Page 47 of Sweet Girl
Chapter Sixteen
Van
It’s Kylah’s birthday today. December Twenty-ninth.
It’s been over a week since I last saw her and a day before the concert she invited me to attend with her.
I left her hanging without any explanation and I hate myself for it.
I’m scum. I’m lower than pond scum.
The fact is, I didn’t have the wherewithal to deal with anything else after the whole Lyndsay text. She threw me for a loop and my brain was just fried. Emotional overload. I didn’t have anything I could give Kylah in the way she needed me.
Kylah’s a sweet girl and deserves someone who isn’t fucked up in the head right now. After Lyndsay dropped the bomb on me, it unraveled everything I thought I felt. I thought I was doing great until she told me she and Cody broke up.
The thing is, I don’t love Lyndsay anymore. I know that. That level of connection was broken the minute she admitted to lying and cheating on me. There’s also no way I’d ever get back together with her, regardless of what amends she tries to make.
The problem is that I lost a great deal more than just a girlfriend. I lost my faith in humanity. Yes, I realize that sounds extreme. I shouldn’t take my displaced anger over Lyndsay out on the general population, but it’s a little hard not to hold a grudge. It’s difficult to let go and believe that not everyone is capable of ruining your trust.
Here’s the kicker. I feel I’m doing the exact same thing to Kylah. We’d grown to be friends. We’d become close. Physically and emotionally close. She put her faith in me when she shared her confusion and unhappiness over her mother’s engagement news. She let me comfort her and hold her...and then practically maul her after opening up to me.
And how do I repay her for that?
Shit. I’m a fucking dickhead.
Thankfully, we’ve had practices and strength training the last couple of days, so I’ve been able to push away my growing conflict over my predicament and focus on the art of basketball. Working out helps assuage my guilt to some level.
My biceps and triceps strain as I do bench presses in the weight room. Cade’s spotting me, standing overhead in support, as he shouts out what should be words of encouragement. I know for a fact those encouraging words would change in a hot instant if he knew what I did to his sister.
“Come on, you pussy. My sister could press more than you, asshole.”
Oh shit. He can read my thoughts. My eyes pop open at the mention of his sister and my arms struggle to stay above my head. They shake in their quest for relief and I grunt out for help. Cade grabs hold of the bar and helps me place it back in the rack.
I pull myself up to a sitting position, grabbing for the towel to wipe off the sweat that’s dripping from my head.
“Jesus, Van. You okay? Didn’t think you were going to make it through that last set.”
Cade hands me the bottle of Gatorade and I gulp it down, giving myself some time to think about my response and to catch my breath.
“I’m fucked up, man.” I confide, uneasy with sharing too much of my personal shit. Thankfully, I trust Cade. He’s a good friend. And I know he’s gone through his share of relationship hell.
“What’s going on?” He takes a seat at the bench across from me. There’s only a handful of guys left in the gym, and most are over in the far weight room.
I breath heavily. “I’ve met someone. I really like her.”
Cade nods his head with enthusiasm, a smile growing across his face. “That’s good to hear, man. You deserve it after all that shit with your ex. So what’s the problem? She not putting out?” He chuckles at his joke, which he wouldn’t find humorous if he knew it was Kylah he was unknowingly discussing.
I huff out a laugh. “Um, no, that’s not the problem. It’s Lyndsay.”
His head whips back, as if he’s been stung, his mouth in a tight grimace. “I thought you guys were done, dude. I didn’t know she was still in the picture...after what she pulled.”
“Yeah, it’s not that. It’s just...you know, I’m a little gun shy now because of that shit. And I’m not being fair to this other girl, who I really like.”
Cade nods, his support evident, even though I’m only telling him half of the story.
“I feel ya, dude. I get it. It’s like the past has a way of fucking things up for us when we finally meet the right one. But if you’re into her enough, you gotta give it a chance. Show your cards. Be honest with her and let her know how you really feel. That’s the only way.” He leans over conspiratorially and whispers. “And let me tell ya...girls love it when you spill your guts and wax poetic. You won’t be sorry and either will your dick.”
He thumps me on the back a few times before standing up, lending me his hand to help pull me up, too.
