Page 22 of Revenge Cake

Past—The Realization

Logan

The ocean breeze cools my sweat dampened face as I step outside. I feel like I can breathe again, though my ears are still pounding an echo of tribal drums from the blasting of “Shape of You” inside. Fuck, this bar sucks, and so does Ed Sheeran. We only came here because Brenna’s douchebag older brother said it has the hottest girls.

How does he even know? He doesn’t fucking live in Santa Barbara. Jesus, I hope I’m never that big of a loser to keep going to college bars long after I get a real job. And he keeps rubbing his career money in our face, as if we aren’t all going to have real jobs too in less than a year. He’s bought Lani two drinks already, and he got all specific about how to make her martini—“Only a splash of olive juice”—like he’s fucking James Bond. The bar tender looked at him like he’s a dick.

Because he is.

And on top of that I had to listen to Leilani introduce me as Armaan’s boyfriend. Armaan’s boyfriend. You know, ’cause Armaan and I are so close, he’s basically my boyfriend. Ha ha. God damn her. If I had been any drunker I would have pointed out that I haven’t been fucking Armaan every night for the last three months.

I scan the patio for my non-girlfriend. She told me she was getting claustrophobic and needed to go outside. Her face was wan and she disappeared so quickly, I think she might have been getting sick. I was surprised. I didn’t think she had that much to drink.

I catch sight of a bun of dark hair obscured by a swarm of people, so I start walking in that direction. As I inch closer—the bar patio is almost as crowded as the inside—I notice from her body language that she’s talking to someone in front of her. Based on her bright smile and wild hand gestures—uncharacteristic of her—she must be talking to someone she really likes.

I take a deep breath, trying to calm the familiar feeling of jealousy. When it comes to Lani, I’m jealous of everyone. Anyone who has something of her that I don’t. I’m jealous of Brenna for being the only non-family member Lani loves and trusts unconditionally. I’m jealous of all of her exes who at least had the privilege of being called “boyfriend.” I can’t let her see the full extent of what I feel because she would think I was crazy. Then again, how can she expect me to feel secure in her affection when she withholds it from me?

As if sensing my presence, Lani turns her head and our eyes meet. She reaches her hand to my arm and pulls me through the crowd. Once I’m flush with her body I look up and see Dean standing across from me.

That’s who she was smiling at.

It takes everything within me to keep my facial muscles from scowling. Lani and Dean are close. She trusts him. All night it’s been clear that she’s much closer to him than she made it seem when she first mentioned he was visiting Brenna this weekend.

Lani and Dean stand in silence after I arrive, making me feel like an intruder.

Dean is the first one to speak. “We were just talking about horror moves.”

“Big fan,” I say blandly.

“This girl here’s obsessed with The Shining.” Dean smiles warmly. “I think it’s kind of overrated.”

“Great movie,” I say.

Lani frowns. “It’s your favorite too,” she says, sounding a little defensive.

“Is it?” I ask, feeling less than enthusiastic about the whole world, let alone my favorite horror movie. “It was my first horror movie. I don’t know if that automatically makes it my favorite.”

“It’s your second-favorite weed movie. A high honor.” She purses her lips. I can’t help but smile, even in the midst of my sour mood. It’s amazing how much she remembers about what I say, especially since I rarely say anything worth remembering.

Dean intrudes on our moment. “Oh man! Remember that time you and Brenna stole the weed out of my sock drawer?”

Just like that, my mood plummets again. I can’t even count the number of times tonight that Dean has started a sentence to Lani with “Remember that time.” And I’d bet my first born child that he’s saved all of his remember-that-times for when I’m around.

Dean looks at me. “They were like fifteen and had never smoked before. They made their own joints out of my mom’s wrapping paper. Maybe one of the top five funniest moments of my life was coming home to them trying to smoke. This was before it was legal and it was, like, the shit you’d get in high school that came in a sandwich bag, you know? It probably didn’t get you high, but they were acting crazy.” He laughs loudly, almost a cackle. “Lani found this bag of stale pita chips in the pantry and she was practically having an orgasm every time she ate one.” He turns to her with a lazy smile. “That was my favorite part.”

Lani smiles wide at Dean, but she shoots me an apologetic look afterwards. It doesn’t soothe me. I’ve just about reached my limit with Dean.

“He’s had a lot,” she mouths in my direction, as if to hide it from Dean, but it doesn’t work. He takes a step forward—so close his stomach nearly grazes her tits—and looks down into her eyes. “What the fuck was that?” he asks with a smile that makes me want to punch him in the face. “What did you just whisper to him?”

“Nothing,” she says, pouting her bottom lip. Dean narrows his eyes as he tilts his head down even lower, like he’s about to kiss her. “I don’t believe you,” he whispers.

As if possessed by a demon, I find myself grabbing Lani’s arm and yanking her away from him. I instantly regret it when she turns sharply to me, a look of genuine surprise on her face. Dean’s glazed eyes also look confused, but neither call attention to my outburst. I’m left to stand in awkward silence.

Dean looks at Lani. “Are you okay now, or do you need me to distract you more?”

“I’m okay,” Lani says.

What the fuck are they talking about? I turn to Lani. “Were you sick?”

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