The Beautiful Truth

// 107

"Tell me again why you're driving to Indio rather than flying down to LA," Travis ordered, setting my dinner plate on the table in front of me.

I smiled. "Have you seen my car?"

Chase bounded down the stairs just then and slid into the chair next to me. "You sure we can't get you to come out before you leave us for four whole days?"

I looked at him. "You make it sound like I'm not coming back!"

Chase sighed. "We've just gotten used to having you around."

"Yeah, do we really have to let Scott move back in?" Travis joked. "She's so much nicer."

"And cleaner," Chase added.

"Quieter, too," Travis said. They both groaned at the thought of their third roommate, whose lease I was subletting this month. I'd never met the guy, but I knew he played baseball, and those guys had a reputation for being obnoxious—or so I'd heard.

What a different side of Cal I was being exposed to—varsity athletics and frat guys vs. on-the-brink bands and well...whatever.

"I'm leaving at six in the morning," I pulled them back to the original subject. "If I go out with you, I'd only get like two hours of sleep and if I made it to Indio, without crashing after falling asleep at the wheel, I'd be completely worthless and I wouldn't have any fun with Micki. We'll celebrate my...homecoming," I suggested.

"You're so dramatic," Chase teased.

I rolled my eyes and stuffed a Brussels sprout into my mouth. "I hope Micki eats real food," I complained in jest as I chewed.

"Whatever," Travis brushed me off. "You complain every day, but I know you like it. I can see the look of disgust on your face when pizza and wings show up at the frat house."

He was right. I did appreciate the health food. I doubted I'd ever been so healthy.

"If you don't like the food, I know you like the abs," Chase winked.

I flexed my stomach in my seat. Yeah, I liked that too. I now had definition without flexing. "Christ," I groaned. "I'm turning into a meathead."

Travis and Chase chuckled over their plates.

"So if you're not coming out with us, what are you doing?" Chase asked.

I sighed in thought. "Laundry, catch up on some email...read maybe? I don't know," I admitted. "I don't get a lot of time to myself these days."

Chase smirked. "You know, if you acted like you liked us half as much as I know you do, I'd think you were sick."

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, yeah, what are you two doing tonight?"

"Probably hitting the bars," Travis explained.

"Tell Charlie I said hi."

"Tell Charlie I said hi-iii..." Chase mocked me in the falsetto version of his voice he used to do a bad impression of me.

I looked down my nose at him in disapproval.

"What?" Chase laughed. "One day you're gonna write 'I love my Charlie' on your already deeply-discounted bar tab and he's gonna take it to heart...if he hasn't already."

"Brother," I rolled my eyes.

"Present!" Travis answered, not looking up from the fresh SI on the table in front of him.

Chase snickered. I shook my head. The two of them headed out around 8:30, presumably to take the normal route—frat house, bars, frat house, home. I, on the other hand, had no idea what to do with myself.

It was a rare occasion that I was alone in the house—that I let myself be alone in the house. I had to wonder what Micki would say about that. She'd once referred to me as 'fiercely independent,' back when we'd first met and had only known each other a few weeks. I had to wonder if she still thought of me as the same person. Was I?

I had essentially stripped away the things I'd once relied on to define me—my love for music and my friendship with Talyn. It was my choice to shut those things down. I mean, if I twisted it just-so, I could blame it all on Barton—I didn't want to listen to the music, and not just his music, that had meant so much to me because it only reminded me of him, and it was still too painful to look back without hating myself. And because I still wasn't able to look back and accept what had happened the way it was—accept the reality of it all—I couldn't let Talyn back into that place in my heart.

On the other hand, I could blame Talyn. Talyn and his unbelievably inconvenient feelings. After all, it had evidently been those feelings and the way he'd made them apparent at the show at OU that had caused Barton to suddenly tear away. And honestly, I had blamed Talyn for most of the last few months, but it wasn't fair. Talyn was just being Talyn.

It was Barton who had become someone else, someone I didn't know at all, right before my eyes. I didn't even get a chance to explain, but I knew it wouldn't have mattered. He'd shut down—he wasn't going to fight for me, and isn't that what all girls want in the end? Someone who would fight for her—not because he wants to kick some other guy's ass—not that kind of fight. Fight for her love, fight for their relationship, because it's worth that much to him. Fight for her because she's worth it.

And I wasn't worth it. And all summer long, I'd been trying to distract myself from that. But here, alone, in my subleased room of this palatial, barely off-campus house, as I folded my laundry in silence, it was impossible to deny it any longer.

I wasn't worth it. I was an angry, bitter girl who pushed people away, and instead of feeling like a victim, I should have taken responsibility for my own actions. Everything everyone had ever said about me was true—I'd let anger color my entire being, and why should anyone want to be around that? I felt myself let go in that moment. This was all my fault. What did any of it matter anymore? Nothing that had happened was worth being angry over. But it was too late. Maybe I wasn't going to be angry anymore, but that wouldn't change the fact that I was not worth the fight.

And once I'd allowed myself to think it, I'd just as soon allowed myself to accept it. I wasn't worth it. Barton wasn't coming back. Somewhere in the night, the overwhelming sadness I'd been hiding for so long devolved into a blank numbness.

I was going to make it through, but I left my heart behind for good. It was the only way.

I wasn't worth it.