Crash Test Love (18 page)

“Talking about how lost you are without me, I’m sure,” I say jokingly.

“You haven’t spoken to her at al ?”

“For like, ve minutes when I rst moved, but nothing since. She’s impossible to get ahold of. More so than you, even. Is she okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, she’s ne,” Ben says. His tone makes me nervous. “Listen, Garret , there’s something you should know. Amy and I … wel … we’ve kinda been hooking up since you left.”

I laugh. It’s quick and short, like a hiccup. Then my heart bursts. Suddenly, it al makes sense. Why I haven’t heard from Ben until now. Why Amy has avoided me.

Oh God.

“I know it’s total y weird, and we didn’t plan it or anything. It sort of just happened. I hope you’re not upset. I mean, we’re over, right?” I remind myself to breathe. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry. “Right.”

“And Amy’s your best friend, I get that, but it’s not like we’re dating. It’s just a lit le bit of fun.” Long pause. “Are you mad?”

“Why are you tel ing me this, Ben? Are you trying to hurt my feelings?”

“Of course not,” he says. “I just thought you should know.”

So many possible responses rush in and out of my head. “I should go” is what I ultimately choose. “It’s late here, and I’ve got class early in the So many possible responses rush in and out of my head. “I should go” is what I ultimately choose. “It’s late here, and I’ve got class early in the morning.”

“Okay,” Ben says. “Sleep wel , Garret .”

I think about my list of past boyfriends and the blank space next to Ben’s name meant for his last words. Now I have something to l in: Sleep wel , Garret . The last thing he wil ever say to me.

Afterward, I am surprised by how much I feel. I hide underneath my covers and pour every single emotion I have onto my pil owcase. When I’m done, everything is wet with tears and there is a hol ow, empty space inside of me where my feelings for Ben used to hide and where I thought my friendship with Amy stil lived.

DUFFY LYRICS RUNNING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I THINK ABOUT HOW BEN AND AMY BETRAYED ME

“It was just my mistake, thinking you cared.”

—Hanging On Too Long

“My love for you has turned to hate.”

—Delayed Devotion

“In an instant you were gone.”— I’m Scared

I’m such an idiot.

I try to wash the redness from my face but it only worsens. I brush my teeth and brush my hair and brush every thought of Ben and Amy as far away from me as possible.

In my room, I can’t seem to get comfortable anywhere. I stare longingly at my phone. Who am I supposed to cal about this? About discovering that my best friend has betrayed me and my ex-boyfriend has completely moved on. To my best friend. There’s always the J Squad, who should be my logical choice. My girlfriends. Of course they’l care, right? I try London’s cel phone. No answer. Then I cal Jyl ian, only it goes straight to voice mail. I’m about to dial Jessica when it hits me, and I have to sigh at the total fucked-up-ness of the fact that the one person who I want to cal , who I know can comfort me, who at this point knows me bet er than anyone else, is the one person whose sympathy I don’t deserve. Who I promised myself I didn’t want to depend on. Yet, I want—need—to talk to him, to see him. Where does that leave me?

He picks up on the rst ring.

“Hey, it’s me.”

“Hey, you.”

“Can I come over?” I ask.

“Is everything okay?”

“No,” I tel him. “Not real y.”

“Yeah, sure. Of course.”

“Thanks. I’l see you in a bit.”

I get dressed and make myself look as presentable as possible. I pack an overnight bag and tel my parents that I’m staying at London’s. They don’t ask why I look like I’ve been hit in the face with a brick. I suppose it’s a good thing, because if they knew what just happened and where I’m actual y going, they would never let me leave.

HENRY

INT.—MY BEDROOM, SATURDAY NIGHT

“You sure you’re okay?”

Garret nods. Her face is red and I can tel she’s lying, but I don’t press her. I know how it is to have something on your mind and not feel like sharing.

“So … wanna watch a movie or something?” I ask, trying to lighten the mood.

“Okay.” Garret shrugs o her coat and fal s onto my bed. I’m sit ing with my back propped against the wal ; she rests her head on my leg and looks up at me. “What do you want to watch?”

“I was thinking maybe Shakespeare in Love,” I say. “You’ve never seen it, right?”

“But it’s so long.”

“You rushing o somewhere?”

“No, it’s just that we’ve watched a lot of sappy love stories recently and I’m in the mood for something else.”

“Sappy? This is funny,” I tel her, pointing to the DVD case. She picks it up and turns it over, reading the back.

“I thought it was real y serious.”

“No way,” I say. “I can’t believe you’ve never seen it. Come on. For me?”

She laughs. “Okay.”

I get up and ddle around with my setup; I’ve watched this movie so many times that it’s al scratched up. I blow on the DVD and rub my shirt along the edge. It takes a few minutes but eventual y the Main Menu page appears. I set le onto my bed with Garret .

“Ready,” I say. My insides are gooey and my feet are pulsing and my arm is so close to hers. We lie just like that, barely touching. I cannot think of anything more incredible than being with her.

Even though I’ve seen Shakespeare in Love before, watching it with Garret makes it brand-new. It seems t ing that, after viewing the Top Ten romantic movies “of al time” at Huntington Cinemas together, I can share this with her alone. Just the two of us.

The movie is exactly as I remember it. There is comedy and there is drama and most of al there is love, love that pours out of each scene, out of the playhouse, out of Gwyneth Paltrow and Joseph Fiennes—out of every word they say and every way they touch; love for money and fame, love for the theater, but above al , true love. Garret laughs a lot, which makes me happy.

There’s a scene toward the end where everything goes wrong: Joseph Fiennes, who plays Shakespeare, has lost the love of his life, Viola De Lesseps (Gwyneth Paltrow), and he’s sure the play he’s get ing ready to debut, Romeo and Juliet, is going to be a disaster because there is no one to play the role of Juliet. But then Viola appears—he didn’t know she was at the performance, and she’s memorized al the lines because he’s recited them to her in bed each night. She enters the stage—at a time when women are forbidden to perform—and he watches her from a few feet away, and he is trembling at how much he loves her, how much he is moved by her. Even though she has just married someone else and wil be leaving England for America, and their love can never be realized, it’s real.

This scene has never truly struck me until now.

When it’s over, we are so entwined it’s di cult to tel what is hers and what is mine. Her hands have crawled underneath my shirt, our legs are crisscrossed, our feet are touching. Everything is warm. I have never felt closer to another person.

“So, did you like it?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

“I loved it,” she says without hesitation.

“Love is a pret y strong word.”

She moves her body away from mine. I am momentarily upset, but then she is on top of me, staring right at me. “I know.”

“There’s something I have to tel you,” I say.

“What is it?”

“I don’t want there to be any secrets between us, okay?”

She looks nervous. “Um, okay.”

“Back when we rst met, Duke and Nigel assumed we hooked up and, wel , I sort of let them think that we did.” I wait for a reaction but don’t get one. Garret is completely stil . “I don’t know if you heard any rumors like that or not—”

“Why would you let them think that?”

“I guess it was easier than explaining that we didn’t, and that I maybe had feelings for you, because I didn’t real y understand my feelings and they scared me. They stil do, kind of. I never imagined I would see you again, let alone that you’d be going to East Shore. And once I saw you at school … I could have told Duke and Nigel the truth, but I didn’t. I don’t have a good reason, and I’m sorry.” I nish saying al of this and feel incredibly raw. “I’m just real y sorry, Garret .”

I’m not sure what to expect. Wil she yel at me or smack me or start to cry? Any—or al —of those responses would be acceptable. But she just looks at me. What is going on in her head?

“It’s okay,” she says nal y, her voice steady. “I’m glad you told me.”

“So you’re not mad?” I ask.

“So you’re not mad?” I ask.

“No. I understand.”

She puts her hands on my cheeks.

“Hey, blue eyes,” I say, staring at her. “God, you’re beautiful.”

I kiss along her forehead, her eyelids, down her nose, and then her lips, which open to meet mine. My kisses drip onto her neck, her shoulders. I close my eyes and sigh; when I open them her shirt is o and she’s pul ing mine o too. I unclasp her bra and hold her breasts in my hands, feeling their weight, and take one of her nipples in my mouth. The room is dark except for a muted light in the corner that makes everything glow. It feels like the very rst time I have ever felt another person’s body above my own. She whispers my name and it’s as if I have never heard it before. I am nervous. I am shaking. I am so hard it physical y hurts. Each time I touch her, she sizzles.

So this is what it’s like to be with someone you love. Someone you care about. I never knew it could be this good.

Something within me screams, This is it! This is the moment! It feels right, like what’s supposed to happen next, the culmination of these past few weeks, what we’ve been building toward.

“So,” I say between breaths, “here’s the big question.”

“What?”

I smile. I’m trembling. “Should I get out a condom?”

No response. I have no idea what is hiding behind her eyes.

“What?” I ask.

“I don’t think we should,” she says.

Oh.

Oh.

I can’t tel what she’s thinking.

I want to ask: Why not?

I want to ask: WHY NOT?!

I want to ask: Are you not at racted to me? Or is there another reason?

I know that Garret ’s not a virgin. She’s told me as much. And I understand that sex is special. Reserved for someone you truly care about.

Someone you maybe even love. But isn’t that exactly what we have? Something special? Something that’s maybe, wel , love? And if you’re going to cross the line between friends and not friends, between watching a movie with your clothes on and taking your clothes o and hooking up, why not have sex?

It’s me. It must be me.

We lie next to each other for a few minutes; I have no idea what to say. I am embarrassed. I am confused. Part of me wants to get up out of bed, get into my car, drive to someplace far, far away and never look back. Another part of me wants to talk about why she doesn’t want to sleep with me. A third part of me doesn’t want to talk about it because I am afraid of the answer.

I am paralyzed with fear. I suddenly feel very naked.

“I guess I ruined the mood,” I nal y say.

“No,” she says. “You didn’t.”

She slides her body over mine and we start traveling to where we were before, but my heart isn’t real y in it. I can’t stop thinking about why I’m not good enough. About what the problem is. I feel pathetic and disgusting.

About ten minutes later, I ask: “How about now?” It’s sort of lighthearted, but I also hope/wonder/pray that she has changed her mind.

She laughs. “No.”

We rol around and mess up the covers and with every kiss I hope that maybe something wil be di erent. “Now?” I ask.

“Nope.”

Eventual y, I stop trying. We nish and she takes a shower. I stay in my room and wonder what just happened. Why can’t I be happy that we spent time together? Why does the fact that we didn’t have sex mean that the night was a failure?

Garret crawls back into bed with me and says goodnight. I try to fal asleep but I can’t. I stare at the ceiling and wil myself not to cry. We may be in the same bed, but there is an ocean between us. How is it I’ve never had a problem get ing random girls to sleep with me and yet the one girl I have ever real y wanted to share myself with turns me down? Why have I at ached so much weight to this one physical act?