Page 67 of Naive in Love

“What part of she ismygirlfriend do you not understand?”

“If she is your girlfriend, then take care of her! You let her drive drunk? What the fuck? She could have wrecked!” Ethan taps his forehead with his hand sarcastically before continuing, “Wait! She did wreck. Because you sent her off upset after pushing her.” Ethan points at Caleb maliciously.

I stand with Lena just outside the pool table area, frozen, listening to the exchange. They are so focused on each other, neither realize I am watching and listening to their exchange.

“Fuck off!” Caleb clenches his hands into fists.

“What if she had gotten hurt? What would you have done then? Huh? You can’t take care of her! Youdo notdeserve her!”

An evil smirk forms on Caleb’s face before he says, “Why the hell are you even in my face? She told me what happened at the beach.” Ethan’s eyes widen as Caleb continues. “You tell her you like her or have feelings for her or whatever, and she’s still with me. When are you gonna get a fucking clue? She obviously doesn’t want you.”

Ethan’s eyes narrow before he takes a large step forward, putting less than a foot between them. “If you like the use of your hands, I suggest you never touch her again.” I barely hear him growl at Caleb before he turns around and sees me. His expression changes immediately from pure anger to sadness. He walks to me and places his hand on my cheek, brushing off an errant tear, mouthsI’m sorry, and kisses my forehead. I watch him walk to the door.

I turn to Caleb, and he motions for me to come over. I fill my lungs with air before my legs move. He pulls me into an embrace.

“What the fuck, Sophia? The next time he decides he wants to butt in, I am knocking the shit out of him!” His embrace is not tender and caring; it’s possessive and rough.

Silence is my friend. If I say anything, it will make matters worse. I pull back slightly, his hold on me uncomfortable.

“Where are you going?”

“Nowhere. You’re holding me really tight,” I say softly.

“I’m just fucking holding you. Or is it you don’t want the asshole to see?” His expression is utter disdain.

“He's not even here. I told you. You’re holding me too tight. That’s it.” I keep my tone soft, trying to avoid another fight.

“Whatever.” He pushes me, and I stumble back, catching myself on a stool. Caleb turns to Wes and says, “Let’s get the fuck outta here.” He storms toward the front door. Wes gives me a small, sympathetic shrug before following him.

This evening crashed and burned, and I was the only casualty from it. I wonder who initiated the exchange?

* * *

I wake with a migraine.A whole day in bed ignoring the world seems to be in order. I pop a few ibuprofens and hop back into bed.

I wake to my stomach growling and my head much clearer and pain free. I look at the clock and realize I spent half the day in bed.

I make my way to the kitchen after freshening up to serve myself a bowl of cereal. I sit at the table and look at my phone, which I turned off last night. I take my first bite of cereal as I consider powering it on, not knowing if I am ready to face what is or isn't waiting for me. I take a deep breath and press the button and wait. With my phone powered on it begins to ping several text messages and a couple of voicemails. I decide to listen to the voicemails first.

I’m really sorry you had to witness that. I didn't know you were there. I never meant for you to get caught up in it. I just lost it when I saw him, knowing what he has done to you. I didn't mean to make things any har—FUCK! I gotta go. I'm sorry.

It was painful hearing Ethan’s message with his voice was so distressed. It was rushed, and I could hear it break.

The next two are from Caleb. The first was to let me know, yet again, how pissed he was. But the second one…

I really wish you would answer your phone babe.(He sighs).I just want to make sure you got home safely. I effed up with you again.(Silence).I was a jerk. Please call me.

I continue taking bites of my cereal when my phone begins to ring and Caleb's name pops up on the screen. Not ready to talk to anyone yet, I send the call to voicemail. I patiently wait to see if he leaves me a message, and when my phone pings, I quickly open it up to listen.

I understand if you don't want to talk to me, but can you let me know if you’re okay? I am worried about you. I fucked up. I'm sorry. Please call or text. I love you. I just wanted to make sure you knew that.

A few tears slide down my cheeks as I listen to his message. He sounds remorseful and hurt. Before I realize what I’m doing, I am listening to one ring and Caleb's voice on the other end.

"Babe?" he answers the phone sounding tired.

"Uh-huh. I'm here," I answer in a hushed voice, nervous this will end in a fight.

"Are you at home?"

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