More Than Her (25 page)

I sat there, on the edge of my bed, and listened to everything he had to say. And he was right, about all of it.

But then I brought up the fact that I thought he
wanted
me to break up with him. I mentioned that he stopped calling, and that he was always busy and it seemed like he stopped caring about me
—
and that's when he told me. He told me he was trying to keep up with classes while working two jobs as well as a shitty internship because he was saving money to get an apartment for us. So that even if I wasn't going to school there, we could at least be together.

And I ruined it. I ruined us. I broke his heart. I broke mine. I broke
us.

I fucked up.

And I couldn't even blame Logan.

As much as I tried, I couldn't.

It wasn't his fault I was stupid enough to believe him.

***

The night I saw him at the club, making out with another girl, just happened to be the same night Greg was there. Greg
—
Ty's best friend. He caught me on my way out, with tears streaming down my face
—
tears I shed for a boy I barely knew.

He was with a bunch of his friends, most of them I knew
—
only in passing
—
because they were Ty's friends, too. "Hey," he soothed, lifting my chin so he could see my face. I'm sure I looked as messy on the outside as I felt on the inside. "Are you okay?" He's brows creased with what I believed was genuine concern.

I bit my lip to stop the sob escaping, but it didn't work. The next thing I knew I was in his arms as he led me to his car. He didn't say anything, and he didn't ask me to, either. When the crying finally stopped, all he said was, "You want to tell me how sucky your life is?"

It made me laugh, and I did. I wanted to tell somebody. So I told him. I told him about my dad, and about Ty, and how I felt shut out after I told him I couldn't be in New York with him. I told him about how I thought it was over between us, and I even told him about the stupid date with Logan, and the phone call I made after. I told him about how I fucked up with Ty, and even though I begged for him to take me back, he wouldn't, and I had to accept that.

Greg
—
he remained silent, listening to every word I said. And when I'd finished pouring my heart out to him, he just looked at me, a sad smile on his face. "You know what you need?" he said.

I shook my head.

He smiled. "A banana split."

So that's what we did.

I texted Lexie and told her I was safe, and that I'd call her later.

Greg took me to the grocery store and bought all the ingredients to make the perfect banana split, the same type they make at the steak house he worked at. We then went back to his apartment, which he shared with two other guys, and he proceeded to cheer me up.

By the time the sun came up, we hadn't even realized how much time had passed. He drove me home and asked if he could see me again, it didn't even have to be a date, he said. He just enjoyed my company.

The rest of the summer, he made every effort to woo me. He'd surprise me at my work with flowers, and called or texted regularly. He told me often that he missed me, and at one point he even said the he was falling for me. And soon after that, I found that I was beginning to hate myself less and less. The guilt of what I did to Ty was slowly fading, and even though I thought of Logan often, I began to not hate him as much, too.

I didn't even think about how a maybe relationship with Ty's best friend would affect Ty. Like I said
—
stupid.

By the end of summer bonfire party, Greg and I had unofficially become exclusive. We spent as much time together as possible, and he even made an effort to hang out with Ethan and my friends, which is why he was there at that party. He was almost 21 - and could really do without the high school parties, but still
—
he was there.

And so was Logan.

As much as I could try to deny that seeing him that night didn't affect me, it really did. It brought back memories of that one night we had together, and all the feelings I had when I decided to break up with someone that could have so easily been my future.

Greg knew something was up the rest of the night. I don't know if he knew that it was Logan I was speaking to when he interrupted us, but he didn't ask any questions. He just allowed me to drink away my emotions. Looking back on it now, it was almost as if he encouraged it.

I decided to stay the night at his house, too ashamed to go home in my drunken state. Even though Mom was probably passed out on the sofa, worse off than I was.

That night, he climbed into his bed with me and he held me, and then he told me that he loved me. And I needed it. I needed it more than anything in the fucking world. I needed
someone
to love me, and he said he did.

So I slept with him.

And then I must have passed out.

Because I don't remember him pulling the covers off me.

I don't remember the flashes as he took the pictures.

And I sure as hell don't remember him fucking me without me knowing.

Or taking more pictures of my most private parts as he was doing it.

What I do remember
—
is loud banging, and then Ethan, his best friend Tristan, and Lexi kicking down his bedroom door.

I remember Lexi wrapping a sheet around me and then helping me walk out to the car.

I remember throwing up on the way there.

And I remember Ethan coming back with a cut lip, broken nose and blood all over his knuckles.

I couldn't look at him
—
too much blood.

"What happened?" I said to no one in particular. My head was throbbing. I finally managed to face Ethan, "What happened?" I repeated.

He didn't say anything, just wrapped me in his arms. I could feel his body trembling, and he started to cry.

Ethan never cried. Ever.

Not when dad left.

Not even when we were twelve and he pushed me out of the way of an oncoming car and got hit.

Not even when he broke so many bones in his lower body that they broke skin, and blood was everywhere. It's the reason I can't stand the sight of it.

He didn't even cry when he had to have surgery to put pins in his hip and all throughout his legs.

But now
—
he was crying.

"What happened?" I asked again, my voice strained from holding back my sob.

He held me tighter. "I'm so sorry, Dimmy. I'm so fucking sorry." He repeated the words over and over.

Then he showed me the pictures on his phone.

I spent the next two days and nights throwing up.

And the next two weeks in a zombie state. I didn't eat. I didn't sleep. I didn't talk to anyone.

Ethan begged me to press charges, but I just wanted to forget it. He said I was stupid, and we fought about it. I didn't say goodbye to him when he packed up and left for college.

I didn't take care of my mom, who hadn't even realized that something had happened to me.

Ethan drove two hours home, almost every day to take care of me.

And then one day, out of nowhere, I picked myself up, sold all my shit, left mom behind and flew to New York.

I knocked four times before Ty answered. And when he did, he was shirtless, his jeans roughly pulled up, his fly undone. But that's not what I noticed. All I could see was the girl in his bed, with the sheets pulled up to her neck, hiding what I'm sure was her naked body.

"Dimmy?" I heard. I knew it was Ty, but he sounded far away. The girl in his bed's jaw dropped, her mouth forming a perfect O.

"Dimmy?" she repeated.

"Huh?" I said, then managed to pull my eyes away from her to look up at Ty. I don't know which one of the two hurt more to see.

"Tyson?" the girl asked. Her voice was laced with confusion, but behind that, there was a plea.

He stood there, between his past and his future, looking from one to the other.

Finally, I spoke, "I'm sorry, Ty," I said, looking him clear in the eyes. And then I turned and walked away. He called out, but I didn't stop. I just wanted to be somewhere else. I didn't know where I would go. I didn't want to go home. I couldn't face it another day. I couldn't stay in New York. And I was broke. I left his dorm and sat on a bench just outside, waiting for something to change. Hoping that something would happen soon. Because I wasn't sure how much more I could take.

It was only a few minutes before he came out, bed girl in tow. I watched as he kissed her goodbye. I could see the panic on her face, but his body language was re-assuring. He kept shaking his head, holding her hands in his. He walked her to her car and waited until she drove away before looking around. I saw his body visibly relax when he saw me, his hand going up in a small wave. I tried to smile, I just couldn't.

He took a seat next to me and nudged my leg with his. I didn't speak, and neither did he. Not for the first hour.

"Where are you staying?" he asked quietly.

"Hotel," I lied. I had no idea what I was doing.

"Have dinner with me first?"

I couldn't. "I don't think that's such a good idea, Ty, with your girlfriend and all."

"Yeah," he agreed. "Ali
—
that's her name."

I nodded and tried to compose myself. Seeing a girl in his bed hurt, but not as much as him admitting that he belonged to her. Ali and Tyson. I rolled their names around in my head.

I couldn't even be mad about it. I had no right. It was my fault.

"So you and Greg, huh?"

My eyes snapped to his. "You know?"

He looked confused for a moment, "That you started dating my best friend? Yeah, I know. I'm not gonna lie, Dim, I'm pretty pissed off about it."

I breathed out, relieved.

But then something else took over, and I broke down.

For the next four hours I sat on that bench and told him everything. About Logan, about breaking up with him, about what happened the weeks after, all the way up to the night of the bonfire.

He sat quietly and listened to it all. When I got to the part about the pictures, his head fell between his shoulders. His grip on the bench caused his knuckles to turn white. I could see the muscles in his jaw flexing.

"You should have told me earlier," he stated, when I was done speaking.

"I couldn't," I cried.

"Dimmy." He sniffed back his own tears. "I'm so fucking sorry that that shit happened to you. I should have been there. You should have told me. I could have come for you. I could have done something
—
anything. You'll always be important to me. I'll always love you," he said.

But just not in
that
way.

Not anymore.

After a few more minutes of silence, I stood up, wiped my face with the back of my hand and said, "I better go check into the hotel."

He nodded, standing too, "When do you leave?"

"Tomorrow morning."

"You came for one night?" he asked. I could tell he knew I was lying, but neither of us was going to call each other out.

"Uh huh." I lied. I planned on staying forever. "I guess I'll see you around, Ty."

He jerked his head in agreement, but said nothing.

I held back my sob.

Then he pulled me into him and wrapped his arms around me. I closed my eyes from the sensation. I hated being hugged, and he knew it, but right then, it was perfect.
He
was perfect.

And then he kissed me.

It was the saddest fucking goodbye in the history of the entire fucking world.

I didn't want him to pull away. I wanted to stay in his arms, with his mouth on mine, forever.

But he did. He pulled back and said, "Take care, Amanda."

I cried the entire walk to the twenty-four hour diner three blocks away. I didn't even care about the concerned looks people were giving me. At the time, it felt like I had lost everything that meant anything to me.

I got to the diner, ordered a coffee and pulled out my phone.

"Ethan?"

"Where are you?"

"New York."

"I'll be there soon."

Nine hours later, he was there.

***

Ty called every day after my visit. At first it was quick check ups, and then slowly, it built to longer, deeper conversations. Initially, I answered because I knew he wouldn't stop calling if I didn't. And then one day I found myself looking forward to his calls. Eventually, without me knowing, he had somehow helped me heal. And by the time I moved to start college, I was almost back to normal.