The Captain's Dirty Little Secret

Zac saw Dylan sitting on the front porch before the Uber had fully stopped, one leg stretched across the step and a beer hanging loosely from his hand. The porch light caught the side of his face when he looked toward the road, and whatever expression he had disappeared the second he saw Zac getting out.

Zac paid the driver and pulled the duffel over his shoulder. It felt lighter than it should have because half his shit was still at Roxie’s. His Tennessee papers were inside her drawer. His charger was beside her bed. His toothbrush was still sitting beside hers in the bathroom, and two of his shirts were probably hanging in her closet because she kept stealing them after washing them.

He almost laughed.

Fucking perfect. He had broken up with her and somehow still left half his life inside her house.

Dylan looked him over as he climbed the porch steps, his eyes moving from Zac’s face to the scratches running down his forearm. "Dude. You look fucking terrible."

Zac dropped the duffel beside the door and reached for Dylan’s beer, but Dylan pulled it away.

"Get your own."

"Fuck you."

"You called me at almost midnight sounding like somebody died. I’m keeping my beer."

Zac stared at him until Dylan noticed the mark on his cheek. The joke disappeared from his face, and after another second he handed the bottle over without saying anything.

Zac took a long drink. The alcohol tasted like shit, but he swallowed anyway and took another before handing it back.

Dylan’s eyes dropped toward his arm again. "Roxie?"

"Can we go inside?"

Dylan stood without asking anything else.

They went through the house quietly. Most of the upstairs lights were off, and a television played somewhere down the hall. Dylan led him downstairs into the basement and shut the door behind them.

Zac had slept down there enough when they were younger that almost nothing had changed. The television was bigger now, and Dylan had somehow convinced his parents to let him keep a mini fridge, but the old couch was still against the back wall. Football posters covered one side of the room, games filled the shelves beside the television, and the cushion on the left still sank lower than the others.

Zac dropped his duffel beside it while Dylan opened the fridge and tossed him another beer.

"Your parents awake?" Zac asked as he sat down.

"Mom probably is. Dad’s out." Dylan dropped beside him, picked up the remote and glanced over. "You planning to tell me what happened?"

"No."

"Cool."

He turned on some action movie Zac had already seen twice, and that was apparently the end of the interrogation.

Neither of them watched it.

Zac drank while people shot at each other across the television. He had expected to feel different once he left Roxie’s house. Relieved, maybe. That was why he had ended it, right?

They could stop having fights that got worse every time they promised the next one would be different. He could stop looking at Roxie’s wrists afterward and knowing exactly where the marks came from. She could stop leaving scratches down his arms. Maybe they could finally stop turning anger into kissing because wanting each other was easier than admitting nothing had actually been fixed.

Tonight had been worse than all of it.

He could still feel Roxie fighting underneath him and see the red marks appearing beneath his fingers while he held her wrists down. He could hear her laughing when she realized his body had reacted while they were fucking fighting.

Then he remembered the kiss.

That tiny relieved smile on her face afterward because she thought he had changed his mind.

Zac swallowed hard and drank again.

He had known it was goodbye before he kissed her.

That was the part making his stomach turn.

Dylan glanced at him, and Zac heard himself say, "We broke up."

The words sounded fucking weird out loud.

Dylan stopped pretending to watch the movie. He looked at Zac for several seconds before leaning forward with his elbows against his knees. "Oh."

Zac waited.

That was it.

No finally. No I told you so. Dylan had spent weeks telling him they were fucked up, and now that Zac had actually ended it, apparently all he had was oh.

For some reason, that made Zac’s throat tighten.

"You sure?" Dylan asked.

Zac laughed bitterly. "You’re seriously asking me that? You’ve been telling me for a month that our relationship is fucked."

"Because it is."

"So why the fuck are you asking?"

Dylan looked back toward the television. "Because being fucked up never stopped you from being completely fucking gone over her."

"Fuck off."

A small smile pulled at Dylan’s mouth. "There he is."

Zac drank again and tried watching the movie, but Roxie’s voice kept getting in the way.

You made me believe you.

He shut his eyes and immediately regretted it. Roxie was there again, crying underneath him, fighting until she was exhausted, then looking relieved the second he kissed her because she thought the worst was over.

Zac opened his eyes.

Dylan was watching him again.

"What?"

"You look like you’re about to throw up."

"Maybe I am."

"I’ll find you a bucket."

"Shut up."

Dylan turned back toward the television, leaving Zac alone until several minutes later when he said, "So what happens with Tennessee?"

Zac looked over.

"You planned basically everything around going there together."

Zac gave a short laugh. "Apparently I planned everything around going there together."

Dylan’s eyebrows lifted.

"She never actually said yes."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

Zac rubbed his thumb over the wet label on his beer. That was the part he kept coming back to even though he knew it was unfair. Roxie had looked at apartments with him. She had talked about furniture, school, jobs and what they would need first. She had made fun of him for caring what kind of kitchen they got because apparently any kitchen was good enough if he was the one cooking.

Every time Zac said we, she never stopped him.

Somewhere along the way, that had become yes in his head.

It had never actually been yes.

Dylan leaned farther into the couch. "You were supposed to be gone before all this anyway."

Zac glanced at him.

"You know what I mean. All those summer classes and extra credits. You spent forever getting enough done so you could finish high school early and start college."

"That was before Roxie."

"I know. That’s my point."

Zac turned the beer slowly between his palms.

Before Roxie, getting out of Briarwick early had been the plan. He had taken summer classes because sitting around high school longer than necessary sounded fucking pointless. He had loaded up on credits, done the extra work and put himself in a position where he could finish sooner.

Roxie had nothing to do with that.

Then he got with her and leaving early stopped sounding as good.

"You could’ve gone," Dylan said.

"She never asked me to stay."

"I know."

"She didn’t even know that was why."

"I know that too."

Zac frowned at him. "Then why are you saying it like she did something wrong?"

"I’m not." Dylan rested the bottle against his thigh. "I’m saying you already had your shit planned before her. You wanted out early. Then you got with Roxie and decided a few more months here wasn’t so bad."

Zac looked toward the television.

That was exactly what happened.

He had worked toward leaving, then stayed because suddenly being around Roxie mattered more than leaving early. She never asked him to do it. She probably never even realized there had been a choice.

Then he did the same thing with Tennessee. Something that had originally belonged only to him slowly became theirs in his head until he forgot Roxie had never promised him the same future.

That was on him.

"Fuck."

Zac pressed the cold bottle against his forehead.

Dylan’s gaze moved toward his forearm. "Her nails are brutal."

Zac lowered the bottle and looked at the four angry scratches running down his skin. A laugh escaped him before he could stop it. "She needs to fucking trim them."

Dylan stared at him. "You show up looking like you two fought in a parking lot and you’re worried about her nails?"

"She fights dirty."

"That sounded proud."

Zac smiled before he could stop himself. Then he remembered her shoulder hitting the wall, the slap and his hands around her wrists, and the smile disappeared almost as quickly.

"Yeah," he said quietly. "She does."

Dylan left it alone.

Zac finished most of the beer before saying, "She’s going to fucking hate me."

"Probably."

He turned toward Dylan.

"What? You want me to lie?"

"Asshole."

"You might hate her tomorrow too."

Zac looked back toward the television.

He already hated her. He hated that she could tell him she loved him while still being terrified of building a future around him. He hated that she knew exactly how to use Ethan to make him lose his fucking mind. He hated the scratches on his arm and the slap still burning faintly across his cheek.

Mostly, he hated that none of it had made him want her any less.

"She’ll get over me."

Dylan went quiet long enough that Zac looked over.

"What?"

"You actually believe that?"

"She has people. She’ll be fine."

"That wasn’t what I asked." Dylan studied him for a moment. "How about you?"

Zac clenched his jaw and drank instead.