The Movies Make It Look Easy

Chapter 55

Shannon’s P.O.V:

I rolled over with a yawn, my mind slipping fully into consciousness. I frowned at the empty space in my bed. I didn’t blame Nick for not sleeping in my room; it would have been a bit awkward for him to come in with Conor already asleep. I could understand that. The problem was I didn’t even know if he was home. We’d gone looking for him after I’d given Conor the tour of my room – he’d been surprised that I’d actually handed over half my wardrobe to Nick…he was under the impression that I’d be far too selfish for that – but Nick had been nowhere to be found. We’d put off having dinner for as long as possible but he hadn’t turned up.
I shrugged it off; he’d probably gone to Mark’s. I was hoping he wasn’t too mad about the whole Lee thing, and I planned to apologise as soon as I got the chance – I should have told him about Lee; I realised that now.

I sat up in bed, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, to see Conor already up and sifting through the stacks of art piled on my desk. He was wearing a pair of loose sweats that hung low on his bare hips. His chest was a slightly paler colour than his hands and face but still very nicely built; his abdomen taught with lean muscle.
Though I could appreciate the view (I wasn’t blind after all), I found that the sight of his half naked body did nothing for me – he was just a friend. It was actually a bit of a revelation for me. I’d known all along that I didn’t have feelings for him, but a small part of me had wondered if that would change when I saw him again. Obviously not. I took a moment to marvel at my ability to fall out of love with somebody so thoroughly, before I cleared my throat.

Conor turned to me with a smile; “morning love.”
I stifled a yawn and swung my legs over the edge of the bed. “How did you sleep?” I asked as I pulled one of Nick’s hoodies on over the t-shirt and shorts I’d slept in.
Conor looked at me steadily before glancing down at the makeshift bed we’d compiled for him to sleep on beside my bed. “Alright, but I no doubt would have been comfier if you’d let me sleep in your bed.”
I lifted one shoulder up in a shrug. “I only allow one guy in my bed at a time” I grinned.
He rolled his eyes; “you make it sound as if we would have been doing something other than sleeping.”
I winked at him. “Sorry honey” I said sweetly, “but that ship has sailed.” I sobered up; “seriously though, Nick’s the only guy that gets to sleep in my bed, period, and that rule won’t change; even for you.”
He just ruffled my hair with a laugh as he stepped past me to grab a shirt from his small overnight bag.
I sat back on the edge of the bed and stared at him mournfully. “I can’t believe you have to leave so soon.”
He sighed, “Sorry kiddo, I have work - but don’t worry, we’ll make plans to see each other soon. And for longer this time” he grimaced.
I sighed but nodded in understanding. “Come on” I told him standing up; “the least I can do is give you breakfast before you leave.”
He grabbed his bag and followed me out of my room, dropping it by the front door.

I was about to head into the kitchen when I stopped dead in my tracks. Nick’s bedroom door slowly opened and he appeared in the doorway wearing only his boxers. Conor came to a stop behind me and we both stared across the room at Nick.
I eyed him with distaste. I thought I’d seen him bad before, thought I’d seen him as hungover as a person could get. No, I corrected myself, he’s still drunk. He looked awful in a way that words couldn’t even describe – let’s just say I could smell him clearly from across the room.
I opened my mouth to say something, when movement behind him stopped me. I squeezed my eyes shut briefly; the last vestiges of hope that I’d retained, the small amount of belief and trust I’d had that he’d gone out with Mark was ripped from me so fast it left me breathless.
She appeared beside him half naked, and stared across the room at Conor and me with a mixture of satisfaction and innocence that said she had no idea there was anybody else in the apartment. She ran a hand through her mussed up hair before turning her attention to Nick. She wrapped her arms around his waist and began kissing his neck.
I dragged my gaze away from her with difficulty and looked instead at Nick. He was staring at me, his eyes hooded and dark. I felt Conor place a protective arm around my shoulders as he began to usher me towards the kitchen.
I couldn’t make myself look up at him. I didn’t want to see the anger and certainly not the pity in his gaze. I might just break.

I looked back once to see Nick frowning down at the girl in confusion. He disentangled himself from her clinging arms; his eyes blank and unfocused. His lips moved as he muttered to himself or her, I wasn’t sure.
It didn’t help, the damage was done.
I faced forward again and allowed Conor to lead me through the doorway into the kitchen. I was numb; there was no other word for it. I felt like when you had an accident and the endorphins had just kicked in. I’m in shock, I thought vaguely, dispassionately, to myself.

I felt a pathetic, insipient need to pretend that everything was okay, that nothing had happened. I sensed that if I opened the floodgates now, in front of Conor, I’d never close them again. So with that thought, I turned to Conor, my face carefully blank and asked him what he wanted for breakfast. He just stared at me in shock for a moment, his mouth opening and closing helplessly.
“We don’t have that much, but I’m sure I can make something” I told him tonelessly, turning towards the fridge.
“Shannon” he said and I stopped, my shoulders immediately tensing at the pity in his voice. “Don’t” I said hoarsely. “Just, don’t.”
I heard him sigh but he let the subject drop. “I’ll just have an apple” he said, striving for a light-hearted tone. Needless to say, he failed miserably.
“I don’t mind making you something” I offered, not quite making eye contact.
“I’ve lost my appetite” he said dejectedly.

We stood, leaning against the counter as Conor ate his apple. Neither of us wanted to suggest moving into the living room. I stood silently, my back rigid as I stared blankly at the wall opposite me. I felt…exhausted – like I hadn’t slept in days.
Eventually he spoke up; “I really should go.”
I could hear the reluctance in his voice but I ignored it, nodding once. I walked out of the room, my heart beating painfully hard in my chest. Nick was sitting on the couch, the TV on in front of him. His bedroom door was open and there didn’t seem to be any sign of his ‘friend’.
Unfortunately, he’d chosen not to put on any other clothes, but I closed my heart to the sight of him sprawled on the couch. I opened the front door and waited agitatedly as Conor turned back to Nick, his whole body tensing; his jaw clenched.
“It was…nice to meet you Nick” he bit out and I could tell he was trying to tamp down on his anger. I knew how hard it must be for him to say it; but in the end manners won out.
Nick on the other hand had no such qualms about being impolite. He ignored Conor completely, not even deigning to look up. He just continued to change channels, trying to find something to watch. I tensed as anger washed over me. He could fuck me over all he liked; but there was no need to be so rude to Conor, who hadn’t even done anything – bar being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

I gritted my teeth to stop myself from lashing out and gestured for Conor to precede me out the door. I closed it gently behind us and we stood facing each other awkwardly. “I’m sorry about that, there’s no excuse for his rudeness.” I looked down, staring blindly at bare feet.
“Don’t apologise for him” he said angrily and I flinched slightly. I felt his arms wrap around me and I let myself sink into his embrace. “I’m so sorry” he whispered, pressing a kiss to my forehead.
I felt tears stinging my eyes and I blinked frantically to keep them from spilling over as I stepped back. “Don’t be” I told him firmly.
He cupped my chin. “If you need me, I don’t care what time it is or if I’m in the middle of something; I can be here in a few hours. Remember that” he told me earnestly.
I stood up on my toes to kiss him on the cheek and hug him once more. “I will. Thank you. Now go, I don’t want you to miss your flight.”
I stood there until he disappeared from my sight – the last buffer between me and what I dreaded having to face; Nick.
Eventually, I worked up as much courage as was possible and with a deep breath; I opened the door and stepped inside. I closed it behind me and slowly looked up.

Nick was standing by the couch, the TV off. He’d put on a pair of grey tracksuit bottoms while I was outside, but nothing else. Well, it was better than nothing. I found it hard to look at him, a mixture of anger, disgust, hurt, and betrayal filling me. I tried to keep my face - my eyes - blank. I didn’t want him to know how hurt I was, how all I wanted to do was curl up into a ball and cry. I had a horrible feeling that nothing would ever be the same.
I wished I could wipe the last day and a half from my memory and start over. But I couldn’t; we couldn’t. All we could do was move forward and accept the consequences of our actions, even if it meant the end of our friendship; the end of us.
At least he seems to have sobered up, I thought with a sigh.

“Is he gone?” Nick asked; his eyes narrowed.
Just like that, my anger took over again. How dare he act like Conor was the problem, like he was the reason we were fighting. Conor hadn’t been the one to just callously break my heart just for the hell of it - just because he could. “There was no need to be so rude to him” I hissed.
Nick’s face clouded over; “I’m only nice to people I like, and I’m sorry to burst your pretty little bubble, but; I. Don’t. Like. Him” He ground out.
There was so much anger and hate in his voice that I closed my eyes against the onslaught of emotion, and counted to ten in my head to try and regain some semblance of calm. “How could you?” I asked brokenly before I could stop myself.
His face cleared and I saw the hurt in his eyes as he followed my train of thought. A second later, the mask snapped back into place and all I could feel was his anger towards me, Conor, and probably the world too. “Oh please, like you can talk” he snapped.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I asked incredulously, truly baffled.
“What I mean is that you were cooped up in your fucking room with him ever since you stepped foot into the apartment yesterday” he snarled, his arms rigid by his side.
“And how the hell would you know?” I cried, stepping forward; “you were out all night. You don’t know anything!” I shouted the last bit.
He just glared at me, refusing to say anything. I took a deep breath, my voice falling to little more than a whisper; “so is this my punishment for having a friend come to stay?”
“A friend? Is that what you call him? He fucking kissed you yesterday!” he shouted in frustration as he ran a hand through his hair.
“It was a friend kiss – completely platonic. We went out for two years; it’s just what we do! Mark’s kissed me before and-“
He interrupted before I could finish my sentence; “Do you still have feelings for him?”

I just stared at him for a minute; I mean he had to be joking right? How could he even think that? “No, of course not, we’re just good friends.”
“Really?” he asked disbelievingly.
It hadn’t escaped my notice that he hadn’t admitted to doing anything wrong – he was completely focused on me, like this was my fault somehow. “Yes” I answered, frustrated that he wouldn’t believe me, frustrated that we were even having this conversation at all.
“Then why do you text him all the time?” he burst out. “As soon as you see him, you immediately head for the bedroom, and don’t forget when your mother said, and I quote; ‘if it wasn’t for the fact that she went abroad for college, I’m sure they’d still be together’. Yes Shannon” he snarled, “that sounds like friends to me.”
I couldn’t stop myself from rolling my eyes. He was unbelievable! “Yes, we went out for two years…”
“Rub it in my fucking face, why don’t you?” he muttered angrily, staring at the blank TV screen.
“Shut the fuck up and actually listen because I’m only going to say this once” I snapped. I took a deep breath, the pain in my chest growing with every passing moment. “Firstly” I began, “we went out for two years and I saw him practically every day so I find it weird not being able to see him, which is why I text him all the time; not to mention that he’s one of my best friends!” I glared at him. “Secondly” I continued; “he was here for one fucking night, so I’m sorry for actually wanting to spend some time with him before he left again. I’m probably not going to see him again for months. And thirdly; yes I know what my mother said - I was there after all – and you know what? It’s probably true.”
He opened his mouth to say something but I held up my hand. I wasn’t finished. “I loved him, and he loved me. We were good together, and if I hadn’t come here for college, we’d probably still be together. But that’s not the point! I did come here, we did break up, and I met you.”
“That doesn’t mean you can’t still have feelings for him” he spluttered, making me want to scream in frustration. Once again, he’d entirely missed the point.
“I know, and that’s why I’m telling you I don’t! He’s now one of my best friends and I love him, but as a friend. I tell him everything which is partly why I text him all the time; because there’s always so much drama going on in my life.”

We were silent for a moment, both of us too stubborn to step back from the fight and try to actually think rationally. I was filled with so many conflicting emotions, all vying for attention, that I didn’t know what to feel. I ended up just pushing them all down, bottling them up until I was once again numb. I had a feeling that it wouldn’t last very long though. “You know” I said, “it’s ironic because I told him all about you, and my feelings for you, and he gave me advice and fucking encouraged me to go for it, and do you know what he said yesterday?”
He looked at me with the most pained expression on his face but I blocked my heart to it. He’d hurt me.
“What?” he almost whispered, his shoulders sagging.
“He said that he thought you were a good guy and encouraged me again.” I paused, trying to get the words past the lump in my throat. “But I guess he was wrong…and so was I.”
He winced like I’d struck him. “So you didn’t sleep with him?”
“No! For the millionth fucking time; we’re just friends, but I guess I don’t have to ask you the same thing, do I? The half-naked girl with her hands all over you was a bit of a give-away.” It was so hard to block the image of her standing with her arms wrapped around him, looking oh so satisfied. It hurt too much to think about – it was just so wrong.
“Shannon, I…”
I cut him off, “do you know how humiliating that was for me? I’ve just spent I don’t know how long telling Conor that you were a good guy and that I liked you, and then the one time he’s actually here, there’s some slut feeling you up; even though you promised you wouldn’t bring anyone home anymore. I even made Conor sleep on the floor because I told him that you were the only person allowed in my bed. God, I’m such an idiot.”
He winced again and opened his mouth to say something but obviously thought better of it. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought her home” he finally said remorsefully.
“You shouldn’t have fucking slept around at all! Do you care so little for me?”

In two steps he was in front of me, cupping my face. “You know that’s not true!” he said in a low voice.
He bent down and kissed me. For the briefest moment, I sank into him but then my brain realised what was happening and I pulled away from him, away from his lips. There was only an inch or two between us. He was breathing heavily; his forehead pressed against mine as he slowly stroked my hair.
“You know when we spent Christmas with my family, I told you they all liked you, and it was true. They did like you, even my brothers who rarely like my guy friends because they’re so protective. But you know a big part of why they liked you was because they could see you made me happy.” I wrenched myself away from him. “You’re not making me happy anymore. You hurt me when you went out and met that girl. And what’s pissing me off is that all of this could have been avoided if you’d asked me about Conor, even in passing; or, I don’t know, you could have trusted me?”

I’d been stepping slowly away from him as I spoke, tears blurring my eyes, but he just kept following me; step for step until I was backed up against the wall. He placed a hand on either side of my head, pressing his body to mine, a desperate look on his face. I refused to look up at him, staring instead at a random point over his shoulder.
“Shannon, Sweetheart, I’m so sorry. I fucked up, I know. I’m a jealous bastard, and when the two of you closed that fucking door behind you yesterday, I was blinded by my fucking pain because I thought you knew how I felt but you still went into that damn room with him. So I went out and I slipped into my old habits of just drinking until I couldn’t feel anymore. But it didn’t work; I couldn’t make myself stop hurting. So then I got angry, and I’m not proud of it, but a part of me wanted you to hurt as much as I did.”
“Well you got your fucking wish” I snarled, finally looking at him.

His expression was heart-breaking, and were those tears in his eyes? My own tears spilled over and he buried his face in my hair. “You don’t know how much I’ve changed since I’ve known you. You haven’t really even done anything, but just you being here has made me become a much better person. You’ve made me want to change myself. I don’t want to be that guy anymore” he whispered frantically in my ear; “I want so much to be good enough for you.”
I pushed him away from me. If I let him touch me any longer, I’d cave.
“If I was thinking straight I never would have done it. I don’t want to hurt you. It’s killing me to see you upset. Shannon, I lo-“
“Stop” I whispered. I couldn’t let him finish that sentence, not when I knew it wasn’t true. “You don’t want to fucking hurt me? You just admitted that last night you did…but oh yeah, I forgot you were drunk! You know what? Just go away.”
“What?”
My tears ran down my cheeks and I wiped them away in frustration. “Please just leave me alone before I do something I regret, like hitting you.”
He looked shocked; “But you said you’d never hit me.”
My voice was so quiet it was barely audible; “I said you’d have to do something really bad for me to hit you…and I honestly think this is it. I don’t think you’ve even realised what exactly it is you’ve done that’s hurt me so much. Please, just go away” I pleaded. “I don’t want to talk to you or even look at you right now.”

A choked sort of sound issued from his throat before he turned and stumbled from the apartment. I slid slowly down the wall and put my head in my hands.
I cried. I wept as I felt my heart splinter into a thousand pieces - each one a sliver of pain that stabbed me repeatedly. I didn’t want to think about what he’d been about to say when I’d stopped him. If he loved me, really loved me, he wouldn’t have gone out and slept with someone…just because I was alone in my room with Conor. I didn’t know what I was going to do. I didn’t want to see him again anytime soon – the difficulty with living with somebody you’re involved with. It made break-ups that much harder. When I’d calmed down enough to stand up; I went into my room and got to work - not wasting any time.