Page 77 of Unless It's You
“Are you sure? I can come with you. We can get kebabs or disgusting fast food or a bottle of wine and cry over it together?”
“Not tonight, Gemma.” I grind my teeth together to stop the tears, backing up another step.I really screwed things up.The gravity of it is making my body heavy and tired.
“I’m coming over tomorrow, and we can talk.”
“Okay.” I turn and stride away.
“Noon!” Gemma calls, and I turn to look at her. “Make sure you’re decent.” She smiles, but it doesn’t penetrate the layers of my misery.
My phone buzzes in my pocket and I fumble for it. Maybe it’s Ethan. I turn the corner and glance down at the screen, but it’s Ben. Ben, who just kissed me. Ben, who I never said goodbye to.
Ben
Where are you?
In no world do I have the strength for more Ben Hughes right now.
Me
I’m sorry. I need to go home
Ben
What?? We should talk about that kiss. And where we go from here
No, Ben, we shouldn’t. I figured it out, and it’s Ethan I want. I don’t want to hear Ben tell me he wants to be with me. Because I don’t want to be with him.
Me
I don’t want to talk about it. Not tonight. I’m sorry
Ben
I really think we should. Can I catch up to you? Come over?
Me
No
Ben
Is this about Ethan? I saw you leave after him. He’s not responding to my texts. Where are you?
I roar and press ignore when he tries to call, then silence notifications from him.
Ethan truly didn’t look angry. He wasn’t being irrational. He looked devastated, then resigned. As if he’d uncovered a painful, undeniable truth. Which he had: he can’t betray Ben. And because I’d let Ben kiss me, he sees being with me as betraying his best friend. His best friend is his family. I know that now, after getting to know him over the past three weeks.
It’s Day 20 of the bucket list.
I walk and walk, dodging the crowds of Saturday night revelers who annoy the shit out of me with their joyous screaming and laughing, hand holding and gentle flirty touches. How dare they giggle and gossip about the night ahead when my life is in shambles?
A twenty-something man has a woman pressed up against the side of a mobile phone storefront, kissing her, one hand on her ass, and he stops to caress her cheek with the back of his other hand. Instead of being disgusted at their very public display of affection, I’m envious. I want to tap them on the shoulder and tell them how lucky they are, and not to fuck it up.
If I had just told him everything.If I had shared the whole damn bucket list from the beginning and not left out the last requirement. This could have been the night that brought us together for real.
As I turn into the station and get assaulted by the warm, distinct, London Tube air, I touch two fingers to my lips. It should be the shadow of Ethan’s kiss on them, not Ben’s.
Being with Ethan was everything. Not perfect, not a rom-com, but exactly what I need and want.
