Page 99 of Riot Rules
What I wouldn’t give to go back in time and fix things. Do them right first time around. Hindsight’s a bitch of a thing, ain’t it?
Instead of fading with time, the one beautiful memory I have of being with Carrie in my bedroom at Riot House strengthens. I oscillate between obsessively composing music—all of it about her—to abandoning my instrument and leaving it untouched for weeks. The piano sits in the corner, pensive and moody, judging me in its silence. It gets to the point where I can’t tolerate lingering within the four walls of my room without experiencing a crushing pain in my chest. I sleep on the couch a lot. When I’m awake, I drive down into Mountain Lakes, taking my laptop toScreamin’ Beans,so I can do my assignments somewhere far removed from Riot House.
I also relish the disgruntled sideways looks from the waitstaff, who all appear to love Carrie and hate me very much. Their scorn is just another fitting punishment for my crimes.
On Friday, I’m working in a booth at the back of the café when I sense someone approaching my table. Thinking it’s Jazzy, the waitress who hates me the most, I don’t bother looking up from my screen. Turns out it’s someone far more unexpected.
“Hey, man! It’s Dash, right? Carrie’s ex?”
I recoil from the guy, physicallyandmentally. My shoulder hits the window as I slide away from him, and he laughs apologetically. “Whoa, sorry, dude. Didn’t mean to sneak up on you, there.”
He thinks he made me jump. He has no idea that his very presence is as painful as a brand to me.
“It’s Andre, remember? We met at the party? Mind if I join you?”
I look up at him, horror wrought on my face, but Andre sees none of it. He slides into the booth opposite me, setting a takeaway coffee cup down in front of him, grinning at me. Wow.Completelyoblivious. Impressive.
“How are you doing, dude?” He cups his hands around his coffee.
“Great,” I say stiffly. “I’m doing great. Thanks for asking.”
“Cool.” He nods. It’s late in the season, officially spring now, but it’s still cold enough for snow tonight—one last flurry before the temperature picks up and the wildflowers begin to shoot up all over the mountain. Andre watches the tiny white flecks eddy on the still night air through the glass, staring blankly. “Cool,” he repeats.
“How areyoudoing? Are you okay?” It doesn’t escape me, how weird it is that I’d ask Carrie’s new boyfriend if he’s okay, but there’s just something so damnlikeableabout Andre. It’d suit me down to the ground if I could hate him, but I can’t. And something is clearly off with the guy.
He drums his fingers against the tabletop, nodding faster. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. I saw you sitting over here, and I thought fuck it. I wanted to come ask you something. I know it’s weird and all, but do you mind?”
Oh boy. Here we go. Where the hell is this leading? I lean back, shrugging. “Sure.”
“Did Carrie ever tell you that she loved you?”
“Wow. Just gonna…come right out withthat, huh?” I admit, this is not quite what I was expecting.
He picks at his thumb nail, avoiding eye contact. “I guess I am,” he says. “I told her that I loved her a while back—”
I do not like hearing that at all. It’s one thing to know the girl you love is with someone else. Another thing altogether to find out that the other person is in love with her, too. I shift uncomfortably, clearing my throat, and Andre picks up on the tension. He looks dismayed.
“Ohh…sorry, man. Carrie didn’t tell me much about you guys in the end. She said you were only together a couple of months and then you ended it. I guess I figured you didn’t have feelings for her anymore.”
I pull a face, shaking my head. “I don’t.”
Andre’s expression drops. He looks like the wind just dropped right out of his sails. “Ahhhhfuck. I’ve been so stupid, haven’t I?”
“I’m sorry. I don’t follow.”
He looks me dead in the eye. “You’re in love with her, aren’t you?”
I stare back at him, thinking. I’ve failed to do the right thing at every turn recently. I know what I should do now, and I’m going to do it. It just fucking sucks. I take a deep breath. “No. I’m not in love with her. We’re not even friends.”
Andre doesn’t seem heartened by this. He dips his head, peering despondently into his coffee. “My dad’s a professional liar,” he says quietly. “I can never trust a word out of his mouth. Don’t take this the wrong way, but I learned to spot a lie a long time ago, andthat…wasnotthe truth.”
What does he want me to say? I wanted to stave his face in with a rock very recently, and now he wants me to lie more convincingly to him aboutnotbeing in love with his girlfriend? I’m trying, people. I. Am. Fucking. Trying. I lay my hands flat on the table, wishing I’d stayed at the house now. The memories are nowhere near as bad as this. “Okay,” I say. “Let me ask you a question. Is there any realm or reality in whichyoucould know how beautiful, and fierce, and smart, and sassy Carrie is and not love her?”
Andre sags, letting his head hang back against the red pleather upholstery. He closes his eyes.
“Didn’t think so. Look.” I tap my finger against the side of my laptop. “Carrie deserves to be happy. I want that for her. She’s a good person. So good that I don’t think she told you how badly I fucking treated her when I had her. I’m not going to interfere in whatever you guys have got going on. If she can be happy with you, then so be it. I fucking hate it, but I’m making my peace with it. Slowly. Just don’t invite me to the wedding or anything.”
Rubbing his chin, Andre groans. “There isn’t going to be a wedding.”
