Page 84 of Play With Me

I headed for the stairs, and Jaimie jogged up next to me. We’d run into each other downtown a few days ago and he introduced me to a great new barber. Nice guy.

“Hey Will?” he said. I turned to look at him. “I’m sorry about that back there, and I know it’s not my place to say this, but don’t be so mad that you don’t talk before you deploy. Like maybe when everyone is sober. You guys really need to talk.”

“Thanks, man. Louisa knows where to find me,” I said. “Oh, and Jaimie? If I don’t see you before I go, I hope I do when I get back. Keep an eye on my girl.” I squeezed his arm and made my way down the stairs.

My fingers were twitching. I needed a goddamned cigarette. I loved playing with Lou, but I hated these fuck-fuck games. This was drama I did not need right before I deployed. I’d been so careful to respect her boundaries, and she just threw it in my face. I needed to make some bad decisions.

When I busted out of the front door onto the street, I saw my opportunity. A woman was sitting along a rock wall, smoking. Her legs were long and bare, crossed at the knee.

“Can I bum a cigarette?”

She smiled with her full bottom lip pinched between her teeth as she pulled one out for me and held it up. I returned the smile and took it from her. Eyes on her legs, I lit up and took a drag before I asked, “Aren’t you cold?”

38

Accurate

Boston, MA

Louisa

Was I absolutely fucked in the head? Did my shitty parents drop me repeatedly when I was a baby? There was nothing about this that was acceptable for someone this sober, and yet, there I was, about to ruin Will’s day with my clutches.

I woke up on New Year’s Day with a devastating dreadball, and I hadn’t sat still since.

I wedged and rounded clay for most of the day, and then slung drinks like my life depended on it for most of the night. Then I’d spent all of my shitty tips taking an Uber to Maeve’s house, only to find out that Will hadn’t come home.

“I’m sorry, love. I’ve not seen him in a coupla days. He took off before he shipped out the last time, but I’m not sure where Connor tracked him down to then. ‘Ave ye tried Christian?”

If I’d called Christian, I would have been doing precisely what he told me he didn’t want me to do the last time I had to grovel—involve someone else before I talk to him.

“When you fuck up, you don’t get to decide who knows.”

I had fucked up, too. Will wasn’t blameless. I was pissed as hell that he was so oblivious to the reality of my relationship with my goddamned foster brother; Will is not an idiot, so this was a weird blind spot for him to have. But I’d thrown his respect for a boundary that I drew right back in his face as if that wasn’t the most respectful, Willest shit I’d ever heard. My little rule follower.

Not only had I let jealousy ruin what was otherwise utter perfection under fireworks, I felt like I’d also let my people down. Women. The queer community. All of us who have spent countless hours wishing people would just listen when we told them who we were. That was on me, and I knew I’d be wrestling with that bear for years.

Plus, if Christian heard what happened, he would rip my throat out with all of his newfound dad power.

Maeve had kindly invited me to dinner tonight, insisting that Will would not miss it, but I hadn’t planned to go. Will’s phone was off. Eilidh wasn’t telling me shit, so I knew she knew something—but also… Yes, girl. Respect. Has told me he was on Will’s side, too, but that he wouldn’t admit that publicly out of deference to our friendship.

I’d slept in Will’s old bed last night, just hoping to smell him. I missed him as soon as he walked away from me at the club, but the missing had only gotten hairier, messier. I was a fucking wreck.

And then I’d woken up late in the afternoon and taken a shower. Has and I had been moving his things into the new house, and I didn’t have any clothes here anymore. I was piecing together an outfit from found items and rooting around under the bed when I discovered that folded-up piece of notebook paper from weeks ago. The Note. I’d fucking agonized over The Note, but I’d resisted the urge to open it out of respect for him and his privacy. Doesn’t he see how far I’ve come?

Obviously, it was nothing, so I gave in and ripped it open.

Rom-coms make this scene look cute, but that’s all lies.

“One…It should have been me, Louisa.”

I have been calling your ass nonstop.

“Two…Running away from everything was just plain cruel.”

Go fuck yourself, Will. Your new spirit name is He Who Runs When Scared.

“Three… Get your shit together.”