Faking It (Losing It #2)(27)
Author: Cora Carmack

The bed was cold when I rolled over, and already I had a sinking feeling. I didn’t know if it was how quiet she was as we went to sleep or the way she’d clung to me in that hug, but I just knew something wasn’t right. Though she’d lay right beside me, she’d felt miles away. Even so, I got up and checked the bathroom.

Empty.

I tried the living room and the kitchen.

Empty.

I called her name, and it only echoed back at me.

Empty.

That was how I felt, too. I sat on the bed, numb, but not really surprised. I should have listened to what my brain had been telling me all along. It was obvious just from looking at Max that we came from different worlds. I was naive to think she could ever be happy with someone like me. And I was naive to think it had only been physical attraction. It was so much more than that. All I knew was that I was pretty damn tired of having my heart handed to me in a blender.

Eventually the emptiness was filled up by anger, and I ripped the sheets off my bed and threw them down. They still smelled like her, and I refused to let her linger in my life the way I’d done with Bliss. If she didn’t want me, fine.

I was probably dodging a bullet anyway.

I stayed calm as I stripped the bed. I grabbed a laundry basket and dumped the dirty clothes already in it to make room for the sheets. I checked the clock.

7:21 a.m.

That wasn’t too early to go to the Laundromat.

The sooner she was out of my life the better. I had to keep moving forward. One foot in front of the other.

But where was the damn detergent?

It wasn’t in the bathroom, where I normally kept it.

I checked the kitchen and my closet, and all the while the muscles in my neck and back grew tenser until they were as hard and unforgiving as stone.

I searched my bedroom, but instead of finding detergent, I found Max’s sheer black tights.

I stared at them while my control unraveled. I wanted to throw them in the trash. I wanted to return them. I wanted to keep them. I was a mess of wants, none of which mattered, because she didn’t want me.

I picked up the lamp beside my bed and threw it against the wall. I watched it shatter, and wished I had the satisfaction of seeing myself break that way. It was worse, when you couldn’t see or touch the part of you that was in pieces.

The anger only made me feel worse. It gave way to guilt too easily, and after a few days, I was left feeling even emptier than before.

Over the next week, I didn’t spend much time at home. I couldn’t. Every time I touched my door, laid something on my table, or slept in my bed, I saw her. I could still smell her on my pillow even after washing my sheets. Or maybe the memory was so ingrained that I thought I could. I saw her behind my closed eyes while I tried to sleep at night. So I avoided home as much as I could. One night with her had tainted it.

I put in more hours at the library, stayed longer after class, and volunteered to help with random stuff around the theatre department. You need someone to organize that storage room that no one has opened in years? Sure!

You need someone to build that prop? Gladly!

I made it my goal to be the best in every assignment, in every class. To be perfect. And as such I demolished my midterms. I just had to fill my mind with enough things that there wasn’t room for her. That was the plan at least, but Max was larger than life and tended to beat out the other stuff no matter how hard I tried. And when classes ended for the holiday, there was nothing left to keep my mind busy.

Near the end of the week, I came home to find Milo sitting on my couch, eating a bag of my potato chips. I hadn’t told Milo what happened because I didn’t want to relive it more than I already had.

I said, “You know . . . I gave you that spare key for emergencies, not so that you could come in here and mooch my food.”

He swallowed the graveyard of chips in his mouth and said, “Where the hell have you been all week, Winston?”

I threw my bag in a chair and shrugged off my coat. If he was going to try to get me to some bar or club or anything, I wasn’t up for it. I headed to the kitchen and said noncommittally, “Around.”

He stood but didn’t follow me into the kitchen.

“You all right?”

I opened the cabinet to get a glass, and said, “Yeah, why do you ask?”

“I saw her, Cade.”

My whole body tensed, and I nearly dropped the glass I’d gotten from the cabinet. I took a deep breath and opened the fridge to grab the pitcher of filtered water.

I let the fridge block my face as I asked, “Her?”

“Quit bullshitting me, hermano. Be real with me.”

My hand shook as I poured the water.

“What? We had sex. She left. It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Not that big of a deal? I will call bullshit on that so many times that the word bullshit will lose all meaning.”

I sighed. “What do you want me to say?”

I took a drink and set my glass on the counter.

He shrugged. “Well, you could start by telling me how it was.”

I saw red, and was halfway across the room before he cried, “Whoa, man! Kidding!” My ears were roaring, and Milo was standing on the futon with an arm stretched out between us. “I think I’ve proved my point about this being a big deal.”

I exhaled slowly and rubbed a hand across my face.

“You want me to say I’m miserable? Fine. I’m miserable. Are you going to make me take some more dumbass shots? Because that’s not going to cut it. Just drop it.”

Milo whistled. “It’s about time you got angry.”

“And getting angrier by the second.”

He asked, “Did you go after her?”

I took a deep inhale and exhale, but that only made me think of Max.

“No, I didn’t go after her. What’s the point?”

“The point is to call her on her bullshit like I’m doing for you.”

I shook my head. “I think her leaving was a pretty clear indication of how she feels.”

She knew I wouldn’t go after her. She knew I didn’t chase people. And she’d left anyway. That was a pretty glaring indication that it was over as far as I was concerned.

I was done with this conversation. I returned to the kitchen and took a long drink of my water.

“She was crying, Cade.”

Time stuttered.

“She what?”

Milo stood in the door to the kitchen, his face serious. I couldn’t have heard him right. He said, “That’s why I’m here. I’ve been trying to catch you all week. I came home when she was leaving the other night. The girl was torn up, sitting at the top of the stairs waiting on a ride. It looked like she’d been crying for a while.”

Something twisted in my chest, and even now I wanted to find her and comfort her, even if I was the problem.

“Did she say anything to you?”

“Just to tell you that she was sorry.”

I sank onto the end of the futon and buried my head in my hands.

Milo continued, “All I’m saying is . . . whatever is between you guys isn’t nothing. Girls like that don’t cry over nothing.”

It hurt to get my hopes up, and they hadn’t even been shot down yet. The crash would be infinitely worse.

If I fought for her and lost . . . I just . . . I couldn’t. She couldn’t stay and I couldn’t go after her. We were both crippled by our pasts. And for once . . . I needed to think about myself first.

“You’re overthinking this. I’m not saying you need to lay it all on the line, tattoo her name on your ass, or write I love you across the sky. Just talk to her. Feel it out. If you never see her again, you’ll always wonder.”

If I had overthought a few more things where she was concerned, maybe I wouldn’t be in this situation. Besides . . . crying didn’t mean she had feelings for me. It could have just been the guilt getting to her. If she had really been upset, she would have come back. She would have called. She would have done something.

“I have to go, Milo. I’m working with the after-school program today.”

Volunteering was the perfect antidote to how I was feeling. Most of those kids had it infinitely worse than I ever had. One afternoon with them would kick loose all of the self-pity that I couldn’t seem to shake. Those kids lived in a stark reality, and it was time I woke up and realized I was there, too. Hoping for the impossible with Max was only going to mess me up more.

“You’re being stupid, hermano.”

No. I thought it was the smartest damn thing I’d done in ages.

30

Max

It was a shit storm of an idea, but somehow I’d managed to bury all of my concerns until I was facing down his door. I had a completely legitimate reason to be here. My parents had already bought the plane tickets, so he might as well have his. Or maybe I just wanted to see him so badly that I didn’t care about how it could go wrong.

He had to be angry. I’d slipped out without a note. I hadn’t called. I didn’t do well with fights—too messy. Fighting was for people who cared, and I made it my policy not to.

So then why was I more worried about the possibility that he wouldn’t be angry? That he wouldn’t care at all?

I raised my hand, and before I could change my mind, I knocked. My heart slammed against my rib cage, and my mouth went dry.

I was going to see him. If I thought I’d wanted that, craved it, before, the feeling paled in comparison to the spike of anticipation I felt in those silent, waiting seconds. He was under my skin, buried in my thoughts. I could still see him, smell him, and feel him as if it had happened moments ago instead of days. A week.

How could I go so freaking crazy in a week? I’d lost all direction, all sense of what I wanted. My compass just kept spinning and spinning with no true north in sight.

The thought of Cade was the only thing that made me feel steady.

If I could just see him, things would be easier. Closure. That’s what I needed. If I could just see that he was okay, I could stop feeling guilty. I could stop obsessing over whether or not I’d made a mistake.

After a few moments, I knocked again.

No answer. Not even a sound on the other side of the door.

He wasn’t here. The influx of emotions rocked through me, and I couldn’t tell whether I was more devastated or relieved.

“You just missed him.”

The voice came from behind me, and I spun so fast that I lost my balance and had to steady myself against the door. It was his neighbor, Milo. The same one that saw me leaving a week ago.

My eyes widened, and my mind blanked.

“I’m just . . . I . . .”

He held up a hand and said, “You don’t have to explain it to me.”

That was good because I didn’t have an explanation. I was hoping I would miraculously know what words to say when I saw Cade. That I wouldn’t just hold out the tickets and then run for it. Hell, I still didn’t even know exactly what I wanted out of all this.

I cleared my throat and fixed my eyes on his forehead so that I didn’t have to look him in the eye.

“Is he . . . how is he?”

Milo leaned against the doorjamb and crossed his arms casually over his chest.