Page 77 of Written in the Oceans

I groan an unintelligible sound. I peek through my fingers to see Charles with two mugs of steaming coffee, the aroma filling the room and slapping away my hangover almost instantly.

“At least you look better than Quasimodo outside. You know he’s not wearing any pants?” Charles is referring to Chuck. We both stumbled into my living room at three a.m., with me not knowing my hand from my ass, and I somehow managed to land in a spot comfortable enough to fall asleep. I’m surprised I made it into bed at all.

“I guess we uh… We went a little crazy last night,” I say through a dry, hoarse voice. I reach for the mug and nod thanks to him.

“Yeah, you could say that.” Charles brings his mug to his mouth and sips loudly. My head pounds, the sounds of Charles’s slurping echoing off the walls, causing my temples to throb. “So, what’s going on?”

I look at him through the steam coming off my mug. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve been doing a lot more drinking than usual lately. I don’t think I’ve seen you this wasted since our early party days. It’s a lot even for him.” He points a thumb towards the door.

I look up and stretch out my neck, trying to loosen up the tension that has built up between my shoulders. “I’ve just been… distracted, I guess.”

We quietly sip. I can feel Charles’s eyes watching, waiting for a real answer.

“Are you going to tell me the truth, or am I going to have to drag it out of you?” He sits on the side of the bed that’s empty, smoothing out the rumpled sheets before he sinks into the mattress.

I sigh. I take my time answering, sipping my coffee before speaking. “I told Ellie I didn’t want to see her anymore.”

“And why did you do that?”

“You saw what happened with the paps. It was a fucking shit show. She’s not cut out for this fucked up life. I’m not even cut out for it, but I have no choice.” I wince. The images of Ellie standing on her stoop, her blanched face horrified and zoomed in through the grainy images, flash through shooting shocks of pain to my chest. And the sound of her cries, ringing through my ears as her sobs echo against my heart, reminds me why I had to let her go.

He nods. “Okay,” he finally says, unconvinced with my reasoning.

“What?” I say, my voice annoyed.

“Nothing,” he answers, his mouth downturned in an impassive shake of his head. “I was just thinking that if Ellie… When she gets tired of seeing your annoyingly pretty face, and I’m sure that day will come eventually, she should be the one to tell you.”

A shaky sigh blows through my lips. The thought of taking a chance and letting Ellie be a part of my life feels freeing. As if everything that I could think of that could make me happy, could make me smile, was just a phone call away. Like I could simply tell Ellie that I was wrong and that everything I did was to protect her. But it isn’t that simple. Ellie’s heart isn’t simple. It’s distinctive, carrying characteristics that could only be present in someone like her. I was meant to handle her heart with care, but I became reckless. I fell into a drunken stupor of happiness that filled me when I was around her, and I became irresponsible. And now I’m living the consequences of it all.

Charles would never understand this. “It’s complicated.”

“Okay. I get it,” he says. “I’m not going to pretend I understand your relationship. That’s between you two. I’m just calling it as it is. You look like shit.”

“Thanks,” I mutter with a smirk. “And thanks for checking in on me.”

He pats my bare shoulder, making me wince from the sharp slap. “Anytime.”

* * *

“Hello?” A low, sultry voice rings from the other end.

“Hi, Bella. It’s Rhylan. How are you?”

Bella’s deep laughter rings through the phone. “How am I? After all this time, have you finally come to your senses, Rhylan Matthews?”

I ignore the loose resentment in her tone. “Uh, yeah. Sorry about that,” I say, already wanting this conversation to be over.

“So, to what do I owe the pleasure of this phone call?”

“A couple of my friends are heading out to The Velvet Room in Hollywood tonight. I was wondering if you would like to join us,” I say through gritted teeth. After I spoke with Charles, it was clear, more than ever, that I needed to distance myself from Ellie. Charles didn’t necessarily agree, but I knew what had to be done so that I could finally sever ties with Ellie.

My late nights partying and being seen with random women since the paparazzi incident weren’t cutting it. So I called the one person that could clear the air between Ellie and me. Whatever I had to do so that her name would no longer be attached to mine, so that the images of us would stop floating around the internet, taunting and reminding the both of us of what could have been. I called Bella.

“Oh, I’ll have to think about it. I’m such a busy woman,” she says teasingly.

“Okay. Just text me later. We’re going to head out just after midnight, so…”

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