“Yeah, I remember,” I say. My face is flaming hot, and I know he can see it. “That was, um…” I clear my throat. “Kinda shitty.”
“Kinda shitty?” he repeats flatly.
“Yeah. I mean, like, I shouldn’t have kissed you. I was so drunk I wasn’t thinking straight.” A+ choice of words there.
Ruben opens his mouth, then shuts it. I think he has no idea how this is happening. And like, same.
Help. How the fuck do I save this without digging myself a bigger hole? Like that’s even possible now.
“Okay,” I say. I go to put my hand on his leg, because normally I would, but instead I close my fist and tap it against the mattress. “I just, I’m really in my head right now, and I’m panicking, because you’re my best friend and I know you’ve been hurt by guys using you before, I know that, and the last thing I want is to be that. So if there’s anything I can do to fix this, please let me know, I am all ears. Please.”
“There’s nothing to fix,” he says finally. “I mean. It happens.”
“I’ve never done anything like this before.”
“Well, okay. Maybe making out with your straight friend while drunk doesn’t happen all the time. But it did happen. So, maybe we just … pretend it didn’t?”
That sounds like a bad idea, but will also buy me some time. Whatever came over me last night might never happen again. This way, we can put it in the past, at least until it’s not so fresh. Categorize it under “dumb shit we did on tour.” Move on. It’s like a mini-crush. I probably won’t think of this once I like a girl.
My eyes meet his, and I’m about to agree, when I notice something. The morning sun has changed the color of his eyes to a sort of amber. Suddenly, all I want to do is kiss him again. I want to wrap my arms around him and to have him smile at me and to just lose myself with him.
Which means …
What exactly?
It means I need a fucking second. I don’t want to shut this down, but I don’t want to open it up. I want to breathe, and have some space, and try to sort through my thoughts without Ruben staring at me like the world will end if I don’t say the exact right thing. I need to figure this the fuck out, and then talk to him.
“Actually,” I say carefully. “Don’t freak out. But can we talk about this later? I don’t want to pretend it never happened, but I don’t think I’m ready to talk about it.”
He blinks slowly. “Like … when?”
“I just need a few days?”
“A few days to … what?”
Great question, Ruben. Excellent question. “I don’t know, okay. I really don’t. I just could use some space. Please don’t freak out, I just need some time.”
“I’m not freaking out.”
His voice is too sharp, so yep, he is.
This is bad. The way he’s looking at me right now is full of hurt. A part of me wants to say I’m into him, just so he’ll feel better.
I can’t lie, though, and saying anything before I’ve figured this out risks lying.
I feel sick.
I’m going to throw up, I’m going to—
I’m going to hurt him.
I can’t hurt him. I also can’t lead him on. I can’t say what I know he wants me to say, just to make him feel better. That’s not fair on me, and it’s not fair on him. It’s better to just take some time, figure my shit out, and then talk to him once I know for sure what is going on, and what I want.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “But I really need some space to process this.”
“Don’t be sorry, I get it.”
“No, but I am. You know I really care about you, right? And the last thing I want to do is hurt you.”
Ruben’s eyes flare. “You know, we’ve got to go to breakfast soon.” His voice is hard, and I know he’s hurt. But I will hurt him even more if I tell him I like guys and that turns out to be untrue.
“Totally.” I shoot out of bed and search for my shirt. How the fuck did it get over by the window? “I want to have a shower first. I’ll let you get ready, and I’ll see you down there.”
“Won’t those girls still be in your room?” he asks, as he pulls his blankets around himself.
Crap. The girls. That’s a wrinkle, sure, but my mind is screaming at me to get out of here before I say another thing wrong and make this even more of a mess.
“I’ll use Jon’s shower,” I say.
“You can use the one here.”
“No, no, I’m okay. Thanks.”
“Zach.”
“I’ll see you at breakfast.”
I all but launch myself out of the door. I close it, and rest my forehead against it for a moment, taking in a heavy breath.
What.
The. Fuck.
Have I gotten myself into?
I was hoping once I was out of the room I’d feel some sort of relief. No such luck, though, out here I still feel like complete and utter crap. The hurt in Ruben’s eyes is killing me. I know Ruben, and if I saw he was hurt, it’s only because I blindsided him. Normally he doesn’t show pain. He brushes it off or says something snarky. Almost nothing gets to him.
But this did.
I walk back to my room, and rap my knuckles on the door.
The door opens, revealing one of the girls from last night. I think her name was Manon? Her hair’s a mess, her mascara is smudged, and she’s still in her purple cocktail dress. She has pale skin, and truly is extraordinarily pretty. I imagine kissing her, and I don’t hate the idea. What the fuck, brain?
“Zach,” she says. “Do you want your room back? Lily is still asleep, but I should be able to get her up, if you need?”
I wave a hand. “It’s fine, I’ll go for a walk, I was just checking if you’re still using it. Take all the time you need.”
“If you’re sure?”
“Totally.”
“Thanks, Zach, you’re a lifesaver.”
I go down the hall, and into the elevator.
My phone is sitting heavy in my pants pocket, so I pull it out and check it. Ruben is the last person I messaged, and seeing his name makes my heart rate spike. All I can picture now is his wounded expression. It fills my vision, taking over everything, making my stomach sink.