Read Online These Are the Moments by Jenny Bravo - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jenny Bravo
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“We haven’t really been in the best of places lately. I doubt this is helping.”
She was tired of being blamed for his relationship problems. He was the one making choices, not her. No one was making him do anything. “I’m sure it’s not.”
He played with his phone, clicking the letters of the keyboard.
“Hey, cut that out,” Owen said.
“Yeah, some of us are trying to make out over here,” Reese deadpanned.
Owen gagged. “Mental image. Dear God .”
“You’re welcome,” Reese said.
“Great. Just perfect,” Simon said to himself.
“What’s wrong now?” Wendy whispered.
“I think we’re breaking up.”
The words trailed through her head, spinning across her brain in big, bold letters. She wouldn’t get hopeful or expecting. Keep it together, she told herself. But now, they were leg to leg. Her bare thigh pushed up against his shorts. And he was breaking up with Erica. Or she was breaking up with him.
“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked.
“Not really,” he groaned. “I should go. I don’t want to do this here.”
“Okay,” she said. “Maybe . . . maybe it’s for the best. Y’all have been fighting a lot lately. I’m sorry.”
He looked at her. His eyes, usually warm and welcoming, were now a cold, cutting blue. “Are you?”
This he said out loud. Too loud.
Owen piped up, “Reese, care to accompany me to the kitchen and—”
“Yes, I need to go get that thing-a-ma-jig.”
“Right,” Owen said.
They bolted out of the room. Simon stood and Wendy followed.
“What are you trying to say?” she asked.
“Are you really sorry that Erica and I are breaking up?”
Her face was getting flushed. Hot. Splotchy. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Well. It’s not like you ever have anything nice to say about her. And I don’t know. This might sound bad, but . . . do you want us apart?”
She bit her lip to keep from crying. She felt like she’d been slapped.
How could he say that to her?
For all he knew, she’d never been anything but a friend to him, and she’d worked really hard to keep it that way.
“Get over yourself,” she said.
He turned away from her, running both hands through his hair. “It always comes to that. Me being arrogant.”
She hobbled over to the door. The room felt too small, too congested.
“I’m sorry,” he said, after her. “Whatever. I’m just wrong. As usual.”
She left him standing there, alone.
“Take us home,” Wendy ordered Owen, storming out.
That part felt good.
Closing the door.
Walking into the darkness.
Shutting Simon out.
Chapter 17
Now
She’d never been a good drunk, but really, who was? She’d cried in closets, scraped her knees, drunk texted. God, had she drunk texted . Sometimes, she’d get angry, storming off and leaving her friends. Sometimes, she’d get depressed, and you could never be sure what about, crying in bathrooms to anyone who had the ears and the blood alcohol content to listen.
Occasionally, very rarely, there was the unicorn of drunken ventures when she’d reach that sweet spot, where the music was just right and she loved everybody and everybody loved her.
This was not one of those nights.
Directly across the pool from Wendy, Simon ordered a drink. Probably whiskey. Casually, like this was just another bar on just another night.
He had to wear blue. This was intentional, and she was 99% sure of it. That freaking shade of blue that twinned his eyes, that watery deep mixture that could cut her in half.
“ Shit shit shit, ” Wendy spat. “What do I do?”
Reese chugged the rest of her drink. “No sudden movements.”
Wendy’s mind was stone-cold sober, but her head couldn’t catch up. The world seemed to hinge itself around him, like an acrobat on silk. It was kind of incredible. The insane sort of incredible, in that Simon existed again, in the real physical sense, not just in the overly frosted layers of her memory.
Vivian flitted over. She had another drink in her
She was tired of being blamed for his relationship problems. He was the one making choices, not her. No one was making him do anything. “I’m sure it’s not.”
He played with his phone, clicking the letters of the keyboard.
“Hey, cut that out,” Owen said.
“Yeah, some of us are trying to make out over here,” Reese deadpanned.
Owen gagged. “Mental image. Dear God .”
“You’re welcome,” Reese said.
“Great. Just perfect,” Simon said to himself.
“What’s wrong now?” Wendy whispered.
“I think we’re breaking up.”
The words trailed through her head, spinning across her brain in big, bold letters. She wouldn’t get hopeful or expecting. Keep it together, she told herself. But now, they were leg to leg. Her bare thigh pushed up against his shorts. And he was breaking up with Erica. Or she was breaking up with him.
“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked.
“Not really,” he groaned. “I should go. I don’t want to do this here.”
“Okay,” she said. “Maybe . . . maybe it’s for the best. Y’all have been fighting a lot lately. I’m sorry.”
He looked at her. His eyes, usually warm and welcoming, were now a cold, cutting blue. “Are you?”
This he said out loud. Too loud.
Owen piped up, “Reese, care to accompany me to the kitchen and—”
“Yes, I need to go get that thing-a-ma-jig.”
“Right,” Owen said.
They bolted out of the room. Simon stood and Wendy followed.
“What are you trying to say?” she asked.
“Are you really sorry that Erica and I are breaking up?”
Her face was getting flushed. Hot. Splotchy. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Well. It’s not like you ever have anything nice to say about her. And I don’t know. This might sound bad, but . . . do you want us apart?”
She bit her lip to keep from crying. She felt like she’d been slapped.
How could he say that to her?
For all he knew, she’d never been anything but a friend to him, and she’d worked really hard to keep it that way.
“Get over yourself,” she said.
He turned away from her, running both hands through his hair. “It always comes to that. Me being arrogant.”
She hobbled over to the door. The room felt too small, too congested.
“I’m sorry,” he said, after her. “Whatever. I’m just wrong. As usual.”
She left him standing there, alone.
“Take us home,” Wendy ordered Owen, storming out.
That part felt good.
Closing the door.
Walking into the darkness.
Shutting Simon out.
Chapter 17
Now
She’d never been a good drunk, but really, who was? She’d cried in closets, scraped her knees, drunk texted. God, had she drunk texted . Sometimes, she’d get angry, storming off and leaving her friends. Sometimes, she’d get depressed, and you could never be sure what about, crying in bathrooms to anyone who had the ears and the blood alcohol content to listen.
Occasionally, very rarely, there was the unicorn of drunken ventures when she’d reach that sweet spot, where the music was just right and she loved everybody and everybody loved her.
This was not one of those nights.
Directly across the pool from Wendy, Simon ordered a drink. Probably whiskey. Casually, like this was just another bar on just another night.
He had to wear blue. This was intentional, and she was 99% sure of it. That freaking shade of blue that twinned his eyes, that watery deep mixture that could cut her in half.
“ Shit shit shit, ” Wendy spat. “What do I do?”
Reese chugged the rest of her drink. “No sudden movements.”
Wendy’s mind was stone-cold sober, but her head couldn’t catch up. The world seemed to hinge itself around him, like an acrobat on silk. It was kind of incredible. The insane sort of incredible, in that Simon existed again, in the real physical sense, not just in the overly frosted layers of her memory.
Vivian flitted over. She had another drink in her
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