before getting in my truck and driving home to a house I hate walking into.

It’s pitch black as always, the curtains drawn as tight as they’ve been for months now, lights off, so I have to use my phone to navigate my way into the kitchen for some water.

There’s a bottle of pills laying spilled over next to the stovetop, an overboiled pot of noodles sitting beside it, raw meat dropped in a pan but never turned on like she got halfway through before the meds kicked in and she abandoned the idea of cooking dinner, something she used to love to do before my dad took her soul with him when he traded up.

With a sigh, I clean up the mess and put the pills back in the container. I go to put the lid on, but resentment flares in my chest as the little red pills mock me, the life I used to have and the life I have now.

Pills that caused me to have to rush home from the beach because my mom decided to take a few too many after a late-night visit from my asshole dad.

I know he found out I was away with friends, which is what led him here that night. I haven’t decided yet if this was out of spite, all to ruin the one weekend away I tried to allow myself or if he was simply taking advantage of my absence.

He’s a sick piece of shit with no regard for the woman he once loved and married and had a son with. If she dies, he inherits all her fortune because while they’re divorced, he’s still in her will and I can’t convince her to change it.

Fuck it.

I tip my hand, letting the poison spill into the sink, running the water to wash them into the disposal, but I don’t turn it on and risk waking her.

I’ll pay for this later, one way or another, but I’ll deal with it as it comes.

As quietly as possible, I open the slider door, grabbing the bag to take it out so it doesn’t stink up the whole house by morning.