Page 91 of Crazy Pucking Love
“You told us this place was awesome,” Vanessa said.
“Yeah, and I also told you it’d be impossible to not think about Dane here, which I feel is counterintuitive to my mission to get over him.” For the most part, nearly two weeks after the incident, life had returned to normal.
Not sleeping was normal, after all.
The occasional urge to cry…well, thanks to being a girl and dealing with suck-ass hormone surges once a month, even that wasn’t all that abnormal. I’d thrown myself into my classes and experienced my first high school visit with the engineering outreach program, and I loved every second of it.
With the exception of our shared class, it was easy enough to avoid Dane. Even then, he showed up on the late side, and I bolted early. He looked even more tired than usual, which made it hard not to ask how he was doing.
My heart tugged, and I worked to push away that image of him. After all, he was the one who decided we couldn’t even be friends.
“Hey, you were in danger of becoming one of those people who only ever studies, and drastic times call for drastic measures.” Lyla pushed harder, and for someone so sweet and innocent looking, she was stronger than expected. “We’re going to make new memories, so this place goes from yours with him to just yours.”
“I feel like your logic is flawed, and honesty, that’s not something I ever thought I’d say to you.”
“Trust me, I’m good at experiments.”
“And I’m good at buying margaritas.” Vanessa held up her debit card.
“Okay,” I said. “Maybe I’m starting to trust this plan a little more.”
After all, nights were the hardest, the times when Dane and my good memories tried to rise up while I tossed and turned. I’d gone to text him out of habit once, only to remember I couldn’t anymore. The hazy times between sleep and waking weren’t much better—one night I’d sworn I was in his bed, his warm body wrapped around mine, and when I rolled to ask him which hot spot we should visit next, I woke up enough to realize that he wasn’t there; that he never would be again.
To combat the sorrow that washed over me, I looked at my Fresh Start Checklist and reminded myself of how far I’d come. I hadn’t reverted to old self-destructive habits after our breakup, and not only did I feel like I belonged at Boston College, I also felt stronger, even in the moments I was sad.
Whitney signaled over a dimpled waiter, and we all ordered drinks—he gave our IDs the briefest glance, far more interested in Lyla’s cleavage, although she seemed oblivious about his appreciative appraisal.
Before I had to tell him she had a boyfriend—my brother—and make it awkward, he moved on to a more enthusiastically flirty group of women.
After downing our cocktails, we headed for the dance floor. As we bumped against each other, bouncing to the beat and laughing, I did feel better than I had in days. My heart still beat a little softer and duller than usual, even with the extra cardio, and in spite of the selection of perfectly good-looking guys, I had no desire to attempt a get-to-know-you type chat. For now, I was going to focus on classes and my engineering program, but I told myself that when summer semester rolled around, I’d try the dating thing again.
Tonight was about having a girls’ night filled with dancing and drinking. A night to show myself that going out could still be fun, even if it felt like more work than it used to. With enough alcohol, I might even forget that getting over Dane was taking longer than I wanted it to.
But when the upbeat song transitioned to a slower one, I was suddenly back here with Dane, his arms around me, the multicolored lights flickering across his face.
Like a damn breaking, the sadness I’d forced back gushed forward, stealing my breath.I was doing so well. How can I crack at one stupid slow song?
Would it always be like this? All the spots in Boston we’d gone to together now tainted? Why had I taken him to the best ones? I should’ve saved them for a guy who’d commit to me. Who checked off all my damn boyfriend-potential items instead of focusing on our shared insomniac tendencies and amazing sexual chemistry.
Man, I miss sex.Not enough to throw myself at a rebound guy or to get under someone else, as Vanessa once joked was the best way to get over someone. But I definitely missed it, more than I expected to given my mostly mediocre experiences before Dane crashed into my life and ruined every other guy. But what I missed most was lying nose-to-nose with him, talking about everything and nothing, and having him hold me as I drifted to sleep.
It felt like I hadn’t gotten good solid sleep in forever. Probably because I hadn’t.
Whitney glanced at me and then she nudged Lyla. Both of them stopped dancing, and once Vanessa looked my way, her swaying hips stilled as well.
Tears rose, and there I stood, useless to fight them. “I’m sorry, guys. I tried, but…I think I need to go.”
Lyla’s eyes flew wide as she clamped onto my arm. “But you can’t.”
“I know you’re trying to help, but I’m not ready. Maybe if we went to a different bar?” Deep down, I knew it wouldn’t make much difference. “Or how about ice cream and Netflix? I can’t be the only one who thinks that sounds like a good girls’ night.”
Whitney turned away, her attention on her phone.
Vanessa and Lyla circled me like a wild animal they thought might bolt.
“What’s going on?” I asked. “Why are you guys being so weird? I’m sorry to be the party pooper and all, but don’t you understand? I’m not ready for this. I need more time.”
Lyla and Whitney exchanged some type of silent conversation, and Whitney lifted a finger. Then Lyla said, “Okay. One more song. Then we’ll go.”
