Page 15 of Meet Me at the Metro

The image is shaky when he finally answers the phone. “Eleanor,hey.What’s up? I thought you had lecture or whatever tonight.”

The background shifts behind him as he stands and moves quickly, entering what appears to be a bathroom.

“I do—I mean, I did. I just got out and wanted to call you. I’ve been thinking about you all day, babe. I miss you so much, and I’ve got so much to tell you. Do you remember that—”

“Would it be okay if I tried calling you back later? It’s just, I’m with the boys and—”

“We haven’t talked in days. You can’t talk for just a few minutes?”

“I’ll call you ba—”

“John, get your ass back in here!”

The way his eyes widen at the sound of the feminine voice has my pulse hammering.

He draws the camera closer to himself and insists, “I’ll text you, alright?”

“I thought you were with the boys?”

“I am,” he bites back harshly. “We’re at Derrick’s. I don’t have time to talk right now.”

“That’s not Derrick’s house,” I argue, feeling frustrationheat my entire body.

It’s when my eyes settle on the familiar-looking floral shower curtain behind him that my heart sinks.

I know that shower curtain. It’s Lucy’s shower curtain—mybest friend’sfucking shower curtain.

The revelation makes me utterly nauseous.

My thoughts spiral into oblivion as I try to devise an excuse for the two of them. There has to be an explanation—there has to be a way to justify why he’s over there right now.

However, Lucy’s giggles fill the silence of our call, and any remnant of hope I had left dissipates entirely.

“Are you going to come fuck me or not?”

For the briefest of moments, I catch her on the screen, half-naked, with my boyfriend’s shirt being the only article of clothing on her body. I watch as John’s face drains of any color that was there a moment ago, and I want to cry.

I don’t even know what to say—I don’t even know if I can conjure up the strength I need to speak.

Somehow, I do.

“Why?”

“E-Eleanor,” John stutters. “It’s not what it looks like, I—fuck. Let me explain.”

“There’s nothing to explain.” I swallow the sore lump in my throat and fight to keep my emotions hidden. I refuse to give either one of them the satisfaction of seeing me cry.

“Yes, there is, please just—”

“We’re done,” I say, voice trembling. “Whatever this even fucking meant to you is done.”

“We had a little bit too much to drink. I was horny and missed you and—”

“Save it, asshole!” My thumb goes to end the call, but just before it does, I mutter out one final thing. “Fuck you, both.”

6

UNBEARABLE

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