of me wishes I could. For so long, I’ve wanted to return to Texas, not caring about anything or anyone in Washington, and I didn’t realize until these past couple of weeks that like Rose, it was in an attempt at self-preservation. The fewer people I grew to care for, the easier it would be to leave, and in turn, the longer I held onto the relationships with those from Texas, the easier it would be to return.
“I’m sorry, Matt. I should have called or gone back inside to talk to you. Things just came undone last night, and I needed to come back and try to fix them.”
“For a guy?” he asks, looking down at Arlo’s shirt.
“Yes, but it’s more complicated than that.”
“Liv, we’ve been together since middle school. Middle school. You want to throw that away?”
I hate how doubt storms my thoughts as I trace over every familiar line of Matt, stopping at his eyes, which I can still read like an opened book.
“I get it, you’re scared. As we get older, things keep changing, and with the distance, it’s hard. But you’re going to graduate next year, and then…” His words fade as it hits me like a frying pan over the head that although I know Matt inside and out, he doesn’t know me.
“We’ve been fighting to stay together for so long that I think we’ve forgotten what we’re even fighting for. It’s just become a habit.”
He shakes his head as though that will erase my words and the sentiment that leaves the bitter aftertaste that has his face screwing up. “No. We keep fighting because that’s what you do when you love someone, you have to work for it. I’m here, and I want to work for it. It’s us, Olivia. Us. It’s always been us, and it will always be us. And if you could talk to your dad, hell, I could transfer here to Brighton. I could play here, and then we’d be able to see each other every day.”
My eyebrows draw low. Brighton is getting accolades from every source after their undefeated season. Everyone wants to play for them, and though Matt made some subtle hints before, I can’t focus on anything but the look of opportunity in his eyes. I’m so shocked that I don’t register his hands on my shoulders, pulling me in for a kiss. His lips are hard and unrelenting, a punishment and a plea that makes my chest hurt and my eyes to grow heavy with tears before he pulls back because I know, without a shadow of a doubt that there is no us, and there won’t be an us, and there hasn’t been an us for a very long time—probably a lot longer than I ever realized.
A movement draws my attention to the hallway where Arlo stands wearing his jeans from last night, his chest bare, and his jaw and fists clenched.
“Arlo,” I say, but his attention doesn’t move to me. “Arlo, this isn’t what you think,” I tell him.
He shakes his head. “You don’t know what I think.”
“I didn’t know he was coming.”
“Wrong answer, Liv.” He storms closer, and for a second, I worry he’s going to hit Matt, but then he grabs his shoes and keys and pulls the door open with a firm jerk before slamming it behind him.
I follow him, the cold cement under my feet making chills course through me as hot tears descend over my cheeks.
“Arlo, wait.”
Much to my surprise, he stops. “You went to Texas, and he still thinks you’re together.” His eyes are accusatory, but it’s the overwhelming pain I see that hurts the deepest. He turns and gets into his Tahoe, hitting the steering wheel before he backs out and guns it.
I head back to the apartment and see Matt standing in the doorway, triumph written in his smirk before his gaze turns sorrowful when he notices my tears. He’s not a complete asshole.
I swallow back the knot in my throat. “Matt, I have loved you since I was eleven.” I shake my head. “Before that even. But I realized it was the idea of who you were and what we could be that I loved. We fought and broke up constantly, and you haven’t been here to visit once since I moved.”
Matt shakes his head again. “We were kids.”
“I barely hear from you. We don’t text or call, and you go out and flirt with girls and make out with them, and I haven’t cared,