For Us

I think I died a little on the inside. At least that’s what it felt like as the words rang around in my head. “Mr. Flanery, your girlfriend’s here.”

Cause fuck me, right?

Sean looked absolutely horrified as I started practically hyperventilating. “W-Wait just a second, Sparks. I—”

“Shut the fuck up, Sean!” I interrupted, surprised at how loud I was able to yell at him. “Just don’t, okay? You fucking just . . . I have to get out of here. Holy fuck, I’ve gotta get out of here.” I started searching around for my shirt, not quite sure where it landed . . . .

Still hyperventilating.

“Will you please just listen to me?” he pleaded, and he actually came over and grabbed my arms. Not rough, not where it hurt, but it held me in place for a moment. “I swear, Elli, it’s not what you think.”

My eyebrows rose. “Oh, so, she’s not your girlfriend?”

“Well, no . . . she is, but—”

“Then there is nothing you can say that’ll make this any fucking better!” I exclaimed, and I felt the tears stinging my face. The tears betrayed me because right now, I wanted to be mad. I didn’t want him to know he hurt me, but maybe it was better this way. Maybe he needed to know he hurt me. Hurt me and angered me. “She’s your girlfriend, and you didn’t even fucking tell me! Alright, fine. I understand you didn’t tell me before. When the fuck did it come up? But now? Why the fuck didn’t you stop me?!”

“Because I didn’t want to,” he whispered. “Because everything I’ve wanted . . . fuck, Elli, I need you. Please don’t . . . please just let me explain.”

I was shaking again, but it hurt to shake. Hurt to breathe even. But I couldn’t take this, not tonight. I was humiliated, angry . . . crushed.

Yet the saddest part? I didn’t wanna walk away. I wanted to listen to him, let him explain. I wanted to just pretend that didn’t happen, be the other girl without actually caring . . . .

Just because it was Sean.

I yanked my shirt over my head, shoved my feet in my boots, and barely even remembered to grab my jacket as I moved to the door. “Please just don’t, Sean. Not tonight. I-I have to go.”

And I ran out. Fuck, I ran down the stairs without even thinking. As soon as Sean’s door closed, my vision was so blurred with tears I couldn’t see right. I wiped my eyes and started running, but it was a bit useless. The tears came back almost immediately.

I felt sick when I saw her and her perfect sunny blonde hair that fell in the most perfect curls. Sick to my core. I knew it was Sean’s girlfriend because she was a fucking supermodel. She had to be his girlfriend. There was a certain “perfection” about her that made me wish I was invisible.

Hell, for a second, I kinda wished I didn’t exist.

But I realized, about three flights of stairs down, that I had nowhere outside of this building to go. I didn’t have my purse, my little handy set of lock picks—fine, a box of bobby pins—so even once I got to Stella’s house, I couldn’t get in.

So I had to turn back, run back up the stairs and past the all too perfect bitch stopped outside Sean’s open fucking door.

Shoot me. Fucking shoot me right fucking now.

I didn’t make eye contact, but I knew he saw me. Figured she probably did, too, but I didn’t slow down. Didn’t even look back. I ran and ran until I literally couldn’t run up stairs anymore. I fell onto them and sobbed.

Broke down in the fucking stair well . . . .

I wasn’t where I needed to be, and I was scared of what might happen if I stayed there. What if someone came and found me? Kidnapped me? Fuck, I was screwed.

But my legs wouldn’t work anymore. I tried to stand up, and they just wobbled. I was a crumbled mess on the stairs who couldn’t see or really even breathe. Truthfully, I probably looked fucking horrible, but I didn’t care anymore.

Why care? Whether I looked good or bad, I was no supermodel.

So, I couldn’t walk. Couldn’t run for damn sure. I had to crawl, literally. Norm’s condo was only one more flight of stairs up, so I managed to get there.

I couldn’t stand up, though. I started hitting at his door, crying all over again.

Why was this happening? And why didn’t someone fucking tell me?! Norman and Stella both knew! They fucking had to. And neither said anything . . . .

Norman’s door opened faster than I thought. “Who—fuck, Elli!”

Hearing Norman get upset at the sight of me just sitting on the ground, a hideous, bawling mess, didn’t really help things. He helped me to my feet, and together, the two of us stumbled into his room.

“Why didn’t you warn me?” I whispered, and even though I was a bit upset at him, I needed a hug. I buried my face in his naked chest and cried. Feeling my tears on my face was odd, unpleasant even, but I didn’t really care.

“She . . . fuck, Elli,” he breathed, but his grip on me tightened as he shut the door behind me. “Elli, please don’t. He’s breaking up with her, probably right now as we speak. He’s been back and forth about it, and then you come along. What happened?”

I knew I couldn’t talk without calming myself down, so I waited to answer. Now, I was at a point I could control it, so I willed myself to stop crying—though I didn’t wanna stop, ever—and took a steady breath. Wiped my tears, looked at Norman, and let out a shaky sigh.

“Normy, I just . . . I don’t know what to fucking do anymore. I was about to fucking lose my virginity to him . . . just like that, without thinking twice about it. And he has a girlfriend and didn’t tell me. Didn’t stop me. Let me be that other girl he knows I hate with a burning passion.”

Norman got this smirk, this smirk that I didn’t understand. I was a fucking mess, yet he was smirking about it? Really?!

But what he had to say explained his smirk. It made me feel a bit better, actually. “I don’t see the problem here. He’s probably single now. Roll with it, you dirty slut.”

“Fuck you,” I said, but I almost smiled. “You’re not really helping.”

Maybe that was what Sean had tried to say. He was breaking up with her anyways.

Did that make it any better, though? He hadn’t broken up with her, and he didn’t even explain. Didn’t say, “Look, Elli, just give me a few days? I really care about you, but I have a girlfriend, and I need to sort this shit out before I try anything.”

Who am I fucking kidding? That was unrealistic to expect of him. If I had a boyfriend and ran into Sean again, I wouldn’t fucking know what to do. Then again, I probably would’ve told him.

“Fuck, Sean, I really wanna fuck you right now, but I have this boyfriend, and I can’t just break up via phone, ya know?”

I would’ve probably said something like that . . . right before I proceeded to kiss him anyways. But only if that was, in fact, my plan. Breaking up with them.

It didn’t make it any less horrible, though, on both parts. Sean didn’t tell me, so it was kinda upsetting. But realizing I would’ve done it anyways if he had told me he was gonna break up with her . . . that was the worst part.

I felt horrible. Sean was mine, right? I had fucking declared that years ago, but he wasn’t. She was the one dating him, and he planned to break things off. Which would make him available once he broke it off. Not before.

“I’m a horrible person . . . .”

“Why the fuck do you say that?” Norman scoffed. “Because you didn’t fucking know? No.”

“Even if I had known, it wouldn’t have made a difference,” I whispered. “If he had just fucking told me, we probably still would’ve ended up in the same situation. Except I wouldn’t be upset. I’d just hate myself.”

“There’s no reason to hate yourself,” he insisted. “Look, you’ve known Sean forever. Been in love with him forever, right?”

“Right . . . .”

“And you find out, oh, he’s got a girlfriend that’s about to go away, right?” he continued, but I hesitated to respond. “Right?”

I sighed. “Right, but—”

“No, no, lemme finish,” he cut me off, holding one finger to my lips. “Shush, woman. Now, she’s about to go away. Sean’s completely done with her, but he’s waiting to do it in person. So what does that mean?”

“He hasn’t broken up with her yet?”

Norman sighed, shaking his head a little. “Not what I meant, babe. He’s done with her. Finished.”

“But that doesn’t make it right,” I insisted. “Normy, she’s not done with him. And dear fucking goodness, why? She’s a fucking supermodel.”

“Annoying as hell, though,” Norman snorted. “The guy’s dated her about a year now, and every time she’s around, I have contemplated suicide. She’s an airheaded, egotistical bitch.”

My eyebrows rose. “So . . . why is he with her?”

“Sex, I guess,” he snorted. “Fuck if I know. Honestly, El, now that I think about it, it’s probably because of you. He was subconsciously waiting for you to come back to him.”

That didn’t really help the nausea. How could it? I was no supermodel, and surely if she was a supermodel who happened to be a whore, she was probably good at sex too.

I was just a fucking virgin. Wouldn’t know the first thing about having sex. I mean, obviously, the dick goes in the vagina, but I had never experienced it myself.

So wouldn’t that be a step down in that aspect?

Norman must’ve noticed how sick I felt. “Don’t do this to yourself. Just stop right now, okay?”

“Stop what?” I mumbled. “Feeling sick? I can’t.”

“Stop trying to compare yourself to her,” he disagreed. “That’s really not a fair comparison.”

That kinda broke my heart a little more to hear him just confirm what I already knew. How was it fair to compare myself to a fucking supermodel?

“I know,” I whispered, before I really thought about it.

“That’s not what I fucking meant,” he sighed. “Look, El, she’s a whore. Sean doesn’t really give two shits about her. He fucking loves you. Sex always means so much more when you care about the person, so you have an unfair advantage over her. You’re beautiful, a wonderful person, and Sean loves the fuck outta you—and he only wishes literally!”

It made me feel a little better, but I still wanted to cry and just run away from it all. Go back to Tennessee? Fuck, I could do it. Why not?

Because you can’t leave problems unresolved.