“Bye!” She walked backward a few steps, gave me a wave, and then took off down the concourse, dodging small knots of people who were moving too slow for her taste. I smiled, shaking my head. Same old Dana.
I hadn’t thought about Sarah Jenkins for a long time. We had dated for a few months, way back in junior high, when dating hadn’t meant anything, and then again for couple more months in high school, when it did mean something. That time, Sarah had been a useful excuse for pushing the girl I’d really wanted away from me, since I’d been certain that Quinn was too good for me. Or maybe more accurately, that I could never be good enough for her.
But Sarah was so easy to be around, never demanding or expecting anything from me. I’d had the sneaking suspicion that she’d worked hard to maintain that façade and fit in with the rest of the cheerleaders, who tended to chase football players for quick hook-ups. Sarah hadn’t had any objections to sex, and I knew I hadn’t been her first. She didn’t have a reputation for sleeping around, but she’d had a few steady boyfriends between our two go-rounds. When I’d made my move the first night we’d gone out, she hadn’t hesitated.
We’d broken up when I had realized how unfair it was for me to use her when it was Quinn who I wanted. Sarah was classy to the end, and even after I’d begun dating Quinn, she’d been friendly with both of us. I smiled a little, thinking of what had happened when I’d run into Sarah at a party not long after I’d broken up with Quinn in the spring of our junior year.
She’d rounded on me, hands on her hips and eyes blazing. “What the hell did you do?”
I was holding a beer, but I’d already done a couple of shots. “Heyyyy, Sarah. What’s up?”
“When did you get to be such a dick, Leo? God. I’m so fucking mad at you.”
“What the hell?” I spread out one hand. “What’d I do to you?”
She rolled her eyes and let out an exaggerated sigh. “It’s not what you did to me, asshole. It’s what you did to Quinn.” Curling her hand into a fist, she punched me in the upper arm. “You know, Leo, when you broke off things with me, I was a little hurt, but I wasn’t surprised. I’ve always known how you feel about Quinn.”
“You mean, how I
felt
about her,” I corrected, trying not to slur. “She’s not mine anymore.”
“And whose fault is that? Idiot. And don’t try to sell me that shit, bud. You didn’t stop liking her. I’m going to be all sappy and say you even love her. Still. I don’t know why you broke up with her, but I know it’s not because you changed your mind. I know you didn’t cheat. I know
she
didn’t mess around.”
“No.” I muttered the single syllable.
“So when I think to myself,
hmmmm
,
why would Leo break the heart of the girl he loves, and put himself through hell at the same time,
I’ve got to think you did it for some stupid noble reason. Like someone convinced you that you were hurting her. Or told you that she deserved more. Am I on the right track?”
I swallowed hard. She was too fucking close to the truth, and I’d been steadily drinking away Quinn’s memory tonight. I didn’t need Sarah reminding me of why I needed to get wasted. But being this drunk also made it hard to argue with her. So the response I gave her was less than inspired.
“Maybe.”
She nodded. “I figured. I think I have a pretty good idea, too, about who put that shit in your head. Seriously, Leo? You’re going to listen to Nate, who’s been in love with Quinn as long as I’ve known you guys? You believe him?” She made a rude noise with her mouth and shook her head. “And here I thought you were reasonably intelligent.”
I’d tried to push away from the wall just to escape the sound of Sarah’s voice, reminding me of how stupidly I’d fucked up my life. But the wall didn’t seem that steady, and I’d half-stumbled, banging my arm against the doorway. It hurt so bad that my eyes swam with tears.
“Shit. Fuck. Damn.” I leaned my head on the non-injured arm, screwing shut my eyes. “Aw, fuck it all.”
Behind me, I heard Sarah sigh. “Oh, Leo. God, I want to be pissed at you—and I am, don’t worry—but . . .” I felt her hand on my back as she ducked under my arm. “C’mon, big guy. Let’s get you somewhere safe, where you can sleep this off before you do something stupid. Or even more stupid, anyway.”
I’d never remembered the ride back to my house that night, but I knew it had to be Sarah who drove me. She hadn’t made a move on me, hadn’t tried to come on to me at all; I was pretty sure I would’ve turned her down, just like I did all the girls that year who did make it clear I could have them any way I wanted. But Sarah didn’t put me in that position. She was a friend, and more than that, I could tell that she really cared about Quinn, just as much as she did about me. That definitely gave her extra points in my book.
Watching a drop of condensation race from the rim of my glass down to the bar top, I couldn’t help a wry smile as I wondered what Sarah would have to say when she heard that Quinn had just married Nate. It still felt surreal to me, like something out of one of my worst dreams. Somehow, I’d been sure that something would happen to stop the wedding from actually taking place. The minister had never paused to ask if anyone had objections. I had quite a few. But apparently, no one cared to hear them.
God
. I wanted to thump my head into the bar until I was forced to stop thinking. Unfortunately, I was in public, and that meant that someone was bound to snap a pic of me looking like an idiot and post it everywhere, probably along with the caption, ‘
New Richmond Rebel’s Drunken Breakdown in City of Brotherly Love.’
And then I’d have to deal with the team’s PR department, who’d already laid down the law to me about behaving myself. Not that I’d ever been a problem to any of my teams; even back in high school, at the height of my party days, I’d toed the line when it came to our coach’s orders. And in college, I’d spent too much time cleaning up after my friend Matt to get into any trouble myself.
I winced, thinking about Matt. That still hurt, too. I missed him with a keen aching that surprised me. He’d sunk so low in the weeks before he’d committed suicide, pulling away from me and from everyone else, that it felt as though we’d lost him long before he’d given up in that motel room. But I missed the Matt I remembered from elementary school, the kid from junior high and the guy who’d been my best bud and wingman in high school. I missed the man he was capable of being, when the booze and the drugs weren’t in control. God knew he had other problems, too; abandoned by the worthless fuck-ups who were his parents, indulged and ignored by the grandparents who did have custody of him, Matt had kept most people at arms’ length. I was one of the few he’d let in. Gia was another.
I couldn’t forget her face yesterday at the wedding. In her own way, Gia was almost as upset as I was about Quinn marrying Nate—and about Nate putting her in the position where she’d had to say yes or deny her best friend his dying wish. But Gia always seemed slightly removed now. The girl who used to be a firecracker, who’d busted balls on a daily basis, including mine, barely spoke anymore. When she did, though, I’d noticed it was usually to me. Maybe it was because we were the two people closest to Matt, or maybe she figured broken hearts could relate. Either way, I’d become protective of Gia. I was worried about what she was going to do, now that she’d graduated.
She’d been my sidekick all during the nightmare wedding yesterday. And very early this morning, she’d been the one to knock on the door of my room at the hotel in Atlantic City, where we’d all stayed—Gia, Tucker, Zelda and me—after the wedding. I had been touched that she was worried about me—and she had been—but she was also freaking out because she’d realized that she’d left her cell phone at the beach house, where Nate and Quinn were currently honeymooning—or whatever passed for their version of it.
Gia had looked so upset that I’d agreed to run her back down to Ocean City before I headed for the airport to catch my flight south. Going there again was way down on my list of things I wanted to do, along with a root canal and prostate exam, but Gia needed a ride, and neither Zelda nor Tucker were answering their phones or knocks at their doors.
For a little bit, I thought I might get away with just being her wheels. I’d pulled into the driveway and stayed in the car as Gia jogged up to the door, knocked and went inside.
Perfect,
I’d thought.
She’ll come out with the phone, we’ll leave, and I won’t have to see either of them.
But just as I began to relax a little, the screen door had opened again, and this time it was Quinn who appeared. She was wearing old cut-off denim shorts that were so faded, they were nearly white and a tank top that clung too well to her tits. With a growl, I banged the heel of my hand against the steering wheel.
Quinn hadn’t paused, though. She’d come to the car and opened the passenger side, leaning in the door. I purposely stared straight ahead, out to the beach and the crashing waves, knowing that if I met her eyes, I’d be lost.
“Leo. Can we talk for just a minute? I was going to call you this morning, but then . . . I don’t know. It didn’t seem like a type of conversation to have on the phone.”
“No.” I clenched my jaw. “Just go back inside, Quinn. Haven’t I gone through enough? I played nice yesterday, all during your big day. I smiled big and pretended it was really a
fun
afternoon. I kept my mouth shut. Can’t I be done now? Or would you like me to roll around in some broken glass, maybe? Just to see if I can still feel anything, or if I’ve gone completely numb.”
I heard her sharp intake of breath. “Leo, please.”
“
No
.” I opened the car door and jumped out, stalking away, heading for the beach, willing Quinn not to follow me.
But of course she did.
“Just one minute, please. Let me say something. Let me—God, Leo. You don’t think yesterday was hard for me, too? You don’t think I second-guessed myself about a thousand times? You don’t think I’d do anything to make all of this different?”
“Would you?” I whipped around to face her finally. “Would you, really? Because from where I’m sitting, you’re enjoying being Saint Quinn, the selfless best friend who’s making a martyr of herself, sacrificing herself on the altar of her dying friend. This was
your
choice, Quinn. Yours. No one else made it for you. You can say what you want about Nate asking you, putting you in a position where you had to choose, but goddammit, you made the wrong fucking choice. And everyone can see it. So you woke up with regrets this morning, huh? It’s finally sinking in what you’ve done? Well, you know what, Quinn? That’s just too fucking bad, because I’m done. I’m finished waiting around for you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” She’d gone pale, her arms wrapped tight around her waist.
“It means just what I said. This is it, Quinn. The end. This is the last you’re going to see of me. You made your decision. Fine. Now you’re going to live with it, and I wish you all the luck in the world. But I can’t stand around, waiting on the sidelines like some pathetic substitute, ready to step in the minute the position’s empty again. I’m more than that.
We
are more than that. But it turns out I’m the only one who realizes it.”
She’d sunk to the sand then, bowing her head and curling in on herself as she wept. At any other time, I would’ve caved at that point. I would have gone to her, taken her into my arms, soothed her sobs and told her it was all going to be okay.
But this time, I didn’t. I made the hardest, most painful choice I’d made since the last time I’d left her, back in high school, and I walked to the front of the house and got in the car.
Gia was sitting in the passenger seat, her eyes big in her face. She’d been silent as I threw the car into reverse. backed out and then floored it, going way above the speed limit, just fucking daring any cop to stop me.
When we were finally out of Ocean City, she’d laid one tentative hand on my arm. “I’m sorry. I went to get my phone—it was in the kitchen—and when I came back out, she was by the car. I didn’t know. I’m so sorry, Leo. About everything.”
“Not your fault,” I’d muttered, my eyes glued to the road. “No one’s fucking fault.” And then we’d been quiet the rest of the drive, until I’d dropped her at the apartment she, Zelda and Quinn had shared for the past semester, after which I’d come straight to the airport.
In my pocket, my phone buzzed now with a text reminding me it was nearly time to board the plane. I deleted that one and flipped through other messages, updates and emails. Nothing pressing. After a moment, I gave into the curiosity raised by running into Dana Jenkins and scrolled to the only social media app still on my phone, opened it and typed in a name.
Sarah Jenkins
Within seconds, it was clear that my ex-girlfriend’s recent life hadn’t been as eventful as mine. She popped up quickly, her smiling profile picture beaming at me. None of her privacy settings were up, and I was able to see a few posts, pictures from her graduation and some group shots of her with friends, arms around each other’s necks, beers in their hands . . . typical photos that anyone our age might have. The few pictures from my own graduation were low-key, with just my parents and me. We hadn’t made a big deal about it, since we all had to be back in Jersey for Quinn and Nate’s graduation and wedding.
And come to think of it, we hadn’t really taken any photos at the wedding itself. I remembered Sheri snapping a few of Nate and Quinn, but there weren’t any group shots, probably because most of us wanted to forget that it had ever happened.
Or maybe that was just me.
I ran my thumb over the phone’s screen one more time as I stood up from the bar stool, scrolling until Sarah’s relationship status showed.
Single
. I wasn’t surprised, since Dana probably would’ve mentioned something to me if her sister was in a serious relationship. Still . . . I hovered over her name, undecided.
What the hell
. We were old friends, and now we were going to be living in the same state. It would be weird if I didn’t get in touch and say hello. I hit the message button and tapped out what I hoped sounded casual.