Chapter 255 - What About Me? (II)
Dylan rested his head against the back of the couch. "She’s your first serious girlfriend."
"Yeah."
Serious did not even fucking cover it.
Roxie was the first girl Zac had changed his plans for. The first one he had pictured after high school. The first person who had turned stupid things like groceries, rent and furniture into things he actually thought about because he could see her there.
And he had been her first boyfriend.
Her first actual relationship.
The first person she had apparently believed would keep coming back no matter how bad things got.
You made me believe you.
The memory tightened something in his chest.
Would she be lying in their bed right now?
Her bed.
Zac swallowed.
He needed to stop calling everything theirs.
He wondered if she would call him, whether she would hate him enough to stay away, whether tomorrow she would decide he had proved every fucked up thing she believed about people leaving.
That thought hurt worse than imagining her hating him.
The television blurred.
Zac wiped beneath one eye and muttered, "Fuck this."
Dylan noticed but said nothing.
That somehow made it worse.
Zac rubbed at his face harder. "Seriously. Fuck this."
Dylan reached toward the table, grabbed another controller and threw it into Zac’s chest. "You woke me up. Play."
"I’m not playing fucking Madden right now."
"Good. Mortal Kombat."
"You suck at Mortal Kombat."
"Then beat the shit out of me instead."
A weak laugh escaped Zac. "Asshole."
"Pick somebody."
Dylan switched the game over.
At first Zac barely paid attention, and Dylan beat him twice before Zac got irritated enough to concentrate. Then Zac beat him back, won again and spent the next round listening to Dylan accuse him of button mashing while Zac told him he had the reflexes of somebody’s grandmother.
For almost twenty minutes, it worked.
Then his phone vibrated against his thigh.
Zac reacted before he even looked.
The controller slipped from his hand as he grabbed the phone.
Roxie.
His chest tightened so hard it hurt.
Dylan paused the game without being asked.
Zac stared at her name.
He wanted to open the message. More than that, he wanted to call her, order another Uber and go straight back to the bungalow. He wanted to walk into her bedroom, crawl into that bed and tell her he had lost his fucking mind.
He could stop pushing Tennessee. He could wait. If she wanted Briarwick, they could figure something out. He could find somewhere else to sleep so she never had to wonder whether he only came because he needed a bed. He could stop grabbing her and stop lying because he thought hiding things somehow protected her.
He could fix everything.
The thought came so quickly that for a second Zac actually believed it.
His thumb hovered over her message.
Then his eyes dropped toward his arm.
The scratches were still bright red.
He remembered her shoulder hitting the wall and his fingers tightening around her wrists. He remembered her laughing underneath him because his body had reacted while he restrained her.
And even their breakup had ended with him kissing her because apparently neither of them knew how to stop wanting each other long enough to actually leave.
Zac locked the phone.
Dylan stayed quiet while Zac put it beside him and picked up the controller again.
"Play."
"Zac."
"I said play."
Dylan started the round.
Zac could barely see the screen. His character stood there while Dylan’s beat the shit out of him.
"Dude, your guy hasn’t moved."
"I said fucking play."
"You’re crying."
Zac wiped his face roughly, which only made him realize more tears were coming. A broken laugh escaped him.
"Fuck."
Dylan reached over and took the controller from his hand.
Zac let him.
"You look ugly as shit."
That pulled another laugh out of him. "Thanks."
"I mean really bad."
"Fuck you."
Dylan smiled, but it disappeared when Zac leaned forward and pressed both palms against his eyes.
"I want to go back."
Dylan went quiet.
Zac stayed bent forward for several seconds before dropping his hands. "I fucking want to go back. I could."
"Yeah."
Zac looked at him. "That’s it?"
"What do you want me to say?"
"I don’t fucking know."
"You can go back." Dylan leaned against the couch. "I’m serious. You know where she is. Nobody here is going to stop you. She’d probably take you back. Knowing how toxic you both are, that’s a big possibility."
Zac looked toward his phone just as another message lit the screen. His stomach twisted, and he turned it facedown.
Dylan watched him do it.
"But?" Zac asked. He fucking know he always have a contradiction.
Dylan grinned. "But you called me tonight."
"So?"
"So you could’ve called her before you got in that Uber. You knew this i better."
Zac’s jaw tightened.
Dylan glanced toward his arm. "And whatever happened tonight looks worse than the last time."
"There it is." He lifted the beer and drank again.
"You know I’m right." Dylan muttered looking at him.
"She hit me too."
"I know. I saw the bite she left on you."
"I wasn’t fucking beating her."
Dylan’s expression hardened. "I never said you were."
Zac looked away.
Dylan waited until he looked back. "I’ve seen your arms. I’ve seen her wrists. I watched you nearly lose your fucking mind because Ethan had his arm around her. Tonight you show up with scratches all over you and a handprint on your face. Whatever you two call it afterward, it’s getting worse."
"We’re both fucked up."
"Yeah."
The answer came without hesitation.
Zac looked at him sharply, but Dylan held his gaze.
"You two are completely fucking obsessed with each other. Everybody can see that."
Zac laughed bitterly. "Apparently that wasn’t enough."
"No. It wasn’t."
"Thanks."
"I’m serious."
"So am I. Great fucking speech."
Dylan looked toward Zac’s arm again. "You can love somebody and still be bad together. Seems pretty fucking obvious from here."
"Thanks, Dr. Phil."
"You called me."
"Yeah. Bad decision. Should have called Kyle. He wouldn’t give a shit."
"Probably."
Zac gave him the finger, and Dylan smiled before taking another drink. "If you went to Masons’. He’ll probably tweet it before you finished talking."
Zac chuckled.
Then room fell quiet again. The game had ended at some point, and the television sat with the same music repeating through the speakers.
Zac stared at it. "What the fuck am I supposed to do now?"
"Tonight?"
"In general."
Dylan leaned back. "Wake up tomorrow."
"That’s fucking helpful."
"Then wake up the next day."
"Wow. You should write a book."
"I’d make millions."
Zac shook his head, but the joke died almost immediately.
"She’ll probably have somebody else before I figure my shit out."
Dylan’s expression changed. "She won’t."
"You don’t know that."
"She’s in love with you."
"Was."
"Is."
Zac picked at the label on his bottle until a wet strip peeled away beneath his thumbnail. "Doesn’t matter. She could date Ethan next week and technically I don’t get to say shit."
"You’d still say shit."
"Obviously."
Dylan laughed quietly, and Zac did too, though the thought still made his stomach twist.
He leaned his head against the couch and stared at the ceiling. "Fuck. Maybe I should’ve just left early when I had the chance. Finish school, get out, go to college. Whole thing would’ve been easier."
"You really believe that?"
"No."
The answer came immediately.
Dylan smiled faintly.
Zac rubbed both hands over his face. "I’d still pick the time with her."
Dylan’s smile disappeared. "Even knowing this was how it ended?"
"Yeah." Zac looked toward him and hated how easy the answer was. "Yeah, I would."
Dylan looked away first.
Something about that caught Zac’s attention, but his head hurt too much to figure out why.
After a few seconds Dylan said, "There are other people, you know."
"What?"
"Other people who care about you."
"I know."
"Do you?"
Zac frowned at him.
Dylan was staring toward the television now. "You keep talking like Roxie was the only person you had."
"She was my girlfriend."
"I know."
"What are you getting at?"
Dylan took another drink before setting the bottle on the table. "There are other people in your life. Girls too."
Zac stared at him. "I don’t give a shit about other girls."
Dylan went quiet.
Zac leaned farther into the couch, exhausted by even the idea. "There could be every girl in Briarwick standing outside right now and I wouldn’t fucking care."
The silence afterward lasted long enough that Zac finally noticed it.
Dylan was no longer watching the television.
He was looking at Zac.
There was no grin on his face and no stupid comment waiting behind it. His shoulders had gone stiff, and he rubbed his palms once against his jeans before looking toward the floor.
Zac frowned. "What?"
Dylan swallowed, then lifted his eyes back to him.
"What about me?"
Zac stared at him.