I nod without agreeing. More like I’m acknowledging she just lied to me. “Are you okay with me being here now?”
Brianna hesitates, and even though her hesitation hurts my heart, she’s beautiful. Her long dark hair. Those gorgeous green eyes. That mouth of hers. I’ve never been able to take my eyes off her. She was my best friend. And she’s not okay with last night. I should have known.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I run my hands through my hair, gritting my teeth trying to figure out how I can fix this. I think about walking out the back door and disappearing. It’ll be obvious. All the girls are sitting out there. We’re both trapped in this kitchen until we figure something out. A second ago, it was spacious and welcoming. Now it’s fencing us in.
“Asher,” Bri says, biting her lip. I hate what she’s going to say before she has a chance to say it. “I think it would be a mistake to get back together.”
My entire body goes cold. No. No, take it back. Denial hits me, then remorse. I fucked it up. Every thought tries to ram its way out of my mouth, but I’m silent, needing to be careful. Needing to make sure I play this right.
I knew it was coming, but it still hits me like a punch to the chest. A mistake to get back together. A mistake. “What was last night, then?” I question and I can’t stop it from coming, the hurt wrapping around my insides.
I’m not ready for the answer Brianna gives me. A mistake.
I can’t speak. I can’t answer. I can barely stand upright.
Before I know it, I’m walking out of the front door with Briana calling after me. I can’t stop, though. I don’t even look back.
Four hours later, I’m staring at the ceiling over my bed. The dim light from the digital display of my alarm clock makes for poor company.
I’m exhausted, but I can’t fall asleep. All I can think about is that conversation with Brianna. It felt like she was telling me we were a mistake in the first place. She’d be right. I’d never have had to hurt her if I’d never wanted her. I did it anyway.
The floors creak somewhere outside my bedroom door. Either my mom or my dad is moving around in the kitchen. I’m half listening when my phone lights up with a text.
Brianna: Please don’t hate me.
A chill runs through my body. I’ve lain here since I got home. Trying to think, but nothing in my head is helpful. It’s filled with every time I let her down and the moments I could go back to in order to make things right.
She texts again: Can we just be friends?
The message hits me harder than it should. I don’t know if she’s suggesting it because that’s what I told her when we broke up, or because she genuinely means it. I don’t know if she’s throwing it in my face or really wants to be friends.
Dropping the phone to my bed, I cut out all of the uncertainty.
Hell, of course I know. Bri’s never spiteful. She gets mad. We all do. But she wouldn’t text me anything to be sarcastic or mean. That’s not her.
The front door to the house opens and closes, the sound earning my attention. I sit up in bed and listen to the shuffling out in the driveway. The mattress groans under me as I peek out through the window.
My dad’s out there.
My stomach churns. It only takes a moment to realize there’s no reason to be nervous. He’s got a bag of trash dangling from his hand before tossing it in the bin. Dad’s been sober for almost two years, but I’m on edge anyway. He used to leave to go get booze at the corner store. Him leaving in the middle of the night was one of the first signs.
He lets the top slam shut to the bin. The night goes still around him. Crickets stop chirping and then they start right back up. They don’t mind. Nothing’s wrong out there.
I’m the only one who worries that there’s another problem coming, and soon. Me and my mother.
My dad heads back toward the house, and I lie back down. We live in the backwoods and always have. This house was my grandfather’s. It’s tucked away from the town and nobody would see how drunk my dad would get. That was a plus. My mother said she was grateful for that reprieve. At the same time, he had to walk to the liquor store if he wanted more booze. It was dangerous as hell. He could have been arrested. He could have gotten hit by a car, stumbling across the road. Thank God he never did.
I don’t relax completely until the front door shuts and I hear him flip the deadbolt.
My phone pings again and it’s Bri: I know I have no right, but I do want to be friends with you. I think I need that first, Asher.
First. That single word has all kinds of hope in it. Then what? When she knows I’m still the man who wants to be her best friend, then what’s next?
I text her back: You promise we can be friends? That’s all you want to be right now.
Bri: I’ll admit I miss you. Please, can we start there?