To Hate Adam Connor

Apparently I hadn’t been quick enough to look away. I wiped away a lone tear and took my last sip from the bottle. As much as I wanted to get sloppy drunk with my best friend and possibly start a big fire and make voodoo dolls with big junks, we couldn’t. Adulting sucks big balls.

“Yeah. We should do that,” I agreed.

Olive reached for the bottle in my hand, and I reluctantly gave it up, after a short struggle, of course.

“I’ll hold onto this, and we’ll continue later.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” She narrowed her eyes on me. “Hell, you know what? I’ll even let you cuddle me.”

Perking up, I wiggled my brows at her. “And while I’m cuddling you, will you be cuddling your pretty husband?” I sat up straighter. “Olive Thorn, are you granting me a cuddling threesome because I’m a victim of love? If so, I’ll totally take that.”

“No, you little perv. Jason has a shoot tonight. I’ll cuddle you until you go to sleep. Then I’m sneaking out of your room to sleep with my pretty husband.”

“Ah, now you are just twisting the knife that’s already been lodged into my heart.”

“Good. I’m still angry at you, you know.”

I made a miserable face. “Me? What did I do? I’m the victim here.”

“And I’m your friend. You waited six days to tell me what that asshole did. You robbed me of my friendship rights.”

“Oh, come on. You can’t get angry at me for that. I just didn’t want you to be miserable with me. I gave myself one week to cry my eyes and heart out, and I did just that. It didn’t even take a week. Now it’s done. Over. Tonight, we’ll celebrate my singleness. I saved you the best part: the celebrations. We’ll have a Tinder party and swipe right on every one. As far as I’m concerned, I’m a kickass friend.”

She offered me her hand and pulled me up. “Nope. You robbed me. It’s as simple as that. I didn’t get to cry with you or curse at Jameson for leaving you. Now how am I gonna make the transition from sadness to anger and then straight to celebration? I’m still pissed. And I’m sad, too. Because my emotions are all over the place. I talked Jason’s ear off the entire night after your phone call. He agrees with me completely. You definitely violated my rights.”

I tilted my head and patted her arm. “Aww, you love me. I’d hug you, little Olive, but you smell even worse up close.”

She gave me a hard push. Laughing, I fell back on the couch. “No need to be an angry waterfall, Olive. Be a lake. Like me. Look how calm I am. Fine,” I added when she kept standing over me with a raised eyebrow. “If it’ll make you feel any better, I’ll probably cry some more tonight, so you’ll still have your shot at being miserable with me.”

“That’s more like it. Thank you. Do try to cry at the beginning of the festivities, okay?”

Shaking my head, I got up on my own as we started a logical discussion of how long we should cry before starting the celebrations.

After Olive helped me carry the last suitcase to her car, I left her with the bags and went upstairs to do a last check, which was how I found myself alone in the living room, just gazing around. Remembering.

When Jameson had had his motorcycle accident a few months before, Olive and I had rushed to his side at the hospital. That had been the first time I’d accepted that I loved him.

When it became obvious that he was gonna have trouble looking after himself with all those stupid broken bones, I’d asked him if he wanted me to move in with him so I could help him out. When he smiled that sexy, confident smile—the one that encouraged your brain to do some stupid shit—and said he thought I’d never ask, I was relieved for two reasons.

One, I wouldn’t have to beat him to a pulp until he realized he needed me while he was already in a hospital bed. Because, let’s face it, that wouldn’t look good for me, and, yeah, I liked his face a little too much to mess it up. Two, I’d get to move out of an apartment I was sharing with two very stupid people—stupid ex-friends to be exact, both to Olive and me.

Because of my quick move, I hadn’t brought a ton of stuff with me. I didn’t own many things anyway, and at the age of twenty-two bordering on twenty-three, being the owner of just a few suitcases worth of stuff was a bit depressing.

When I thought about it, I realized I was now the proud owner of new memories. Memories that wouldn’t go away in a puff. Memories I wished weren’t mine, because none of them, none of the I love yous I’d gotten out of Jameson would keep me warm at night.

No. These memories would play with my mind and remind me what I would never have in my life.

Because, yes, you guessed it…the freaking curse.

“Man, those stairs are kicking my butt. Are we done here?” Olive asked as she came in to stand next to me.

“Looks like it,” I replied, wiping off my clammy hands on my leggings. “You ready to get out of here?”

“Shouldn’t I be the one to ask you that?”

“I don’t know. Should you?”

She eyed me for a few seconds, probably trying to figure out if I was messing with her.

“Nah,” she said eventually, linking her arm through mine. “No need to ask; you are ready to close this door. This is already ancient history, right?”

I took a deep breath and laid my head on Olive’s shoulder. “I wish I were as sure of that as you are, my little green Olive.”

“You mean to tell me Jameson isn’t ancient history?” Her voice softened. “It’s okay if he isn’t, Lucy. You know that, right?”

“Oh, the heartbreaking, panty-stealing bastard is most definitely ancient history, but I’m not sure our memories and all the I love yous he whispered to me within these walls are. And isn’t that how it goes? You get over the guy way before you get over the memories.”

She rested her head on top of mine and gently asked, “Are you sure you’re okay, Lucy? I love that you’re coming to live with us—”

“Temporarily,” I spoke over her, but she pretty much ignored me.

“—because I’d hate it if you left the city, but why didn’t you? I mean, Jameson was the first guy in four years who managed to put a dent in those walls you’ve built around your heart. I know you loved him. I saw it.”

“I did love him,” I agreed after a moment of silence. I had asked myself the same question multiple times after he’d left. “But I told you already, he never asked me to go with him, Olive. He never sat me down and explained his plans, or asked about mine for that matter. He just informed me that he had a job offer and that he had to leave. Oh, and he added that he would miss me like crazy. That’s it. That’s all he gave me. I’m not about to go after someone who doesn’t want me with him.”

“Would you have gone with him? If he had asked, I mean?”

“We’ll never know that now, will we? Hell, it was all so civil. I didn’t even get the chance to throw a vase at his head or anything. Never had the chance to have back-scratching breakup sex. I feel robbed by that. He just informed me of his plans and told me the lease for this place would expire at the end of this month. It was all so…I don’t even know what it was. The only thing I do know is that he never asked me to go with him, or if I would consider going with him. I didn’t factor into his plans, which is why I say fuck him. I wasn’t about to beg the guy just because he gave good orgasms, that’s for sure.” I straightened from Olive’s shoulder and turned my back to the living room. “Yeah, fuck him and the horse he rode in on. I’ll stay with you guys until I find a job, then I’ll be out of your hair.”