Текст книги "More Than Her"

Автор книги: Jay McLean

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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

TWENTY FOUR

Logan

My eyelids were heavy. My body ached. My head was pounding. The room was spinning. My mouth was dry. My fingers itched. Somewhere in the distance, I could hear her voice.

Amanda.

Fuck.

I'd love to say that I don't remember what went down last night, but I did. I remembered being an asshole to her. I remember doing it all on purpose, so she would leave me alone and not want to be with me, because there was no fucking way I deserved her. Not even a little.

I remembered hearing her cry in her room. She must have cried for so long, because by the time I'd passed out, she was still going.

She thought I pitied her. The second the words were out of her mouth I flinched. Not because she was right, but because I couldn't believe that she'd ever think that about herself. How the fuck could she think that I was better than her. I let it go. Maybe she needed to believe that. Maybe it would make it easier for her to accept that I didn't want her. But I did, I wanted her so fucking bad. But that was my problem to overcome. Not hers.

I'd love nothing more than to lay in bed all day but I promised Jake I'd meet him at the field. Fucking baseball.

I slowly got up and walked to the kitchen, needing something in my stomach to make this whatever-the-fuck-feeling go away. I stopped in my tracks when I heard their voices.

"Were you arguing with Logan last night?" Ethan said.

"Nope," she said quickly.

"Huh. I swear I thought I heard you and-"

"Nope," she repeated, interrupting him. "Not me. He had some other girl in there."

Why would she tell him that?

"Oh." Ethan sounded surprised. Then it was quiet for a moment, before he spoke again, "Are you all right, Dim?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" I could hear the airiness in her voice, and for some fucked up reason, it pissed me off.

"I just thought that you and he-"

"Are nothing. We're nothing."

I cleared my throat to announce my presence before taking the few steps into the kitchen.

"Hey roomy!" she boomed.

I flinched from the magnified loudness in my ears.

She drowned the rest of her coffee and washed it out in the sink.

"Dude," Ethan sniffed the air, then glared at me with a disgusted look on his face. "You smell like ass. I don't care if you smoke weed or whatever—that's your thing—but don't bring that shit into the house, okay?"

I jerked my head in a nod; it was all I could do.

Amanda laughed; it was that perfect bitter laugh she uses. Then she turned away from the sink, crossed her arms and faces Ethan. "Didn't you know?" she started, her voice laced with sweetness. "You can't tell Logan what to do. You can't control him. No one can." Then she kicked off the counter and walked towards me, turning on her side so she could pass me in the doorway, only she stopped half way, her breasts rubbing on arm. "I hope she was fucking worth it," she whispered in my ear.

***

The day sucked ass.

I was hung-over as fuck and the day sucked ass.

Also, I'm an asshole.

Oh yeah, the day sucked ass.

I was sprawled on the sofa while Ethan was on the recliner. ESPN was on but neither of us was watching.

He was on his phone.

I was wishing I were dead.

Then I heard the clicking of heels get louder and louder. "I need the keys." I heard her before I saw her. She walked in front of the sofa to get to him. Her bare leg brushed my hand. My eyes finally focused enough to see that she was wearing the shortest of short dresses. It barely covered her ass. Her perfect ass. Her fucking legs. Where the hell was she going?

Ethan adjusted so he could pull the key out of his pocket. He held them out but didn't give it to her. "Where are you going dressed like that?"

"Study date," she answered.

"Dressed like that?" he quirked an eyebrow at her.

Exactly, Ethan. Good man.

"Tyson said I should start dating again." She shrugged. "Tony's going to be there."

I made a groaning sound, unaware that I was doing it until it was done. If she was trying to piss me off and make me jealous, it was working.

They both turned to face me. I focused my attention on the TV.

She grabbed the keys off him and walked past me again. This time, I pulled my hand away. If I touched her, I wouldn't be able to stop myself from doing something more. Which would be awkward for two reasons, one—she wasn't mine, and two—her brother was in the room.

So I stayed silent.

Amanda

I didn't dress this way to make Logan jealous, but the fact that it did was a bonus.

I was about to put Ethan's car in gear when my phone chimed with a text.

Logan – Why are you dressed like that for a study date? He's going to get the wrong idea.

Assface has a lot of nerve.

Me – Why? Because fuck you, that's why. Also, whatever idea he gets – he's probably right.

I peeled out of the driveway and made it a block before my phone chimed again. I pulled over and parked, already furious at whatever his reply might be. Only this time, it wasn't from Logan.

Ty – I'm sorry.

What was he talking about?

He answered before it even had a chance to ring. "Look," he said, before I could get a word in. "I'm sorry. I thought at the time I was doing the right thing. But you have every right to be pissed, I shouldn't have told him. It wasn't my story to tell. It was yours, and you kept it a secret for a reason. I feel so bad. Please don't be mad."

"Told who what, Ty?"

Logan

The front door slammed shut and a second later she was in the room. Ethan and I looked up as she entered. Our positions hadn't changed since she left. But she had—her eyes were bloodshot and the little amount of make-up she wears was smeared.

"What happened?" Ethan sat up.

She ignored him and glared at me. "He told you?" she seethed, her eyes narrowed at me.

My head was still pounding, so it took me a while to catch up to what she was asking.

"He fucking told you?" she repeated, louder this time.

I sat up and rubbed my face with my hands.

"Dim," Ethan soothed. He stood up and walked over to her. "What's going on?"

She kept ignoring him. "Answer me!" she yelled.

I stood up and faced her, and nodded—just once.

"He had no fucking right!"

"Dimmy." Ethan put his hand on her arm, trying again to calm her down.

"No!" She jerked away, and then faced him. "No," she said again, her body overtaken by a sob. "He had no right, E. He shouldn't have fucking said a word—not to anyone!" Then she turned to me, "So that's why? You didn't want to be with me because you didn't want anyone to find out? Are you embarrassed?"

"What?" I shook my head. Where the fuck did she get that idea. "That's not-"

She cut in, "You fucked some other girl because you were ashamed of me?"

"What the fuck?" Ethan said, glaring at me.

I didn't know what the fuck to say. So I did the worst thing I could possible do right now—I stayed silent.

"You're a fucking asshole!" she shouted, her voice cracking. Then she turned in her spot and walked away.

Her door slammed shut a moment later.

Then it was just Ethan and I. I saw his fists clench at his sides. The muscles in his jaw tightened.

I still didn't know what the fuck to say.

He cleared his throat.

I looked up at him.

"I told you when you moved in she was off limits. I told you she wasn't ready. I told you to be careful. And you didn't listen to me then. So I'm telling you now, leave her the fuck alone."

Amanda

It's not like I was harvesting some major secret. It was my choice not to tell Logan, because honestly, I was at the point where I was over it. It happened—I moved on.

When he drove me home after our date, I didn't speak, because my mind was consumed with what I was going to do about Ty.

Ty—my boyfriend—who was miles away. 506 miles, to be exact.

When he left for college, the beginning of my junior year, I was torn. He wanted to stay together, and do the long distance thing. I felt like I'd be holding him back if he did. So I made that stupid rule. At the time, I thought it was best for both of us. If he was there, and found someone else, then he could leave, and I would be fine with it. The first time he called and told me he'd kissed a girl, he was so upset. He'd felt so guilty for what he did, and later on he said that he did it just to see if I'd care. Of course I cared, but what could I do? It was my stupid rule.

The second and third time, he did it, he was drunk, which in normal circumstances is no excuse, but I'm not naive. I know what it would have been like for him in college, surrounded by beautiful girls, all interested in the same thing. Add to that the pressure from his friends that didn't understand why he'd tie himself up with some high school girl back in his hometown—and I got it. I really did. He felt horrible about it and called me as soon as he could to confess.

So it happened the first few months he was gone, and never again. But, with the distance and his busy schedule, we barely got time to speak, let alone see each other. Whenever he was back home, we were inseparable. It was perfect. Ty was perfect.

I never even thought about other guys while Ty was gone. Not really. Everyone in school knew that I was his girl and he was kind of a legend, so no one tried anything. Which was a good thing, I guess.

I worked and studied my ass off and got accepted to NYU. Making that phone call to Ty was one of the happiest moments of my life. He didn't even know that I was trying to get in. I didn't want to get his hopes up if I didn't get accepted, so you can imagine his reaction. He wanted to go out and look for an apartment right away. I told him to hold off until I flew there to visit after graduation. I thought it would be a good idea to look together, so we could find something that suited both of us. He agreed. I don't think he really cared. He was just happy that we were going to be together again. And so was I.

Then shit hit the fan. Mom caught Dad with another woman in her own bed. In their own house. He was screwing someone half his age, with pictures of his kids hanging from the walls in their room. And the worst part? He wasn't sorry. Not even a little. Because while Mom was standing there yelling at him—shattered and heartbroken—he went to the closet, pulled out his suitcase and started packing while his mistress stood in their bedroom and quietly watched it all go down, half naked, with Mom's husbands shirt on. And you know how I know all this? Because she told me. She'd repeat the story over and over on the nights she'd get drunk and ramble incoherently—which was every single night for months after he walked out.

It gets worse.

The day after he was caught, he cleared out all the bank accounts, including my and Ethan's college funds.

He never said goodbye to us.

Devastated doesn't even come close to how we felt.

Mom had to call my grandma for a loan, but there was only enough money for one of us to go to college. Grandma, being old school, was adamant that Ethan be the one to go, considering he would one day have a wife and kids to take care of. So really, I was out of options. Which really didn't make things any easier when I had to make that phone call to Ty.

At first he was pissed off for me. And then he was just pissed.

We'd both been so excited to start our lives together, and just like that, it was all over.

***

I don't know exactly what happened, but after that news, it felt like something in him switched. Almost like he'd given up on us. He became so tied up with school, and work, and had even taken up an internship over the summer. He barely had time to answer my calls. Occasionally, when he did call, it was in the middle of the night and he'd just be getting home. The night before graduation, when he hadn't called all day, I decided to try at two in the morning. Only it wasn't him that answered. I don't know who it was, honestly. Just some girl, in a loud room full of people, who was more than happy to let me know that she had no idea Ty had a girlfriend.

He didn't call me for three days after that.

When he did call, he was completely closed off. He complained that he was exhausted and rushed to get off the phone.

And to me, it felt like the beginning of the end.

That was the last I'd heard from him by the time Logan Matthews walked into the diner. I'd been ignoring his calls, and his texts hoping that he would just go away. Because for the first time since I'd started dating Ty, I was physically attracted to someone else. But that's all it was. Just physical.

Even if you asked me now, I couldn't tell you why I agreed to the date. I even gave us a one-week cooling off period. It didn't help. He called or texted every day. And when my own boyfriend didn't call me once during that week, the attention from Logan made me feel something. It made me feel wanted. And after the shit that my dad pulled, it was exactly what I needed to feel.

***

Not for a second did I expect to have the kind of time I had with Logan. He brought out parts of me in that one night that I hadn't felt for a long time. Not since the beginning of my relationship with Ty. With Ty—it was different. It was a gradual build up, a slow burn before acceptance. With Logan—there was nothing to accept. It just was.

So the entire ride home at four in the morning, after an amazing first date, I began to panic.  It wasn't like I was instantly head over heels in love with him. But I thought, that given time, maybe I could be. I had no idea if he felt the same thing I did, in fact, I had no idea how he felt at all. And then he reached over, took my hand in his, gave me a small smile, and that was it.

That was all I needed.

Stupid.

Ty answered on the second ring.

"Hey," he said quietly, followed by a sigh.

It sounded like I was the last person he wanted to speak to.

"Were you sleeping?"

Another sigh. "No, Amanda. I just got home."

He never called me Amanda. Since the day I brought him home to meet my parents, and he found out they all called me Dimmy —and why—he started calling me that, too.

"What's up?" he said. "Why are you calling me so late? Or early? Or whatever."

I swallowed down the knot in my throat. My eyes stung with tears.

"We need to talk," I managed to get out.

Nothing.

"Ty?"

"You're breaking up with me, right?" He said it so quietly; I thought for a second that I imagined it. But then it all made sense. He was expecting it. Waiting for it. Wanting it.

"I met someone else," I told him.

I could hear him blow out a breath, then movement, like he was standing up and walking somewhere else.

"You did?" he asked.

That's when the tears fell. Like a damn that'd been broken. And I don't know if it was just Ty, or the lack of college plans, or any future plans at all, or if it was the fact that I still hadn't heard from my dad. Most likely, it was all of it.

"Who is he?" he said, when I hadn't spoken.

"Just a guy. You don't know him."

"And?"

"What?"

"You want to be with him now?" His voice broke. "You don't want to be with me anymore?"

I thought about my next words carefully, "Are we, though? I mean, are we together? I haven't spoken to you in weeks."

"The phone works both ways, Amanda."

He was right. It did. But the first few times I called him he didn't answer. He was always so busy that I didn't want to disturb him. "You're always busy."

He laughed once, but it was a bitter laugh. "Yeah, fuck, Dim. I'm sorry I'm in college, and working, and doing this stupid half assed paid internship just to be treated like scum everyday. I'm sorry that I don't have time to talk to my girlfriend 500 miles away. I'm sorry that I'm here and you're stuck all the way over there and there's not a Goddamn thing we can do about it. I'm sorry my life is so busy and complicated, while you're what? Meeting random guys and going out with them? I'm really fucking sorry." His voice got louder with every word, his tone icy.

I bit my lip, trying so hard not to break down.

"So that's it, huh?" he continued, "We're done? You want to be with him?"

I nodded, and even though he couldn't see it, he must've sensed it.

"What the hell happened to us?" he said, but it was more to himself.

I wiped away the tears and gripped the phone tighter. "I don't know Ty, you tell me. Where have you been? We barely even talk anymore. Ever since I told you I couldn't go to New York, it's like you've shut me out completely. And I don't know why-"

"It's not important...not anymore," he cut me off.

"Ty..." I tried to reason with him.

"Look, Dim. I just need some time," he paused. "Just please don't call me, okay? I'll call you when I'm ready."

And then he hung up.

He didn't call me.

But neither did Logan.

***

Two weeks passed, and I was a mess.

I had come to terms with the fact that I was also a fucking idiot.

Because I let some guy I didn't even know unknowingly work his way into my heart. So I did what I thought was right at the time. I called Ty and begged him to forgive me. I begged him to take me back. I needed him to take back.

The first thing he asked was whether I slept with Logan, and when I told him I hadn't, he said it was worse. He said that maybe he could have forgiven me if it was just sex—if it was something physical. But the fact that I actually wanted to be with someone else, spend time with someone else, give my heart to someone else – that he couldn't forgive me for. He couldn't understand how after years of making things work long distance, and how strongly we felt for each other—how I could just throw it all away.

I sat there, on the edge of my bed, and listened to everything he had to say. And he was right, about all of it.

But then I brought up the fact that I thought he wanted me to break up with him. I mentioned that he stopped calling, and that he was always busy and it seemed like he stopped caring about me– and that's when he told me. He told me he was trying to keep up with classes while working two jobs as well as a shitty internship because he was saving money to get an apartment for us. So that even if I wasn't going to school there, we could at least be together.

And I ruined it. I ruined us. I broke his heart. I broke mine. I broke us.

I fucked up.

And I couldn't even blame Logan.

As much as I tried, I couldn't.

It wasn't his fault I was stupid enough to believe him.

***

The night I saw him at the club, making out with another girl, just happened to be the same night Greg was there. Greg—Ty's best friend. He caught me on my way out, with tears streaming down my face—tears I shed for a boy I barely knew.

He was with a bunch of his friends, most of them I knew—only in passing—because they were Ty's friends, too. "Hey," he soothed, lifting my chin so he could see my face. I'm sure I looked as messy on the outside as I felt on the inside. "Are you okay?" He's brows creased with what I believed was genuine concern.

I bit my lip to stop the sob escaping, but it didn't work. The next thing I knew I was in his arms as he led me to his car. He didn't say anything, and he didn't ask me to, either. When the crying finally stopped, all he said was, "You want to tell me how sucky your life is?"

It made me laugh, and I did. I wanted to tell somebody. So I told him. I told him about my dad, and about Ty, and how I felt shut out after I told him I couldn't be in New York with him. I told him about how I thought it was over between us, and I even told him about the stupid date with Logan, and the phone call I made after. I told him about how I fucked up with Ty, and even though I begged for him to take me back, he wouldn't, and I had to accept that.

Greg—he remained silent, listening to every word I said. And when I'd finished pouring my heart out to him, he just looked at me, a sad smile on his face. "You know what you need?" he said.

I shook my head.

He smiled. "A banana split."

So that's what we did.

I texted Lexie and told her I was safe, and that I'd call her later.

Greg took me to the grocery store and bought all the ingredients to make the perfect banana split, the same type they make at the steak house he worked at. We then went back to his apartment, which he shared with two other guys, and he proceeded to cheer me up.

By the time the sun came up, we hadn't even realized how much time had passed. He drove me home and asked if he could see me again, it didn't even have to be a date, he said. He just enjoyed my company.

The rest of the summer, he made every effort to woo me. He'd surprise me at my work with flowers, and called or texted regularly. He told me often that he missed me, and at one point he even said the he was falling for me. And soon after that, I found that I was beginning to hate myself less and less. The guilt of what I did to Ty was slowly fading, and even though I thought of Logan often, I began to not hate him as much, too.

I didn't even think about how a maybe relationship with Ty's best friend would affect Ty. Like I said—stupid.

By the end of summer bonfire party, Greg and I had unofficially become exclusive. We spent as much time together as possible, and he even made an effort to hang out with Ethan and my friends, which is why he was there at that party. He was almost 21 – and could really do without the high school parties, but still—he was there.

And so was Logan.

As much as I could try to deny that seeing him that night didn't affect me, it really did. It brought back memories of that one night we had together, and all the feelings I had when I decided to break up with someone that could have so easily been my future.

Greg knew something was up the rest of the night. I don't know if he knew that it was Logan I was speaking to when he interrupted us, but he didn't ask any questions. He just allowed me to drink away my emotions. Looking back on it now, it was almost as if he encouraged it.

I decided to stay the night at his house, too ashamed to go home in my drunken state. Even though Mom was probably passed out on the sofa, worse off than I was.

That night, he climbed into his bed with me and he held me, and then he told me that he loved me. And I needed it. I needed it more than anything in the fucking world. I needed someone to love me, and he said he did.

So I slept with him.

And then I must have passed out.

Because I don't remember him pulling the covers off me.

I don't remember the flashes as he took the pictures.

And I sure as hell don't remember him fucking me without me knowing.

Or taking more pictures of my most private parts as he was doing it.

What I do remember—is loud banging, and then Ethan, his best friend Tristan, and Lexi kicking down his bedroom door.

I remember Lexi wrapping a sheet around me and then helping me walk out to the car.

I remember throwing up on the way there.

And I remember Ethan coming back with a cut lip, broken nose and blood all over his knuckles.

I couldn't look at him—too much blood.

"What happened?" I said to no one in particular. My head was throbbing. I finally managed to face Ethan, "What happened?" I repeated.

He didn't say anything, just wrapped me in his arms. I could feel his body trembling, and he started to cry.

Ethan never cried. Ever.

Not when dad left.

Not even when we were twelve and he pushed me out of the way of an oncoming car and got hit.

Not even when he broke so many bones in his lower body that they broke skin, and blood was everywhere. It's the reason I can't stand the sight of it.

He didn't even cry when he had to have surgery to put pins in his hip and all throughout his legs.

But now—he was crying.

"What happened?" I asked again, my voice strained from holding back my sob.

He held me tighter. "I'm so sorry, Dimmy. I'm so fucking sorry." He repeated the words over and over.

Then he showed me the pictures on his phone.

I spent the next two days and nights throwing up.

And the next two weeks in a zombie state. I didn't eat. I didn't sleep. I didn't talk to anyone.

Ethan begged me to press charges, but I just wanted to forget it. He said I was stupid, and we fought about it. I didn't say goodbye to him when he packed up and left for college.

I didn't take care of my mom, who hadn't even realized that something had happened to me.

Ethan drove two hours home, almost every day to take care of me.

And then one day, out of nowhere, I picked myself up, sold all my shit, left mom behind and flew to New York.

I knocked four times before Ty answered. And when he did, he was shirtless, his jeans roughly pulled up, his fly undone. But that's not what I noticed. All I could see was the girl in his bed, with the sheets pulled up to her neck, hiding what I'm sure was her naked body.

"Dimmy?" I heard. I knew it was Ty, but he sounded far away. The girl in his bed's jaw dropped, her mouth forming a perfect O.

"Dimmy?" she repeated.

"Huh?" I said, then managed to pull my eyes away from her to look up at Ty. I don't know which one of the two hurt more to see.

"Tyson?" the girl asked. Her voice was laced with confusion, but behind that, there was a plea.

He stood there, between his past and his future, looking from one to the other.

Finally, I spoke, "I'm sorry, Ty," I said, looking him clear in the eyes. And then I turned and walked away. He called out, but I didn't stop. I just wanted to be somewhere else. I didn't know where I would go. I didn't want to go home. I couldn't face it another day. I couldn't stay in New York. And I was broke. I left his dorm and sat on a bench just outside, waiting for something to change. Hoping that something would happen soon. Because I wasn't sure how much more I could take.

It was only a few minutes before he came out, bed girl in tow. I watched as he kissed her goodbye. I could see the panic on her face, but his body language was re-assuring. He kept shaking his head, holding her hands in his. He walked her to her car and waited until she drove away before looking around. I saw his body visibly relax when he saw me, his hand going up in a small wave. I tried to smile, I just couldn't.

He took a seat next to me and nudged my leg with his. I didn't speak, and neither did he. Not for the first hour.

"Where are you staying?" he asked quietly.

"Hotel," I lied. I had no idea what I was doing.

"Have dinner with me first?"

I couldn't. "I don't think that's such a good idea, Ty, with your girlfriend and all."

"Yeah," he agreed. "Ali—that's her name."

I nodded and tried to compose myself. Seeing a girl in his bed hurt, but not as much as him admitting that he belonged to her. Ali and Tyson. I rolled their names around in my head.

I couldn't even be mad about it. I had no right. It was my fault.

"So you and Greg, huh?"

My eyes snapped to his. "You know?"

He looked confused for a moment, "That you started dating my best friend? Yeah, I know. I'm not gonna lie, Dim, I'm pretty pissed off about it."

I breathed out, relieved.

But then something else took over, and I broke down.

For the next four hours I sat on that bench and told him everything. About Logan, about breaking up with him, about what happened the weeks after, all the way up to the night of the bonfire.

He sat quietly and listened to it all. When I got to the part about the pictures, his head fell between his shoulders. His grip on the bench caused his knuckles to turn white. I could see the muscles in his jaw flexing.

"You should have told me earlier," he stated, when I was done speaking.

"I couldn't," I cried.

"Dimmy." He sniffed back his own tears. "I'm so fucking sorry that that shit happened to you. I should have been there. You should have told me. I could have come for you. I could have done something—anything. You'll always be important to me. I'll always love you," he said.

But just not in that way.

Not anymore.

After a few more minutes of silence, I stood up, wiped my face with the back of my hand and said, "I better go check into the hotel."

He nodded, standing too, "When do you leave?"

"Tomorrow morning."

"You came for one night?" he asked. I could tell he knew I was lying, but neither of us was going to call each other out.

"Uh huh." I lied. I planned on staying forever. "I guess I'll see you around, Ty."

He jerked his head in agreement, but said nothing.

I held back my sob.

Then he pulled me into him and wrapped his arms around me. I closed my eyes from the sensation. I hated being hugged, and he knew it, but right then, it was perfect. He was perfect.

And then he kissed me.

It was the saddest fucking goodbye in the history of the entire fucking world.

I didn't want him to pull away. I wanted to stay in his arms, with his mouth on mine, forever.

But he did. He pulled back and said, "Take care, Amanda."

I cried the entire walk to the twenty-four hour diner three blocks away. I didn't even care about the concerned looks people were giving me. At the time, it felt like I had lost everything that meant anything to me.

I got to the diner, ordered a coffee and pulled out my phone.

"Ethan?"

"Where are you?"

"New York."

"I'll be there soon."

Nine hours later, he was there.

***

Ty called every day after my visit. At first it was quick check ups, and then slowly, it built to longer, deeper conversations. Initially, I answered because I knew he wouldn't stop calling if I didn't. And then one day I found myself looking forward to his calls. Eventually, without me knowing, he had somehow helped me heal. And by the time I moved to start college, I was almost back to normal.

Until the day I saw Logan at the library, and it felt like my past, my life, my world—all of it—came crashing down around me.

Like I said—Almost.