The Boyfriend List (22 page)

Justin allowed a
lengthy pause before inquiring, “Are you finished now?”

“Maybe.”

“You sure have a
lot to say for someone who didn’t want to talk to me.”

“You asked for
it.” She shrugged.

“Maybe I did.” His
expression contorted into a strange sort of grimace that Reagan had never seen
before. She’d obviously pushed a button somewhere in her tirade, and maybe more
than one. “But you should get your facts straight.”

“What do you
mean?”

“She didn’t dump
me. I dumped her because she’d been calling your friend Ian behind my back,
trying to hook up with him. Or didn’t he bother to tell you that?”

Reagan
instinctively straightened her shoulders. “What do you mean? Ian doesn’t know
her.”

“Really? You
sure about that?” His aggressive step forward forced Reagan to take a step
backward. “Isabella met him a couple weeks ago at some bar, and couldn’t stop
talking about him. I got tired of it, so I dumped her.”

“Isabella.” The
name was a whisper on her quivering lips.

“Yeah,
Isabella.”

“Then why’d you
bring her here if you dumped her?”

“Because unlike
some
people,” The look he shot at her
made his insinuation clear, “she’s a lot of fun to party with. And I know how
to be friends with girls after I’ve slept with them.” Then he nodded toward the
side of the room, having caught sight of something from the corner of his eye.
“Apparently your boy does too. That’s the second time they’ve been alone together
tonight.”

Reagan looked in
the general direction that Justin had implied, but she couldn’t see anything.
Everything around her was getting swirly and dark, and suddenly, she couldn’t
breathe. Her head was swimming with a thousand memories. The phone calls. The
voice. The kiss. And suddenly her pulse was racing through her veins.

He was lying
, Reagan tried to convince herself. Justin was lying
about Ian and Isabella. He had to be, Ian wouldn’t do that to her. Nothing was
going on. It was just a pathetic revenge tactic to get back at her. She
couldn’t let it work. She couldn’t let him make her feel like this again, like
she’d been deceived. Like she’d been discarded for something better.

But despite her
best intentions, it
was
working, and
there wasn’t anything she could do to stop the rush of emotions. As her eyes
clouded with premature tears, she turned from Justin and began searching
through the crowds. She had to hear it from someone she trusted. Someone who
had no reason to lie to her. And she needed to find Ian. Now.

“Ouch.”
Isabella’s face pursed in displeasure. “That was brutal.”

“Look,” Ian had
begun looking around for his exit strategy. “you’re an attractive person, I’m
sure you’ll find someone. It’s just not going to be me. Sorry.”

As he turned to
walk away, he didn’t see Reagan approaching him in the crowd, the distressed
expression covering not only her face, but her entire being at this point. Her
energy was raw, her emotions on the brink of exploding, and if she didn’t find
something to console her soon, she may just lose it there in the middle of the
room.

Ian would never see
any of that...but Isabella did.

She saw Reagan
tear her way through the masses of people, the corners of her mouth drooping
forlornly. Catching the helpless expression in her watery eyes, Isabella smiled
wickedly at her, using all the subtlety of a cat about to pounce on its prey.

Trying to ignore
her, Reagan turned to her boyfriend. “Ian I need to talk to...” But she’d never
be able to finish her sentence.

Before she could
push the last rush of words out from her lips, she watched as Isabella wrapped
her arms intimately around Ian’s torso and drew him back to her. She stood
frozen, as though everything was suddenly moving in slow motion, while Isabella
slid her hands up his chest, tilted his head and drew his face down to hers.
She stopped breathing when their lips touched, stopped thinking when the girl
slipped her tongue invitingly inside Ian’s mouth, and stopped feeling the
moment his hands went to her waist.

The kiss naturally
got the attention of the nearby crowd, who’d began eliciting cheers and screams
of encouragement. But Reagan heard nothing, other than the sound of her crushed
heart beating solidly in her ears. He’d let it happened, and that made him just
like every other guy she’d known. Then her heart stopped at the realization -
or it might as well have - and Reagan dropped her clutch, the contents spilling
all over the floor. She didn’t notice, and even if she’d had she wouldn’t have
cared.
Her
Ian was kissing another girl.
And not just any other girl. The same girl who’d stolen her last boyfriend out
from under her.

“Reagan come on,
I’m about to get my present to myself.” Petra had run up behind her, naive to
the chaos that was unfolding. But when she reached her friend, she too fell
silent. Looking in the direction of Reagan’s icy gaze, she saw the source of
all the commotion around her. “Oh shit.”

Reagan’s heart
began beating again. Slowly at first, but it sped up quickly until it was racing
so fast she saw stars in front of her eyes. Her stomach did one big flop and
she immediately felt sick. It flopped again, and she clutched her middle with
trembling fingers. If she didn’t get out of there, and fast, she’d end up
hurling all over the floor of the club.

“I’m sorry Petra.”
Reagan turned toward her friend, eyes drenched with the threat of tears. “I
have to go.”

Speechless,
Petra nodded to reassure her friend of her understanding. If it had happened to
her, she’d have dealt with the situation by yanking Isabella off her man and
pummeling her into the floor. But Reagan wasn’t like that, and was far more
sensitive than Petra could ever hope to be. Instead, she watched her friend
flee from the scene, then crossed her arms over her chest and waited to see how
everything played out.

More than
anything else, Ian had found himself in a state of shock for the first several
seconds that he’d discovered his lips attached to someone else. The sheer force
she was using to keep her hands wound tightly around his face prevented him
from simply backing away, so his hands groped for something, anything, that he
could use for leverage to detached himself. They landed on her waist, and the
minute he could regain his focus, he pushed her emphatically from his body,
keeping her a full arms distance away.

“What the hell
was that?” He was wiping his mouth hard with the back of his hand as he spoke,
glaring at the cheap lipstick that covered his skin.

 
“I just...”

“No.” He cut her
off, suddenly impatient of any excuse she could offer. “I don’t want to hear
it. I don’t want to be with you, I don’t even want to be friends with you.
Don’t call me, don’t text me, don’t email me. If you see me in public, walk in
the other direction. I’m with Reagan because I
want
to be with her. I’m not like the other guys around here.” He’d
caught Justin’s eye with his last statement, who’d stepped over to tell
Isabella he was leaving, and glared accusingly in his direction.

Smirking with
satisfaction, Petra uncrossed her arms and breathed a sigh of relief. “Ian!” As
she called to get his attention, all eyes moving in her direction, no one
noticed as Isabella and Justin disappeared into the crowd.

“Thank God.” Though
he never thought he’d admit it, he was actually thankful to have her around at
that moment. “How much did you see?”

“Enough to know
you were in a bad situation that wasn’t your fault.” Then she pat him gently on
the arm for reassurance. “And you handled it quite well, I might add.”

“And Reagan?”

If the
expression in his eyes was any indication, he had at least a small idea of the
bad news she was about to reveal.

“Well…” The
scrunched up expression her face said it all.

“Petra. Please.
Tell me Reagan didn’t see anything that just went on. Tell me has no idea what
happened.”

“Why do I always
have to be the messenger of bad news?” She was muttering. “She saw. It was too
much for her to stick around though. She thought you were really kissing
Isabella.” Then she let a little laugh escape, as though she’d known all along
what the end result would be. “It just brought back too many memories, you
know? This is all too fresh still, especially with her.” She jerked her head in
the direction Isabella had been standing.

“Damn it.” He
exclaimed, then paused as he quickly reviewed
all
the consequences that could follow. “Damn it!” The second time
was naturally a little louder than the first had been. “This isn’t how tonight
was supposed to be. I didn’t even know Isabella was going to be here. I didn’t
even want to kiss her. She’s crazy. I’m in love with Reagan.”

“I know. Trust
me, I know.” Her hands went up in surrender.

“Do you know
where Reagan went?”

Petra shook her
head, and the tiara nearly tumbled off. “She just took off. I can only assume
she’s going home, but I don’t know how she’s getting there.”

“Thanks.”

It didn’t take
Ian long to get back to their building. He’d fled the club, jumped in his
Camaro, and ran more than one red light before he’d even thought the entire
scenario through. As he lifted a fist to her door, his urgency evident in every
little movement, he realized there weren’t any lights on to indicate that she’d
even made it home. He knocked – rather he pounded – on the door
anyway. When no one answered, it occurred to him that she still didn’t have her
car and would likely be walking home. It was actually very possible he’d made
it back before she had. Still, he pounded again, hopeful that she’d appear and
he’d have the opportunity to explain, to fix everything before any more damage
could be done. He couldn’t lose her. Not like this...

No answer.

Finally, he
pulled his phone from his pocket and called Reagan’s number. More concerned
about her safety than anything else at this point, he thought if he could at
least locate her, he could pick her up and have everything resolved before they
made it back again. But after four rings, the call went into her voice mail.

“Reagan, it’s
Ian.” Sincere urgency and valid concern rushed from his voice. “There’s been a
huge
misunderstanding. Please let me
explain what happened. Call me back and I’ll come get you wherever you are.”

After he ended
the call, he paced in the hallway, unable to shake his nervous energy. He tried
again several more times, but each time, the call went straight into her
voicemail. It wasn’t even ringing any longer. He contemplated getting back in
his car and driving around to look for her. But he wouldn’t know where to
start. There were too many places to hide on campus, too many places a car
couldn’t go. Finally, realizing there was nothing more he could do at the
moment, he slumped down to the floor next to her welcome mat, and decided to
wait there. She’d have to come home eventually.

On the other
side of the door, tucked inside her apartment, Reagan sat crouched on a corner
of her sofa in the dark. She’d hitched a ride with another friend who she’d
seen leaving at the same time, and had made it home just before the pounding
had started at her door. And now a fresh tear rolled down her cheek as the
quiet settled outside after Ian’s heavy footsteps had ceased. They’d been
comforting somehow, while tormenting at the same time. And she wasn’t entirely
sure which one felt worse.

The tear fell
from her chin, crashing onto the cell phone she still clutched in both hands.
Though she’d turned it to vibrate just barely in time, she’d heard his muffled
speech through the door. Still it wasn’t entirely clear what he was trying to
say. The second time he’d tried, she watched her phone light up in the dark,
his name flashing across the screen in bright, bold letters. She’d picked it
up, so close to answering it, but instead, had shut it off completely. Whatever
he had to say didn’t matter anyway, she thought to herself. There was nothing
that would make any difference now. Nothing that could wipe that image of him
with another girl from her mind. Wrapping her arms around her legs and drawing
them close to her chest, phone still in hand, she laid her head on her knees and
cried until she fell asleep.

Sunday

Reagan had a
rough night. Sleep had come in pieces and was still calling her name, making
her more than a little disoriented when she finally opened her eyes for good. She’d
never changed out of the dress she’d been wearing the night before, which had
the wrinkles and creases now to prove it, and as she rolled her head around to
stretch her neck she discovered her muscles were sore from the uncomfortable
position she’d fallen into. Tracks of mascara streamed from bloodshot eyes all
the way down her cheeks to her chin, and the black was rubbing onto her fingers
as she pressed against her puffy skin.