Page 189 of Bridesmaid Undercover
He shakes his head as he grabs his shoes and slips them on. He’s bolting, but why? “Nah, I’ll pick something up. But thanks.”
“Okay.” I worry my lip, my mind spinning a million miles a minute. It’s like he can’t leave fast enough.
“So, yeah, thanks for last night, but I’ll, uh, I’ll see you around, I’m sure.”
See me around?
He’ll see me around?
After he just said that last night was phenomenal, now he’s just going to casuallysee me around? How does that make sense?
The truth is, it doesn’t.
“Yeah.” I avert my eyes away from him because I can’t look at him right now, not when I feel myself clawing desperately for any sort of wisdom to help make this make sense. Because he said things last night, intimate things. He made me believe that what we shared was special, so what am I missing? “Um, before you leave, not sure how much alcohol took over last night, but…you said some things…”
He passes his hand over his face. “Yeah, there was lots of alcohol, huh?” he says. “People say weird things when alcohol is involved.”
So is that what it all was?
An alcohol-charged night?
If so, then why didn’t it feel like it? Why did it feel like there was so much clarity, like both of us were more focused and present than filled with alcohol and bad choices?
Maybe I read him wrong.
Maybe I’ve read this entire situation wrong.
Maybe he doesn’t even want me.
Maybe I was just a way for him to let out his frustration.
His frustration over not going home with Maple.
Maybe I’m the consolation prize. The second choice, the one who said yes at the right moment.
The mere thought of that makes me feel physically ill. I don’t want to believe it, but from the way he’s got one foot out the door, it’s hard not to believe.
“Okay, yeah, I get it.” I softly smile, and when I meet his eyes, I feel dead inside. Like the conversation stole the life from me, and I’m just sitting here, naked and on my bed, soulless. “You know, I still think you have a chance with Maple. I saw you guys talking, so, you know, if you want me to still try to make that happen, I can.”
He doesn’t answer right away. He looks away and shifts on his feet, as if he really needs to think about his answer.
Come on, Hardy, stop pretending, I think we both know what you want.
You got some relief with me, but the real prize is the girl you didn’t take home last night.
Finally, he says, “That, uh, that would be awesome.”
Just what I thought.
Any remaining joy or hope that was left inside of me, that was holding out, completely vanishes as I turn into an empty shell.
He used me.
He told me what I wanted to hear and then took what he needed.
That’s not what friends do.
That’s not what nice men are supposed to do.
