I slump into a patio chair on the front porch with a sigh, letting my anger for Max and Kendall distract me from facing the fact that I need to end my relationship before things get more complicated.
“You didn’t make it very far.” I look up, surprised to see Jameson. “Kendall can be loud as fuck when she’s drunk. I realized this was one of the times that you were referring to. I’m sorry I didn’t help. I was distracted by my light bulb moment.”
“A drunken epiphany, great. I can’t wait to hear it.” I groan, leaning my head back on the chair.
“I’m a little buzzed now, but not drunk.”
“What was your light bulb moment?” I ask, not caring to get into the details of his inebriation level.
“You like Max.”
I straighten in my seat and look at Jameson, suddenly very interested in his inebriation level, hoping he really is drunk so there’s a chance he won’t remember this or that I can possibly distract him. Drunk people have amazingly short attention spans.
His hazel eyes are sharp as they stare at me. I watch the recognition dawn on him and know instantly that I’m screwed.
“I knew it!” He quietly cheers. “So, you’re staying with your loser boyfriend to pull the shade down on everyone from realizing you like Max. Why?”
“Because,” I answer with a groan, dropping my head against my forearm resting on the table.
“So you’re still trying to pull the shade on yourself as well. Great, we’re really starting at square one here.”
I glare at him as I lift myself back up.
“Why don’t you want to like Max?”
“I’m not Max’s type.”
“Have you considered letting Max make that decision?”
“He’s my neighbor, Jameson. My neighbor that up until a month and a half ago I’d barely spoken to. If I tell him I like him, it will make things really awkward.”
“He likes you! But he’s not going to act on it until you dump the douche.”
I scoff, closing my eyes against my arms, trying to resist allowing myself to hope that he’s right.
“Seriously. If Max knew you had feelings for him, he’d be all over that.”
“I’m not Max’s type, Jameson,” I repeat, sitting up to face him. “I don’t hookup and bounce from one guy to the next.”
“According to Kendall you date guys you aren’t that interested in. Maybe you both need to try something new.”
“Look, I really don’t want to discuss this tonight. Any of it, Eric, Max, sex, none of it. I just want to go home. Can I borrow your phone?”
Jameson fishes his phone out of his pocket and keeps a firm grip on it as he places it in my hand until I meet his eyes.
“Just think about it.” I open my mouth to protest, and Jameson shakes his head. “Don’t just be logical about it.”
Thankfully of the ten numbers I actually have memorized, I’m able to get a hold of Jenny, who comes to get me with few questions. When we pull up to our parents’, she looks over at me and smiles warily before she offers me one piece of advice. “I’m not really sure why you’re holding on to this one, Ace. We both know you don’t need a man to be successful, or to define you, or for anything else. You’re a strong, smart, and beautiful woman, and I hate to tell you this, but he isn’t bringing out those qualities in you, babe.” She turns off the car and opens her door before I can respond or ask about her and Paul. It’s obvious things still aren’t going well since she’s staying here.
Feeling stubborn, I head to see Eric the next day. I plan to confront him about the girl, and the party, but when I get there he beats me to it. I listen as he profusely apologizes giving me the same excuse I’ve heard countless times over the last nine months—a printing error occurred and he had to leave. He continues, explaining he thought Kendall would be able to come get me since the bonfire was so close.
I know I should probe further, demand more of an explanation than the lame one resembling a colander with all the holes it bears, but I don’t. I sit beside him on his suede designer couch as he flips through the channels and try to banish Jameson’s words from my brain—where they’ve been replaying all night.
“What do you think they’re going to do? I don’t understand what they’re trying to accomplish,” I comment, turning from the news station he’d turned on.
Eric’s head is down, his thumb racing across the screen of his phone, completely distracted and obviously preoccupied. A fleeting thought passes through my mind as I wonder if it’s the girl Jenny had mentioned. What the hell am I doing?
“I’m pretty sure you’re the one that wanted to watch this.” I’m annoyed as I glance at the clock on the wall, which tells me I’ve only been here a little over two hours. It feels like it’s been days.
Apparently he doesn’t realize I’m talking to him and not the coffee table. My anger builds as the realization that even if I’d been speaking rhetorically, he should still be paying attention.
“Eric,” I snap, narrowing my eyes on him.
Eric’s fingers pause as he tilts his head up and raises his eyebrows without tearing his eyes from his phone. Even without fully looking at me, I can see the clueless expression on his face and I find myself picking at every detail of him. I hate this expression, and I know it well; he’s trying to look boyish and innocent, and instead I just find it unattractive and dense. I look at his cheekbones that seem almost hollow, and his eyes which look more like murky pond water rather than the soft, warm caramel I’d thought when we’d first met.
“What are you doing?” I demand, and for the first time I don’t really care that I sound impatient and rude.
“Just checking on things. Did you need something?”
“Checking on what things?”
“Things you’re too pretty to worry about,” he replies, trying to pacify me with a grin that I begin mentally critiquing as well.
I let out a sigh and stand up. “Alright, well I’m going to go.”
“Where are you going?”
“Home,” I answer almost vehemently as he stands up beside me.
“Why are you leaving?”
“Because you’re not even paying attention! You’ve said all of twenty words to me in the last two hours.”
“Harper, you’re being needy,” Eric says with an exasperated sigh.
“Needy?” The word feels foreign and uncomfortable leaving my mouth. “Needy!” This time I nearly spit it. “You think expecting you to pay attention to me is needy?” A laugh follows my words as I look to the ceiling in disbelief. “I’m going home.” I grab my purse and head toward the door.
He doesn’t object or follow as I wrench it open and head to my car.
When I arrive home I’m still seeing red and kick myself for not clearly ending things when it had been the perfect opportunity.
“What’s wrong?” I turn my head as a familiar voice infiltrates my angry thoughts. Kyle and Max stare at me from Max’s driveway. I hadn’t even seen them upon pulling up; come to think of it, I can’t recall a single detail about my trip home.
Max drops a grease rag and shiny tool on the piece of cardboard his motorcycle rests on. They land with a dull thud as he makes his way over to me, wiping his hands on his dark gray shorts, all the while keeping his eyes trained on my face.
“What happened? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“Ace, what happened?” His eyes beseech mine as he closes the last couple of feet between us.
I let out a tired sigh and close my eyes in defeat. “I’m just realizing what an idiot I can be sometimes.” I smirk, waiting for him to make a jab after creating a perfect stage to do so.
“I’d be happy to break his legs. Or an arm. Maybe his nose?” Kyle calls from the driveway, making me laugh.