Page 91 of Something Borrowed

“Yes. But it usually takes a few hours for that reaction to kick in.”

A frown mars his perfect face. “You had everything, Raff, and you never realised it. You just danced along with all your gorgeous hair, making stupid fucking jokes.”

“Maybe you should get to the point,” I say levelly. “Before we grow old and die, or I can’t remember how to deliver one of those stupid jokes.”

He gets up abruptly, walks away a few steps, and then comes back to me, his whole demeanour agitated and mean. “You keep him on a string, and you just don’t care, do you?”

I stand up, wary that he might take a swing and send me tumbling to the rocks below. “What are you talking about?” I hiss. I glance around, making sure there are witnesses to my impending murder. I see Stan and relax when I note that he’s smiling and speaking to Kostas. I turn to Chris, letting my dislike fill my voice. “Tell me what this shitty behaviour is actually about.”

“Myshitty behaviour?”

I fold my arms. “I’m not the rude fucker in this scenario, Chris. Today, and back then. You took every opportunity to be a cock towards me in my own home.”

“That’s because I wanted Stan,” he says furiously.

My eyes widen. “And you had him. It’s just a shame your personality hitched a ride, or you could have kept him.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“No,youfuck off. Stop blaming your deficiencies on me.”

“I blame it all on you. I fell in love with him, and you ruined everything.”

“How?”

“He was in love with you.”

The world swings to a stop, and everything goes quiet. “What?” I croak, feeling completely winded.

“Oh, don’t try and pretend you don’t know, you twat.”

“You’re talking about Stan? My Stan?”

“Yes,yourStan. He was always that, wasn’t he? I should have seen the writing on the wall when I saw him with you. I fell in love with him without realising all his attention—all his love—was always on you.”

“What?”

“Maybe it was all for the best that I broke up with Stan. Anyone who loves you is obviously in need of a mental health intervention.” He gives me a slow survey from head to toe.

“No, you’ve got that wrong. I—” He’s walking away from me, obviously completely done with the conversation.

Stan was in love with me—back when he was dating Chris? That was years ago. “No, that’s not even possible,” I mutter, staring off into space. “Chris has got that wrong.”

“They say that talking to yourself is a sign of great intelligence.” The sex-obsessed girl cocks her head as she observes me.

“Then I must be a fucking genius,” I say.

Laughing, she holds out a bottle of water. “You look hot.”

“Well, you know how it is.”

She sits down next to me and nudges me. “Cheeky.” She starts to talk, but again, I can’t concentrate enough to listen to her. My heart is pounding like it’s trying to escape my chest, and my hands are cold. I wonder idly if I’m having a heart attack.

“Raff?” Stan’s voice breaks into my thoughts.

I look up, using my hand as shade from the sun. “Here,” I say hoarsely.

He walks over the gravel cautiously, using his stick for guidance. “You’ve been very quiet,” he says when he stops before me. “Are you alright?”

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