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“No . . . I didn’t.” Was she drunk that night?
“Yes, you did.” She holds her phone in the air and I grab it from her.
Lame. Can I come over?
Yeah, how long until you’ll be here?
Thirty minutes.
What the fuck?
“I didn’t send those, that wasn’t me.” I try to replay the night. She doesn’t say anything, she only picks at her fingernails. “Tessa, if I had thought for a second that you were waiting on me, I would have been here with you.”
“You’re honestly telling me you didn’t text me, when I just showed you proof that you did?” She almost laughs.
I need her to yell at me; at least when she’s yelling I know she cares. “Did I not just say that?” I bark.
She stays silent. “Who did, then?”
“I don’t know . . . shit, I don’t know who . . . Zed! That’s who it fucking was—it was Zed.” That fucker handed me my phone from where he was sitting on the couch; he must have been texting Tessa acting like he was me so she would be waiting on me.
“Zed? You’re really trying to blame Zed for this?”
“Yes! That’s exactly what I’m doing. He sat down on the couch right after me and handed me my phone. I know it was him, Tessa,” I tell her.
Her eyes flash with confusion and for a second I know she believes me, but she shakes her head. “I don’t know . . .” She seems to be talking to herself.
“I wouldn’t tell you I was coming and not show, Tess. I’ve been trying hard, so damn hard, to show you that I can change. I wouldn’t stand you up like that, not anymore. That party was so fucking boring anyway, and I was miserable without you there—”
“So, were you?” She raises her voice and stands from the bed.
Here we go.
“Were you miserable while there were strippers there?” she yells.
Fuck. “Yes! I didn’t even stay after they got there! Wait . . . how do you know about the strippers?”
“Does that matter?” she challenges me.
“Yes! It matters; it was him, wasn’t it? It was Zed! He’s filling your head with all this bullshit to make you turn on me!” I yell back at her. I fucking knew he was up to something. I just didn’t know he’d stoop that low. He texted her from my phone and then deleted the messages. Is he really that fucking stupid that he would fuck with my relationship again? I’m going to find that little shit—
“He is not!” she yells, interrupting my rage.
Oh my fuck. “Okay, then, let’s call your precious fucking Zed and ask him.” I grab her phone again and pull up his name . . . in her favorites list. Goddamn, I want to smash her phone against the goddamn wall.
“Do not call him,” she growls at me, but I ignore her.
He doesn’t answer. Of fucking course.
“What else did he tell you?” I am fucking fuming.
“Nothing,” she lies.
“You’re a terrible liar, Tessa. What else did he tell you?”
She glares at me with her arms crossed, and I await her answer.
“Huh?” I press.
“That you were hanging out with Jace the night I was at his house.” My anger is threatening to get the best of me. “You wanna know who hangs out with Jace, Tess? Fucking Zed, that’s who. They hang out all the time. I went there to ask him about you two since you want to fucking shack up with him all of a sudden.”
“Shack up with him? I wasn’t shacking up with anyone! I stayed there those times because I like his company and he’s always so kind to me! Unlike you!” She steps toward me.
I wanted her to yell at me and now she won’t stop, but it’s much better than her sitting there like she didn’t give a shit.
“He’s not as sweet as you think he is, Tessa! How can you not see that! He’s feeding you all this bullshit to get to you. He wants to fuck you, that’s all. Don’t flatter yourself and think he . . .” I stop myself. I meant the part about Zed but not the rest. “I didn’t mean that last part,” I say, trying to stoke the anger in her instead of the sadness.
“Sure you didn’t.” She rolls her eyes.
I can’t believe we’re having this fight over Zed. This is such bullshit; I told her to stay away from him, but being the stubborn girl she is, she doesn’t listen to shit I say.
At least she said she wasn’t shacking up with him when she stayed with him those times . . . times?
“How many times did you stay at his house?” I ask her, praying I heard her wrong.
“You already know this.” She’s getting angrier as the seconds pass, and so am I.
“Can we just try to talk about this calmly, because I’m this fucking close to losing my shit and that won’t be good for anyone.” I pinch my fingers together to prove my point.
“I tried that, and you—”
“Would you just shut up for two seconds and listen to me!” I yell and run my fingers through my hair.
And surprisingly, she does the exact opposite of what I thought she was going to do when she walks over to the bed, sits down on it, and shuts her damn mouth.
I DON’T REALLY KNOW what to say or how to begin, because I didn’t expect her to actually listen to me.
I move toward her and stand in front of where she’s sitting on the bed; she looks up at me with an unreadable expression, and I pace back and forth for a few seconds before stopping to talk.
“Thank you.” I sigh in relief and frustration. “Okay . . . so this is all just twisted around and fucked up. You thought I asked to come over and then I stood you up; you should know by now that I wouldn’t do that.”