I get dressed in a hurry. Ace has thankfully taken off. I swear if I saw him, I would kick him in the balls. Twice.
And then in the face. Despite the distance between Matty’s house and my apartment building, the time flies. Or rather, I do as I sprint toward the Playground. The snow crunches under my boots. I almost lose it around the quad because someone forgot to salt a small patch of ice. But I make it to his house in one piece.
Panting, I don’t even pause to knock on the door. Oh no. I fling it open because these assholes never lock their doors.
Hammer’s sitting on the sofa.
“Hey, Lucy.” He gives me a wave.
“Better give your boy a ten-second warning, because I’m going in,” I yell as I race upstairs.
The last thing I see before reaching Matty’s door is Hammer’s shocked and confused face. I wrench on the knob and throw the door aside. It bangs against the wall. The lump on the mattress barely moves.
I storm over to the bed and rip the covers back…to reveal a hungover Matty wearing clothes from the night before. I can tell it’s the same clothes because it’s so clearly obvious he slept in them.
The T-shirt is practically twisted around his neck. His jeans are pulled down far enough that I can see at least half of his underwear-covered ass. His left foot is bare but the right one still has a sock hanging off it. It looks like he managed to toe one of them off and got halfway done with the other before giving up.
I stumble backwards, nearly dizzy with relief.
He lifts his head and there are creases on his cheek from the sheets.
“Goldie.” He smiles happily and pats the bed beside his body. “I was just dreaming about you.”
I ignore his invitation and walk over to his desk, collapsing in the rolling chair situated in front of it. My heart is beating so rapidly I’m afraid it’s going to jump out and flop onto the floor like a dying fish.
“It’s too much for me. You’re too much for me,” I gasp out.
Matty struggles into a sitting position and gives me a lopsided smile. “Too much what? Greatness?”
For once his teasing doesn’t come off as funny, but irritatingly arrogant.
“I can’t do this anymore.” I bend over and place my head on my knees, trying to catch my breath. I can’t remember the last time I took a glucose measurement. I feel weak and sickly. Hot and sweaty. It’s either I’m crashing or I’m experiencing physical side effects of my heartbreak. Maybe it’s some dangerous combination of them both.
“Do what?” he asks in bewilderment.
“I can’t take this risk with you anymore. My heart can’t take it.” I rub my palm across my chest as if I can eradicate the pain with enough friction.
I don’t know whether the pain is forming because I’m breaking up with Matty or because I dated him in the first place. I always knew this day was going to come. He’s going to hurt you was number one on the risk assessment. But stupidly, foolishly, I’d kept decreasing the weight I’d afforded that particular item on the list.
The truth is you can’t really prepare yourself for what it feels like because you never know how much anything hurts until the wound is inflicted. Until the knife is in your belly.
If I stay with him, he’ll only hurt me more. Just like my mom hurt my dad over and over.
I sit up and stare at him, into his precious blue eyes that I know I’m going to be seeing for years when I’m dreaming. When I’m just sitting and drinking coffee, I’ll see them. In that cloudy space right before I fall and asleep and right before I wake up, I’ll see him. It’s going to take a long time to get over him. A long time.
What did I expect, though? This is how I knew it would all play out. Oh, I didn’t have the exact scenario right, but it all ended the same. Safe may be boring, but it sure as hell isn’t as painful.
“You and me, Matty. We’re done.”
“What…what happened? I told you,” he stutters. His brain isn’t firing on all cylinders, and it’s taking him a moment, or five, to catch up. “I told you I wasn’t going to talk to you about Ace anymore.”
Still not with me. I lay it out as plain as can be. “Ace took some pictures of you kissing a girl last night.”
His face moves from confusion to comprehension to anger. “Goldie, I was drunk off my ass last night.”
The careless statement, the accusation that lurks behind his words that I’m the unreasonable one here, only fuels my rage. I feel myself shaking and this time I know it’s not because my blood sugars are out of whack. It’s because of him. Because I took a chance on him and he was supposed to understand this. He was supposed to act like he cared.