It was my twenty-first birthday, and I was celebrating with friends at New Haven’s coolest bar. The place was much stricter with IDing than any place had ever been in Miami, so my fake ID had never been able to cut it. I had to wait until the night of my actual birthday to get in. I hadn’t had a drink since that night at Club Rox when I saw Duncan’s mom. Her pathetic frazzled image and the phrase gateway drug kept me away from alcohol for five years. So I was drinking a club soda with a lime.
Ameena’s new boyfriend, a cute Indian guy who, unfortunately for her parents, was a staunch atheist, brought his buddy Jake. As thanks for allowing him to crash my birthday, Jake offered to buy me a drink. Instead of explaining to him that I used to do lines of cocaine off stolen side-view mirrors and then ran into the drug-addled mother of a boy I had killed, which turned me off all mind-altering substances, I said, “Okay. I’d like a glass of Champagne.”
Jake, who could best be described as a heartthrob, with perfectly symmetrical features and mischievous eyes, bought a bottle.
I reasoned out that I was now twenty-one, older and wiser, and truly happy. My frontal lobes were fully fused. I could make good decisions, and I didn’t need the crutch of drugs to dull the pain of loneliness like I had when Ellie left for college. And my curious side wanted to test the “Once an addict, always an addict” belief. With all that in mind, I confidently took my first sip of Champagne.
It was a delight. Dry and bubbly. Feeling the alcohol hit my bloodstream didn’t launch me back into some drug-hungry frenzy. It didn’t even inspire me to drink too much. I had only two glasses of the expensive bottle, and that was perfect. I was buzzed, but not drunk. I was also surprised when Jake leaned in and kissed my neck.
“Where’s your girlfriend?” I asked. I knew Jake was dating the prettiest girl in our whole class, Melody. A solid ten. Just goes to show that for every beautiful woman out there, there’s a guy tired of fucking her.
He said she had a test the following day and was cramming. I smiled, mostly because the idea of “cramming” was so unappealing and foreign to me. I never had to cram. Jake asked, “Where’s that guy you’re always hanging with?”
“Roman? He’s around here somewhere.”
“Is he your boyfriend?”
“Nope.”
Jake tentatively slid his hand up my leg. I didn’t stop him. So his hand got surer, and pressed into my thigh harder.
“Would you stop me if he was your boyfriend?”
“I would. But he’s not.”
Then Jake said, “You’re a better person than I am.”
Yup, I’m an angel, I thought to myself ironically. And then it all just sort of happened. Premeditation is considered an aggravating factor when it comes to murder. I like to think it also applies to sleeping with hot guys with girlfriends. And thus began what would become a scandalous romance.
When I first told Roman I had slept with Jake, he literally gave me a high five. He was proud of me. Jake was a good get. Varsity athlete and in the most popular improv troupe on campus. And gorgeous goes without saying, since he was dating the prettiest girl. They made quite a couple. She had navy eyes and blond hair. He had navy eyes and black hair. They had been together since freshman year, an eternity in college time.
I supposed that if I didn’t feel guilty about other things, I certainly wouldn’t feel guilty about fooling around with a guy who had a girlfriend. I didn’t make her any promises. He was the one breaking his commitment, not me. So why should I care one way or the other? I wasn’t even friends with the girl. I vaguely knew her from around. And it’s not like they were married. Or even engaged. We were all still so young, in college, pretending to be grown up. How could I take their relationship that seriously, especially with his hand down my pants? It seemed like pure fun. I certainly had no interest in splitting them up, or causing anyone any pain.
Looking back, I realize Roman was so excited about my conquest because he thought it meant Jake and Melody would be breaking up. Then he would finally have a chance with her. She was the one girl he wanted who had remained outside his grasp our entire college existence. The one girl he could never get since she was solidly committed to Jake. Even though, clearly, since he was sleeping with me, Jake wasn’t solidly committed to her. Roman had a class with Melody and took it upon himself to try and talk some sense into her. He told her rumors of Jake’s cheating. Plied her with compliments. She was too good to be treated in such a way. Too beautiful to be ignored. Too smart to not sense it happening behind her back. Melody didn’t believe Roman. She saw right through his desperate attempts to turn her against Jake so he could have her for himself. She trusted Jake had never cheated on her, nor would he ever. So she ignored Roman’s warnings and whispers of rumors.
Roman didn’t plan on betraying me. He didn’t plan on selling me out. It just sort of happened, he said. It wasn’t premeditated. On Roman’s fifth attempt to break Melody free from the shadows of Plato’s cave and show her the light that Jake was a no-good two-timer, she demanded a name.
“So who is it then, Roman? If you’re so sure. If you have proof. Tell me who it is that Jake is cheating on me with.”
In that moment it came down to what Roman wanted and what he knew was right. And what he wanted took precedence. He said, “Ruby. It’s Ruby.”
It was reported back to me that at that moment Melody’s pretty face fell. And her deep blue eyes filled with tears. She knew Roman was my best friend. She knew if he was saying this about me, it must be true. Word spread, and I was vilified, labeled a boyfriend stealer. Melody hated me even more than she hated Jake. Even though he was the one who broke her heart. But such is the way of misplaced anger.
What Roman didn’t foresee happening was everyone hating him as well. He delivered a message and ruined a relationship and a friendship in one fell swoop. A message that never needed to get delivered at all. People whispered, “How could he sell out his best friend like that?” “What an asshole.” “No loyalty.” “Lame douche.” All the people Roman loved to be liked by, the people whose names he remembered on the quad, now hated him. They were the ones who broke out of Plato’s cave and saw the light, and in that harsh sun, Roman looked like a giant dick.
Jake and his friends wanted to jump him. Melody despised him. And even though she and Jake were now broken up, she would never consider being with Roman after he showed his true character by betraying his best friend, me. Which made him no better than Jake, who was betraying her. Even Roman’s parents were furious with him. He threw away his closest friendship for a possible piece of ass. Which in many people’s minds made him even worse than Jake.
Ameena saw how crushed I was by what Roman did, and of course was furious with him for throwing me under the bus. She said, “I could kill him for what he did to you!”