Page 70 of The Lies We Tell Ourselves

A laugh burst out of me, and I sighed before taking another drink. We spent the rest of the day passing the bottle between us and when that one finished, we moved on to another. Mixing drinks probably wasn’t the most advisable thing to do in my state, but I didn’t give a fuck. Everything that seemed so important at the beginning of the semester now meant nothing.

“I don’t know what to do, B,” I said, my words starting slurring. The sun had long since set and I’m pretty sure we’d watched every Friends episode once already. It all kind of blurred into the background as my mind kept going over everything that had happened this morning. How if I had done things differently, it could have been me and my little crow curled up on my bed watching shit TV programs. I wouldn’t have cared, because he’d have been with me, right where he belonged.

“Well.” Buchanan hiccuped. “To be able to answer that conundrum, I need to know what happened.” He looked at me over his shoulder and sighed. “The truth this time, Dillon. If you even know what that is at this point.”

I scoffed and stuck my middle finger up at him before grabbing a bottle of beer from his mini fridge. “D’you want one?”

“Sure, another can’t hurt.” He snorted, getting stuck while taking his hoodie off. “Maybe water too.”

I rolled my eyes and grabbed two before setting them on the bed next to him. “I can’t fucking believe you’re making me do this shit,” I gritted out between clenched teeth.

“Well, as I see it, Dillon,” Buchanan said as he stretched his legs out in front of him. “To be able to fix this, we need to go back to the beginning.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” I focus on peeling the label off my bottle of beer so I don’t have to look at him.

“You’re not that obtuse, Hargraves. Start at the day you met him and end with today. Capiche?”

“I’m not fucking drunk enough for this conversation,” I grouched, upending my bottle of beer and draining it in one go. The belch that ripped out of me afterward sent me into a crazed fit of hysterics. Maybe the alcohol is going to my head more than I thought. Still didn’t fix a fucking thing though.

“Follow it up with this.” He passed me one of those miniature bottles you find in hotel room wet bars. Without giving it too much thought, I drained it and threw it across the room. I was aiming for the trash, but it bounced off the rim instead. “And this one.”

I rolled my eyes at him, uncapped it, and drank that too. “Anyone would think you’re trying to get me drunk.” I leaned into him and tried to cuff his shoulder with my fist, but somehow ended up catching his chin. Buchanan glowered at me before covering his face with his hand and snort laughed until tears streamed down his cheeks.

“Now that we know that you can’t hit for shit, talk.”

“Do I have to?” I whined and it was my turn to get clipped around the head. “What was that for?”

“Stop fucking bitching and whining and talk. I know you want my help, so spill.” Ever the straight talker. Buchanan was right. I wasn’t going to be able to sort out my epic fuck up without help, because god knows I was a useless prick who was only good at hurting anyone I gave a shit about. It’s not like I cared about anyone but Jamie, and as far as I could tell, we were dead and buried under the Arctic Circle.

Throwing my hands up in the air, I mumbled inaudibly under my breath as I tried to gather my jumbled thoughts. “It all started when…” Other than telling Jamie the truth, this was probably the hardest thing I’d ever had to do. It felt like I was staring down the barrel of a shotgun, waiting for the buckshot to hit me in the face. The more I spoke, the easier the words came, and the deeper I looked into our intertwined history, the more I realized just how deep my feelings ran.

We’d been inseparable as children since I saved him from getting beaten up, but I’d been more than a friend; I was his protector. Eventually, I became his person. I didn’t realize it, but every day we spent together, I fell a little more in love with him. Looking back, our love was inevitable, like it was written in the stars we spent long summer nights watching.

Memories, thoughts, and feelings I’d never shared with anyone passed my lips and a slightly hazy B looked at me like he had no idea who I was. As the words flowed, my mind unlocked moments I had shut away and forgotten. As each one pulled forth, it was like a brand on my heart, and another piece of me clicked back into place. I had wiped from my mind how much we used to casually touch each other—holding hands, brushing my thumb over the apple of his cheek, my hand on the back of his neck whenever we watched TV, Jamie wrapped around my back like a fucking koala, his head resting on my shoulder as he whispered in my ear, or how I would stroke my fingers through his hair. I loved how he used to wrap around me at night and rest his head on my chest. The ones that hurt the most and made my eyes burn, were the moments when time suspended as he stared at me with a myriad of emotions playing in his eyes, our bodies close enough to share the same air. It was in those moments he became a part of me, a part that was as vital as my own DNA. That was why it fucked me up so much when he left.

“Then, on his birthday, I told him he could have whatever he wanted.” Emotion burned the back of my eyes as I fought to share one of the most perfect memories with a stranger. I touched my tongue to the back of my teeth and took a steadying inhale. “I was late meeting him down at the creek—practice had run late—and he was sitting there reading like he always did, like the world around him didn’t exist. His hair looked like it had strands of gold woven through it when the sunlight filtered through the trees. Then he turned to look at me, and his eyes seemed to pulse with an emotion I couldn’t name—not then. But now, I realize it was love. He didn’t need words as his actions said everything, but I was too fucking stupid to see it—him—for what it was.”

“Hey, take this.” B handed me a Kleenex, and I looked at him through misty eyes with confusion. “Dude, you’re crying,” he said softly, a smile wavering on his lips.

“Ugh, thanks.” I sniffed and dried my face, but another tear fell as my hands trembled. “He laid himself bare to me that night, and I didn’t fucking see it.” Self-loathing infected every cell in my body. I hated myself and every wrong thing I’d said and done to my little crow. “I called out to him, and this blinding smile illuminated his face as he set his book down and chastised me for being late. I sat astride the log he was on. He turned to mirror me but shuffled closer and put his legs over my thighs. My hands automatically landed on them and god, his skin was so damn smooth. It felt so good under my rough hands and… and…a….”

“Have a drink, Dillon.”

I chewed on my bottom lip, fighting back the urge to cry as I took the proffered bottle of water. It was warm, but it was enough to clear my throat and calm my raging emotions enough for me to breathe.

“What did he ask for?”

“Huh?” My mind was being pulled back to that magical day. The one that started a chain reaction of hurt, anger, and hate. “Oh, umm, he asked for a kiss. It was his first one too?—”

“It was yours too, wasn’t it?” B interrupted, a knowing look on his face.

I shrugged and rubbed my eyes with the heel of my hand. “Yeah, it was, and it was fucking everything. He was everything. I went home that night on a high I’d never experienced before. I couldn’t sleep. All I could think about was how soft and warm his lips felt against mine. But then…”

“Then something happened, and it all went to shit?”

I snorted. Yeah, basically. “I went to his house the day after, and he was gone. They all were. The place was fucking trashed, like they’d been robbed. I was so worried, I knocked on all the neighbors’ doors, but no one could tell me where they’d gone. Five days later, Mr. Abernathy turned up and beat the shit outta me.”

“So that was true, but not the reason why, I’m guessing?”

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