Page 92 of Love so Hot

"Oh, Larry," she says, her voice soft and sad. "That was so long ago. Things change. People change."

I shake my head, not wanting to hear it. This can't be happening. Not after everything. Not after all this time.

"I have a boyfriend now," she continues, each word a dagger. "I'm going to college in the fall. We... we can't be together."

The room starts to spin. There's too much emotion coursing through me – anger, disappointment, heartbreak. I can't process it all. I can't even speak. I just stand there, staring at her, wondering how my perfect reunion turned into this nightmare.

I turn and leave, my feet carrying me away before my brain can catch up. Lauren's voice calls after me, but I don't look back. I don't say anything. What's the point?

She obviously didn't wait for me, and I feel like the world's biggest idiot for waiting for her. As I climb into my beat-up Corolla, I make a vow to myself: I'll never do it again. Never give my heart to someone. It's not worth the pain.

The drive back to the apartment Roman and I rent together is a blur. My knuckles are white on the steering wheel.

I stumble into our empty apartment, grateful that Roman isn't home. My anger, which has been simmering the whole drive, finally explodes.

"Fuck this!" I yell, kicking off my shoes. They slam against the wall with a satisfying thud. "Nothing matters anymore. Not this shitty bed, not this ratty couch, not this fucking TV!"

I grab the remote and hurl it across the room. It's not enough. My fist connects with the wall, and pain shoots up my arm. But it feels good, cathartic. I stare at the hole I've made, my chest heaving.

"Real smooth, Larry," I mutter to myself. "Destroy the apartment. That'll show her."

My eyes land on the fridge, and suddenly, I have a new mission. I yank open the door and grab every beer I can find. One after another, I crack them open and chug them down. The bitter taste floods my mouth, but I don't care. I just want to forget.

As I down what must be my fifth or sixth beer, the room starts to spin. I sink to the floor, my back against the fridge.

"To Lauren," I slur, raising the can in a mock toast. "May she enjoy college and her perfect boyfriend while I rot here."

The ceiling above me blurs, and I close my eyes. Maybe if I'm lucky, I'll wake up and this will all have been a bad dream. But I know better. This nightmare is my new reality.

I hear the door open and Roman's voice filters through my hazy consciousness.

"Whoa, did a tornado hit while I was out? Or did you decide to redecorate, Larry-style?"

His footsteps draw closer, and I can picture his shaggy blond hair falling into his eyes as he surveys the damage.

"Oh shit," he mutters, his tone shifting from joking to concerned. "Larry? You okay, man?"

I try to respond, but my tongue feels like lead. Roman's face swims into view, his blue eyes wide with worry.

"Alright, buddy. Let's get you cleaned up."

As he helps me to my feet, the room tilts dangerously. I mumble something unintelligible, and then everything goes black.

When I come to, I'm on the couch, a blanket draped over me. My head is pounding, and my mouth tastes like something died in it. I groan and force my eyes open.

The room looks... normal. No broken TV, no scattered beer cans. My gaze falls on the wall where I distinctly remember punching a hole. There's a piece of paper taped over it with a crude smiley face drawn on it. Below, in Roman's messy scrawl, it says, "No hole here!"

I can't help but snort. Leave it to Roman to turn property damage into a joke.

"Look who's rejoined the land of the living," Roman says, appearing from the kitchen with a glass of water and some aspirin.

I take them gratefully, wincing as I sit up. "Thanks, man. And, uh, sorry about... you know."

Roman waves it off. "No worries. Though I gotta say, your redecorating skills need work." He plops down next to me on the couch. "So, you gonna tell me what happened? Or should I start guessing? Let's see... you found out they're discontinuing your favorite cereal?"

I shake my head, immediately regretting the movement. "Lauren," I manage to croak out. "She... she turned me down."

Roman's playful expression softens. "Ah, man. That's rough. I get why you're angry."

---