Page 76 of One for the Road
“Câlice de criss,” she curses before stepping around me and out of the fridge.
Someone is singing ‘Zach and DeeDee sitting in a tree.’ I don’t consider myself a violent guy, but I’m about point five seconds away from punching them in the face. Drawing in a deep breath, I follow after DeeDee into the melee of congratulatory back-slapping and hugs.
It’s hell. It’s pure, unadulterated hell to stand there beside her and wave off the questions, being told we’re ‘sooo cute’ over and over again as those six fucking words ring out so loud in my head I can hardly hear what anyone is saying. My heart is a jackhammer in my chest.
Is this over? Is she ending it? What the hell did that even mean?
She doesn’t give me any clues, just stands with her spine unnaturally stiff and her eyes looking anywhere but at me. Somehow, Monroe gets everyone to settle down enough to carry out the meeting. I don’t have any idea what she talks about, but I think it’s some sort of pump up speech to get us prepped for one of the busiest nights in Taverne Toulouse history. It ends with people cheering and traipsing off to their stations, most of them making sure to stop and tell DeeDee and I how happy they are for us.
When we’re the last ones left, I can’t take it anymore and move so I’m standing in front of her. Dread makes my stomach churn.
“DeeDee, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.” She won’t look at me.
“I know that’s the exact opposite of the way you wanted people to find out about us.”
She barks out a laugh. “That’s true.”
The silence stretches, every question I can’t bring myself to ask getting lodged in my throat as the seconds tick by. I’m choking on this, on the feeling of being so close to her and still miles and miles away.
“Can we...talk?”
She draws in a shuddering breath before shaking her head. “Where? How? This is...Je ne peux pas...”
She looks like she’s about to either scream or start crying again, and I know neither of us can face walking out into the bar.
“Come with me.” I grab her hand and pull her to the kitchen’s back door, the one that leads out to the alley where we share a dumpster with the neighbouring businesses—not the world’s most pleasant location, but it’s the only spot around here where we stand a hope of being alone for a few minutes.
All I need is a few minutes. All I need is to hear something from her that will make me feel like we’re not falling apart.
A couple of the staff members hoot at us as we leave, but neither DeeDee nor I look back. As soon as we step into the alley, she drops my hand and turns her back to me.
I just go ahead and spit it out. “Are you breaking up with me?”
She whirls around, and I see the panic welling inside her. “We aren’t even dating!”
“I know. I know.” I do my best to stay calm. That’s what she needs. “I just—I need to know, DeeDee. Is that what’s going on? Are you ending this?”
Her eyes are so wide, searching for something, and I don’t know how to give it to her.
“I don’t want to.” She gives a tiny shake of her head, and something in her crumples. “I don’t want to.”
Twenty-One
DeeDee
FLAME: the act of setting an alcoholic drink on fire
Why can’tI do this?
I keep asking myself over and over again as Zach holds me in the alley. I take the deepest breaths I can, fighting not to cry again. I hate crying so fucking much.
Why can’t I do this?
Why can’t I just tell him everything is all right? Why can’t I go back in that bar and high five all my friends as they tell me how cute Zach and I are? Why can’t I be the perfect girlfriend in the perfect couple everyone sees when they look at us? I’m like a girl in a painting full of happy people and butterflies, but I’m not standing in the right pose. I’m close, but something about me just doesn’t fit. Something about me won’tletme fit.
“It’s okay,” Zach is murmuring. “It’s going to be okay.”
