WORK IN PROGRESS: Guy and Reason

Prologue (Eden/Reason): It Didn't Matter

Another forty-five minutes, and I'd be at Guy's apartment. We hadn't seen each other in a month, and I couldn't wait. This was the first time since we were high school freshman that we'd gone that long without seeing each other, but this was a big month for him and he'd been busy and distracted. Just a few more months and we'd both graduate. Guy was going pro, and no doubt he'd be a first-round draft pick. Then we could finally be together wherever he was drafted, no more three-hour separation. I smiled at the thought. He was making his dreams come true, and that meant our dreams were about to come true.

"The second we walk across that stage, we're getting engaged, and then we're getting married the following week," he said constantly. We'd promised our parents to graduate before getting engaged, but that hadn't stopped Guy from buying me a promise ring that I wore on my ring finger.

"That stays on your finger no matter what. Promise me, Reason. No matter what happens, no matter how mad you get at me, it stays on. This is our vow to one another that we can work through anything together."

I'd promised because, at the time, I'd thought we could work through anything.

We'd been inseparable since our freshman year of high school, and year after year we'd proven the people wrong who'd said our love would never last. My phone rang and I accepted the call from Guy.

"Hey, Guy!"

"Reason?" his voice didn't sound right and I guessed he'd had a few too many beers. But hearing my nickname made me smile. He'd been so preoccupied the last month that I'd just been Eden, not the ridiculous nickname that he dubbed me with early on when he said I was his reason to work hard and excel on the field.

"You OK?" I asked, laughing. Guy rarely drank.

"I've been drinking. Had to drink for this. Eden, I have to tell you something before you get here."

"OK, hit me with it," I said, noticing all the background party noise all of a sudden. He'd probably put me on speaker.

"Is that your ex?" I heard a female voice say.

"Shh, not yet, Ingrid, I haven't told her yet." He was slurring his words but he sounded devastated.

"Told me what, Guy?" I asked frantically, taking the exit so I could pull over.

"Oh, my God," that same female voice laughed. "You haven't told her she's been replaced by your groupies?"

"Guy?!" I swerved into the gas station parking lot.

"Eden, we have to break up."

"Guy? Is this a joke? Please tell me this is a horrible joke."

"Eden, it's not a joke." His voice lowered and it sounded like he was crying. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Reason, but I --"

"You what, Guy? You what?"

"Cheated."

Some girls would want to talk it out, try to salvage the eight years we'd been together.

Some girls would yell and scream at him.

Some girls would ask question after question and try to understand.

Some girls would ask if he still loved them.

Me? That one word told me everything I needed to know.

So I hung up.

Then I cried in that gas station parking lot for a couple of hours, ignoring the endless incoming calls and texts, not even bothering to look at who they were from.

Because it didn't matter.