“What?” Noah says breathlessly. He looks so confused and a little scared.
“I said…I said no,” I affirm, nodding my head as if to cement the insane idea myself. But I highly doubt nods are enough to swallow what I’m thinking of doing. I have to look away and storm into my bedroom; the look he was giving me was too intense, too emotional for me to register.
I pull out my luggage and begin packing frantically. I rush around my bedroom like I’m a chicken without a head. I don’t know what I’m doing. Yes, I do. But it is too insane to linger on the thought for too long. Because when I say it in my head, I get this little jolt in the back of my mind and I jump a little like I’ve been nipped in the butt. I am going to Venezuela with Grey. Wow! There goes that electric shock.
“What are you doing?” Noah watches me cautiously from the ensuite.
“Packing,” I tell him vaguely, folding a soft pink blouse.
“For what?” he asks, then stops, and I glance at him. But as it sinks in what I mean, I look away. “You’re not seriously doing what I think you’re doing, are you?”
When I shift a few jeans to the filling luggage, he smooths his hands over his hair.
“You are!”
“It’s only going to be for a week—” I try to explain.
“You’re going to another country with Grey, your fucking ex-boyfriend!” he screams, and I cringe.
“He needs me right now, okay?” I say calmly, trying to get him to lower his voice. I don’t need everyone to find out, not like this, not right now. They’d just tell me how stupid and irrational I’m being. And I will probably listen, and I can’t afford to do that. Not when Grey needs me more than he ever has before. The thought of him alone during such a trying time with no one who understands him the way I do kills me from the inside out.
“So?” he booms, and I sigh.
“Do you desperately need me right now?” I question.
“Does he?” he asks accusingly.
I look away and brush past him to the closet. “You don’t understand.”
“Of course I don’t understand!” he shouts, and I whirl around, walking up to him.
“Will you please lower your freaking voice?” I hiss, consciously glancing at the door.
“No, I will not lower my voice!” he screams defiantly. “You are jetting off to another fucking country with your ex-boyfriend, whom you just spent the night with.”
“I already told you I didn’t sleep with him,” I defend.
“Another country!” he exclaims.
“I get that, Noah!” I clutch my head; the headache is coming back tenfold.
“I don’t think you do!” he counters, and I roll my eyes. “Would you be okay with me going to fucking Canada with one of the girls I used to fuck?”
I gasp and push him away from me. “You can do whatever the hell you want, but unlike you, my goal wouldn’t be to fuck my past. I’m only going because he needs someone. He’s going through a lot.”
“But why does that mean you have to go to his rescue?”
Because I love him!
“Because I can’t handle him suffering,” I go with instead. My voice stretches thin and cracks at the end. I watch as the words crash on the ground. He looks more hurt than he would if I had gone with what I cried in my head.
“Why the hell not?” he exclaims. “He sure has put you through a hell of a lot of suffering himself. So why do you feel like you have to go out of your way to make sure he isn’t in too much pain? Why don’t you just let him be? He deserves it after all he has done.”
“No one deserves to feel like there is no hope,” I croak, and he tilts his head. “No one deserves to feel dead on the inside. No one deserves to be alone…not even Grey. Especially not him.” I shut my eyes to trap my tears, but a long warm strip slips past my eyelash barrier.
“Why not him especially?” he whispers.
“Because…” I chew on my lower lip as I try to think of a way this won’t hurt him. But then I open my eyes and take in his face: screwed eyebrows, flushed cheeks, and messy hair—and I can’t. Because he knows why and he’s already hurting, and I don’t want to drive the final nail through him.
“Because you’re still in love with him,” he finishes for me.
I don’t answer. But I assume he reads my trembling lips and shedding tears and formulates his own answer.
“For fuck’s sake, Liv,” he breathes, taking a step backward.
“It isn’t like that,” I argue, taking one forward.
“Oh, it isn’t?” He sounds utterly pissed, and I cower back.
“No,” I say weakly.
He rolls his eyes and threads his fingers through his hair. “I know how you two were before.”
“That doesn’t mean I’ll do anything with him. I’m only going for support—” I reason.
“That’s what I am afraid of!” he yells, cutting me off.
“What?” I shrug my shoulders defeatedly. “You’re so afraid I’ll fuck him the minute we’re out of the country? Do you have no faith in me?” My voice raises as my patience for his wild rage grows paper thin.
“It’s not you I don’t have faith in, Olivia.” He sucks air through his clenched lips and shakes his head, arms thrown up, done with this heart-breaking conversation. “Have fun on your trip,” he says and walks out.
I jump and close my eyes when the door slams behind him. The breeze flowing in from the cracked window makes me shiver, and I am very aware that I am practically naked. Flushed, I quickly get dressed in a pair of jeans, a loose white shirt, and a brown leather jacket and run a brush through my hair. I lean against the window after locking it and let out a long breath. I stand here before my knees become too weak, so I sit on the bed and let my face fall in my palms. “Fuck!” I curse as loud as I can and pick up a pillow and throw it at the door.
I never wanted to hurt Noah like this. He’s a very sweet guy, and I just caused him pain, all because I care too much. I feel as though it will be the death of me. But I can’t just flip a switch and stop caring altogether. And even if there was such a way out, I wouldn’t dare go near it, because my caring for him and overall being compassionate is what makes me me. Without it I’d probably end up like Grey, and he needs me with my switch on, or he’d be drowning in the silent darkness.
A light knock sounds on the door before it opens.
“Can I come in?” Mason asks, his head sticking through a tiny crack.
Wordlessly, I nod.
I cup my ears, watching his footfalls until the bed sinks a little with his added weight.
It is silent with the exception of my loud thoughts whirling around my head.
“You know, you don’t have to go because you feel sorry for him,” he says.
I guess Noah told him, probably everyone, what’s happening when he stormed out.
“I do not feel sorry for him.” Maybe I do a tiny bit, but that’s because any normal human would feel bad for someone who lost a loved one. I roll my eyes, annoyed he’s getting on my case too. I just need one person on my side who can see from my perspective. I stand up and begin packing again.
“Then why are you going, Liv?” He gets up and grabs my wrist, stopping my rapid packing. “Because you know you don’t have to continue to deal with him.”
“Out of everyone, I thought you would understand.” I sigh.
“Why would I understand?” he exclaims. “I have been warning you from him from the very beginning, only to protect you. But you didn’t listen, and look at what happened.”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t stop myself from falling in love despite your oh-so-fucking-vague warnings!” I snap. He furrows his brows, and I point an accusing finger at him. “You warned me but didn’t specify why. But even if you told me he hurt your sister in a really fucked-up way or was in a gang or—or he simply was too fucked up to process, I’d probably still be in love with him. I’d still have fallen for him, because I love him! Okay? Can you understand that?”
He scoffs and looks away, a vile smile hanging on his mouth corners. “You sound insane.”
“Maybe I am. Maybe that’s why we were so perfect for each other!” I throw my arms out and bite back a sob. “Maybe that’s why I still care for him so damn much. I couldn’t care less about myself unless he is all right.”
“That’s sick,” he croaks and tries desperately to catch my eyes. “Do you not see how fucking sick you are? How you’re putting your neck on the line for your ex, your fucked-up ex, by the way, who has done so much wrong—”
“Like I haven’t done any wrong!” I slice through his words, breathless. “Like I haven’t betrayed him in the worst way possible? Mason, I have gotten used to how cruel he can be, only because that was and will always be a huge part of him. That darkness in him that helped hurt your sister is still in him…but I swear, it was gone when we were together. I helped him see some light in himself…but I screwed it up. And I have to find it for him again. It…I wouldn’t be able to move on if I don’t.”
“You don’t need to fix him—”
“Yes, I do!”
Mason stills and slowly shakes his head. “You are so obsessed with him that you don’t even see it.”
“I am not obsessed with him.”
“Yes, you are!” he screams, and I close my eyes, holding back a flinch.
I just shake my head, biting my tongue. This has already turned to shit; I don’t want to hurt him like I’ve hurt Noah. He’s still my best friend. He means well, but he just doesn’t understand I need this to find closure. I finish packing my luggage, and he sighs, his foot tapping impatiently.
“Why are you really doing this?” he asks.
“I told you, he needs my help,” I answer with a tired sigh.
“Tell me the real reason, Liv,” he demands.
“I just did!” I snap, growing enraged by this entire conversation. We’ve never spoken so heatedly before, and it’s giving me heart palpitations.
“No, you didn’t!”
“Believe what you want.” I finish closing the luggage and drag it off the bed. “I’ve tried to make you all understand that moving on is like trying to swim to the top of the ocean, but you can’t swim. And trust me, I know what that feels like exactly.” He flinches. “And I will get rid of that feeling even if it means I black out a little. As long as I am able to breathe again, I will do anything. Do you understand that?”
***
I leave the house, unable to undergo anymore arguments with the people closest to me. I left everyone else voicemails. I know how much crap I’ll get for not telling them directly, but I honestly can’t deal with any more pain for the day. I’ve taken all I can, and I’m barely standing as it is.
I chew my bottom lip as I stare at the doorbell. I haven’t thought this through, and the old me is screaming in fear of the unknown. I haven’t planned what to do or say if he says I can’t go with him. But I will never know if I don’t push that damned button.
I’ve been standing here for about ten minutes, thinking and then overthinking some more.
Finally, my fingers feel sticky with sweat from standing in the sun for so long. And I push the doorbell. I inhale a deep breath and wiggle my fingers that are clasped around the luggage handle. I pray this goes well, because if it doesn’t, I’m not sure what to do next…
The door swings open, and I am met with Grey: ruffled black hair, sharp black eyes, and an even darker frown. He is still the same as I left him, but more ragged, shirtless and rocking a pair of low-hanging Levi jeans.
Silence fills between us like a pestilent force.
“I hope crying babies don’t freak you out,” I breathe, my throat constricting with each word.
He eyes me, then shrugs. “Are you pregnant?” His voice is much thicker than the last I heard from him, which was around an hour ago, maybe a little more.
I feel my skin warm up like an inferno. “No, no—I mean, on the plane. There’s usually a crying baby…” I stop, feeling his eyes seep through my flushed skin.
“Where are you traveling to?” he asks, tilting his head.
My lips twitch into a small, awkward smile. “Um, Venezuela?”
His brows furrow, and he crosses his arms, leaning against the door, but stays silent.
Bastard…
I clear my throat and drop the smile, unable to hold up its weight. “Listen, I know you will never forgive me for what I’ve done to you. And still, I am forever apologetic toward you. I want to move onto a fresh page between us. But that doesn’t mean I have forgotten about the way we used to be and the feelings involved, which were pretty damn strong.” I lick my lips nervously at his lack of input. But I’ve come too far to stop now.
“Anyway, uh…I know how hard your grandfather’s passing is on you.” His fist flexes…well, there is some life in him. I return my gaze to his intense eyes and finally get out, “And I wanted to go with you…you know, for the funeral.” I take another deep breath and avert my eyes to the ground. “Because I don’t want you to be lonely while going through this. I know how—how hard the death of a loved one can be.”
Tears sting my eyes, and I try my best to suck them back up with a sniffle, but it comes out louder than expected.
He is still silent.
I raise my eyes to wipe away my tear, but he beats me to it.
I freeze in place and feel steamy goose bumps run along my spine as one of his marred knuckles wipes the warm tear away. Then he cups my cheek and gives me a small slant of his soft pink lips.
“Help me pack?” He nods inside the house, and I feel my shoulders lighten.
I beam up at him and nod quickly. “I’d love to.”
He hitches his lips up one side, then does something that he hasn’t in a very long time. He lets me in.