“What did you say?”
He coughed on the inhale of his joint he was blazing up when he heard my question. “I don’t wanna go alone. I met your family.”
“That wasn’t planned. That was happen-chance.”
“Seriously? You asked me to meet your sister. Actually, no… you didn’t give me a choice. Now you don’t have one either. Friday at 6; they don't respond well to tardiness.”
He sat up against the wall where a headboard should be. “I don't do meeting parents. I'm your father’s worst nightmare, and let's be real: If your mom is anything like you, then she’ll probably throw your dad a bone and fuck him while thinking of me.”
I yanked the joint out of his hand, knowing neither of my parents were going to approve of him nor give us some kind of blessing. He was right, but I wasn’t giving him the glory of it.
“You could pretend to care…” My snide comment ran rampant, before I could catch it. After confessing my love for him and sticking by his side like glue, only to be arrested, I felt like I was the only one taking any risks.
“I’m not an actor, Addi. I don’t pretend. I don’t indulge in bullshit. I’m not gonna be the boyfriend you want me to be. That’s not how I work.”
I inhaled and exhaled on his joint, wondering what kind of boyfriend he was then. He had no problem seeming like a normal boyfriend for Layla every time I saw him with the Sinners. Maybe that was the difference: I wasn’t Layla, so I didn’t warrant any real risk.
This would be my luck: escape a family constantly comparing me to my perfect sister only to fall in love with a guy who is gonna compare me to his ex, who committed a robbery of his heart.
“You don’t need to keep going. I get it. No one is gonna be Layla.”
I threw on the shirt still clinging to the bed sheets that I was meant to put on before I had stripped down, and I stepped into my shorts. I needed space to digest, space to talk to myself, space to hate him, because laying right next to him after the best sex of my life wasn’t going to happen.
“Where are you going? It’s three in the morning, Addi.” His voice sounded disappointed and softer than normal.
I fought every urge to listen to the change he made for me, and I kept on track. “I’ll get a Lyft back to the hotel. Our flight is in the morning anyways; all my stuff is there.” I steadied my voice, trying to seem casual, like nothing was wrong, when I was really fighting back tears.
“Addileigh…” he rarely used my full name, not since I told him in the alleyway behind Fenway Park that I go by Addi, hating every syllable of my full name.
“I’m fine, Hunter. I’m adjusting my expectations. Thank your stepmom and dad for me… for saving us.”
He sat up even straighter, but nothing about his body language was going to run after me. I wasn’t running away for him to run after me, but part of me still hoped for it. I wanted my feelings for him to snuff out every memory of Layla, but they couldn’t. I was still comparing that version I saw with her to the unwilling version I got, and he was still comparing me to her, limiting the kind of person he’d be with me to protect his heart better this time.
You don’t get to choose how or who you fall in love with. That’s why it was the most dangerous thing on my master list.
I pulled out my phone, requesting a ride to the hotel, and I ended up waiting twenty minutes for a ride, before I slid into the backseat. I looked at my phone screen, waiting for Hunter to regret putting limits on us, but no messages came through. I should have just been happy that the guy I finally told I had feelings for had any for me back, but that wasn’t good enough though. I knew what kind of love I wanted to avoid—the kind filled with self-loathing and self-destruction. I had standards, and if he couldn’t love me more than Layla, then I knew it wasn’t meant to be at all.
He had to love me more for this to work.
I pressed the self-destruct button pretty quickly in all situations. It came with growing up how I did and hiding under the layers of fake beauty I spent hours perfecting daily—a special kind of self-sabotage. I logged onto my American Airlines app and switched my flight for sooner, three hours sooner, for a small fee for cancelling the old one.
Everything in the world made it easy to make snap decisions. I thought making a master list would be for giggle, fantasizing a life I could never have when I was chained to my sister’s shadow. Turns out, the world loves to corrupt a girl.
Once I got the confirmation email, I exhaled a sigh of relief to be headed home. LA wasn’t the most glamourous trip I thought it would be, and in Florida, I got arrested. At least Boston was safe.
I typed out a message to Mister: I’ll be back earlier than expected.
I knew better than to text Mister when I planned on ending it, but that was when I was hopeful Hunter was jealous and falling for me too. Mister couldn’t hurt me emotionally the way Hunter could.
It wasn’t even a few minutes later when my phone buzzed in my hand as I slipped out of the car. Flipping over my phone, I read the message.
Mister: Things flop with your boyfriend?
He had seen me on campus with Hunter and assumed pretty quickly he was my boyfriend. After that assumption, Mister started throwing it in my face during our sex by asking me questions that would never apply to Hunter. He wasn’t ever going to me mine.
“Does your boyfriend know how wet you get for me?”
“Does your boyfriend get to hear you moan like this?”
“Does he know how to fuck my dirty girl?”
It was my breed of punishment for fucking a married man, for having it on my master list, and for being delusional in loving Hunter when he had no idea. I took my punishment and pretended he was my boyfriend, like the damn good actress I am. With Mister, I could pretend to be Hunter’s, and that was the best part of fucking him: being someone else’s.
After I packed, leaving Hunter’s things scattered around the room, I reapplied my cherry lipstick and pressed a kiss into a napkin. This was how I would say goodbye; it was perfectly me and to the point. We weren’t actually in love with each other enough to merit more than just a kiss, this napkin.
Boston in April was always the time of year I loved. It was warm enough to pretend I was somewhere else, and people weren’t hiding in their homes from the harsh cold.
My plane ride was smooth next to an empty seat I was wishing Hunter occupied, but I knew ultimately it was for the best. Two villains falling in love? That was something too diabolical and that would upset the greater balance. We both deserved second best as penance for our sins.
A married man.
A girl who chose someone else.
A loss we both deserved for being us: ruthless, selfish, and all around morally corrupt.
I walked through the airport, not bothering to order a ride. The airport was normally flooded with Ubers, Lyfts, and taxis, ready to snatch up exhausted travelers. I wasn't exhausted, only my heart. There was a hole in my chest, carved with the name Hunter, like a damn calling card.
The sticky warmth that came early this year hit me, creating an instant kind of moisture on my exposed arms, just as my phone buzzed in my back pocket of my jean shorts. I pulled it out and read the message.
Mister: Straight ahead.
I looked up and saw Mister leaning against his car and smiling right at me. I didn't even question why he was there or how he knew what flight I took. All I saw was his perfectly salt-and-peppered hair, strong square jaw, and his shirt clinging to his mature body that came with years under your belt.