Page 4 of Getting It Twisted

“I’m sorry,” I say, and I am.

I could’ve dragged our relationship on forever, and despite what insults she’s hurled at me now, I’m pretty sure she would’ve let me. I suppose that’s the problem; I’m cursed to forever pine for what I can’t have and be bored to tears once I have it in my hands. Unless it’shim. But it’s never going to be him.

Getting the message at last, Lydia yanks the door open and turns around to send me a final, seething glare.

“You know what, Daniel? Fuck you. You don’t deserve me anyway.”

“Bye, Lydia.”

If Nathan taught me anything, it’s to always get the last word.

The front door slams shut, shaking the walls of the entire house. I wait until I hear the rumble of Lydia’s car before I make my way downstairs. As expected, George—my cousin and roommate—is there waiting for me.

“What the fuck was that about?”

“What?” I make a beeline for the kitchen, intent on a quick dinner to wolf down.

“What do you think?” George says, following behind me. “Lydia! I’ve never seen her that pissed off. What the fuck did you do?”

There’s nothing of note in the fridge other than April’s almond milk, George’s protein shakes, and days-old takeout pizza I don’t dare to touch. I give up and face George.

“Things weren’t working.” Better be vague and let him think I just need a little encouragement and not—

“Whatwasn’t working? You’re never going to find something long-lasting if you don’t look into these things, you know. Reflect and all that.”

Oh yeah? As if you know so much about it?I want to quip at him, but then again, I suppose he does know a thing or two about relationships. He and April must’ve been together for over a year now, and I still have trouble wrapping my head around how those two make it work.

“I didn’t feel anything when I looked at her or thought about her, all right?” I say with a shrug. “Wasn’t her fault. Just wasn’t right.”

“And what would it take to make it right?”

His tone is too patronizing, too “I know best, little cousin,” too . . . worried. All it does is make me want to worry him some more, in some stupid surge of rebellion.

“You want to know why it didn’t work out between me and Lydia? She wasn’thim. Is that what you want me to say?”

He squints, staring at me as if he can’t be quite sure he heard right. “What did you just say?”

I clench my jaw and try to ignore the creeping sense of regret for what I just said. But George doesn’t do well with being ignored.

“Hey! What the hell did you mean by that?”

I shrug again, mouth a thin, tense line.

“Daniel, don’t you dare. Don’t tell me you’re still thinking abouthim. Seriously?” He throws his hands in the air, the vein in his temple already red and bulging. “Have you forgotten how he treated you?”

“No.” I haven’t forgotten. And I don’t want to.

“Look.” George puts his hands on my shoulders. I fight the urge to shake them off. “You don’t need to figure out what went wrong with Lydia just yet. April’s biology class is coming to the party tonight. Maybe you can find someone there—a rebound or whatever.”

Find someone else who’ll disappoint me so I can disappoint them in return? No, thanks. My sullen expression seems enough to convey my line of thought, because George sighs and lets go of me.

“On the subject of . . .Nathan”—he says the last word carefully, jaw tight, as if the name itself pisses him off—“did you hear about his mom?”

“What about her?”

“She’s dead. She was found in her house. Overdose, probably. Choked on her own vomit.”

My stomach turns over, and images start flashing across my mind. The first time I saw Nathan’s mom, she sat on the front porch, smoking a cigarette. Her long dark hair glistened in the sun, her slender limbs exposed in a tight black dress. I remember my twelve-year-old self thinking,Wow, she looks like a movie star.Nathan hopped off the back of my bike, and she stormed over to us and snatched his upper arm. Nails digging into his flesh, she dragged him toward the house while he glared daggers at her.

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