Saving It Page 14

  I’m in shock. I must be. The only thing I keep thinking is what a cliché. My life, what Cole did to me, is such a total cliché it’s not even funny. Though he might’ve been laughing behind my back. I’m the idiot girlfriend who had no clue what he did to me.

  And all along I thought I did something to drive him away. I’d always wondered exactly how I screwed up our relationship. When he dumped me, I vowed I would never let another boy hurt me like Cole did again. Then I came up with a mental list of all the things I must’ve done to make him not love me anymore.

  So lame.

  Turns out it wasn’t me. He was right.

  It really was all on him.

  “I promised that if we were going to start over, I would be honest with you,” he says, reaching across the table to touch my hand. I let him. I don’t want to cause a scene in the middle of the restaurant. And really, couldn’t he have told me this later, after I finished my dinner?

  Clearly this isn’t bothering me as much as I thought it would.

  “You weren’t honest before when you broke up with me,” I finally say, slipping my hand from beneath his and folding it into my lap. “What’s making you want to be honest now?”

  Cole has already shoved another bruschetta into his mouth, and I wait for his answer, impatient as he chews and chews and finally swallows. “If we’re really going to get back together, I needed to tell you everything. It’s been hanging over me, eating me up inside, what I did to you when we were together. I’m sorry, Eden. I’m sorry for hurting you, for breaking up with you without giving you a reason, for breaking your heart. I didn’t know how else to do it.”

  He didn’t know how else to do it. I don’t even know what he means by that statement. He didn’t know how to hurt me? Didn’t know how to be honest? Didn’t know how to keep his dick in his pants? There are so many things swirling in my brain right now, and I can’t focus on any one of them.

  My appetite is gone. It’s disappeared with Cole’s confession. I push my pasta away from me and bring the red cloth napkin to my face. I wipe my mouth, then drop the napkin on top of my barely touched plate. “I should go.”

  “What?” Cole is frowning. He looks majorly confused. “You can’t just leave. We’re on a date.”

  “Yeah, I think this date is done.” I bend down, grab my purse off the ground, then stand. “I’m leaving.”

  “Where are you going? I’ll drive you home. Come on, Eden.” He stands, too, but I say nothing as I slip away from the table and start walking toward the front entrance.

  I pick up speed and can hear Cole following me. It’s funny how after such a big revelation, such a huge, hurtful betrayal, I don’t feel like crying. Not even close. I’m numb as I walk through the restaurant, as I pass the tables full of people talking and laughing and having a great time. I smile at the woman standing behind the hostess stand, my gaze wandering over the people waiting for a table in the front lobby, and then I’m pushing open the door, walking out into the cool, dark night. The door shuts, sealing off the sound from inside, and it’s quiet. So quiet, I can almost hear the waves crashing against the ocean shore that’s only a few miles away from where I’m standing.

  But maybe that’s just my imagination.

  Cole doesn’t follow me outside, and I’m relieved. The server or hostess probably stopped him, must’ve thought he was trying to dine and dash or whatever, and that’s kind of amusing. Cole would never do something like that.

  Of course, I never thought Cole would cheat on me, either. So maybe he would do something like that.

  Glancing both ways for traffic, I hurry across the street, annoyance flashing through me when a car suddenly speeds by, the driver honking at me. I walk down the sidewalk toward the pier, the salty scent of the ocean lingering in the air, and I glance at my phone, contemplating my next move.

  I’m not sure what I should do, but I know I don’t want to end up with Cole driving me home. Forget that. I can find someone to pick me up. I know I can.

  The old bowling alley with a giant arcade looms ahead, the large building wrapped in garish bright pink and blue neon lights and I duck inside, lurking by the large window that faces the street so I can see if Cole approaches. The place is full of people, most of them teenagers younger than me, and the music is loud and obnoxious. I’m sure Cole would never think I’d hide from him in here.

  I’d bet money Cole would think I’d never hide from him, period. The arrogant ass.

  I check my Snapchat, but there aren’t many notifications from close friends. Guess they’re all busy on a Saturday night. I send a quick text to Molly, but she’s on a date—an actual date—with the college guy Kirk, so I don’t expect a response. I text Josh, but there’s nothing from him, either.

  The disappointment that crashes through me is near overwhelming. Then I remember he mentioned going out with Whitney, the girl who Cole cheated on me with, and I immediately want to throw up.

  How does this girl keep creeping into my relationships?

  Deciding to hell with it, I text Abraham and ask what he’s doing. Of course, like he always seems to do, he calls me.

  “Aren’t you on a date with Cole?” he asks after I answer.

  “How do you know?” Who told him?

  “Josh told me that Molly told him.” Ugh, Molly. I bet she was complaining to Josh about it, too. “So what happened?”

  I really don’t want to get into this right now at the arcade with the loud music and the strangers standing nearby. “I realized Cole is a total asshole.”

  “Took you long enough,” Abraham mutters.

  “And I walked out on him at the restaurant.”

  “What? I bet that made him madder than hell.” Abraham is now laughing.

  I can’t help but start laughing, too. “He wasn’t too happy with me, but he can’t complain. He confessed he cheated on me.”

  Abraham is silent. And Abraham is never silent. His silence tells me he knew this, though Cole already brought up Abraham’s name earlier.

  “He cheated on me with Whitney Gregory,” I finish, her name leaving a bitter taste on my tongue.

  “Yeah.” Abraham sighs. “He recently mentioned this, and it was killing me that I couldn’t tell you.”

  “It’s okay,” I say, because it is. Cole was his friend first, way before I ever came around.

  “So he told you in the middle of the restaurant while you guys were eating dinner?” Abraham sounds incredulous.

  “Yes, he did.”

  “That’s insane. But also sort of smart, because then you can’t throw a huge fit.”

  “I threw a minor fit,” I say with a smile. “I walked out on him, remember.”

  “Where are you now?”

  “I’m at the bowling alley, close to the pier.”

  “Damn, where did he take you to dinner?”

  “Lorenzo’s. They have great food. Too bad I couldn’t eat much of it.” I pause, hating that I want to ask the next question, but I do it anyway. “Do you know where Josh is?”

  Abraham remains quiet again, which is a bad sign. He knows exactly where Josh is, he just doesn’t want to tell me. “Um, maybe.”

  I sigh and lean my forehead against the wall, closing my eyes. “Just tell me.”

  “He’s over at Whitney Gregory’s house. Said he was going to get some tonight. No one’s home so those two are all alone.”

  My heart aches. Seriously, this is so stupid. I’m the one who suggested he give Whit a try. I pushed her on him when he said he wasn’t interested, and now he’s over at her house, probably having sex with her as we speak.

  “Oh.” The word sounds as hollow as I feel.

  “Eden.” Abraham clears his throat. He sounds uncomfortable, like he knows he was just the bearer of some major bad news. “You want me to come get you and take you home? I can. I’m not doing anything.”

  “Would you? I hate to ask, but I have no one else and I don’t want to call my parents or Travis.” Travis is probably
on a date with his girlfriend so it’s not like he’d run to my rescue. A realization hits me. “But I don’t want to lead you on, not after what you told me earlier—”

  “Don’t worry about that,” he says, cutting me off. “Whatever you think you know about me, you’re wrong.”

  “Okay.” That was super confusing. What is he talking about?

  “Give me fifteen minutes, and I’ll be there, okay?” Before I can offer up a thank-you, Abraham’s already ended the call.

  …

  Josh

  Whitney’s house is huge. She lives in one of those private subdivisions near the ocean, and while they’re not on the side of the street closest to the Pacific, her house definitely has ocean views. Plus, they have a massive circular driveway and a perfect front yard with a giant fountain that looks straight out of a magazine. I pull into the driveway in my beat-up, old Toyota truck that belonged to my dad, and shut off the engine. It ticks loudly in the otherwise quiet night, and I glance around, staring at the looming house in front of me.

  Damn. The girl is loaded. I should’ve known with a name like Whitney Gregory. It just sounds rich, you know?

  I climb out of the truck and lock it, then go to the front door. When I hit the doorbell, it sounds like a thousand dogs just started barking within the house, and I take a step back, fully prepared for a pack of wild dogs to rush out at me the moment the door opened.

  But when the door swings open, all I see is a tiny, golden fur ball Whitney’s clutching in her arms.

  “Yay, you made it,” she says with a smile, squeezing the dog closer to her, so the dog’s face is practically nestled in her cleavage. “I thought you might chicken out.”

  Chicken out? Why the hell would she say that? “I’m here,” I say, my voice gruff. I nod toward the dog in her arms. “Who’s your friend?”

  She brings the dog’s face up to hers, pressing it against her cheek. “This is Lala. She’s a Pomeranian. Isn’t she adorable?”

  I make eye contact with that dog, and I swear it bares its fangs at me. What a stupid name. I can hear Eden complaining now. She hates ridiculous names. “Yeah, cute,” I say, my voice faint.

  “Come on in.” Whitney opens the door wider, and it’s when I walk inside that I notice what Whitney’s wearing, and it’s not much.

  Tiny white denim shorts that show off long, thin legs and a cropped black top that reveals most of her stomach. Her belly button is pierced, a pale pink stone glittering in her navel, and her skin is so tan I wonder if it’s fake.

  She shuts the door behind me and turns the lock, the sound sending dread slamming into me. I need to get over myself and all the gloom and doom I’m currently feeling. Seriously, I’m about to get laid for the first time, and I’m acting like I’m going to freaking die.

  “Nice house,” I tell her as I look around, hoping she can hear the sarcasm. This place is freaking amazing. The ceiling soars about three stories above me, and my voice literally echoes.

  If it was Eden, she would know I’m being sarcastic and say something in return.

  But Whitney doesn’t.

  “Isn’t it nice? We only moved in about two years ago.” She smiles at me, gives the dog a kiss on the forehead and then lets the little fluff ball go. It scampers after us as Whitney leads me into the living room, the dog’s claws clicking against the marble floor. “You want anything to drink or eat?”

  “Nah, I’m good.” I’m also too nervous to eat, not that I’d ever tell her that.

  Whitney smiles and makes her way around the living room, going to the giant entertainment center that takes up one whole wall and pushing a few buttons. Music suddenly spills out of invisible speakers and she turns that bright smile on me, flicking her wavy blond hair over her shoulder. “I love this song.”

  I don’t recognize it, but I go along with her. “It’s good.”

  “Do you like music?” She sits on the giant L-shaped couch and pats the empty spot beside her.

  “Yeah, who doesn’t?” I take a few steps toward the couch but don’t sit down yet. It’s like I’m trying to draw this out.

  “I don’t know, some people don’t care about music. But I love it. I listen to all kinds. Pop, rap, classical, country. New age, oldies, whatever’s playing usually makes me happy because I love it all.” She tilts her head to the side. “Are you going to come sit by me? I swear I won’t bite. Unless you want me to.”

  I laugh because she’s giggling, but I’m sort of sweating this. Nothing usually fazes me. I can handle anything—or at least, I think I can. But I guess I can’t really handle a cute girl ready to jump me on a Saturday night.

  “Josh,” she says when her giggles dry up. “Come over here.”

  Without a word I go to the couch and sit down beside her, leaving a few inches of room in between us. She gives me a look that says she knows exactly what I’m doing, and then she’s grabbing one of like twenty remotes that sit on the coffee table in front of us.

  “Forget the music. Want to watch a movie?” she asks as she hits a button that shuts the music off, then she grabs another remote and turns the flat screen TV on.

  “Sure.”

  “I’m in the mood for something scary.” She shoots me another look, one that says she has a plan and I nod in agreement. “Do you like scary movies?”

  Usually I do, because it means the girl is going to leap into my arms and clutch me close when she sees something that freaks her out. “Yeah, I do.”

  “Good.” She opens up the Netflix app on the smart TV and starts scrolling. “Hopefully we’ll find something we both haven’t seen.”

  My body sinks into the couch, because it’s made of the softest, most comfortable fabric I’ve ever sat on. I throw my arm up against the back of it, right above where Whitney’s sitting, and she sends me yet another one of those knowing looks before she settles on a particular movie I’ve never heard of before. Something about sexy vampires who are feeding on guys in their high school, I didn’t even catch what it’s called.

  Within minutes the movie is rolling and there are naked boobs bouncing on the big screen. Whitney giggles, her gaze meeting mine. “This movie might be kind of sexy. Hope you don’t mind.”

  Mind? No way would I normally mind. I’m all about movies with nudity in them, because let’s be honest, I love staring at the naked female body. But it doesn’t feel right, being here with Whitney. Sitting next to her on the giant couch, supposed teenage vampires with huge tits on the TV, knowing that when this movie is over—or hell maybe halfway through, maybe only twenty minutes through—I’ll have my hand up Whit’s shirt and her hand will be on my junk and then the next thing you know…

  My phone buzzes, yanking my mind from my dirty thoughts, and I pull it out of my pocket to see a text from Abraham.

  She knows.

  Frowning, I chance a look at Whit, but her eyes are glued on the TV. “Mind if I call someone real quick?”

  Whitney shrugs. “Yeah, sure. But don’t take too long. You don’t want to miss the movie.”

  Eden would pause the movie for me. Eden would ask who I’m calling.

  But this girl isn’t Eden.

  “I’ll be right back,” I tell Whitney as I stand and walk into the kitchen. I find a door that leads to the backyard and sneak through it, closing the door quietly behind me as I dial Abraham’s number.

  “Who are you talking about? What does she know?” I ask him when he answers.

  “Eden. Freaking Cole took her to dinner and told her he cheated on her with Whit over the main entrée.” Abraham sounds thoroughly disgusted. “Is he a dumbass or what?”

  I can’t believe Cole told her—and while he was out to dinner with her, too. That’s cold. “Why’d he choose now to tell her?”

  “Eden said he wanted to come clean if they were going to try and make this work. All he did was make her mad, and she walked out on him. Right in the middle of dinner.”

  “How do you know all of this?”

  “She ju
st called me and asked if I’d pick her up from the bowling alley,” he says, as if that should all make sense. “Do you want to go get her?”

  “What do you mean, the bowling alley?”

  Abraham sighs, like I’m annoying him. “She walked out on Cole in the middle of their date. She’s at that Italian restaurant downtown, and she ended up in the bowling alley across the street.”

  “Why didn’t she call me?” I’m kind of offended that she didn’t.

  “She said she sent you a text or whatever, but you never responded. And I told her that’s because you were with Whitney.”

  “You told her that?” Shit. Now I feel like a total sleazebag.

  “Yeah, what’s the big deal? I thought she knew you were all up in that.”

  God, sometimes the way Abraham says things. “Is Eden okay? Was she crying?” I hate it when Eden cries. It makes my freaking heart hurt, not that I’d ever admit that to anyone. But it’s like her pain becomes mine, and all I want to do is make her smile again.

  “Surprisingly enough, she wasn’t crying. At least not when I talked to her. Said she was sort of numb to it all now, I guess.” He hesitates. “You never answered my question. Do you want to go pick her up or not?”

  I glance toward the house. “I can’t just ditch Whitney.” Why the hell not? I barely know her. Eden needs me.

  But she called Abraham. Not me. She didn’t want to interrupt my time with Whitney. I’m overthinking this. She doesn’t like me like that. She went on a date with Cole—yeah it didn’t go quite as planned, but she’ll be okay.

  Right?

  There’s this need deep inside me, though. I want to go get her. Make sure she’s okay. I’m worried about her. How will I be able to concentrate on Whitney tonight when all I’ll do is worry about Eden?

  You don’t like Whitney, you dumbass. It’s Eden that you like. Eden is the girl you want.

  “No problem,” Abraham says easily. Almost too easily. “I’ve got it. I’m gonna go get her now.”