Josh and Hazel's Guide to Not Dating - Christina Lauren Page 0,58
on and on about our escapades and sexcapades, the bloom is coming off the rose. I understand immediately; if you asked me which is the more meaningful relationship in my life, I’d say Josh without hesitation. But for sure Josh can see as clearly as I can the imprint that Tyler has left on me. I’d have a spoiled-milk expression, too, if Tabby were here talking about all the shenanigans she and Josh shared.
His jaw ticks, and when Tyler stops to actually breathe, Josh cuts in to engage Sasha on her interests, her job, her life.
Tyler takes this opportunity to turn, and reach for my hand again, bringing it to his mouth. “Hazel?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m sorry.”
Something squeezes my lungs until the air is all gone. “For what?”
He nods, eyes closed, and his lips move up and down my knuckles with the movement. Over Tyler’s bowed head, Josh catches my eye and we both quickly look away.
“I’m sorry for ending things, and making you feel that you weren’t worth my time long term.” So Tyler does remember. “I’m sorry I couldn’t let you move on afterward. I’m sorry I used you as an escape whenever things got hard in other areas of my life. And I’m sorry I disappeared without a word.”
When he looks at me, I give him a little smile. It’s nice to hear all this. I can’t pretend it isn’t. But I’m obviously still in shock because I don’t really have words in response, even all the wrong ones.
The waiter deposits a Diet Coke in front of him and with that, things click into place.
“You’re in recovery,” I blurt.
He nods. “Yeah. Yeah. I am. I’m so much happier.” He lets go of my hand to lift his glass and take a sip. “I wish I could do a lot of things over again.”
I’m thrilled for him, because it’s obviously a good decision, but I’m so windblown by Tyler’s appearance that I can’t even enjoy the food. One sip in and my drink tastes rotten. My meal is overflavored and feels like a fluorescent bulb in my mouth.
Tyler and Sasha—and to a lesser extent Josh—seem to do just fine with minimal input from me, but I can’t pretend I’m not relieved when the check comes, and the two dudes whip out their wallets. I don’t even put up a fight.
“Haze,” Josh says quietly, “you want to box that up and take it home?”
I look at my plate. I’ve had maybe two bites. “Okay. Sure.”
Josh grabs my bag of food as we stand, and puts a brotherly arm around my shoulders before Tyler can pull me aside. “That was a fun night,” Josh says quietly, looking down at me.
“It was great.” I can hear the question in my words, like Wait, was it fun? I was on Planet Freak-Out for most of it and didn’t notice.
“Let me give you my number.” Tyler slips my phone from where it’s loosely held in my hand, and opens a new text box, texting himself This is Hazel’s number, followed by a little smiley face.
I want to snatch his phone and see how many of those texts he has with different girls’ names. But then I feel like an asshole for thinking it, because he bends down and puts a chaste kiss on my cheek.
“You’re a bigger person than I am,” Tyler says, and it’s awkward because Josh still has his arm around my shoulders so Tyler’s practically kissing Josh’s hand, but Tyler doesn’t seem to mind baring his soul in public anymore. “It was really good to see you.”
Josh walks Sasha out; he says he’s going to drive her home, and something in my chest forms a fist and punches both of them for that. Tyler hops in a Jeep Cherokee, and waves as he drives off. My car starts on the second try, and I drive home in a haze, pulling up outside my building without paying attention to anything along the way.
Because Josh is at Sasha’s.
The thought sticks in my head like a tack in a corkboard: Pay attention to this. Josh is at Sasha’s. Obsess about this later. Just . . . not yet.
I pull off my clothes and drop them on the floor right next to the laundry hamper in an act of rebellion that, most likely, Josh won’t even see. I scrub off my minimal makeup and throw the wipe in the trash with a violence that Tyler doesn’t get to appreciate. I get into my bed in my BAD