Page 74 of Never Kiss Your Neighbors

Everyone keeps asking if I’m okay, and the question is starting to seem ridiculous.

I’m not sure I’ll ever be okay.

Marissa gives me looks all through dinner, even though I try to act normal. As soon as Jessie’s out of earshot, she insists on knowing what’s wrong.

“I’ll tell you later.” I’m too angry to talk about it, even if we had privacy.

The men have been texting me all evening, ever since I sent them away. I’m going to have to block their numbers, because apparently, I’m some kind of game for them to play.

I make it through the rest of the evening, but after Jessie falls asleep, I break down.

Marissa finds me in my room and offers me a box of tissues. Without saying a word, she sits next to me and rubs my back as I cry.

“I shouldn’t be wasting my tears on them,” I say eventually, as I try to pull myself together.

“Your tears aren’t for anyone else. They’re to help you feel better. Let it out.”

I take a deep breath and blot my eyes. “I’m so angry at myself. I’m so stupid.”

“You’re not. Don’t talk that way,” Marissa says gently.

“I trusted them, even though I knew better!”

My friend starts to rub my back again. “What happened?”

So I tell her everything. How I decided to be with the men even though I was warned, even though I knew they were players. And against my better judgement, I allowed myself to fall hard for them, even though I knew I shouldn’t.

I tell her all about what Trish said today, even though recounting it makes me feel like I could throw up.

“It’s all just a game to them,” I tell her. “Why would they take me out, and even say they wanted to be in Jessie’s life, and then fuck around with their editor? I’m so disgusted with them, and so disappointed in myself.”

“Stop blaming yourself. You didn’t do anything wrong. You gave them a chance, and it didn’t work out. There’ll be more men.”

I snort. “Who even wants more men? Are there any good ones out there?”

Marissa’s tone is wry. “It does seem that the good ones are few and far between, but they’re out there. Look at Ana and her men. Our old roommate Callie found a couple of good ones, too. I guess it’s true about having to kiss a lot of toads.”

A traitorous little part of my brain thinks that if toads kiss the way Cam and Wyatt did, then I’m happy with toads. I tell my brain to shut up and stop reminding me what good kissers they were, and then I’m sad and angry all over again at the thought of never kissing them again.

My phone buzzes with another text.

“It’s probably them,” I tell Marissa. “I need them to stop.”

“It’s hard to believe they’d need to be told, after what they did, but maybe they’re used to women letting them get away with that shit. Maybe you should talk to them. Explain that you’re done, and tell them to stop contacting you.”

“I don’t think I can stand to look at them.”

I slide my phone out. “Please can we talk?” Cam’s latest message is at the end of a string from both him and Wyatt that I don’t bother to read.

“Can you meet us out by the fence for a minute?” Wyatt sends.

I show the screen to Marissa. “Perfect. I won’t have to look at them.”

Their faces will disgust me, but if I’m being honest, I’m afraid that seeing them will hurt too much.

“I’ll be out in five minutes,” I tell them, and then I use that time to splash cold water on my face and pull myself together.

They don’t deserve to know how much they hurt me. Maybe that’s part of their game, too, and I’m not giving them the satisfaction.

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