Bestie

M – Omg. Spooser. Gold.

R – Funny hey!

M – So good!

My phone rings after that, and I glance down to see it’s Roman calling. I pick it up on the second ring and listen as his voice comes through the speaker.

“Hey,” he says, still sounding light from laughing.

“Hey, Spooser.”

He snorts. “Hey, Spoosie.”

I giggle. “That’s even better. How’s your day?”

“Shit. Long. Rather be at home.”

“Yeah, I feel you.”

“Why, do you miss me?” he jokes.

But the truth is, I do miss him this time around. It’s the first time I’ve felt lonely without him here. Our friendship is developing fast. We get along, we like each other, we laugh a lot and it just feels ... normal.

“Yeah, maybe, don’t let it get to your head,” I finally respond.

He chuckles. “Yeah. How’s your sister and Calvin?”

“Awesome, living life on the runway.”

“Perfect fuckers. It’s ridiculous.”

“Totally. How are you feeling? Things been good?”

“Yeah, okay. Haven’t heard much from her in the last week, so it’s good. She’s probably off getting fucked by that other dickhead.”

My heart twists, because I know how much that would hurt. There really aren’t many other feelings worse in the world, than thinking about someone you love in bed with another person. I can only imagine, and just imagining it makes my chest tighten with pain. It must feel terrible for him.

“That sucks.”

“What about you? Heard from Dickface?”

“Eh,” I say. “He’s called a few times, but I don’t answer.”

“You should answer, see what the idiot has to say.”

“No,” I mumble. “Not worth it.”

“True. Anyway, I have to get back to it. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

I smile. “Okay.”

“See ya.”

I hang up and put the phone down. A text comes through only a few minutes later, and I giggle at what’s on the screen. It’s a sex swing.

R – Do you have one of these?

I flush.

M – I used to.

R – Nice. Which one?

M – Um. There are different types?

R – Yep. I googled them. There is a really good one. I hope you don’t have the crappy one. I’ll judge you heavily on the kind of swing you have.

M – Oh my god. Spooser. Get back to work.

He sends me a picture of himself, holding up the rude finger. I giggle and flick him one back.

R – Oh my god, you’re beautiful.

My chest swells and my cheeks get pink. The way he says that. It feels nice.

M – Aw. Thanks. You’re pretty gorgeous yourself.

R – Send me another picture.

M – For your stalker collection?

R – Yes.

I laugh and flick him some other pictures I have on my phone. It doesn’t feel strange to send these kinds of things to Roman. He just doesn’t make anything weird.

R – You’re naturally pretty. Not many girls can say that. You don’t have to do anything to look beautiful.

M – You’re a charmer, aren’t you?

R – Why is it working?

I grin.

M – If I told you I’d have to kill you.

I put my phone away with a laugh and continue getting ready for work. Then I head out for my shift. It’s long and leads me into the early evening. By the time I get home, I’m exhausted, so the last thing I want is to see Michael standing on my front steps, flowers in his hands. I exhale, shoulders dropping, and walk towards him.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, crossing my arms, trying to keep him from entering my space.

“I haven’t heard from you,” he says, scanning my face.

“You’re not going to, either. I told you that, Michael. We’re over.”

“If I truly believed that, I wouldn’t be here, holding these.” He thrusts flowers at me, but I don’t uncross my arms and take them.

“Please leave.”

“Come on, Molly, can we talk? Please?”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” I say, keeping my voice monotone. “I’ve said everything I have to say.”

“No, you’re angry at me and so you’ve shut down. I understand, but I love you, Molly. I want to fix this.”

I shake my head, looking at him sadly, horrified I ever spent a single second longer loving him than I should have.

“If you wanted to fix it, you would have tried harder. You would have fought. You wouldn’t have made me feel pathetic, but you did, you made me feel all of those things and you broke my heart. I had to go through that on my own. And I did. Without you. Now, I’m moving on.”

“What’s that mean? Moving on? Are you seeing someone else?”

I look away, not because I am seeing someone else, because I’m not, but because a part of me doesn’t want him to know about Roman. I don’t want him to tarnish that. It’s good. It’s real. It’s mine. He doesn’t deserve to know about it.

“You are,” he says, taking my glance away as indication that I’ve moved on. “I can’t believe it. After everything I’ve done for you. After everything we’ve been through. You selfish ....”

That’s it.

I spin around and throw my hands in the air, then I lose it. I just lose it.

“Who the hell do you think you are? I gave you months of my life, months! I loved you. I spent hours helping you. I gave you the best pieces of myself. I did it all because you mattered, yet when push came to shove, you’re the one who pulled away. You walked out without even a fight, you broke my fucking heart and you didn’t look back. You didn’t give me one good fucking thing, so you know what, if I’ve moved on, it’s because I deserve better. It’s because you don’t deserve a single second more of my attention and respect.”

He opens his mouth, then closes it again.

“Get away from my house before I call my father, who will make sure you don’t come back.”

His eyes widen, and he nods, turning and rushing down the front path.

Jerk.

God damn him.

Angry tears burn under my eyelids, and I turn, storming inside. Hurt explodes in my chest, and I toss my purse across the room. How dare he? How dare he think that he can treat me like that, after everything we went through, then he has the nerve to come in here and act like he cares. He doesn’t care. The only person Michael has ever cared about is himself.