At first, everything was great. I had a great past few weeks with Connor. But now he seems distracted, strange. It wasn't a sudden drop in behavior. It has been a quiet drift, now that I think about it. Now that I look back at his actions. He has been pulling away slowly. I think he regrets his decision to forgive me. Maybe he isn't as strong as he thought. Maybe people are giving him shit for letting me back into his life. No one wants to be that guy. He said he wouldn't let his pride get in the way. But I think it's winning. And then there is the thing I don't want to think about. Blane told me that Penny girl has been visiting Connor at work. They've been friends since high school. And she has a boyfriend. But that doesn't put me at ease. If she has a boyfriend, why isn't she visiting her boyfriend at work? Why is she visiting Connor? They've been together a long time. I'm sure she is feeling that boredom. She wants to indulge a crush. One of the guys works with Connor and he says Penny will sometimes be there for an hour, chatting it up with Connor, laughing with him. I'm too scared to bring it up to Connor. What can I say? I can’t bring up the reason I hate her to begin with. Avery is a name I will never bring up again. The wound is too fresh. This feeling in my gut, I wish it would go away. I wish she would go the fuck away, too.

Penny, like a bad penny, always turned up. Avery lost his virginity to her. Then, lovely plot twist, Connor had sex with her in high school, too. I really needed to expand my circle beyond these boys who all graduated together. It was becoming an issue.

I don’t know why women hate other women who are different from them so much. Maybe it was due to the fact that society was always training us to be carbon copies of one another. Girl-on-girl hate was ingrained in us when really, we needed to stick together.

Penny was a tiny thing. Lean, slender. She didn't have the curves I did, the ones I had been self-conscious of since I was twelve years old. She had red hair down to the middle of her back, and she wouldn’t be the first redhead to catch Connor's eye. He loved them, and I, in turn, learned to loathe them. I tried to push thoughts of her away.

I didn't go to high school in the city. I was a small-town girl and I moved to the metro area after graduating. I loved my small-town upbringing, but it wasn't where I wanted to spend my life. At times, I craved a return to the quiet of it all. I missed the stars; they spoke to you when no one else would.

I had been invited to a party with some old classmates on Saturday night. Connor agreed to go with me. I felt a thrill, knowing it would be our first time hanging out with other people since he decided to forgive me for the party. I didn’t deserve it. I had humiliated him, and I was too drunk to see it.

I thought of my stepfather. It had been months, maybe a year, since I last heard from him.

The party was close to where I grew up, where he lived from time to time. His work kept him in Kansas City most of the time. I never knew how his family life was going. He always boasted of his wife, his stepchildren. The replacements.

My mother encouraged me to reach out to him more often than I would have liked. If you’re not reaching out, then you’re not setting yourself up for the freeze-out. I didn’t know how often my brother talked to him. My stepfather, my brother’s biological father, was a stale topic to bring up. It left a bad taste in our mouths. Abandonment and something I couldn’t put a finger on. It was best not to try. I didn’t know yet.

On the way out to the party, Connor was still off, still drifting away from me. He told me about his day, his week. He reached for my hand twice, but let it go quickly. It felt like a reflex, then a burn. A touch he desired but was stung by. It was expected. Maybe he wasn’t as good with forgiveness as I hoped, maybe he was more like me than I could handle.

The house was in the woods, down a long driveway. I drove, hoping Connor could have a few beers, relax. I wanted him to have fun, and just being in his presence again, after what I did, that was enough for me.

I thought being in the presence of people I grew up with would put me at ease. I was always with the same guys, this group of friends who had known each other since kindergarten. I wanted to be with my people, even though I could hardly call them that. I hadn't kept in touch with anyone from my adolescence, but I had a history with them. Maybe they could paint me in a better light than I was painting myself in.

We were only at the party for an hour before I wanted to leave. Connor smiled as I introduced him to people. He shook hands and laughed. But to me, he was gone, cold and aloof. He was constantly looking at his phone. And when he would look at his phone, he would smile. The corner of his mouth would turn up. He hadn't smiled at me like that since before. I wanted to hate him. And part of me did. But the bigger part hated myself. I did this. I sabotaged this.

“Are you having fun?” I would ask.

“Yes. You asked me that twenty minutes ago. The answer hasn’t changed.”

I didn’t like this version of him, tight and cold.

Before long, I told Connor I wanted to leave, not wanting to subject myself to any more of our pathetic act. We drove back to the city in silence. He had the decency to put his phone away. I could hear it buzzing in his pocket. The red in me bubbled up, threatening to spill over. I wanted to jerk the car to the side of the road, walk into the black, and scream. But I didn’t. I let my white knuckles speak for me. I let the heavy sound of my breathing, my blind anger, speak.

When we got back to my trailer, I put my car in park and jumped out, walking for my door. I heard the passenger door close as I made it up my steps. I stopped, my key in the door, when Connor spoke.

"I’m sorry. It was a mistake to ask you back. That's on me. You're not wrong there. And I know when you and I started back up again you had great intentions. I’m the asshole here. I thought I would let it go, but I can’t. I want to be chosen. I don’t want to be someone's second choice. The consolation prize. That's all I really am. If Avery left his wife and wanted you back, you would go, I know you would and I don’t even want you to respond to that comment. We both know it’s true. I deserve better and you, you deserve better, too. I’m not giving you all of me. I wanted to, I swear I did. But I can't stop thinking about that night. About the way everyone felt sorry for me and the way they looked at me."

I pulled the key out, turned, staring at my shoes. I heard a car alarm go off in the distance, followed by yelling.

"So you're letting your pride win?" I looked at him. He was leaning against the side of his car, his arms crossed at his broad chest.

"I guess I am. But at least I’m admitting it now, and not dragging it on. Three weeks was too long."

"Long enough to get my hopes up." To get me to bed. To fake it enough that I changed my view. That I wanted him. Long enough to break my heart over that red-headed tramp. Neither of us were saying her name, but I knew she was the reason for this. She was showing interest and he was being pulled in. He didn't want to be with a girl who was still a little in love with her ex, but he wanted to give his time to a girl who was in an actual relationship with another guy? Fuck him. Fuck this shit. Again, I saw red. Not red like that bitch’s hair, red like the rage thundering up again. I looked down at the keys in my hands. Imagined throwing them across the driveway. "Go home,” I said, flatly.

He didn't argue, just said “okay” and had the audacity to sound a little sad. His phone went off in his pocket again and I wanted to run down the steps, lunge for it, pull it up, and see her name. Show it to him.

I wanted to stop dancing around the reason. The real one for this bullshit.

I watched his car drive away from my trailer, then stood frozen on my steps. Eventually, I went inside and texted Blane. He was at the bar. I didn't even have to ask. Before we got off the phone, he told me a cab was coming to get me.

The drive there was static with my wrath. I was plotting my revenge. A dozen scenarios played out in my head. Fuck Connor. I wanted out of this game. No, I was going to win this game.