Page 7 of Unforgivable

RHYS

For the tenth time in the last hour, I pulled up Instagram and stared obsessively at the photo I had bookmarked. Why did I do it? That was a fantastic question for which I had no sane answer.

I couldn't fathom why I kept torturing myself looking at his picture. Connor had gotten way more attractive since high school, and even back then he was no slouch. Puberty had hit him over the head with the hot stick and just like that, I had my sexual awakening at twelve-years-old.

It was both enlightening and really freaking inconvenient. Like when the strep test comes back and it's all great because you finally have an answer for why you felt so gross and sickly, but then it also sucks because, you know…strep. Not that I was saying that Connor was like strep! Not at all. Nope. That guy is amazing. After all, he's my best friend.

Well, I mean he was.

Now that spot had been taken up by Natalie. Beautiful, hashtag no filter Natalie. I hated her. I didn't actually know her, but did that matter in the grand scheme of things? Not so much. I couldn't figure out why I was so bent out of shape seeing them together. It's not like I still wanted Connor.

Not really.

Seriously, I don't! I don't even care if anyone believes me because it's true. Iknow it's true and that's all that matters. Because I don't. Really. Want him, I mean. Not one bit. Oh, shut up you babbling moron.

Inspecting the photo more closely, I could tell from looking at him how much he adored her. If you had Sharpie-d it on his face it couldn't be more obvious. He loved her. I mean, what was there not to love?

From everything I had learned…through my Instagram stalking, Natalie was a sweet, intelligent, well-rounded individual. She'd posted that she went to Spain once, she owned a cat, and she and Connor had just gotten back from the Bahamas right before school started. That was the photo I kept compulsively looking at, Connor all wet and tan in his swimsuit with Nat on his back on the beach. I saw her in scrubs in another post, but that one had me feeling all kinds of salty because of course she'd be a nursing student.

You know who else is a nursing student? Yours truly, that's who. Gold star for you if you guessed right.

God only knew the reason I kept scrolling through Connor's pictures from last year. I got the message loud and clear that I wasn't in best friend territory anymore. The message being that he straight up ghosted me right around the time he met the female version of me. She even had thick, brown hair similar to mine and a lithe build that was almost like me, but with boobs and no junk.

Unlike my eyes though, hers were a deep brown that looked at Connor like he hung the moon. I never really got that reference until I crept on their posts. But yep. Every selfie showed them looking at each other extra moony. It'd be cute if it didn't hurt so much. And then we circle back to the question ofwhy do I even give a rat's butt??

I should just close out of the app. Shut it down. Stop looking at the photos.

Like now. Right now.

Any day now would be really smart and much appreciated by all.

Oh good grief, just sign me up for a VIP suite on the Hot Mess Express and ship me off already.

“Hey you. Ready for lunch?” A voice rang out very close to my ear, sending me jumping an inch in the air and letting out a decidedly unmanly noise.

My roommate Micah just stood there laughing lightly as I composed myself. “Holy heart attack Batman, give a guy some warning! Geez…” I griped as my heart rate came back to acceptable levels.

“I'm sorry, Rhys! Bash does that shit to me all the time and I hate it, but I've gotta admit it's kind of funny,” Micah said, but then his face fell. Bringing up Bash was bound to rub at the open wound that he'd been dealing with since the weekend.

Micah had a double-date this past Saturday with his best friend Bash, his girlfriend, and the guy Micah's been dating. I really only knew the Sparknotes version of Micah and Bash's complicated relationship, but basically my roomie was pining hardcore for his bestie. His straight, taken bestie.

Last I checked, that was going over about as well as Kanye running for President.

And from the little Micah told me when he got home and broke down after the date, things didn't exactly go well. I'd given him space the rest of the weekend, but he was still acting…off. Not necessarily bad, but he wasn't his usual awesome self.

“Did I tell you I figured out who that dirtbag from the party was?” I asked, pivoting that conversation faster than Ross's couch.

“The guy who tackled you to the wall? How did you do that?”

“Honestly, it was easier than I thought. I remembered seeing his UT Lacrosse shirt and the girl he was with called him Hawk, which I thought was a really stupid name. I mean, who names their kid Hawk? That's just parental cruelty. I almost felt bad for him,” I rambled.

“Uh, catch a wave Rhys, you're drifting,” Micah warned me. A little over a month of being roommates and he was intensely aware that my mouth often ran the show while my brain struggled to catch up. It was a super fun quirk of mine if anyone was wondering.

“Oh, right! Anyway, with his name and the Lacrosse connection, it didn't take me long to find him. Turns out his full name is Callum Hawkins. He's also the captain this year. That alone had me convinced I needed to call his coach and report him. Come on, they can't have a frigging psycho running around the field like that! That can't be good for games…or maybe it is. Is aggression a good thing for sports? I feel like that would be a liability waiting to happen, yet it would explain so much about some of the jocks I've known,” I wondered aloud.

“You are really over-thinking this, Rhysie. Might I recommend decaf next time?” Micah sassed me as we got in line for food at the café.

“I just wrestled with it most of Saturday and I couldn't let it go. Even if I didn't care that he threatened me, that girl was in no shape tobe doing…any of the things. I think I would have regretted it if I didn't say something.” I had agonized over whether I did the right thing or not. On one hand, I felt bad that I might have screwed that guy over with his coach for a drunken college mishap. People made mistakes, and all things considered it could have been worse that night. On the other hand, I couldn’t stop thinking about that girl and the position she would have been in. Guys like him couldn’t be trusted.I know that better than I wish I did…

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