Page 74 of Naive in Love

I walk to the refrigerator and pull out a water before sitting at our small table. She doesn’t acknowledge me, which makes me nervous. Maybe I’ve screwed up our friendship with my stupidity.

“Thank you for everything you did last night. I don’t know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t stepped up.” She finally turns around and faces me with tears in her eyes.

“You’re welcome.” She brings her hand up, signaling to give her a second. She turns back around to the stove, turns off the burner, and moves the pan before sitting at the table with me. She grabs a napkin from the holder and dabs under her eyes.

“Do you know how scared I was last night?” Her tears start falling faster. “Stupid Ethan wouldn’t answer any of my texts. I was texting him one right after another, and he wouldn’t respond. After about five minutes, I couldn’t take it anymore, and I called Preston. I begged him to call Ethan and tell him to call me. He wouldn’t do it without me telling him what happened.” She watches me through tear-filled eyes, probably wondering how I’m going to react. But I have no right to question her solution.

“You did what you had to do. It’s fine. Everyone would’ve found out eventually anyway.”

Relief crosses her face.

“I gave Preston all the info, and he was able to get ahold of Ethan. Once y’all were back here, Ethan texted me saying sorry for not answering and that he was spending the night in the apartment with you. Once I knew you were safe, I didn’t worry anymore. That’s why I didn’t call or text all day. I knew he would be here with you until I got back.”

“Ethan kept y’all in the loop last night and today?”

She nods. “Do you want to talk about what happened last night?”

I shrug. I don’t want to, but I know have to. “You know I went out with Becky and Kate to a club?”

She nods her head.

“We stopped to eat after, and I ran into Jason and Wes. Wes came up to me and told me Caleb had gotten out early and he was home, and I should surprise him. I was confused because Caleb told me he was closing the bar last night. But in my drunken state I thought, ‘Why the hell not?’” I proceed to tell her the whole gory truth about what I saw and the bits I remember from after I left his place.

Saying all this out loud is cathartic. It’s different than letting it swirl around your mind. I need a break, so Lena finishes making dinner as I process everything.

Once we sit down, Lena begins. “Why in the world would Wes tell you to surprise Caleb if he knew what was going on?” She takes a drink of her diet soda.

“That’s been bugging me too.” I take a couple of bites without saying anything else, letting my mind explore any and all explanations. “Do you think Caleb could be telling the truth? That last night was the first time? That’s what he said in the voicemail he left me,” I ask with a little hope, not wanting to believe that someone who said they cared about me could do this.

"I don't know. It just doesn't make sense." We each take a couple of more bites, sitting with quiet thoughts. "Are you regretting throwing out the flowers?"

I shake my head. "I can't regret that. It was my first reaction. Even if it was one time, he did it, and I can't stop seeing them together."

"So…uh…you're not taking him back?" Her voice shakes.

I shake my head, "No, I can’t.”

I lay down,letting the tears I held in all day fall. I’ve kept my emotions in check, but now they come out full force in the dark, quiet confinement of my bedroom. I continue letting thewhat ifs,hows,whens, andwhysrace through my thoughts. It all comes back to one thing—I'm not good enough.

Of course, Caleb would want to be with someone else. I’m lousy in bed. It hurt like hell, it was over in record time, and he wanted to leave. I was blind and should have seen the signs. Thinking about my first and only time brings a new onslaught of tears. I was cheated on. I should have known. I’m humiliated. I’m pissed off.

* * *

The week isuneventful except for the several texts Caleb continues to send me. He continues to apologize, asks to be forgiven and for me to respond. I read the texts, not able to ignore them, but I refuse to text back. He does not deserve my attention.

I am walking to my last class on Thursday afternoon, proud I made it through the week without incident, until I hear my name. My shoulders instantly tense.

Wes reaches me. "Hey, thanks for stopping."

"I don't want to talk. Sorry." I shrug.

I turn to walk away, but he places a hand on my shoulder and says, "You really want to hear this. I promise." I face him, and his face is pale. "Can you give me a couple of minutes?"

The vibes he is giving off make the red flags in my head stand at attention. Knots in my stomach begin to form. My voice is lost, so I simply nod. He points to an area out of the way of the student foot traffic. I follow him a few yards, far enough from nosy ears.

"I'm really sorry about what happened. Please know that. I wish I had said something sooner."

I am confused and skeptical of his motivation.

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