Page 39 of Forgettable in Every Way

“I just saw your arse, so I would say we are pretty well acquainted.” He laughed.

“Ugh. Please don’t remind me, and let’s never bring this up again.”

“Seeing each other again, or your arse?” he asked.

“Both,” I squeaked.

He inched my shorts down, making sure only to go as far as he needed to, and placed the cool pad on the sting site, and immediately I felt some relief. “I can’t do that,” he claimed. “I let you disappear from my life once, and I don’t want to do that again. And if you think we are never talking about the time I literally saved your arse, you’re mistaken,” he said with way too much glee.

With the pad on the affected area, I pulled up my shorts and scrambled to sit up, not caring that it hurt to sit on my butt. I didn’t need to feel more exposed than this conversation was making me feel.

Simon was quick to sit right next to me, his eyes squarely fixed on my own.

Unfortunately, I got lost in his imploring eyes, begging me to forgive him. But how could I endure the torture of just being his friend? And I couldn’t believe he wanted anything more than that, no matter how lovely he thought I was.

“Do you hate me that much, Jules?” he asked when I didn’t speak.

My first instinct was to say no, so as not to injure him. But I was tired of bottling up my feelings, especially when it killed me inside to do so. “Honestly, part of me does hate you. I thought we were best friends.” My voice crackled with years of pent-up emotion.

Simon rubbed his chest over his heart as if I’d mortally wounded him.

For a second, I felt guilty, but then I reminded myself it was okay for me to express how I felt—to be seen and heard.

“Every day for weeks after I arrived in California, I looked for my good morning and good night texts from you. Or even just those silly random facts you used to send me,” I blubbered. I wasn’t sure I’d ever full-on bawled in front of him before, except for the time we saw Les Misérables together. If you don’t cry during “Bring Him Home,” you’re an unfeeling monster. “But it was like I never existed to you. The worst part was, I thought you were different from everyone else in my life. I thought you saw me. But the reality is, our friendship meant nothing to you. I meant nothing to you.”

As good as it felt to get that off my chest, it was a tad uncomfortable. I had a feeling it came off as more than friendly. I might as well have told him I was in love with him for how emotional I was. So, I stood as fast as I could on my shaky and scraped legs while Simon gaped at me in what looked like horror. He probably got the I-love-you vibes out of it too and was terror stricken.

When he remained mute and immobile, I said through my shuddering, “Thanks for your help. Have a good ride.” Me and my burning backside were out of there.

“Jules.” Simon jumped up and grabbed my hand, holding me in place. “You’re just going to walk away after that?”

“Isn’t that what you want?”

“No, damn it. Jules,” he breathed out. “You don’t know how awful I feel that I hurt you. I’m gutted inside. You have every right to hate me. I’m a bloody bastard. There is no excuse for my behavior, and it in no way reflects what you mean to me.”

“And what do I mean to you?” I asked, sarcastically, thinking he couldn’t humiliate me any more than I already was. And it’s not like he didn’t know how I felt about him. Might as well get the hurt over with so I could move on with my life.

He pulled me closer and brought our clasped hands between us, in what seemed like an intimate gesture between lovers. Close enough that I could see the hues of gray in the stubble on his taut jawline and breathe in the mint on his breath. The curls above his ears danced in my peripheral vision until his gaze surprised me. If I didn’t know any better, I would think the way he stared at my lips spoke of him wishing to see how they tasted. But that couldn’t be. Yet the zinging in my body wanted me to believe otherwise, as did the way Simon’s thumb brushed across my hand, making the butterflies in my stomach take flight after many years of dormancy.

“I’m not going to tell you. I’m going to show you. So get ready, Jules,” Simon whispered, deep and low.

“Get ready for what?” I stammered through the violent shiver that ran through me.

“I’m going to chase you.”

My jaw dropped.

“That’s right. So you can keep running away from me if you want to, but I’m still going to come looking for you. Even if that means going to LA. Because I see you more clearly now than ever.”

To say I was stunned was a gross understatement. “What does that even mean?”

His crooked grin appeared. “Maybe it’s you who needs to open your eyes this time.”

I leaned away from him, doing my best not to let Cinderella take over. Oh, but did she want to. She was ready for Prince Charming to duet with her and dance the night away at the ball. But I couldn’t afford to think like that. Why, after all this time, would Simon see me any differently?

Was it because I was finally starting to see myself?

Or was this the universe testing me again? The question was, would I pass or fail?

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