Four Real

Olivia follows me, rubbing my back again. “You’re not ridiculous. Not at all. Sometimes things just aren’t meant to be.”

She lets me lean against her while I’m silent, thinking, trying to find a way to look at things where I don’t hate myself.

“Some people are only in our lives for a little while, and they’re there to serve a purpose or teach us something, and then they move on.”

I laugh sourly. “I’d say I learned a hard lesson.”

“Sometimes the lessons are hard. Do you regret sleeping with them?”

Without even a thought, I shake my head. “No. No, I don’t regret it.”

“Then don’t feel bad about any of it. It’s going to hurt for a while, but now you have experience and you’ll be more comfortable when the right guy comes along.”

The thought of any other guy makes me miserable. I had sex with the Evans brothers because of who they are and what they meant to me; I can’t even think about doing that with anyone else.

“Do you still have ice cream in your freezer?” Olivia asks. When I nod, she says, “Let’s go have ice cream. I’ll stop and get fudge sauce and meet you at your place.”

I don’t have a taste for ice cream or anything else, but I don’t want to be alone, so I agree.

My friend stays at my place until well after midnight. We eat ice cream – giant bowls of it with hot fudge and whipped cream – and we watch old episodes of the dating show she’s applied for. Imagining Olivia starring on For Keeps improves my mood a bit. I hope her dreams work out better than mine.

29

Real feelings

I don’t hear from any of the Evans brothers the next day. I wasn’t really expecting to, but some silly part of me must have held out hope, because I’m disappointed every time I check my phone and don’t find any notifications.

One thing I’m grateful for is that I didn’t confess my feelings for them. Imagine how horribly awkward it could have been at my apartment, me naked, telling them I love them and want us all to be together, them running for the door as fast as they could get their clothes back on.

At night I’m watching a string of random sitcoms when an old episode of The Office unexpectedly comes on. I reach for the remote, but then decide to let it play, perversely wanting to torture myself. When the theme music comes on, I break down.

In the morning, I check my phone as soon as I wake up, and some stupid little ember of hope is extinguished when the only new message waiting for me is from Olivia. She’s checking in on me. I’m so lucky to have her as a friend.

It’s my day off, though I actually wish I was working, so I’d have something to occupy my time. I log in to the online store and find three new sales. Seeing the product images on the site reminds me of Knox. My eyes prickle, but I refuse to cry. I’m done with that.

I wash my clothes, shop for groceries, and clean surfaces that aren’t dirty. I do it all with a heavy heart, but thankfully, no more tears.

In the early evening, just as I’m about to make myself dinner, there’s a knock at my door. Logan and Knox’s faces are visible through the peephole. It looks like all four of them might be out there.

My hair is pulled up in the messiest of buns and I’m wearing shabby, stretched-out clothing, but who cares? The Evans brothers don’t, so why should I?

I open the door only far enough to stand in the doorway. They don’t need to come in.

“Bianca.” Logan is the first to speak, but that’s all he says.

I let my name hang in the silence. Whatever they’re here to say, I see no reason to try to make it easier for them.

“B, can we come in?” Cade asks.

I should have known my heart wasn’t yet hardened enough to resist any request he’d make of me. I pull the door wide and let them file in while I put distance between us, as much as possible in the small studio. They don’t sit, and I don’t invite them to.

“Bianca, we’re sorry we surprised you with that news the other day. We were still pretty shocked about it ourselves,” Cade says.

“We wanted to talk to you about it,” Knox says, “We thought you might be upset, but we weren’t expecting your anger.”

I shrug, not making any excuses.

“I’m sure we’re just being clueless, B, but we can’t figure it out. Why were you so angry?”

I wasn’t expecting to be questioned about my reaction, and I don’t know what to say. I’d prefer to avoid this discussion altogether, but I can’t bring myself to lie to them. I’ve shared other embarrassing things with them, so what’s one more final embarrassment when I’ll probably never see them again?