Solace In The Silence ✓✓

chapter 31

"IT'S OFFICIAL," Vicky smirked, shooting me a sideways glance. The credits had only just started to scroll up on her laptop screen, and we both straightened ourselves up on the couch. "Grant Gustin comes in a close second to Ryan Gosling for being totally drool-worthy. I mean, would you look at those dimples when he smiles. Is it weird that I just want to lick them?"
"Oh my God," I answered with a snort. "Yes. You're such a weirdo."
She laughed a little, shaking her head. "Don't pretend you don't have a soft spot for Barry Allen, he's like the epitome of a hot nerd."
"Okay, okay," I conceded, my voice laced with mock defeat. "You've got me there. He is pretty damn cute."
Her eyes lit up, and I giggled.

We'd gone back to Vicky's's dorm room, which turned out to be the floor below mine, and binge-watched five episodes of The Flash , a relatively new show I'd never seen that Vicky was obsessed with. She'd had me at a socially awkward crime scene investigator turned metahuman.
"Are you sure you don't mind me staying here tonight?" I said, feeling bad for imposing even more than I already had. Run out of my own dorm, and now Jake's apartment, there was literally nowhere else to go.

Unless I took a NoDoz and drove over a hundred miles back to my parents' place, of course. But I hadn't planned on going home until tomorrow. I'd wanted a night to just re-evaluate everything and figure out what my next move should be.
"For the tenth time, I don't mind," she assured me, shutting her laptop down. She stood, leaving for the community kitchen to place our empty bowls in the sink. When she came back, a stark vulnerability etched into her features. "It's been way too long since I've had a sleepover with a friend. This has been nice."

Relief shot through me, and I nodded jerkily, knowing that if I started speaking, I'd bawl. With all of this much-appreciated girly bonding, I knew I was nanoseconds away from bursting into tears again. And who wanted an emotional wreck of a chick sleeping on their dorm room floor.
Not Vicky, I was sure.

I heard the faucet turn on and off as she got ready for bed. Bunkering down for the night in the cramped space between Eden's single bed and the wall, I was thankful for the futon she'd discovered in the storeroom we ransacked earlier. It was either that, or becoming even closer friends with her couch. The futon smelled musty but otherwise clean. I laid back, trying not to think about the fact that this time last night, I'd been sleeping in the crook of Jake's shoulder.

Tracing a slow pattern on the coverlet, I convinced myself that I was not going to be one of those girls who wallowed and dragged this out into a huge, messy breakup. The last thing I wanted was for it to end in friendship casualties because, generally, people took sides, and I couldn't bear the idea of losing Angie, or feeling super uncomfortable around Lynn and Gery.
"I think, deep down, I knew it all along," I whispered tonelessly.

Vicky gave me a quizzical look as she returned, her bare feet padding on the hardwood. "What's that?"
"That we were just a disaster waiting to happen."
"Oh, honey." She exhaled, and her dark eyebrows knitted together. "Don't say that. As much as guys can be such jerks, I think Jake's feelings for you are genuine. I know I hardly know him, but from what you've told me, from what I've seen, something's got him running scared."

"You're right." My throat felt dry again. But scared of what, exactly? "He's always been like that."
She climbed into her bed, shivering and yanking the sheets up to ears. Apparently the heating system hadn't had any pressure for the last few days and the building was dropping to freezing temperatures overnight. Awesome.
"I know you probably don't want to think about it, but I care about you and I can't not bring it up." I caught her concerned expression before she flicked off the lamp. "If you're still going to go to the police station to take out a restraining order against Joe, I'd come with you. And we can track Mark down, have him corroborate our story. I just... I just wanted you to know that."

The change of subject threw me for a loop. The mention of Joe's name had tendrils of disgust swirling in my belly, but they were quickly eclipsed by her kindness.
"Vicky?" I murmured.
"Yeah?"
"Thank you for... well, thank you for everything," I said hoarsely. Somewhere in between the emotional catharsis outside the coffee house and just hanging out in her dorm, the vacuum of loneliness had been tugging at me a little less.

She was quiet for a few seconds. "Of course. You're always welcome to stay... just as long as you don't steal my Ryan Gosling pillow. That's my only condition."
"Okay, deal." I dissolved into laughter. I'd still thought she was joking about that, but when she'd whipped out a life-sized pillow with a printed Ryan Gosling on it when I'd first arrived, my eyes had practically bugged out of their sockets. I so needed one of those. "Night, Vicky."
"G'night." She yawned, and her voice already sounded conducive to sleep as she rolled over.

Tangled in the blankets, I made a valiant effort to let sleep claim me, too, but even though my eyes were closed, my mind just wouldn't switch off.
It was dumb that I'd given the bulk of my heart away at eighteen-years-old. It was a keepsake, and I'd handed it away carelessly to a boy who had no intention of being fragile with it. And it was as dumb as it was annoying that I was no less to blame than Jake.

He'd always been so cautious and hesitant... and I hadn't. I'd been all in, and when he wasn't, it was always me trying to bridge every gap and make it last.
That wasn't how a relationship was supposed to be.
I must have eventually drifted off, because some time later, I was woken up by the noise of my phone dinging, signaling an incoming message. I fumbled around groggily, trying to locate it in the dark.

I assumed that it would be from Angie, finally seeing all of my "call me urgently" and "let's spend the whole weekend in bed watching Netflix" texts. But it wasn't.
It was from Jake.
I know it's none of my business anymore, but where are you staying tonight? You can come here if you need to.

My chest felt heavy, another wave of anger rippling through me.
Yeah, there was absolutely no way in hell that was happening.
I'd sooner crawl through a mile of barbed wire than spend any amount of time co-existing in a confined space with the guy who'd just completely decimated my heart.

My fingers flexed around my phone. I contemplated ignoring him, but I'd never seen the appeal in playing games. And quite frankly, even if I did, there was no point. I'd already lost.
Don't worry about me. I'm staying at Vicky's , I texted him back.
I decided to leave out the part where I probably would be finishing up at UFA after this semester, that he wouldn't have to waste any more time fussing over me. I'd be gone, and hopefully, whatever responsibility he felt he still owed me, would be, too.

Jake replied almost immediately, and I hated how I lost my composure.
I'm always going to.
I frowned, trying to make sense of that. It was the first time he'd even hinted that he still cared... still cared about me, and heat blossomed low in my stomach. Despite its transparency, his response seemed unusually cryptic and vague. I couldn't pin down why, but the more I thought about our conversation this morning, the more something felt off about all of this—his behavior, the weak excuses.
Ugh. Just when I thought things couldn't get any more confusing.

I chewed the inside of my cheek as I read and re-read his text. My mindset swung back and forth like a revolving door, caught between wanting to demand more answers from him—to not so readily accept everything he'd told me earlier—and not wanting to push it, especially considering I was fairly certain that anything else he had to say would only leave me worse off.
Closure was overrated.
Hastily, I typed in and sent: Goodnight, Jake.

I let out a long-suffering sigh, my eyes adjusting again to the darkness that blanketed Vicky's dorm room. I listened to my breathing, waiting for it to even out. Despite the exhaustion that settled over me, a weird, restless energy continued to pulse through my body, and I was tempted to whisper Vicky's name, to find out if she was still awake.
Seconds later, my phone chimed again, and against my better judgment, I looked down at the glowing screen, holding my breath.
I'm sorry, Bess.

Those words felt like a fire bolt to my emotions, jolting logic back into them, and a soft cry ripped out of me.
Curling onto my side, I grabbed the extra pillow Vicky had left out and buried my face in it. I squeezed my eyes shut as hard as I could, hoping to catch my tears before they were able to absorb into the soft material.

The awful note of finality in his text ricocheted around the dark recesses of my mind, and I was forced to see the truth in all of its horrible ugliness: he wasn't sorry enough.