I hear it as I pass her room. Soft crying, the kind someone is trying to muffle, but the walls in this house are paper thin. My heart falls to my feet. Out of everything that could ever wound me when it comes to Bevan, her crying brings me to my knees. It’s the thing I’d fight a thousand men for, die a thousand deaths, so I wouldn’t ever have to hear it.
Unfortunately, I’m the cause of her sobbing in there. It breaks my heart anew, tearing it ventricle from ventricle. Tonight was fun. I even lost myself in the date a little and for point seven seconds, didn’t think about ending things with the love of my life.
But here I am, always back at her door. Wanting to enter, to scoop her up, and let her cry on my shoulder until we’re kissing away the tears and using sex as a balm when we haven’t solved any of our issues.
I have to physically restrain myself, bite my nails into my palms and push my chest back to back away from her door and turn toward mine.
The first night I’ve been out with another girl in my life, and I basically thought about Bevan through half of it and then ended the night worrying about her.
I’m so fucked, it’s not even funny.
11
BEVAN
I skip my morning sports psychology class.
It’s not like I understand a lot of the course anyway, which is out of my comfort zone. I’m an excellent student, one who barely gets anything under an A plus and never misses a second of class. But I figure if I’m going to stay in bed on any given day, today is a pretty good excuse to be a lazy college student.
Callum kissed her. In the middle of our house, in front of all those people, the only boy I’ve ever loved kissed another girl. His eyes were closed, his hands were on her, and …
I clutch my stomach, scared I might throw up again. The image is seared onto my brain, and the instant I witnessed it last night, I rushed up here to be sick in the bathroom. Then I crawled into bed and cried myself to sleep. I didn’t think I could possibly be more lovesick over Callum, and yet it’s like the apocalypse happened last night.
How the hell am I ever going to get through this year? I simply saw him kiss another girl, and my world crumbled. I can’t afford to hear him through the walls doing the unimaginable. If that starts happening, I’ll never be able to graduate due to not being able to stand on my own two feet.
Staying in bed all day is so out of character for me that I can’t even do it properly. My hands are shaking and my feet are tapping like they’re anxious to be released from my covers. I’m the kind of person who thrives on being go, go, go. Relaxing is a foreign concept for me, and I’m instantly regretting skipping class.
Fresh air might do me good, but that would mean risking running into Callum. Did that blonde girl stay the night? I’m so overwrought with energy that I throw off my black comforter, unable to stay put any longer, even if it does mean witnessing her walk of shame.
I wander out to the back deck, a space that’s barely used in our house except for strangers making out during parties. The front porch is nicer, with rocking chairs the owners set up to overlook the view of the lake and the Commons in front of them. Back here, the grass grows tall and weedy, a result of the landscape crew missing one too many weeks. They don’t care much about a college house, and the owners have too many properties to care about our numerous calls. This also backs up to houses on the street behind ours, and the guys who occupy the rental behind us are assholes. They’re constantly setting fires on their grills, refusing to clean up their backyard, and usually we find their empty alcohol bottles littering ours.
But it’s a guarantee that no one will bother me back here, so I’m hiding out. The rickety patio chair creaks as I sit down, and I’m not quite sure this thing won’t collapse even under my weight. I work out for about an hour every day and like to kickbox to take out both my anger and energy. But this chair could possibly be forty years old and so …
Try as I might, my thoughts stray to last night. It’s actually a good thing I didn’t go to class, I wouldn’t have heard a thing the professor was saying. The warm breeze blows as I get lost, memories of his hands on that girl causing me to screw up my eyes and shut them. Sounds from the street filter through; students arriving home, car doors closing, the bump of someone listening to music out on their lawn.
As if I conjured him with my thoughts, Callum comes around the side of the house. In nothing but a pair of running shorts and sneakers. When we were together, we’d go on runs all the time. He and I loved to compete, to see who could go faster or farther. It was our competitive nature, our flare for drama. That was where we thrived. When we were completely exhausted, we’d hobble back to the house and climb into the shower together, then collapse into bed where he’d scratch my naked back until I fell asleep on him.
The memory chokes me. There is so much emotion hanging in the air, and I clear my throat before thinking it will startle him.
Callum whirls around to the deck, his eyes wide.
“Oh, shit, you scared me!” He holds a hand to his sweat-slicked chest.
“No one is usually out here,” I accuse him, annoyed that I came out here to get away but am discovered within minutes.
“I wanted to use the hose, got some dirt up my legs.” He wiggles his limbs, which are more like well-honed tree trunks.
Callum is a big guy everywhere. He wasn’t this tall when we first started dating, but junior year of high school he went through a growth spurt and voila, my mountain man appeared. That was also the year I finally gave it up, my virginity that is, and learned just how big he is everywhere.
I’m completely checking him out, have gone silent, and he knows it when he snaps his fingers. “Earth to Bevan.”
Shaking my head, I try not to drool over the thought of how fantastic he is in bed. For only ever having one partner, you’d think I’d be dying to try other guys out. But no. When you find something that satisfies you that much, you’re dumb to go looking for anything else. I had the best flavor of ice cream in the whole damn supermarket, and it had been sold out for ages.
“Oh. Okay.” Again, the only two words I can seem to say.
“What’re you doing out here anyway? Don’t you have class?”
It’s only been about two weeks since he moved back in, and yet he’s memorized my schedule. I know he did, it’s not a fluke he thinks I should be in class right now. Unfortunately, we know everything about each other’s habits, and apparently, memorizing my schedule is one he can’t quit.
“Skipping. I needed a day off.”
Callum cocks his head to the side. “A day off? Are you terminally ill?”
“Something like that,” I mumble, but he already has the hose on.
What’s worse than having the ex you’re trying not to think about crash your relaxation session in which you’re trying not to think about him? Having him crash your relaxation session and begin to hose his half-naked body down with glistening water.
Fuck, this is like a messed-up porno in which I wish I was the lead star opposite Callum. Instead, I’m the hungover hermit on the deck, trying not to cry.
Callum finishes washing himself and then climbs the stairs, dropping down beside me.