When I Met You

Chapter 16 - Chelsea's POV

That was hands down the best meal I ever had. Maybe it was because it had been a solid 24 hours since I last ate. Or maybe it was in relation to the Italian food and us eating at the dining room table. I even considered that he lied about his cooking skills. Regardless, it all felt too good to be true. Was he even real? What kind of stranger goes out of their way to help a girl he just met?

The main theme playing in my mind was how dumbfounded I acted when he simply pulled out my chair. Was that a romantic gesture? Never once do I remember Blake taking the time to assist me into my chair. I mean obviously I could manage the task myself, but when Nick did it, I felt butterflies swarm throughout the lengths of my body. I felt like a human deserving of such special treatment and care. Nick was going to make me second guess everything I thought I knew, wasn't he?

For the past two hours, I was lying wide-eyed on the firm mattress beneath me in the guest bedroom. Thoughts were running through my mind like a never ending marathon, trying my best to ignore the dilemma at hand. I winced in pain remembering the real reason I was at another man's house. I hated myself. No, I hated him and her, but above all I hated myself. How could I be so oblivious? How could I be so selfish, depriving Blake of his needs and desires for years? Why was I so stupid?

I knew it was my fault, but I wanted to blame him. The betrayal was technically his fault, but I caused this to happen. If I had only given him my virginity, then things would be different. If I had only gotten over my past, then I could have given him everything he wanted. If I had been prettier like Harper, then maybe he wouldn't have thought twice about cheating on me. I will never fucking forgive myself for this. I should call him, right?

Ughh. This is all too much. I hate this situation.

I knew I should have closed the curtains last night, but I was drowning in my thoughts until sleep overcame me. Fuck. The sun creeped past the blinds, crawling on my skin, and piercing my eyes. For a minute, I almost forgot where I was as I breathed in the familiar space. The room wasn't anything special, I assume he rarely had guests around. Only the essentials sprawled across the room such as a singular nightstand, queen size bed, tall wooden dresser with 5 drawers, and a short bedside lamp. The walls were a plain beige that made the space seem empty and lifeless. It was quite different from my bedroom that's for sure, but I was more grateful for a place to stay.

I met his gaze as he spun around with a coffee cup in his hands. His eyes seemed full of pity and concern which was reasonable considering I hadn't yet told him about my situation entirely. I suppose I didn't want to think about it, and he was a really good distraction. Standing several feet away from his once again shirtless torso and low cut grey sweatpants clinging on to his hips barely. His forearms flexed as he readjusted his grip on the mug, making his veins and muscles more apparent. I knew I was definitely staring and that much was obvious because he decided to clear his throat a few seconds later. After breaking the awkward silence momentarily, he spoke.

"Hmm. Good morning, Chelsea." His voice sounded husky and slightly groggy.

"Nick." I offered with the slightest smile.

"Did you sleep okay?"

"Like a baby." That comment earned me a low chuckle from deep within his belly. I wasn't sure what to say after that, because I didn't want to bring 'it' up. Could he notice my sudden tension?

"So...Umm. Chelsea?" His voice wavered like he knew how bad it was. But it really wasn't that bad, it has been worse. "I know it's probably a touchy subject, but I have to know." Oh, god. Here it comes. I internally rolled my eyes. "How bad was it?" He cleared his throat, continuing. "I mean, Blake." I winced at his name. "Hell, why didn't you call sooner?" His eyes reflected the tremendous pain he was in, as he started fisting his hands through his soft brown locks out of frustration.

"It's not what you think, Nick. I swear," which wasn't necessarily a lie.

He pulled his fingers down to rest in his pant pockets, seeming more calm and collected. However, he still gritted through his teeth, "What was it like then? Chels, please enlighten me." He wasn't angry though, rather genuine concern and curiosity filled his pupils.

"I...uh. He." I was at a loss for words even though I knew exactly what I was trying to convey. "Blake. He has been cheating on me with my roommate for who knows how long. I found out through texts and a voicemail on her phone." I sighed looking down at the hands I was anxiously fidgeting with. "I'm angry, but I know it's my fault. If only I had just..." I tried to come up with all the excuses racing through my brain last night, but nothing stuck out.

"Chelsea." He sighed sympathetically. "There is no excuse for a cheater. He was in the wrong and you need to stop blaming yourself for his actions. You did nothing wrong. If he was a real man, he never would have thought twice about cheating on you." And I really wanted to believe him, but I knew it wasn't true. He could feed me this bullshit for days and I wouldn't buy it. Everything would have been better if I hadn't found out. I could live in my own little blissful land believing that my boyfriend was true and he respected my boundaries. Instead, I felt tremendous guilt knowing that I couldn't give him everything he needed. So yes, it was my fault that he cheated, but Nick wouldn't understand.

"Nick." I sigh. "You don't understand."

"You're right. I don't, but what I do know is that the cheater is always in the wrong. No matter how much blame you think you share, he's the cheater. Looking at the bright side, this could be a good way out of this shitty situation. I know it's hard because it's been 2 years but he is an abusive cheater. You deserve so much more than that, Chels." For some reason, I loved the way he said my nickname. It felt different than when Harper or Blake said it. Heartfelt was the best way to describe it. He had the ability to melt my heart with all the unnecessary tender kindness. God, what am I saying?

"Two years." I mumbled, shaking my head with tremendous doubt.

"Pardon?"

"I wasted 2 years of my life on him." After muttering several profanities, I continued. "I'm torn, Nick. I love him... I thought I did. I mean I do. I do love him. My heart aches because of him and all the pain he has caused, but he has also done many good things. I mean yes, his entire family fucking hates my guts and everything I stand for, but I can't get past that. Maybe he didn't mean to cheat, you know? Maybe this is all a huge misunderstanding."

"Huh. A misunderstanding." He replied.

"Yes, you know things like that happen all the time." I lied. I never once heard of someone cheating and it being a misunderstanding, but this was Blake. He would never intentionally cheat, right? Maybe he was drunk. Actually, I don't have that many valid explanations.

"Denial." He stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Excuse me?"

"Denial. It's one of the stages of grief. You are grieving your relationship with Blake, because deep down you know it's over. You don't want to accept his actions as true; therefore, you are trying to avoid facing the truth by creating excuses for him." I wasn't grieving. Nick didn't know what he was talking about. "Judging by the face you're making, you are currently trying to come up with an excuse as to why I'm wrong and you aren't grieving. Am I right?"

"How do you know all of this?"

He fell silent for a minute hesitating in what I assumed to be contemplation. Hoarse and saddened, his voice filled the air. "When I was 7 years old, my mom was diagnosed with cancer. We were told she had 2 years at the most. However, as luck turns out, she lived another 4 years. During that span of 4 years, she educated us on the stages of grief. She let us know that it was okay to cry and to feel anger. She urged us to speak about our emotions which helped a lot, actually. After she passed, everyone stopped communicating and all the pent up grief became too much for my 12 year old sister. She uh-she couldn't take the pain and we ended up losing her 6 months after my mom's funeral. My dad and I ended up doing 5 years of intense therapy. I'm sorry that was probably too much information. It's just I try to be very honest and open with the people I care about." I could tell he was on the verge of tears. The fear and pain was all too evident in his mannerisms. Poor Nick. 

The urge to wrap him into my arms was eating away at my insides. I had to do something, but I couldn't. I just stood still in shock. Such a brave man.