Lie to You

We had hooked up every weekend for a month before I learned through the grapevine that Jason had a girlfriend. I’ve never been the type to steal another girl’s man and I never would have had sex with him if I had known. So I told him where to stick it and didn’t look back.

I didn’t meet A

In the interest of preserving our friendship and their relationship, Jason and I formed an agreement that day: we’d keep our mouths shut.

Now, it looks like our deal is off. A

They say honesty is the best policy. When I really think about it, maybe it’s better that I’m the one to have to break it to her. It’ll give me a chance to make my case. There’s always the risk that she’ll never want to speak to me again, and I don’t know how I’ll handle it if it goes down like that, but the same goes for Jason. Passing the buck just ensured Jason’s first class ticket to Curbville.

***

I chewed all my nails off this afternoon. I should have been going over my plans, but instead, I’ve spent the entire afternoon worrying about what I’m going to tell A

I’ve decided to go with the truth.

Lying to her has eaten away at me little by little every day, since the day I found out I’d slept with her boyfriend. I should have told her then, and risked that she’d hate me forever, but I’m a selfish person and I didn’t want to lose the only friend I had at the time.

I’m probably still going to lose her, and waiting this long is going to make it hurt so much worse, but it gives me solace to know that Jason will finally get what he deserves. It galls me that he’s skated by this long. I’m not the first, nor the last, girl he’s screwed around with.

Jason is a sleaze and he doesn’t deserve someone as good as A

The knock I’ve been expecting all day comes just before di

Neither of us says a word. We both know why she’s here. She smiles softly as I step back to let her inside.

“Do you want anything before we do this?” I ask, cutting straight to the point. She shakes her head no and claims a seat on the sofa. I take a moment to grab a bottle of water, my throat dry as the desert. When I sit on the couch, it’s on the edge, just like my nerves, and I leave a cushion empty between us.

“Jason told you I was coming,” she states.

I nod, nervously twisting and untwisting the cap on my water bottle.

A

I cringe. That’s because I am. My pulse pounds in my head as the adrenaline kicks in. “I wish we didn’t have to do this.”

“So do I,” she sympathizes. “It kills me to think you two have been keeping secrets from me. I have to know what’s going on, though. Whatever it is, I have to know.” Her hand goes to her flat stomach, reminding me what’s at stake.

Again, I consider lying to her. As much as I loathe Jason, I hate the idea of destroying A

A

The question is spoken so softly, I would have missed it if I hadn’t been watching her so close. She already knows the answer, but she’s waiting for me to confirm it. So I do, because if there is one thing I’ve come to understand about life, it’s that you can’t outrun the truth. It’ll always catch up with you.

“Yes.”

I had this whole discussion pla

“When?” Her voice quivers, verging on tears, and a few of my own spill down my cheeks in response.

“A long time ago. We were freshmen.”

Her expression shifts, and I can see in her eyes the moment she begins combing her memories for signs of what was going on.

“I didn’t know you then,” I tell her, hoping to reassure her that I didn’t mean to hurt her. “He never told me about you. I didn’t know. If I had, I never would have…” I cut myself off, swallowing thickly. She already knows we had sex. Speaking the words will only make the pain cut deeper.

She’s silent so long I begin to worry. I don’t know if it’s the angle of the light coming through the windows or if she hasn’t been getting enough sleep, but I realize that A

“I always…He was always…But he said…I asked him so many times. He always said it was only me.” She pauses, shaking her head and breathing heavily. “I have to go.”

I can see it in her stricken expression that A

A hiccupped cry bursts from her lips. Throwing her hands up so fast it startles me, she jumps back to avoid contact. “I’m sorry,” she rushes out, looking horrified by her own reaction. “I just…I can’t look at you right now.”

God. The pain shooting through my chest is visceral. I cover my heart with my hand as if I might hold the organ currently splitting open together. No amount of pla

“I have to go,” she repeats. A

The moment she’s gone, a sob rips through me. I fold over, holding myself together, though barely. The last time I lost someone important to me, my dad died, following my mother who’d passed from cancer. That was nearly five years ago. I wish I could say I was over it, that the pain had dulled to the point that it no longer dogs me, and most days that’s true. I can ignore it, I can function, but in this moment it’s all brand new.

Right now, sitting alone in my apartment, I feel as alone and abandoned and heartbroken as I did then. Losing A

TWELVE

Any pla