Page 45 of Losing a Piece of Me

Lex and I walk hand-in-hand back to my truck.

“I had fun with you today,” she says, gazing out the passenger side window.

“We’ve always had fun together. I’m just surprised you had that much fun tearing down a wall.”

“It never mattered what we did as long as we were together,” she answers.

* * *

Her phone’s loud vibrating jars our attention back to reality as we’re lying in bed. I feel her stiffen. “What's the matter?”

“It's my mother.”

“How do you know? You haven't even answered it yet.”

She rolls to her side and grabs the phone on the bedside table, looks at it briefly, then shows me the name flashing on the screen. Sure enough, it's her mother.

She answers with her brows pulled together and a scowl on her face.

“Mom, I understand. I will be at the wedding but I'm not bringing a date.” Then a brief pause. “No, Mom. I don't want you to set me up with anyone either, especially that douche you tried setting me up with last time.”

She runs her hand through her hair, pushing it away from her face. “Fine, I will bring Jeff. Does that make you happy?”

Jeff? Who the fuck is Jeff? Why does he get to go when I can't? Why would he be accepted in their world? I know I'm not good enough, but why does she think he is?

“He's just a friend, Mom.”

She's quiet for a long moment. “Okay, see you Friday.” She hangs up and lets it fall to the table.

“Who's Jeff?” I ask, trying to play it cool and act as if the thought of her with someone else doesn’t make me angry and jealous.

“He's just a friend. Nothing to be jealous about.”

Then I remember that was the name of her fake fiancée.

“Is this the same Jeff you claimed to be marrying?”

Her cheeks turn red. “Yes, but he's just a friend.”

I nod, unsure what this feeling is.

She takes a long breath. “Is something wrong?”

I don't know what to say. Yes, something is wrong. I'm not good enough for you but this Jeff guy is?

“So this guy…"

“Jeff?”

“Yeah, how long have you known him?” My jealous side is getting the best of me, but for some reason I can't control it.

“Since I moved here,” she answers.

“Did you two date?” I can’t stand to look at her, so I stare at the ceiling. If she saw my face right now she would be able to see the insecurities rolling off of it.

“No, we never dated.”

“So you haven't slept together?”

---