LAST NIGHT WAS A TOTAL DISASTER. I shouldn’t have let myself get anywhere near West, let alone share a kiss with him. The error wasn’t just in that moment, though. It started when I allowed us to be alone in that dimly lit hallway, away from prying eyes.
He knew just where to place his hands, just how to touch me. He’s an expert at pushing my buttons, at knowing exactly how to make me lose control. And he’s infuriatingly good at it, too.
I won’t lie. I did feel a sting of jealousy when I saw that pixie-haired girl sitting beside him. She was stunning and practically attached to his hip. She was running her fingers through his hair, attempting to mark her territory right there in front of me.
It was nothing but a petty, raw pang of envy, but it felt real.
It’s not like I’m the only one who’d feel that way. No one wants to see their ex in the arms of someone else. But it’s just that—a simple, involuntary reaction. Doesn’t mean I’m looking to go back to him right away. It doesn’t imply that his kiss magically glued together the pieces of my broken heart.
And it’s even further from meaning that I’m able to trust him again.
He’s done nothing to earn my forgiveness other than give me blanket apologies. I know I asked him to stay away, and he’s done his part in respecting my wishes, but it’s not enough to make me reconsider.
What really stings is not having anyone to share these feelings with. Sophie and Maya, my fair-weather friends, were too busy hooking up with West’s pals last night.
Their initial advice? Fuck his best friend. Utterly useless. Still, I can’t blame them—they were just looking for some fun. Besides, I’ve been avoiding spilling the real reason behind our split to anyone.
Not even to Shannon.
Instead, I’ve been keeping my distance, making excuses to stay out late, evading the issue for weeks. I want us to go back to being friends, to lean on her like I did before. Sure, she slept with my brother. It was a mistake, spurred by hormones, impulsiveness, and the classic Mica Jennings charm.
I could forgive her for that. I can see her regret, in the little notes she leaves me, in how she steps up with our shared duties, in how she gives me space when I need it. But my pride has been a barrier, stopping me from bridging the distance between us.
I know I’m blowing things out of proportion at this point. Mostly because I’m too scared to confront the reality of the situation, which is that I allowed myself to feel second rate. To let jealousy and comparison seep into my mind.
Because it hurts, so badly, thinking that West might have chosen Shannon, my friend and roommate, over me. Might have swapped me around like a playing card. And all of that just for one night with his gorgeous, redheaded, fairy dream girl. It was all before West and I were even a thing, but it still fucking stings.
So, when I found my brother in her room that night, it left me feeling like the second option all over again. The afterthought. It felt like my own sibling had chosen Shannon over me. But that’s my issue, not hers. So, I need to let go of this bitterness, once and for all.
“Shan,” I call, gently knocking on her bedroom door. “Come in,” she says cautiously.
I push open the door and step into her room, finding her lounging on the bed. Her eyes meet mine, and I can sense the wariness in her gaze. “Hey
. . . um, is everything okay?”
I offer a small smile, attempting to put her at ease. “I just wanted to talk.
Are you . . . do you have time right now?”
“Absolutely.” She shifts as she leans back against her headrest. Her eyes are earnest, her expression open. “Of course.”
The simple affirmation prompts me to move. Quietly, I make my way toward her, awkwardly settling on the edge of her bed.
She draws in a slow, deep breath. “Where do I even start?”
“I guess . . . at the beginning?”
“Well,” she says, her fingers playing anxiously with a strand of her hair. “There isn’t much to it. You were there when I met your brother. There was a . . . a spark, I guess. Nothing big, just a little one. You were constantly leaving the dinner table to call West, so Mica and I . . . we flirted. Just harmless stuff.”
“Were you planning on sleeping with him then?”
“God, no!” she assures me, fervently shaking her head. “It wasn’t like that. It was just . . . the attention, I guess. Mica, your brother . . . he’s larger than life. Tall, handsome, famous. Being noticed by someone like that is overwhelming.”
“So, then, the night of the banquet?”
“I came home early from the event because of Cam—you know, he had to stay back to help with the cleanup. Mica was already on our couch when I walked in.”
“Okay, that makes sense.”
“I thought you were still staying with West. I told Mica you wouldn’t be back until morning, assuming he’d call you right away to return. But he didn’t. Instead, he suggested we watch a movie. One thing led to another, and we . . . ended up in my room.”
“I think I’ve got the picture from there.”
“I swear, Jade, it wasn’t planned or anything,” she rushes to clarify. “But I am truly, deeply sorry. I got caught up in the moment.”
I meet her apology with a knowing look. “Believe me, I know what that feels like.”
Her brow furrows. “You do?”
“Yeah, I may have kissed West at a bar last night.” “Oh, shit.”
“It was a careless mistake. We were alone together, and . . . one thing led to another.”
“Oh, Jade.” Her eyes hold genuine concern as she asks, “Are you okay?”
“Not really,” I say, honesty overriding my pride. I quickly steer the conversation back to her. “Shan, I want to tell you everything. But first, I need to ask—are you . . . are you still interested in my brother?”
“It was a onetime thing. Mica and I . . . we’re not . . . we wouldn’t be good together.”
“Okay.” Relief washes over me. “Then let’s consider it water under the bridge. I’m sorry I didn’t hear you out sooner. I just wasn’t ready yet.”
She dismisses me with a wave of her hand. “You don’t have to apologize. I’m just glad we’re finally talking about it.”
“So am I.”
“So, tell me what happened,” she says, curiosity in her eyes. “Why did you guys break up? From the outside, it seemed like everything was going so well.”
I guess it’s my turn to be vulnerable. I swallow the lump in my throat before I ask, “Will you promise to keep what I’m about to tell you between us?”
“Sure, of course.”
“The football team . . . they have this fucked-up tradition. That’s why we broke up.” My hands wring together anxiously in the middle of my lap. “It’s a sort of game amongst the senior players. Every year, at the banquet, they try to switch dates. And . . . that’s the only reason West invited me in the first place.”
A range of emotions passes over her face as she processes my words. “Are you serious?”
“Yes,” I say, voice small. “It’s also why Cam invited you.”
She stares at me in shock for a moment before whispering a breathless “Wow. So, they planned to just swap us for some random girls?”
“No, Shan,” I shake my head, the truth tasting bitter on my tongue. “They planned to swap us for each other.”
“Oh my God, Jade. Are you saying West wanted—”
“Yes, he was hoping he might get to spend the night with you,” I awkwardly admit, unable to keep the tension from my voice. “But he told me that he called the whole thing off a long time ago. Actually, he ended things the night of the UFC fight. Before we were ever together.”
A stunned whisper leaves her lips. “Damn. That’s still . . . terrible. Every year, they just trade girls around like they’re objects. That’s so messed up.”
“And West kept it from me until I practically begged him for the truth. The whole team was acting so fucking strange that night. Did you not pick up on it?”
“Not really.” Her shoulders lift in a noncommittal shrug, a soft frown pulling at her lips. “I mean, I already know most of those guys. I guess I
just thought they were being . . . friendly.” “Yeah, I guess I can see that.”
“I’m so sorry you found out like this, though. West should’ve been up- front with you before things got serious.”
A sad smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. “That’s one of my biggest issues. I just . . . I thought my West was different. Knowing he chose to participate in all that bullshit just makes me see him in a different light.”
She leans forward on the bed, patting my hand in a gentle, comforting touch. “Boys can be so thoughtless.”
A reluctant chuckle escapes me. “You’re telling me.”
“I’m really sorry he hurt you. And I’m sorry that I somehow became tangled up in all this.” She ducks her head, gaze dropping to our hands. “I can’t even begin to imagine how complicated this makes things for you.”
“Things are definitely a mess,” I say. “But none of this is your fault. The blame lies solely with West.”
“You mentioned you kissed him last night?” “Yeah, another lapse in judgment.”
She appraises me, her gaze thoughtful. “You don’t think you’d ever want to try to work things out?”
“No, well . . . I don’t know,” I correct myself. With a sigh, I glance back at her. “Could you forgive your boyfriend if he did something like this?”
“That’s not my call to make,” she says softly. “You have every right to feel hurt and betrayed. If you don’t think this is something you can forgive, then you don’t have to.”
“But before all of this, I was truly falling for him. Now, every time I think about him, about us, I feel torn. I want to be with him, but at the same time, I can’t stand the sight of him.”
“You’re just not ready to let him go.”
“Not yet.” I press my lips together, biting the inside of my cheek. “I guess I’m waiting to see if he can somehow earn my forgiveness. If he sticks around once I’m done taking my space. Or if he just . . . lets it fade away.”
“If he really cares, he won’t let you go.”
I toss myself back on her bed with a heavy sigh. “Maybe.”
“Thank you for telling me.” She gives me a gentle, genuine smile. “It means a lot that you could confide in me after everything.”
I perch up onto my elbows. “How about we . . . I don’t know, stay up and binge on junk food together?”
The laugh that escapes her is a warm, familiar sound, and I realize just how much I’ve missed this in the last couple weeks. “I thought you’d never ask.”
 |
THE FOLLOWING MORNING, I’m rushing to make it to class on time and nearly trip over something on my doorstep. There, perched on the welcome mat, is an iced latte. I pick it up, noticing a small, folded note stuck to the bottom.
I crouch down to retrieve it, my fingers tracing over the handwritten letters. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen West’s handwriting, and the sight of it—so personal, so intimate—stirs a complex tangle of emotions in my chest. Part pain, part longing, it’s an echo of our shared past and the uncertain future looming before us. With a deep breath, I unfold the note and carefully dissect the scribbled words:
Jade—
Our co//ee deal was only /air play.
And so is this—I’m not giving up on us, no matter what it takes.
I’d do anything to earn your /orgiveness.
To show you how much I’ve changed since we /irst met.
Let’s start with something I should have done a long time ago.
—Theo
