My hand grips Brit’s so tightly I let go in fear of actually hurting her. She follows behind me quietly, across the dance floor, past Levi and Cooper at the pool tables, and up to the bar. Flagging down the bartender, I order a drink, “Bud Light bottle.” I turn to Brit, raising my eyebrows and cocking my head toward the bar.
“I’m good” she replies quietly.
The bartender grabs a beer from behind the bar, pops the top, and slides it to me. I raise the bottle and begin to drink, my eyes landing on the door across the bar we just walked through.
Brit stands there, absently rubbing my arm. She is giving me time and space, but her stare begs me to say something. To be completely honest, I am absolutely dumbfounded at what just happened. When Harley asked to talk to me, I was expecting her to tell me she is going to miss me but supports me regardless. I was not expecting her to tell me she loves me and beg me to stay here to give her and me a chance. She completely caught me off guard. At first, all I felt was relief. She had said the words I've wanted to hear for so long.
I made the right choice . . . right? I mean . . . I've worked so hard to get where I am. It took a lot of work to switch medical schools. I just can't veer off course right now and then there's Brit. I love Brit. Am I ready to just walk away from her?
No. No more second guessing myself. I made the right choice.
I shouldn't have gotten mad that she didn't tell me sooner. That just makes me a hypocrite because I never told her how I felt either. I didn't mean to yell at her, and her tears were almost my undoing.
I've never yelled at Harley. Ever. And I hate that I made her cry. The other part of me feels horrible for Brit. I was ready to tell Harley I loved her too. I itched to pull her into me, bury my face in her thick brown hair, and tell her how happy she'd just made me. But that split second thought quickly vanished when Brit's face popped in my head.
I'm not sure when I started looking at Harley differently, but by the time I realized that I harbored some feelings for her, I was in college and the last thing I wanted to do was tie myself down. It makes me a prick, but it's the truth. I didn't want to be shackled to the girl next door. The girl who had naked pictures of my butt and took baths with me when I was growing up. I'm a guy. I wanted to drink beer with my friends and fuck hot girls.
I wasn't expecting to meet Brit. In fact she literally stumbled into my life when she tripped on the sidewalk and landed conveniently in my lap, and I sure as hell wasn't complaining. She was new and exciting, and she looked at me like I was a shiny toy that she couldn't wait to play with. And I wanted to be played with.
It was nice being around someone that didn't already know everything about me. I enjoyed telling her stories and having her ask me things rather than just knowing them like Harley.
Brit rests her hand on my forearm, pulling me from my thoughts, and I turn to meet her eyes. “You okay?” she whispers.
“I feel like I should be asking you that.”
She links her fingers around mine, and her next words absolutely floor me. “Do you.” She hesitates; her eyes frantically search mine. “Do you want to stay? Here? With Harley?” Her eyes drop to the floor.
Gripping her chin between my thumb and forefinger, I lift her gaze back to mine. “No. Absolutely not. I love you, Brit." I say, brushing my lips gently against hers.
She nods, accepting my answer. “We still need to talk about what happened. If you choose me, then you need to choose me one hundred percent.” Exhaling loudly, she shakes her head. Lifting her hand, she runs her fingers behind my ear into my hair, rubbing my cheek with her thumb. Rising up onto her toes, her lips meet mine, and then with absolute resolve, she says, “I’m sorry about what just happened, but I’m done sharing. I will not share you with her anymore; we’ll never make it if I have to.”
Taking a long swig of my beer, I sit the bottle down and wrap her in my arms, pulling her close. I need to comfort her. I need her to comfort me.
“I know.” I whisper into her ear.
Making our way over to Levi and Cooper, we quietly join in the camaraderie. Brit starts up a conversation with one of her friends while I stand there and pretend that my life didn’t just completely change.
I can’t help it. I continue to stare at the back door of the bar, waiting for Harley to come back in. I just need to see her and make sure she’s okay. I just practically tossed her out of my life, and I feel like a complete asshole for that. Right now, though, I would give anything to rewind time a few minutes and change my wording a little bit--something less harsh, something to ease the blow, if that would’ve even been possible.
The thought of not talking to Harley everyday scares the shit out of me. It’s an indescribable feeling, but if I had to try I’d say that the thought of her not being a part of my life leaves me feeling . . . lost.
I’m not sure how much time passes, but Brit and I sit with Levi and Cooper while I nurse another beer and lose another game of pool. A part of me is concerned that I still haven’t seen Harley come back in, but I also don’t see Quinn anywhere, so it’s possible that Quinn met her outside, and they left. I want so bad to go search for her and talk this out, but Brit deserves better than that.
“Come on Brit.” I grab her hand “Let's go home”. Halfway through the bar, she tugs on my arm, and I turn to her, raising my eyebrows in silent questioning.
“Do you want to go find her? You know, to umm, to make sure she’s okay?” I tighten my grip around her hand and pull her in for a tight hug. “You are amazing do you know that?” I mumble into her hair.
She looks up at me and smiles sadly. I kiss her nose and whisper, “Let’s go home. I can talk to Harley later. Tonight I need to be with you.”
Proceeding through the bar, we exit out into the warm summer heat. I open the passenger door to my truck, allowing Brit to slide in. Shutting her door, I jog around the front, anxious to get home to show and reassure Brit how much she means to me.
My truck roars to life, and I reach over with my right hand and grab onto Brit’s, entwining our fingers and bringing them to rest on my thigh. She smiles sweetly. I know Brit feels bad for what happened with Harley tonight; she knows how much Harley means to me, but I also know that Brit will have plenty to say about it when we get home. She’s never really cared for Harley, and I’m sure that this just pushed her over the edge.
Pulling up to the road, I signal a left turn, and for no particular reason, I glance into my rear-view mirror. My gaze catches on Harley's red Mustang, and I furrow my brow in confusion.
She’s still there?