I watch from my living room window as she gets her luggage out of the trunk and drags it behind her, her free arm linked with Becca’s as they make their way into the house.
She must’ve been some friend if Becca was letting her touch her.
I fake a smile when Becca looks up and sees me, but she quickly averts her gaze and nods at whatever her “friend” is saying.
Stupid—that’s pretty much how I feel, because a part of me thought—hoped even, that Becca would want to introduce me to her friend—a friend that might help me understand who Becca is—or was—before she moved here.
Clearly, I was wrong.
And honestly, it fucking hurts.
With a sigh, I look behind me at Tommy. “You ready to pack your bag?”
“Where go?”
“You’re staying at Kim and Robby’s for the weekend.” We’d already planned it and I thought I’d be busy with Becca and her “friend” so I didn’t want to cancel, just in case.
I fake another smile, this one for Tommy. “They have so many things planned for you. You’re going to have the best time.”
“You too?” he asks.
“No, bud. Just you.” …while I stay home by myself, wondering what the fuck is happening with Becca.
An hour later we step out and I almost freeze in my spot at Becca and her friend sitting on the porch steps talking quietly.
“Can I bring my skateboard?” Tommy asks, pulling me from my daze.
“Sure, buddy.”
The second we’ve climbed down my stairs, he runs toward them—where his skateboard is—and as soon as Becca sees him coming, her eyes widen and her face flushes.
“Hi Becca,” Tommy shouts, stepping between them.
Becca smiles, but it’s cold. Distant, almost.
Tommy grabs his board. “Bye Becca!” he shouts, running toward my truck. I lift him in his seat, my back toward Becca. I take my time, silently buckling him in, hoping that she offers something. Anything. A greeting, an introduction, any form of acknowledgement that I exist in her life. Because up until this point, I was sure I played a pretty big part in it.
But she doesn’t do any of those things.
What she does is hurt me.
And that hurt is something I carry with me all the way to Robby’s house.
“You all good?” he asks.
“Yup.”
“Sucks Becca cancelled.”
I shrug. “It is what it is.”
He crosses his arms and leans against the doorframe, his brow bunched as he eyes me down. “You want to hang out here for a bit?”
“Nah.” I shake my head.
“What are you going to do?”
“Skate.”
I don’t skate. Not right away. I do what my instincts tell me not to—I go home and give her time.
One more chance, I tell myself.
Maybe she just doesn’t want to be rude to her guest—give her time to settle before she makes the introductions.
They’re no longer outside when I get home so I busy myself cleaning the house from top to bottom—something I can only do when Tommy’s not home. I take out the trash, and that’s when I see them, walking arm in arm up the driveway and right toward me.
I stop in my tracks, my eyes on Becca, but she won’t look at me.
Her friend waves.
I wave back.
“I’m Olivia,” her friend says.
I wait for Becca to speak, and when enough time passes and all she does is turn away from me, I finally reply, “I’m Josh.”
Becca clears her throat and for a second, I actually get excited. “Josh lives over there,” she says, pointing to my apartment.
That’s it.
That’s all she says.
She drops her gaze, her thumb going between her teeth and her eyes squeeze shut. Olivia’s hand circles Becca’s wrist. “Becca,” she whispers, her voice calm but firm.
Becca releases her thumb but doesn’t open her eyes.
“Well…” I push back the lump in my throat and speak through the sinking of my heart. “Have a good weekend. I’ll see you around, Becca.” I walk past them and drop the trash in the can. I don’t bother going back to my house. Instead, I get in my truck, wait for them to get the fuck out the way, and I skate.
Because skating is the only thing in my life that’s never disappointed me.
Becca
“He seems nice,” Livvy says, looking over her shoulder as Josh reverses out of the driveway. “And he’s cute.” “Excuse me,” I tell her once we’re in the house.
For the next fifteen minutes I hide out in my bathroom, my sobs silent.
I don’t respond to the knock on the door. I know who it is. And she already knows something’s wrong, even if I try to hide it. Because she knows me.
She knows me better than anyone. Even Josh.
“Sweetheart, open the door.”
I unlock the door, wiping my eyes as I do.
I can’t speak. And right now, I don’t want to.
“You bit your thumb when Josh was there.”
I sniff back a sob but don’t respond.
“Becca, please be honest with me. Are you and Josh…” She breaks off on a sigh before continuing. “Are you having sex with him?”
I shake my head but I can’t look at her. “Not yet,” I whisper.
She inhales a sharp breath and starts to speak but I cut her off. “It’s not like that, Livvy. You have to believe me,” I plead.
She closes the door behind her and folds her arms over her chest. The air in the room’s so thick I can barely breathe.
“Why didn’t you say something earlier? Or when he introduced himself?”
“Because I don’t want you to be disappointed in me.”
“Becca…”
I look up, letting my tears fall freely now. “I know how you feel and I know what you’re going to think, but I swear it’s not the same…” I hold a hand over my heart, unable to breathe through the pain. “I’m in love with him.”
“Oh, baby,” she whispers, taking me in her arms.
A sob bubbles out of me, followed by another, and another, until I’m crying in her arms. I cry so hard I fall to my knees, completely overwhelmed by my admission and my fear and my shame, and my love.
“Does he know about your past?”
“I can’t…”
“Does he at least know about your future?”
I shake my head.
“It’s just going to make things worse the closer you get,” she says, like I don’t already know that.
I try to push her away. “I can’t. I don’t want to!”
“Okay,” she says, trying to calm me.
She tugs on my hand, pulling my thumb out of my mouth. I hadn’t even realized I’d been biting it.
“It’ll be okay, Becca. Everything will be okay…”
Olivia sets herself up in the guest room while I stare out my bedroom window waiting for Josh to come home. Minutes turn to hours and by the time he pulls up at four in the morning—my thumb’s completely numb from the aggressive onslaught, not just from the physical pain I’d caused, but from my shame.
She must’ve been some friend if Becca was letting her touch her.
I fake a smile when Becca looks up and sees me, but she quickly averts her gaze and nods at whatever her “friend” is saying.
Stupid—that’s pretty much how I feel, because a part of me thought—hoped even, that Becca would want to introduce me to her friend—a friend that might help me understand who Becca is—or was—before she moved here.
Clearly, I was wrong.
And honestly, it fucking hurts.
With a sigh, I look behind me at Tommy. “You ready to pack your bag?”
“Where go?”
“You’re staying at Kim and Robby’s for the weekend.” We’d already planned it and I thought I’d be busy with Becca and her “friend” so I didn’t want to cancel, just in case.
I fake another smile, this one for Tommy. “They have so many things planned for you. You’re going to have the best time.”
“You too?” he asks.
“No, bud. Just you.” …while I stay home by myself, wondering what the fuck is happening with Becca.
An hour later we step out and I almost freeze in my spot at Becca and her friend sitting on the porch steps talking quietly.
“Can I bring my skateboard?” Tommy asks, pulling me from my daze.
“Sure, buddy.”
The second we’ve climbed down my stairs, he runs toward them—where his skateboard is—and as soon as Becca sees him coming, her eyes widen and her face flushes.
“Hi Becca,” Tommy shouts, stepping between them.
Becca smiles, but it’s cold. Distant, almost.
Tommy grabs his board. “Bye Becca!” he shouts, running toward my truck. I lift him in his seat, my back toward Becca. I take my time, silently buckling him in, hoping that she offers something. Anything. A greeting, an introduction, any form of acknowledgement that I exist in her life. Because up until this point, I was sure I played a pretty big part in it.
But she doesn’t do any of those things.
What she does is hurt me.
And that hurt is something I carry with me all the way to Robby’s house.
“You all good?” he asks.
“Yup.”
“Sucks Becca cancelled.”
I shrug. “It is what it is.”
He crosses his arms and leans against the doorframe, his brow bunched as he eyes me down. “You want to hang out here for a bit?”
“Nah.” I shake my head.
“What are you going to do?”
“Skate.”
I don’t skate. Not right away. I do what my instincts tell me not to—I go home and give her time.
One more chance, I tell myself.
Maybe she just doesn’t want to be rude to her guest—give her time to settle before she makes the introductions.
They’re no longer outside when I get home so I busy myself cleaning the house from top to bottom—something I can only do when Tommy’s not home. I take out the trash, and that’s when I see them, walking arm in arm up the driveway and right toward me.
I stop in my tracks, my eyes on Becca, but she won’t look at me.
Her friend waves.
I wave back.
“I’m Olivia,” her friend says.
I wait for Becca to speak, and when enough time passes and all she does is turn away from me, I finally reply, “I’m Josh.”
Becca clears her throat and for a second, I actually get excited. “Josh lives over there,” she says, pointing to my apartment.
That’s it.
That’s all she says.
She drops her gaze, her thumb going between her teeth and her eyes squeeze shut. Olivia’s hand circles Becca’s wrist. “Becca,” she whispers, her voice calm but firm.
Becca releases her thumb but doesn’t open her eyes.
“Well…” I push back the lump in my throat and speak through the sinking of my heart. “Have a good weekend. I’ll see you around, Becca.” I walk past them and drop the trash in the can. I don’t bother going back to my house. Instead, I get in my truck, wait for them to get the fuck out the way, and I skate.
Because skating is the only thing in my life that’s never disappointed me.
Becca
“He seems nice,” Livvy says, looking over her shoulder as Josh reverses out of the driveway. “And he’s cute.” “Excuse me,” I tell her once we’re in the house.
For the next fifteen minutes I hide out in my bathroom, my sobs silent.
I don’t respond to the knock on the door. I know who it is. And she already knows something’s wrong, even if I try to hide it. Because she knows me.
She knows me better than anyone. Even Josh.
“Sweetheart, open the door.”
I unlock the door, wiping my eyes as I do.
I can’t speak. And right now, I don’t want to.
“You bit your thumb when Josh was there.”
I sniff back a sob but don’t respond.
“Becca, please be honest with me. Are you and Josh…” She breaks off on a sigh before continuing. “Are you having sex with him?”
I shake my head but I can’t look at her. “Not yet,” I whisper.
She inhales a sharp breath and starts to speak but I cut her off. “It’s not like that, Livvy. You have to believe me,” I plead.
She closes the door behind her and folds her arms over her chest. The air in the room’s so thick I can barely breathe.
“Why didn’t you say something earlier? Or when he introduced himself?”
“Because I don’t want you to be disappointed in me.”
“Becca…”
I look up, letting my tears fall freely now. “I know how you feel and I know what you’re going to think, but I swear it’s not the same…” I hold a hand over my heart, unable to breathe through the pain. “I’m in love with him.”
“Oh, baby,” she whispers, taking me in her arms.
A sob bubbles out of me, followed by another, and another, until I’m crying in her arms. I cry so hard I fall to my knees, completely overwhelmed by my admission and my fear and my shame, and my love.
“Does he know about your past?”
“I can’t…”
“Does he at least know about your future?”
I shake my head.
“It’s just going to make things worse the closer you get,” she says, like I don’t already know that.
I try to push her away. “I can’t. I don’t want to!”
“Okay,” she says, trying to calm me.
She tugs on my hand, pulling my thumb out of my mouth. I hadn’t even realized I’d been biting it.
“It’ll be okay, Becca. Everything will be okay…”
Olivia sets herself up in the guest room while I stare out my bedroom window waiting for Josh to come home. Minutes turn to hours and by the time he pulls up at four in the morning—my thumb’s completely numb from the aggressive onslaught, not just from the physical pain I’d caused, but from my shame.
