Page 36

THIRTY-SIX

lenni

I listen to his footsteps recede down the hallway, steps that never hesitate. And even though I want desperately for him to turn around and come back to me, I’m amazed by how right it feels that it’s over between us. I can be alone. Better to be alone than to be second choice. And now I know for certain that’s the most I can be. Cam is the wall that protects Reeve, and I’m never getting past it.

I feel raw with jealousy and even more ashamed to feel it. I want to be the one that Cam defends to the death; I can’t believe how much I want it. But if I can’t have it, fine. So I’ll be lonely; there are worse fates than being alone.

This sentiment lasts me the rest of the day. It’s when the sun goes down and the world turns dark that I realize alone is so much lonelier than it was before Cam.

Every morning when I wake up, I’m greeted by the same double gut punch: Cam isn’t mine anymore, and I let it happen.

I trudge through the days, asking myself how I could have been so certain I was right to break up with him, wondering how it’s possible to feel so drained by my own rollercoaster of emotions while also feeling utterly empty inside. Everything reminds me of him. Couples holding hands, guys with wavy hair, any mention of football which of course is never-ending considering it’s November in America.

My only comfort is the satisfaction of being right. I always knew Cam was unattainable; sooner or later, he’d choose football.

“You want to go to the game tomorrow?” Jade asks Friday evening as we cook spaghetti in our kitchen.

I do a double take. “The football game?”

“Sure. It’s Saturday.”

For a brief, wonderful time, the word Saturday had magical meaning. I watched every Shafer game, marveling at Cam’s body and his skills and my own incredible fortune.

After home games, I’d wait in bed for him to walk in, his hair still wet and his skin smelling like soap, and he’d lie down exhausted and happy and let me take over. I was in control on Saturdays. Sometimes I’d take it slow, torturing us both as I explored every hard curve of his body, trying to figure out all the ways I could make him groan or twist his hands in my hair or sink his teeth into his bottom lip like he always did when he was close to coming. Other times, watching him on the field for three-plus hours would have me so worked up, I couldn’t wait to get him inside me. Saturday sex was always the best sex.

I yank myself out of the memories. “No,” I tell Jade a little too harshly. “I don’t want to go to the game.”

“Oh,” she says like she’s actually surprised. I eyeball her. She’s been sweet and supportive since the breakup, but she’s barely said a word about Cam. Highly suspicious for someone who lives for trashing men. “So you haven’t told me what you think about my look.”

I take in her hair, which has just been dyed an odd shade of green. “It doesn’t flatter your skin tone.”

She laughs. “I like you when you’re grumpy.”

“But I respect what you’re doing.” Sam was always vocal about green being the one color he didn’t want to see on Jade’s head. “Now, can you tell me what’s going on?”

“With what?”

“You’ve been weird about me and Cam breaking up. You think I was wrong?”

“Nope. He was dishonest.”

“You were starting to like him, weren’t you?”

“Ugh.” She makes a face. “In his dreams.”

“Then why haven’t you had a single mean thing to say about him?”

She busies herself stirring the boiling spaghetti. “You want marinara or just butter?”

“I’m not eating.” Save for a few packs of Hostess cupcakes a day, I haven’t had an appetite. “Why haven’t you said anything about Cam?”

“No real reason. I’m just not going to trash the guy until I’m sure.”

“Sure of what?”

“That you’re over for good.” She looks at me like she’s hoping for some kind of big reaction.

“Oh, trust me, we are. His team will always come first, even if it means protecting his friend from owning up to his shitty behavior.”

Jade bobs her head from side to side like she’s not sure she agrees.

“That’s not what happened?” I challenge her.

She turns to me. “This photo thing is really personal to you, as it should be. I just wonder if it’s giving you tunnel vision.”

I cross my arms. “How so?”

“You’re jumping to conclusions. Reeve could be guilty, but if this were any other story involving anyone else, you’d be putting in hours of research before you even considered that you might have an answer.

“This isn’t about journalism, it’s about my life.”

“Right. Your past life walking straight into your present and complicating things.”

“And he couldn’t handle that complication. Come on, Jade, are you actually?—”

“I’m not excusing Cam,” she says.

“Then what are you doing?”

With a maddening lack of urgency, she fishes a strand of spaghetti from the pot and takes a bite. She shakes her head, unsatisfied. “You made an assumption and you’re hurting because of where it led you,” she finally says. “I don’t care if you’re with Cam or not, but sooner or later, you’re going to start questioning your assumptions.”

“Well, I can’t exactly prove Reeve did it. I just have to trust myself.”

“Forget Reeve and forget the photo; that’s not what I’m talking about. Lenni, you need to make sure you understand the choice Cam made.”

“I understand what he chose. Football.”

She doesn’t say anything, but her eyes say it all. Are you sure?

“He did, Jade. You weren’t there. It was crystal clear.”

“Okay,” she says simply, turning back to the spaghetti. “So fuck him.”

Of course there’s truth in what Jade says. I assumed Reeve was guilty. I let my own complicated past tear down what I had with Cam, and I didn’t leave room to consider Cam’s past. But it doesn’t change the fact that he stood there and told me—without saying anything at all—that football comes first. In the long, horrible silence, he could have told me I was wrong.

I won’t question my assumptions because it would only be an exercise in pain. To consider that Cam might still be the man I fell for is a door I refuse to open. I can’t get it wrong again.