Page 37 of A Love Letter to Whiske
— Hey. —
My throat tightened as I hit the send button, knowing I couldn’t take it back now. Part of me was convinced I was acting crazy and he’d text back in a matter of minutes, but the other, louder part of me said nothing is ever certain when it comes to Jamie Shaw.
I tucked my phone in my back pocket just as I rounded the breezeway that led to the coffee shop, desperate to get some caffeine in my system. But when I spotted Jamie walking out the door, I paused.
It wasn’t as cold at that time in the afternoon, and Jamie had already shrugged out of his jacket. It was draped lazily over one arm while his other arm rested easily around the shoulders of one of the girls he’d hooked up with earlier in the semester. I thought her name was Tina, but I couldn’t be sure. I didn’t care, honestly. All that mattered was that she was laughing, head tilted back as Jamie grinned down at her, his mouth too close to her neck.
I swallowed, trying to shake the icky feeling climbing from the tips of my cold fingers to the warmth of my neck. But when Tina placed her hand gently over Jamie’s chest, both of them still laughing, I lost any fight I had left to convince myself whatever I was seeing was innocent.
I was going to be sick.
Ducking inside the doors of the breezeway bookstore before he could see me, I sprinted to the first trashcan in sight and heaved, my stomach too empty already to cooperate. A few girls scurried away from me as one of the cashiers rushed over to see if I was okay, but I brushed him off, bracing both hands on the trashcan for a moment to steady myself before racing out the door again.
Each step vibrated from the sole of my foot up between my aching thighs, still sore from him, and I dug my thumbs into the loops of my backpack straps, pulling them tighter and tighter as I walked. I’d never experienced anxiety like that — the crippling kind, the kind that makes every rational thought literally impossible to grasp.
Jamie never did text me back, not in the time I walked back to the dorm or later that night when I stayed wrapped in my comforter, staring at the phone, hoping for something — anything — to prove my gut instinct wrong.
Reassurance never came, no one to break up the party dread, anxiety, and doubt were throwing in my stomach now. Guilt moved in next, and there was only room for one more. I curled in on myself, squeezing my eyes shut and rocking gently, holding out for hope. Finally, at just past midnight, I gave up on waiting. With a shaky sigh, regret slipped in, stealing the last spot.
I didn’t sleep that night.
I PEELED MYSELF OUTof bed early the next day, showering off the sand and smell of Jamie I’d let myself sleep in all night. The day before, I had practically been a spazz, but a new calmness had settled in, and my stomach had evened out. I was almost sluggish, my body reluctant to wake to the harsh reality of it all.
It was a mistake.
It was a stupid, heat-of-the-moment lack of judgment.
And that was fine.
It was clear Jamie wasn’t bothered by what had happened, so why should I be? Maybe I was young, naive, making it into a bigger deal than it needed to be. So what, we’d hooked up? It happened all the time.
I repeated those words, over and over, washing them into my skin as I scrubbed Jamie off. And as each layer of him swirled with the water into the drain at my feet, I discovered the other layers that rested beneath — the guilt, the shame, the fear, the hurt.
By the time I’d dressed and finished my hair, my biggest concern had drifted to Ethan. He’d asked me to come over to their place for some last minute campaign preparations before the fire pit party that night and I was terrified of seeing him. I’d been set on telling him the truth about Jamie and me, but that was when I thought therewasa Jamie and me. Now that there wasn’t, that I realized the mistake I’d made, I felt sick at the thought of losing Ethan, too.
I knew it made me a shitty person, Iknewhe deserved the truth and I deserved whatever resulted from that, but it didn’t make me feel any better about the idea of it. Still, I had made enough mistakes in the last day and a half, and after a night of agonizing, restless “sleep”, all I wanted was to do something right.
I had to tell him, and I had to be okay with whatever happened after I did.
I picked up lunch from the favorite taco place on campus and made my way to Ethan’s, planting the seed and watering it with every step I took.
It was just a mistake. It’s fine. Shit happens. Don’t make a big deal out of it.
I wasn’t sure if I truly believed it or if I was just slowly putting up a wall, brick by brick, hoping it was strong enough to keep me from my true feelings. But I kept repeating those words, those sentiments, laying the bricks and topping it all off with barbed wire.
I wasfine.
By the time I used my spare key and pushed through the door of their apartment, I almost believed that.
“I brought tacos!” I announced, kicking the door closed behind me and holding up the two bags. I felt him in the room as soon as I entered, but I didn’t dare chance a look in his direction. I found Ethan instead, and my heart warmed at the sight of his smile.
“You didn’t.”
I nodded, setting everything in my arms down on the counter and waving hello to Shayla who was sitting crosslegged on the floor next to a stack of posters. “I did.”
He was there, in the corner, right next to where Shayla was tapping on her laptop as she sorted through materials, but I still didn’t look at him.
Ethan picked himself up from the floor and rushed over, wrapping me in his arms and greeting me with a long, slow, heated kiss. “Marry me,” he murmured against my lips and I giggled, guilt surging as he kissed lips that were still swollen from Whiskey. I pushed him back playfully before digging through the bags.
