Living Backwards (32 page)

When I closed the door behind me, I didn’t look around his room much. The walls were the same cream color as the rest of the house and the bedding was dark blue. I barely glanced at the prints on the wall. I fought the impulse to stare at the picture frames on his bureau.

I curled up underneath the covers on his large bed, trying not to inhale the scent on his sheets, his clothes—on everything around me. I focused instead on the words that we said, and how nothing seemed to come out right.

Before I fell asleep, what bothered me the most wasn’t the embarrassment I felt over declaring myself to him during a fit of anger. What bothered me most was that I was a liar. When I told him I was in love with him, I had used the past tense.

I had the good sense to set the alarm on my phone before falling asleep. I couldn’t think of anything more awkward than needing Luke to wake me up. Things had been tense enough; I didn’t want to make it worse. So when the alarm went off at six-thirty, only four hours after I had fallen asleep, I scrolled through the messages on my phone, hoping to find some sort of explanation from my so-called friends. There was a text message sent at three-thirty in the morning from Danielle. My blood began to boil as I read it.

So sorry. Josh & I went out for 2nd dinner & cell died. Assuming ur w Luke. Pls forgive me! Can come & pick u up in the AM.

I read the text again, shaking my head because Danielle and Josh were not the midnight snack kind of people. It didn’t make sense.

There were also two missed calls from Megan, as well as a text sent around five in the morning.

Talked to the crazy one. Call if you need a ride.

It didn’t surprise me that Megan would be awake. Nate worked out every morning and rarely slept past six. She had adopted his sleep schedule so that even on days when she slept at home, I heard her puttering around in the kitchen before sunrise.

After selecting the message and highlighting the reply option, my fingers moved furiously, asking her to pick me up on Bolton Street in half an hour.

I dragged myself out of his bed and into his adjoining bathroom, thankful that I didn’t need to leave the room to get cleaned up. I was sure after going to sleep without removing my make-up, I looked a whole lot more like Bozo than I had the prior night.

Groaning as I looked in the mirror, it occurred to me that I didn’t have any toiletries, and I never carried much make-up with me. I didn’t have much of a choice, though, so I took a quick shower anyway, piling my hair on top of my head. Dressing in my clothes from the party, I left his shirt and sweatpants folded on the edge of his bed, and like a child, put my ear to the door, listening for any sound outside. When it sounded relatively quiet, I carefully opened the door, tip-toeing out with my shoes in my hand.

I was about to search for a piece of paper so that I could leave a note when I heard a door open behind me. Luke stood in the doorway of the room across the hall, a large sweat stain in the shape of a V at the collar of his gray t-shirt and a towel draped over his shoulders. God hated me.

“Megan is picking me up. I was just about to leave you a note,” I fumbled, wanting him to know I wasn’t about to cut-and-run.

When he didn’t answer, I threw on my shoes and grabbed my coat. In my haste to get my coat on swiftly, my arm got caught in the sleeve as I struggled to push it through. To my surprise, I heard his voice directly behind me.

“Let me…your sleeve is all…”

His hands hovered over my arm for a moment as I froze in place, utterly humiliated. This may have been just as bad as needing Luke to wake me up. He carefully held up the fabric of my collar, loosening the material that had bunched up around my shoulder. My arm slid through without any further hindrance, but my ego remained bruised.

“Thank you,” I said, looking down nervously. “For everything.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied, stiffly. After a moment of uncomfortable silence, I looked up just as he seemed to draw in a breath to begin speaking. However, before any words were said, the sound of my phone vibrating distracted us. Megan’s name was flashing on the illuminated screen.

“That’s her,” I began, reaching for the doorknob. “She’s probably out front.”

When I stepped into the hall, I swung around, staring back at him in the doorway. I hated leaving this way. I hated that I had failed so miserably at pleading my case. I hated that Danielle had put me in this position. I hated that I put myself in this position. I hated everything…but him.

“See you around,” I said, sadly, before turning and walking back down the hall.

I pressed the button for the elevator as my over-active imagination caused me to envision a sweaty post-workout Luke running down the hall after me. When the elevator door opened, I had to face the facts that although everything that had happened to me sounded like fiction, this was not a movie.

As I stepped into the elevator, my nose began to twitch, the telltale sign that I was about to cry. I drew in deep breaths, attempting to control my emotions, but it was difficult. I didn’t have a Plan B. I had his undivided attention. I apologized. I even told him that I had been in love with him, and none of it made any difference.

As I walked into the lobby past the security officer, wearing the same dress I had on the evening before, it occurred to me that I was doing the Walk of Shame without getting to do any of the fun parts. I noticed him surreptitiously glance at my clothes and cringed. I never thought that my first time sleeping in Luke’s bed would have ended quite like this. I was mortified.

Swinging the front door open, I saw Megan’s car parked in front of the first of the three buildings. I hobbled to the car on shaky legs, wrenching the door open when I got there. While I had prepared to yell and curse and vow to murder Danielle, I took one look at Megan, buried my head in my hands and burst into tears.

“Oh, sweetie,” she exclaimed. “What the hell happened?”

I wanted to explain everything to her, but the words wouldn’t come out. I kept trying to think of a place to start, but would find myself breaking down instead.

“Let’s get out of here,” she muttered more to herself, I think, than to me.

I was so unprepared. I had never intended to tell anyone that I had a history with Luke. Once I did, I was sure that Megan would want to know why I kept it from her and why he was so angry. I didn’t have good answers for either question. The further away from his condo we got, though, the easier it became for me to calm myself down. As she navigated her way back downtown, I composed myself, ready to come clean.

“Luke hates me.”

“Jillian,” she began cautiously, “was there ever anything going on with you and Luke?”

I wasn’t surprised by her question. If she ever had any suspicions, I had most likely confirmed them. Instead of launching into an elaborate explanation, I just looked up at her through sore, bloodshot eyes and nodded slowly. While I expected a litany of questions, Megan pulled out her cellphone instead.

“Change of plans, Danielle,” she began. I glared over at her, still angry that Danielle’s battery had conveniently run low. I wasn’t stupid. I had been the target of her matchmaking compulsion many times before. She just messed with the wrong people this time around. “Meet us at the apartment in fifteen. This can’t wait until lunch.”

She ended the call, placing the phone back in her purse.

“She was trying to set me up with Luke, wasn’t she?” I asked, bitterly.

“Honey, try to remember that she only wanted to do something for you because you do so much for her,” she explained.

“So she stranded me with him?!” I exclaimed. “And you were okay with this? I can’t believe—”

“Jillian, Danielle ran into Ann-Marie Matthews last month.”

It only took a moment to place the name. It wasn’t like it had been very long for me. I remembered the look on her face when she and her boyfriend stumbled upon me and Luke grinding against each other behind the gym. I also remembered thinking that she was a whore, as my own leg sat perched upon Luke’s hip. We should’ve formed a club.

“And you knew?” I asked, suddenly feeling angry. “Why didn’t either of you say anything?”

“Danielle also ran into Luke, and she thought he acted strange when she mentioned your name,” she replied, uncomfortably. “She thought if we just forced you two together, you’d work out whatever went wrong.”

“You realize that’s like the plot of a bad Lifetime movie, right?” I sneered, incredulous.

“Jillian, I’m sorry, really,” she replied, seeming genuinely upset. “I would never have agreed to it if I knew you’d be this upset.”

“If you had asked me, I would have told you yesterday that I thought he hated my guts. Thanks to you guys, I now have confirmation on that.”

“In our defense,” she replied. “We had no idea how involved you were in high school.”

“I understand that,” I said, frustrated by the conversation. “But that’s why you don’t go around making decisions for people without consulting them!”

The words came tumbling out of my mouth before I even realized what I had said. Just like the decision I had made for Luke. I was a hypocrite, and suddenly, I was sobbing again.

“Oh sweetie, what the hell went on with you two?” she asked sympathetically. I was in no shape to give her the gory details though.

“Can we wait until Danielle’s with us?” I managed to reply. “I promise I’ll tell you everything.”
Except the parts that can get me committed.

When we rounded the bend heading to our building, I wasn’t the least bit surprised to see Danielle, sitting on our front steps, wearing a purple track suit and baseball cap. She never left the house with a hair out of place, but in times of crisis, she dropped everything. I already found myself feeling marginally less angry with her.

I wiped at the tears along my cheeks and ran my fingertips along my bottom lashes. I shuffled out of the car, unsure as to how this conversation would go. I wasn’t proud of what I had done, even though I felt it was for the best. I only hoped they’d see that.

As soon as Danielle caught sight of my red, splotchy face, she gasped, cupping her hands over her mouth. She launched herself off of the steps, embracing me tightly.

“I’m so sorry, Jillian,” she said sadly. “I never would have…if I had known…shit,” she muttered, frustrated.

“Why don’t we all go inside so we can talk?” Megan suggested, motioning to the door.

“Good idea,” I replied, as Danielle weaved her arm through mine and walked with me up the stairs.

When we got to the apartment, I crashed onto the couch, closing my eyes and trying to decide where to start.

“How did I not know this?” Danielle began, sitting in the chair across from me. “How did we,” she added, motioning with her finger between herself and Meg, “not know about this?”

I was slow to respond, still trying to form the right way to explain that I fell in love with a boy in less than three weeks.

“We hung out a lot,” I said, making it sound more casual than it was.

“Jillian, this,” Meg replied, pointing at me, “does not happen when two people
hang out.
”

“He’s the reason you left early for New York, isn’t he?” Danielle asked pointedly.

My eyes shot up, surprised that she made that connection so quickly. For someone who hadn’t caught on before, she was piecing the puzzle together rather well. I groaned, knowing that the conversation was about to take a turn.

“Luke wanted to come with me to New York,” I said, focusing on a discoloration on the carpet. I didn’t want to see their faces when they realized how serious things had been. “I left without telling him.”

When no one responded, I glanced up in their direction. Danielle was shaking her head slowly in disbelief.

“I couldn’t let him give up a life here to follow me across the country,” I explained, my voice sounding hoarse. “He wouldn’t have had anything. No education. No job.”

“He would’ve had you.” I looked over to Danielle, her expression grave and disapproving.

“He would’ve resented me,” I countered. “Maybe more than he does now.”

“Jesus Christ, you were in love with him,” Megan gasped softly, her eyes wide with shock. I didn’t say anything at first. I didn’t need to. When I looked up at her, she knew.

“And now he hates me.”

I didn’t want to elaborate anymore. I didn’t want to plead my case. I just wanted to go back to staring at that spot on the carpet. Instead, I relayed the entire story of my night with Luke—from the car ride over to the showroom, to our showdown in his condo. Every bit was as painful as the first time around, although I conveniently left out the part where I told him I had been in love with him. When I was done, I wanted the ground to swallow me up—anything to escape the inevitable inquisition.

“So, we need a plan,” Danielle announced.

“What?” I asked, confused by her change in tone.

“To fix this,” she explained, as if it were obvious.

“Were you even listening? He. Hates. Me,” I replied, punctuating my words for effect.

“No, he doesn’t,” she replied.