I rub my dry lips together. He sits there like a stone. I don’t know what he’s thinking. Re-evaluating his definition of love? Wishing he’d never shown up here? If I’m honest, Ace and I have been growing apart for a long time before Matty ever appeared in my life. I told myself that he was busy with football and my path took me in an opposite direction, but the reality is we had less and less in common as we grew older.
I don’t know if telling Ace this would help him, but I give it a shot. “We aren’t the same people we were in third grade. There’s no way we could be. If destiny meant for us to be together, we would have been together a long time ago, but I’ve never felt that way about you, and if you search your heart, you would know that the same is true for you. You don’t love me, Ace. I’m not the one for you. I’m your…safe option.” That felt right when I said it. It’s even there in his words. I’m his fallback option. Maybe he uses this so-called love for me to stay emotionally distant with the girls he’s with. But he’s never loved me. “I swear to you, you would not act like this with a girl you loved.”
His eyes turn from pained to flinty, and I try to brace myself for whatever horrible thing that’s going to come out of his mouth next. I’m learning Ace has a nasty mouth on him.
“And you think Matty loves you?” Ace laughs harshly. “That he would never cheat on you. That he would never look at another girl with…lust in his eyes.”
And that uncomfortable feeling I had before? It seizes me by the throat. I watch in horror as Ace pulls out his phone. I don’t want to see it. I want to close my eyes and pretend whatever he’s going to show me doesn’t exist. Whatever happened last night doesn’t exist. If I don’t see it, I can go on in my own little world believing Matty was worth the risk.
Ace lays his phone on the table and the picture is so clear and so big I can’t not see it. I bite my lips together as Ace flicks his finger. It’s a slideshow of my worst fears.
“All these years you’ve friend-zoned me.” His voice is quiet. Ominous even.
“I never friend-zoned you. We were friends. Are friends,” I correct when his eyes narrow at my Freudian slip of the past tense. “True ones,” I mumble almost absently as I stare at the pictures.
Ace’s voice falls to a whisper. “You fell for Matty Iverson. A blockhead. His best friend is a guy named Hammer. Their favorite thing to do is get loaded and bang jock chasers. Their hobbies include liking Instagram posts of chicks at out of town games. He’s an idiot.”
“He reads Harry Potter,” I defend, almost by rote.
“So he read one fucking book a year until he graduated.”
Matty has women on either side of him. In another photo one of them is kissing his cheek. Ace flicks his finger again. Matty’s looking down adoringly into the blonde one’s eyes. Flick. The blonde is kissing him on his lips. Flick. Matty’s hand is outstretched trying to prevent the picture from being taken, but there’s a lopsided smile on his face and he’s still looking at the blonde.
Ace’s finger stabs at the table. “No matter what he promises you, this is what he does. I don’t know what happened last night. I don’t know if she’s still there this morning.”
I swallow again, but there’s nothing in my throat. It’s dry, and every time I gulp it’s like swallowing sand. The tiny bits and pieces scrape and tear fissures into my tissues that grow and grow and grow like the cracks in the desert’s crust—until every part of me is torn asunder, only held together by a slender film of skin.
Ace is relentless. “How come you’re not over there right now? I know when I’m drunk, I’m horny as fuck. Do you know if he’s alone?”
I stand up, hand Ace the phone, and pray my tears don’t fall. Not until Ace leaves. “I don’t know,” I say in a small voice. “But whatever happens between Matty and me isn’t your business. You need to go now.”
I stretch out my arm and point to the door. It doesn’t shake and, for that, I’m thankful. I’ll take whatever victories I can at this moment.
Ace rises, too, but he doesn’t leave. “What are you talking about?” He protests. “I just showed you what a dog Matty is.” As if the pictures would magically transform Matty into the frog and Ace into a prince? In addition to being mean, I hadn’t realized how delusional he was becoming.
“Get out.” My arm is getting so heavy.
“I’m saving you heartbreak here.”
“Get out!” I scream. “Get out. Get out. Get out. Get out!”
I push at him until he starts moving, and I keep pushing and slapping and repeating my high-pitched demands until he’s on the other side of the threshold.
“Don’t call me. Don’t text. We’re done.” I slam the door shut.
“You’re shooting the messenger,” he shouts through the closed door.
Ignoring him, I pick up my phone with shaking hands.
I’m coming over, I manage to type out, but I don’t press send. No. That would give him time to put her in some suitcase.
32
Lucy