“Jessie and I were…seeing each other. For a while.”
Kyle slams the bench so hard the metal rivets holding it to the ground probably loosen. In a smooth gesture of animalistic power he leaps up from it and moves backwards, pacing away from it, hand clutching his scalp like he’s trying to contain the ferocity of his thoughts. I get up as well and step to the side. Kyle turns around and starts stalking toward me, finger pointed, his stride sideways and low, like he’s already prepared to start throwing punches.
“This is one hell of a sick fucking joke, Nate,” he says, his face flickering between a humorous smile and gritted anger maniacally. “I’m under a lot of pressure right now, dude. Last thing I need is to be getting wound up like his.”
“I’m not joking,” I say, backing away, holding my palm up like I’m taming a lion without a whip. “I’m coming clean.”
Kyle doesn’t think about his next move, his arm is pulled back before I even get the last word out. He swings, hard and straight. He’s fast, but I’m faster. I duck it and sidestep, but only because Kyle’s too angry to read me, and I know how he throws first punches.
Shouts rise from the people seated at the benches around us, a few of them getting up quickly and moving away.
“Did you fuck her?!” Kyle screams, as I back away again. “Did you fuck my sister?!”
I back up into a bench, with no more room behind me, and Kyle bearing down on me still.
“Yes, but—”
There’s no time for me to get another word out as Kyle throws himself forward. I sweep myself aside once again, this time barely escaping, his fist catching my side a little. A little being enough to knock most of the wind out of me.
“But it’s more than that!” I call out now, partly because Kyle seems to be getting angrier, and partly because there’s a crowd being drawn around us now. “I care about her!”
“You’re my best fucking friend!” Kyle cries out, as I move around and put a bench of scared taco-eaters between us. “You’re supposed to fucking protect her – not use her!”
“I didn’t use her!” I reply, shimmying around to keep the table in between us. “I swear, it just happened.”
“Agh!” Kyle says, stopping to wince a little. “Don’t act like I don’t know you, asshole. You make fucking videos, dude! I bet you made videos when you were fucking her!”
There’s no time for a response as Kyle leaps up onto the table, half-eaten tacos shooting everywhere as his boots send them flying. I back up just in time to avoid having him drop the full force of his weight on top of me. It’s a close call, but it doesn’t leave me with anywhere else to go. The crowd closes behind him, and there’s nothing but a parking lot fence behind me. Kyle knows it, and he moves slow now as he squeezes me into the corner.
“You’re the one fucking guy I expect to understand, Nate. The one fucking guy I trust. You can have any fucking girl you want, and you do this? Why? Why do this to her? To me? To all of us?”
Kyle’s three steps away. He only needs two to throw a punch. I know it’s coming, and I know this time he won’t miss.
“Because I love her.”
Then everything goes black.
23
Nate
They say in tough times you realize who your friends are. What they don’t say is that losing your friends is the toughest time of all. I take Robinson’s advice for once and spend the next few days working from home. Partly because the only task I can muster up enough energy to do is order pizza, and partly because I don’t feel like coming up with a story to explain my black eye.
The throbbing, swollen bruise is nothing compared to the searing sense of dejection. I sit in my apartment, wearing nothing but boxer-briefs, and wallow in the miserable realization that if I never left the house again, the only two people who’d give a fuck are the two people I’ve just destroyed my relationships with. I check my phone for what could be the thousandth time since I got up three hours ago, and sift through the messages looking for their names. I don’t see them.