It was fun and casual between us for a long time, until it wasn’t. Now it just feels like an obligation. I’ll always have a soft spot for Sasha, but could I consider her my first love? No, not really. I care about her, but it’s not love.
What the hell is love even? I’m not sure…
I’m not even Sasha’s first love. She had a serious boyfriend her junior year, went out with Jayden Mansfield who was a senior when I was a sophomore. He dumped her when he went away to college.
And now I’m dumping Sasha before she goes away to college. I feel kind of shitty about it, but come on. She’s not into me. She’s got other things to focus on now.
I just pulled up to her house and am headed up the walkway, because no way am I going to be a chicken shit and break up with her via text. All of my friends told me I should. They’ve all broken up with their past girlfriends via text or Snap or whatever, which I think sucks. Be a man. Tell her to her face what you’re feeling.
I jog up the porch steps and hit the doorbell, standing there impatiently waiting for her to answer. I feel antsy. Like I could come out of my skin. I just want to get this over with and move on with my life.
Finally, I hear the lock turn and the door opens, Sasha standing there in black shorts and a UC Davis T-shirt. “Beck. Hey. Want to come in? No one’s home.”
Her dark eyes flare with interest, like I’m going to let her drag me into her house so we can hook up. She’s either completely clueless or in utter denial.
“Uh, can we talk outside?” I ask, scratching the back of my neck.
She frowns and pulls the door shut behind her. “Sure.”
Her parents have a nice house. They actually live in the same neighborhood as Addison’s family, and the Rodriguezes have this really big front porch with big pots of flowers everywhere as well as a couple of wrought iron chairs with a round table in between them. I settle in one of the chairs and Sasha takes the other, her gaze finding mine from across the table.
“You have fun in Tahoe?” I ask.
She never let me know she was home. I found out only because I saw her location via Snap Map. I’m the one who had to reach out to her first, which fuckin’ sucks.
At least her expression is contrite. “Yeah, I did. I’m glad I went. I really got to know my roommates.”
“That’s awesome,” I say with a faint nod.
“How are you?”
I meet her gaze, never looking away when I say, “Not good.”
Her frown deepens. “Why not?”
I’m starting to wonder if she’s being deliberately clueless.
“This…things are changing, Sasha. I barely saw you this summer, and now school is starting back up. I’m busy with football. It’s taking up a lot of my time, and you’re leaving for college soon.”
“I don’t leave for another month,” she says, her expression wounded. Pretty sure she knows what I’m about to say, but I’m thinking she believed she’d be the one to do it first.
“I think—we should break up.” I lean back in my chair, an immense sense of relief settling over me once the words are out.
Her mouth drops open, as if she’s shocked by my statement. “Are you serious?”
It takes everything inside of me not to roll my eyes and yell out, oh come on.
“Yeah, I’m totally serious. You’re not into me anymore. You’re too busy hanging out with your friends, and making plans for your future, and I get it. That’s what you should be doing. I’m still in high school. Why would you want to be with me when you’re about to start at a college that’s three hours away?” I ask her.
She watches me, quiet for a moment. As if she needs the time to absorb my words.
“You’ll find someone new. You’re pretty and smart and everyone likes you. Eventually you’ll meet some guy at college and forget all about me,” I continue on.
“Maybe I’m not ready to meet some guy at college,” Sasha protests, crossing her arms in front of her, a pout on her face. “Maybe I’m perfectly happy with you.”
I tilt my head to the side, contemplating her. “Come on, Sasha. Be real with me right now.”
“I am being real with you. You always treat this relationship like it’s one-sided when I have feelings too!” She throws her arms up in the air, clearly frustrated. “Is it because we never had sex? You know that was more of a you problem than a me problem.”
Frustration fills me and I glare at her. “Sex has nothing to do with why I’m breaking up with you, Sasha. And I can’t believe you’re still pissed that we didn’t have sex on prom night. Let it go. You were too drunk. No way was I going to have sex with you like that.”
“No other guy would care, Beck. Seriously, it’s like you’re a saint. The perfect golden boy at school that all the girls want but can’t touch. Funny how that works out, since you never bother trying to touch me, and I’m your freaking girlfriend! Ever since that night happened, you haven’t been interested in me. Don’t bother trying to deny it.”
“That’s not true,” I start, completely ignoring her words, but I shut up when she shoots me an irritated look.
“It is true, and you know it. Are you saving yourself? Is that it?”
I squirm in my seat, uncomfortable with her line of questioning. She’s not wrong. Once that night happened, I was sort of done with her, but not quite ready to end things. I thought I’d get over it. Get over how she yelled at me the morning after for leaving her alone, like what I did was a bad thing. Memories of how drunk she got that night hit me, one after the other. She was so sloppy, hanging all over any guy who’d look at her at the dance, and it filled me with anger. We’d made all of these plans. Prom night was going to be a major point in our relationship—we were about to take it one step further, and there was no going back.
Instead, she got trashed and laughed at me when I’d try to get her to calm down or sober up. I had to practically carry her to our hotel room and we argued. She even tried to leave, but I wouldn’t let her. Eventually she passed out on the bed, completely blacked-out, thanks to all the cheap-ass flavored vodka she drank.
Just remembering that night leaves me with a sour feeling in my stomach. Sasha was awful that night. Guess I never recovered.
“Or is that you’re not interested in having sex with me? Ever.” Her voice is flat.
I avoid her question. “We’ve grown apart.”
“Maybe you’ve found someone else.” Her tone and her expression are both accusatory.
“No way,” I say vehemently. “How could you say that?”
Now it’s her turn to ignore my question. “I think I know who it is, too.”
Unease slides down my spine. “What are you talking about?”
“It’s Addison Douglas, isn’t it? You’ve always had a thing for her. Pretty sure she has a crush on you too,” Sasha says, her eyes narrowing. “Someone told me you two hung out up at Bayshore Saturday night.”
Fuck me. Who ran their big mouth to my girlfriend? I can’t imagine any of my friends saying anything. No way in hell would Addie tell her. I don’t think they even speak to each other outside of school. Maybe one of Addie’s friends? Or…