Page 75 of Ruin

I check the time. “Seriously? That was quick.”

“Why do you think I’m not calling him?” she deadpans.

Lexi pulls me out onto the dance floor again, and even though I’m exhausted, we stay there for over an hour. We started out at the bar in Greenwich Village, headed to a party at her friend’s house, then hit this club on 14th Street, no problem getting in thanks to our fake IDs.

When we stumble out onto the street, the sun is coming up. I groan. “I have Epistemology at 8am and Metaphysics at 9am.”

“Meh, skip it,” Lexi says. “Let’s go get pancakes!”

I shake my head. “I really can’t.”

“You’re fucking wasted, and you look like you spent all night dancing.” I look down at my outfit, a little dress and spiky heels that are killing my feet. She’s not wrong.

“I can clean up at my old apartment on Bleeker and get to class with time to spare.”

She pouts then perks up. “Time to spare? So…blueberry lemon ricotta pancakes?”

I laugh. She knows my heart. “Ugh, fine. But it has to be fast. Don’t you have class, too?”

“Girl, I never schedule a class before noon. You know that.” We hail a cab and settle into the back after giving the driver the address.

Lexi looks out the window, scanning the street. “It’s weird that you lost your driver hours ago, and Tommy’s not blowing up your phone. Scratch that. It’s weird that he’s not here throwing you over his shoulder and dragging you back to his cave.”

I glance at my phone. No texts or calls from Tommy at all, and he’s not showing up on the location app. “I hope he’s okay.”

“Of course he’s okay,” she scoffs. “He’s just a selfish prick.”

“No, he’s just busy.” Not hearing from Tommy doesn’t feel strange to me anymore. I’m used to it. Or I’m getting used to it. And it was fun going out with my friends without having to worry about him being overprotective. Though I wouldn’t have minded fucking him in the bathroom.

When we get to Bleeker Street, I’m happily surprised when my old key works. My dad told me he would keep this place until the day I “came to my senses” and left that “neanderthal thug.” Interesting that he kept his word.

Everything is exactly as I left it, and it doesn’t take long for me to shower and find some leggings, a tank top, and a cute cropped jacket before heading to the diner with Lexi.

Right after we order, my phone starts blowing up with texts. I half smile. There’s my man. But the texts aren’t from Tommy; they’re from my dad.

Thank God.

Happy to see you finally came to your senses and

left that neanderthal thug.

If you need help moving your stuff back in, let me

know.

I roll my eyes and put the phone away. Of course my dad has guys watching the apartment. I turn my attention to thejoy that is blueberry lemon ricotta pancakes, a subway ride to class, and two hours of philosophy.

When I get home to our apartment on the Upper West Side, Tommy’s clothes are on the floor in the bathroom. The bed is messed up, and the shower is still wet. He came home, slept in our bed, and left again.

Without noticing I never came home.

The realization hits like glass shattering in my chest. If he had noticed, he’d have called, tracked me down, dragged me back. That’s who Tommy is. That’s who he’s always been.

But he didn’t do any of that. Because he didn’t think about me at all.

30

Tommy: New Year’s Eve, 8 Years Ago