Well, he never really had been. I had made sure of that. I had kept him firmly in the friend zone. Even if, looking back on things now, we had never been just friends. I’d pull him in enough to keep him hanging, but then push him away once it got too intense or too real. The poor guy had been my own personal yo-yo for years. All because I was a scared idiot.
Because I had convinced myself that I didn’t love Mitch. Not like that.
I went months believing that it had just been sex. That’s what I told him. Those were the lies I fed both of us.
I had myself convinced that my heart hadn’t crumpled to pieces when Mitch had looked into my eyes and told me that he loved me.
I strongly believed I had made the right choice by shutting him down and turning away.
That what had happened didn’t matter.
Except it did.
Because by getting naked with Mitch, I had lost one of the most important people in my life.
And months later as I sat deeply entrenched in my hundredth round of therapy; I made a startling and gut wrenching realization.
I loved Mitch Abrams back.
The deep in your soul, never get over it kind of love.
And I had stomped all over it.
Now the object of my affection was in love with someone else. Happy. Blissful. And far away from me and my psychosis.
I had had my chance and I had screwed it up.
Mitch deserved better than an airhead alcoholic with an eating disorder.
He deserved better than me.
But that didn’t mean I wouldn’t work on making sure I became the best possible version of myself I could be. I may have ruined things with Mitch but I’d be damned if I’d ruin the rest of me.
So I worked my jobs. I went to therapy. I didn’t drink and I ate all my meals. I was healing inside and out.
That didn’t mean I had filled the giant hole in my chest where my almost happily ever after had been.
Sophie had been smart. She grabbed ahold of Mitch and hadn’t let go. I wanted to hate her for it, but I couldn’t fault her for being the better woman. She hadn’t hurt him.
That honor resided solely with me.
“Oh, she was there too.” Vivian made a face.
“What’s the face for? Sophie seems…nice.” Nice like rusty tacks underneath my fingernails.
Vivian rolled her eyes. “Yeah, she’s nice. She’s just so boring, G. And you and I both know who our boy Mitch should be with.” She waggled her eyebrows in my direction and I sighed.
It was a familiar argument. Vivian would tell me to stop being a stubborn ass and fight for my man, and I would have to remind her that I had broken his heart and he’d never forgive me.
Wash. Rinse. Repeat.
All because I had admitted, in a moment of weakness, how deep my feelings for the Generation Rejects’ bassist went. Now my good friend and roommate was like a dog with a bone. She meant well, but I sort of wanted to shake her.
Vivian just didn’t understand that not everyone was cut for the claws out, hair-ripping kind of love she had with Cole. I wasn’t the sort to smack another girl in the mouth for looking at my man.
And I wouldn’t fight for something that was never mine to begin with. I cared about Mitch too much to ruin his current, healthy relationship just so I could find my happiness.
His happiness was more important. Damn, I had become selfless in my old age. Maturity felt a bit on the shitty side.
And love kind of sucked.
Vivian threw a pillow at me. “You’re such a goddamned martyr. I guarantee if I told Mitchiepoo how you really felt—”
“Don’t you dare!” I yelled, getting to my feet. She knew exactly how to push my buttons. And push them she did. Whenever possible. At really inopportune moments.
“Don’t you ever tell Mitch anything! I’ve put him through enough with all of my bullshit! If you ever say anything to him, Vivian, our friendship will be over! I swear it!”
Vivian’s eyes widened and she held her hands up. “Whoa, G, chill out.”
I took a deep breath and sat back down, a little embarrassed by my outburst. Vivian grabbed my hand and gave it a comforting squeeze, her eyes soft.
“You know I wouldn’t say anything. I just want you to be happy. I want him happy too. I love you both.”
“Mitch is happy, Viv,” I argued.