“I’m not playing any games,” I say right back to her, crossing my arms against my chest.
“I’ve never seen Devon act this irresponsibly,” she says, more to herself than me as she starts pacing up and down the room. “He’s normally so in control of his emotions and actions.”
“I don’t know what you want me to say,” I tell her, lifting my shoulder in a shrug. Is it really her business, what happens between Devon and me? I know this situation is messed up right now, but it is what it is. There’s no point pretending it's not happening, or looking the other way.
Especially since it won’t make a difference in the long run.
“How about an explanation?” she says, plopping herself down ungracefully onto the chair next to my bed.
“Look, Hayley. I don’t see why you think I owe you an explanation. I thought we were, well, not friends, but at least friendly. Clearly I was mistaken. I know you’re probably here because Devon told you to babysit again, so let’s just sit here and watch TV without talking. How about that?” I say, my tone belligerent.
Her face softens a little. “We are friends, you and I. But I’m Devon’s friend first, and I worry about him.”
“Devon is a grown-ass man,” I tell her, turning the TV on.
“He is, and he usually has his shit together. I don’t think you understand the position you’re putting him in.” She swallows hard before continuing. “You’re meant to die, Leighton. It's not just his decision. You're as good as dead with or without him. It’s not fair, it’s fucked up, but it’s the damn truth. With whatever you two have going on Devon is going to be in a lot of shit either way, isn’t he?”
“He’s either going to risk everything he believes in to save you, or he’s going to have to kill you and live with that regret for the rest of his life. What do you think that’s going to do to him? You need to stop this before it goes any further, Leighton.”
“I’m sorry, I’m the one dying in this equation, and you’re asking how Devon is going to live with himself?” I ask, gaping. “You know, when I met you I thought you were too nice for this world, and it looks like you’re finally showing your true colors.”
She shrugs. “You know it’s the truth.”
“Is that it? Or is this jealousy speaking?” I ask bluntly, watching her face for her reaction. She gives me nothing at all.
“I care about him, we’re best friends,” she says calmly. “Do I love him? Sure. Not the way you’re thinking, though, I know that he’s not the man for me,” she admits, tilting her head back on the chair, she closes her eyes and inhales deeply. “This is fucked up.”
Yeah, like it’s her life on the fucking line here. “Where did he go?”
“He had business to take care of,” she says shortly, opening her eyes to look at me. She cracks her knuckles. I hate that sound.
“Devon has beautiful women throwing themselves at him. You must have beer-flavored nipples or something,” she mutters to herself. I ignore her. Let her think what she wants, because she doesn’t know anything. I won’t be lowering my guard around her anymore, that’s for damn sure.
I flash her a fake smile and turn to face the TV. “So, when did you and Devon break up?” I ask her casually. I turn my head in time to catch the surprised look on her face. Yeah, like I believe for a second there wasn't anything between the two of them.
“Four months ago,” she admits with great reluctance. My memory flashes to that time, and I frown at this piece of information. How did I never see them together? Then again, I didn't see him that much because I avoided him, the same way I know he avoided me.
“We've been best friends forever so we were like, ‘Hey, let's give it a go.’ It made sense,” she says, glancing at me and shrugging. Then she sighs. “He wanted us to work so bad, but, God, I know it will sound shallow but when we . . . ” She gives me a shy smile. “When we made love . . . ”
I swallow the knot in my throat, feeling sorry I asked her anything. This feels like a stab straight to the heart, that he wanted someone else so much. That he made love to her.
I've been fooling myself with this forbidden love fantasy all my life. I was sure he wanted me as much as I wanted him.
“I mean yes, it was wild and passionate, everything I expected,” she continues, giving me a duh look.
I think I'm going to throw up right here in front of her.
“What happened? Did he cheat?” The words are out of my mouth before I think it over, before she says something to make me feel even more sick than I'm feeling right now.
She shakes her head condescendingly, like she feels sorry for me. “No, and if you knew Devon, you'd know how ridiculous that question is. I broke up with him, and we’re still friends. And twenty questions is over.”
“Fine by me,” I snap. Stuck in a room with his ex-girlfriend that he made love to. After he left me to go fuck someone else the other night. Yeah, it keeps getting better and better. This shit could only happen to me. I braid my hair and pretend to watch whatever stupid show is on, but my mind is reeling.
After an hour of excruciating silence, I’m ready to scream. She must have told me all of this on purpose, just to rub it in my face. Why else, if she thinks there's something going on between us? I’m also getting pretty damn hungry, and it's making me cranky. Most pathetic of all, I miss Devon, anyway, despite what I just heard.
How did this happen?
“He's the most loyal person I know,” Hayley says, breaking the silence. “You need to stop whatever you're doing with him, Leighton. I'm not jealous, the two of us were never meant to be, and I have nothing against you. If things were different . . . but I care about my friend. If he's loyal to you, you don't even understand the shitstorm it will cause. Just think, Leighton, think who you are and who he is. It's never going to work, even without all of this.”
I lean forward and put my face into my palms.
“You've taken enough from him already,” she delivers the final blow, making my eyes water. I'm glad she can't see it.
That's all it comes down to. In the grand scheme of things, my unrequited . . . crush, whatever, it's nothing compared to what my family took from him. I know he did his best to stay away from me, I just never thought it went beyond this rivalry between our families.
All my life, even when we were kids, I did everything and anything I could to get Devon's attention.
It may hurt like a bitch to find out he never cared back, that I've been fooling myself into thinking we had some epic connection, but I don't want him harmed.
“You're right,” I tell her, exhaling deeply and leaning back. She nods at me, but her attention has already switched back to the fictional lives on TV.
I only wish she weren't so right.
nine
DEVON
There's nothing to killing a man.
The first time I did it, I was sixteen, just a boy, really. My uncle sent me out with Stevie to take care of some business. On the way there, Stevie's expression got serious; too serious, I thought. After he parked the car he looked at me, taking out his gun. Then another. I remember the dread I felt when he pointed the gun at me, but then he laughed at my expression. I laughed, too, pretending I understood the joke.
I almost shit my fucking pants then.
He turned the gun handle my way. When I did nothing, he nudged it toward me, and I hesitantly took it into my hand. It was heavier than I’d expected, and the cold metal shocked my fingers, but I steadied my hand and gripped the handle like my life depended on it. I thought of making the same joke Stevie made, but chickened out at the last second.