Bombshell

I didn't know what to do with myself for awhile.

There was a period of three or four weeks where I did nothing but get up, go to work, come straight home, cook dinner, do some laundry, go to bed, then repeat. I didn't turn the tv on for fear that I'd inadvertently see a hockey game on. I literally went days without speaking to a single person, which was completely new for me, because even when I had no one else to talk to, I'd always had Beau. In the past, I couldn't go twelve hours without talking to him in some form, be it in person, by phone, or by text, but now I'd cut myself off cold turkey and it was the worst pain I'd ever felt. I was miserable and lonely and I briefly considered just giving up and going back home to Phoenix.

I went to my local animal shelter on a whim one day when I was feeling particularly shitty and ended up walking out with probably the most adorable little Boston Terrier ever. She was approximately nine months old and they told me that she'd been abused for most of her short life, but she was so happy to see me that I couldn't leave without her. Her name was Cleo and she made things bearable again. She may have only been a dog, but it was nice to have someone waiting for me when I came home; I didn't feel quite so alone anymore.

About two months into my new life of solitude, one of my coworkers randomly asked to borrow my stapler and ended up spending the rest of the afternoon standing there at my desk, stapling huge piles of documents together as she chattered on about anything and everything. Her name was Courtney and she sat three desks down from me while her fiancée Dylan sat in the corner office at the end of the hall with a shiny bronze plaque on the door that read Vice President. They'd been together for four years and had just gotten engaged on New Year's Eve. Their weird chihuahua, aptly named El Perro Loco (Perry, for short), was two years old and had a major problem with butterflies and socks. Their three bedroom apartment in Shadyside was super fancy, and they threw a mean fondue party every other weekend.

Those were the types of things I learned about some people at work once I actually started talking to them. For the entire time that I'd lived in Pittsburgh, I'd always been so immersed in one particular set of people that I'd never given any other people groups a chance. This new 'work people' group was a bit of a change from what I was used to, and sure they were pretty much big dorks who taught me how to make a cheese ball and made me play charades, but it was fun to have friends again. These friends were entirely my own, and as a bonus, they couldn't give two shits about sports of any kind so I didn't have to worry about how I was going to avoid hockey.

Courtney was a major 'mother hen' type, more so than any other girl my age that I'd ever met. She was always scolding me for my pre-packaged processed microwave lunches while she and Dylan ate the grilled chicken and salads that she'd prepared for them the night before. She forced me to text her and let her know I got home safe from work every single night because she knew I lived alone and that I had to walk a few blocks from the T to my apartment. She invited me over every Sunday morning to help her cook a big lunch, in the process teaching me some of the recipes she'd learned from her sweet little Italian grandmother.

True to her nature, she showed up at my door unannounced around noon the day I called in sick with the flu. She'd sacrificed her entire lunch break and took the T all the way from work to bring me some chicken noodle soup; even when she was leaving, she promised that she and Dylan would stop back by after work to check on me before they went home. I insisted that she shouldn't expose herself to the flu I had, but she wasn't going to miss the opportunity to take care of someone so she ignored my protests.

Dylan was a little more cautious when he stepped into the apartment later in the evening, keeping a respectable distance from me on the sofa as he took a seat at my tiny kitchen table. Courtney went straight to the stove to heat up the fresh supply of soup she'd brought me, making herself right at home in my kitchen while I stayed in my position burrowed under three thick blankets, too cold and tired and achy to move. I wasn't the slightest bit hungry but she shoved the bowl into my hands and made me eat and after I was finished, she forced me off the sofa and into my bedroom so that she could literally tuck me into bed. I was asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow but there was a note on my nightstand Friday morning, prompting me to call her when I woke up.

There was supposed to be a lunch meeting at the office so she wouldn't have a chance to come check on me but she made sure I knew that she'd brought enough stuff the night before so I still had something to eat. I still didn't feel like eating but her voice rang through the speaker loud and clear-- "I'll be over there after work and I'll know if you don't eat, so go heat up some soup and I'll see you at five."

And she did. It was the same routine as the night before, her heating up some soup and then tucking me into bed after I'd eaten and brushed my teeth while Dylan stayed far enough away from me, casually covering his mouth and nose with his gray silk tie to keep from breathing in my germs.

"Court, you gotta stop coming over here," I croaked weakly as she pulled my duvet up over my legs. "You're gonna get sick next and I'm gonna feel really bad when you miss that gala with Dyl this weekend."

"Oh, shush," she chided me like I was a child while tucking the covers up under my neck. "I don't get sick, Aud. I'm completely fine. You stop worrying about me and just focus on getting better."

She should have listened to me.

I told her to stop, but she hadn't listened and three days later, she was curled up on her on sofa under a pile of blankets, shivering despite her 103 degree fever. The thing about her though was that, while she liked taking care of others in their time of need, she absolutely refused any kind of help and care when she was the sick one. She practically kicked Dylan out of their apartment (well, as much as she could do without moving her aching body from the sofa) because she didn't want him to catch it with the gala coming up; it was important that he attend considering his position at the company. He ended up crashing on my couch for the two days leading up to the event after making sure I'd properly disinfected my apartment and he also managed to sucker me into going as his date because Courtney couldn't and that was "technically my fault."

It was a Friday in mid-May and the weather was a bit brisk but clear and sunny so the droves of people were out on the streets in full force when we left my apartment at six. A sleek black car had been sent for us so we didn't have to take the T downtown to the ritzy hotel where the gala was being held. It only took us about fifteen minutes to cross the bridge from the North Side and drive to the hotel while Dylan informed me that our task for the night was to schmooze with as many people as possible and make a good impression for the sake of the company. I wasn't expecting there to be a legitimate red carpet with photographers when we pulled up but there it all was so I had to get myself situated while Dylan slid out first and then I very carefully climbed out after him in my short dress and tall heels.

I had no clue how one was supposed to act on a red carpet, despite my love of watching every awards show known to man, but Dylan just grabbed my hand and laced it through his arm, tugging me gently along to the ornate main entrance. We were stopped almost immediately inside the door when someone called his name and then there were about twelve people descending on us all at once. Once we were through with them, he led me further inside to the most spectacular open bar in the grandest, most elaborate ballroom I'd ever seen.

With drinks in our hands, we found our place cards at table number four and sat down, people constantly coming over in droves to talk. That was a pro of being him, I guess; make an appearance at a big charity gala and you get to sit back and relax while the people come to you. I don't think I've ever seen so many fancy rich people gathered in one place.

They all seemed to know Dylan practically from birth because I heard countless stories about what a little shit he was when he was a kid and how proud they were of him that he'd grown up into the current version of himself. He had to correct all the middle aged ladies a million times on the fact that I was not his fiancée. They all giggled like school girls when he further informed them that I was the person who'd given his fiancée the flu and therefore became her fill-in and I just shrugged with a guilty smile but kept my mouth shut. They were there to talk to him anyway, not me. I think they all had little crushes on him now that he was older and it wasn't quite as weird (but it was still weird to me).

The husbands however were a different story. While their wives were all being charmed by the handsome young company VP, I was left to do the same to the husbands. It wasn't that hard, just a little arm touch as I spoke or an extra giggle when they told a joke that wasn't funny, but the champagne flute in my hand that magically refilled itself certainly helped things along. Finally, when it was time for dinner to be served, the groups dispersed to their own tables, and I'd say they were all successfully charmed by Dylan and me by the time they left. The President and CEO of the company aka Dylan's father joined us at our table with his wife, along with the COO and his wife and the CFO and his partner.

Thankfully, being seated with them gave me the opportunity to shut up for awhile. They were all talking about important company business, things I knew nothing about as a lowly administrative assistant, and I was perfectly fine with that. I quietly ate my delicious expensive meal and tried to at least keep tuned in to the conversation just in case I needed to nod in understanding or answer a question thrown my way. Dylan's mom brought up Courtney at one point, gushing about what a great girl she was and how lucky her son was to have her and we basically had an 'I love Courtney' fest for the remainder of dinner. There was a speaker after all the plates and silverware had been cleared away, but I didn't really pay her much attention, or the man she introduced to come up onto the small stage after her.

When the man finished speaking and took his seat, the whole large ballroom erupted into applause which snapped me out of my semi-comatose state and I quickly set my glass down to clap for the last few seconds before it ended. People started getting up to mingle again but we stayed where we were while Dylan's mother went to grab a young couple and bring them over to us. Their names were Ezra and Allegra.

They both looked about my age and they were both stunningly gorgeous. Allegra was impossibly tall, a good few inches taller than my 5'4" frame even with my three inch heels on, and she had high model-esque cheekbones and silky light brown hair that fell down past the thin straps of her powder blue dress. Ezra was tall too; I bet if I stood right in front of him in my heels, I still wouldn't reach his broad shoulders. His expensive dark gray three piece suit looked similar to Dylan's black one and there was not a single dirty blond strand of hair out of place. He and Dylan shook hands at the same time Allegra and I did, and I immediately tuned out the boys to talk to her. She was very friendly and she laughed a lot; her name really suited her well.

After Allegra made me promise to get her number from Dylan so we could hang out sometime, she and Ezra excused themselves at the beckoning of some older woman in an inappropriately low cut black dress. I was too busy checking out Ezra to notice Dylan smirking at me until he draped his arm over my shoulders. "Someone got heart eyes for my pal Ez?"

I rolled my eyes. "Shut up."

"I could set you two up if you want?"

"Uhh, what about his girlfriend?" I asked, nodding toward the two where they were now standing with Mrs. Wrinkly Boobs across the room.

"That's not his girlfriend, dumbass," he laughed. "Allegra's his sister."

"Oh....No wonder they're both so pretty."

"So, how about it? I'm sure he'd be game."

I looked over at Ezra, all six-foot-something of him, and his blond hair and that chiseled jaw straight from the gods. The idea of even trying to date someone else was impossible to me because it only made me think of someone I spent a lot of time trying not to think about. I shook my head. "No. That's okay."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm still too hung up on my ex boyfriend to get involved in anything else. Trust me, it's a mess up here," I told him, tapping my dark red fingernails against my temple for extra emphasis. "Besides, if he's your friend, that means he's gotta be an ass, right?"

"Hey, fuck you," he laughed, squeezing my shoulder before letting me go completely to stop the waiter who was passing by with a full tray of champagne flutes. Dylan handed one to me before turning back to grab one for himself and I was already putting it to my lips when he reached out and grabbed my hand to stop me, almost sloshing the liquid out onto my ivory dress. "We have to toast," he said like it was obvious when I glared at him.

"Alright," I sighed. "To?"

He thought for a moment before grinning at me. "To friends. The best kind are the ones who go to stuffy events with you because you can't get out of it."

I chuckled. "And to Courtney, the lucky bitch who's lounging on the sofa watching netflix right now."

We clinked our glasses together before emptying the champagne from them and he surveyed the room while I eyed the bar and decided on what alcoholic beverage I was going to choose next. "Hey," he said suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence between us. "I thought you said you weren't going to know anyone here."

"Yep, I did. I don't know anybody who's rich or prestigious enough to be at an event like this."

"Okay then you wanna tell me why there's about ten guys over there watching you as they talk among themselves?"

"Come on, it's just 'cause I'm hot," I joked with a grin, but I glanced over my shoulder anyway to see who he was talking about and I swear I could have dropped dead right where I was standing. So maybe I did know some people who were rich and prestigious enough to be at this ritzy event, but they weren't people I ever expected would show up. They weren't people I ever expected I'd have to face again and I had just started accepting that fact after a long few months of loneliness.

To make matters worse, there was a distinct blond head of hair sticking up in the midst all the dark hair and before I could even register the consequences of what I was about to do, my eyes found his face and the heartbroken look on it. My lungs felt like they were on fire from the lack of oxygen but my chest hurt too much to take a breath and I couldn't tear my eyes away from the group despite the fact that Dylan was annoyingly prodding my ribs with his index finger.

I couldn't do anything but watch, frozen, as Beau shook his head at Sidney and turned to leave, dodging his teammates' sympathetic pats and other gestures of comfort as he walked away from the group and out of the ballroom. I watched the doorway he disappeared through, hoping that maybe for some reason he would come back, but of course he didn't. My gaze flickered back to the group he'd left behind but most of them had looked away from me by now, leaving only the one pair of deep brown eyes staring intently. In the past, I probably would have used words like warm and friendly to describe them, but now they just seemed dark and emotionless-- at least, they were when I was the object of their attention.

"I'm gonna go get another drink," I blurted before darting off in the direction of the bar, leaving Dylan even more confused. My fingers couldn't keep still, tapping out a rhythm against the counter top as I waited impatiently for the bartender to finish with the drink he was making an acknowledge me. Once he finally did, I ordered a whisky neat because I didn't want any pesky ice or non-alcoholic liquids to take away from the strength of the drink. I wanted to just get as drunk as possible, good impressions be damned. The bartender set the glass next to my still tapping fingers and I quickly grabbed it, throwing almost half of it back at once before I stopped to take a breath, letting it burn my throat and chest all the way down.

"Audrey."

My eyes closed automatically at the voice behind me and now I wished more than ever that it was still me who was at home with the flu. I slowly turned, still clutching the glass tightly in my hand and my eyes met those familiar dark brown ones once again. "Flower," I acknowledged quietly.

"You look good."

"Thanks. So do you." Like everyone else here, he too was wearing an expensive dark suit, a thin gold and black tie disappearing into his jacket and a little gold square peeking out from his breast pocket. Ever the Penguin. Which reminded me....."So how's your season?" I knew it was mid-May so regular season was long over, but it was right in the midst of playoff time so I figured I'd ask.

"It's over now," he informed me with a sad smile. "We got eliminated this week."

"Oh," I said awkwardly. "Fuck, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"You don't watch us anymore?"

The question he cut me off with surprised me. I knew he had to know that watching their games was just too painful for me now, but he was staring at me with those big brown eyes, blinking innocently like he didn't already know the answer. I just shook my head in response, unable to actually say the word no, and decided changing the subject immediately was necessary. "So what are you guys doing here? I know a lot of you don't really care for events like this."

"Mario sponsored it. We figured we owed it to him with the way we blew it in the last series."

I elected to ignore the shot he took at himself and focused on the first part. "Mario sponsored this? I didn't know."

"Audrey," he chided, an amused smile pulling at his lips. "He just gave a twenty minute speech."

"Oh shit, that was him?" Well, now I was embarrassed. How the hell could I not have noticed that the owner of the fucking Penguins was the primary sponsor of the stupid event I had been dragged to? "I wasn't paying much attention to be honest. I was-......"

"Daydreaming?" he guessed and when I shrugged, he chuckled. "Some things never change." And unfortunately, some do, I thought to myself but he posed another question before I could dwell on that too much. "So what about you? What are you doing here?"

"Oh, I'm a fill-in date. My friend had to be here but his fiancée caught the flu from me last week and couldn't make it. So, as punishment for my germs, I got to attend this lovely gala."

He nodded thoughtfully and bit his lip like he was thinking about saying something but wasn't sure if he should. "So that's not him then?" he finally asked after another moment's hesitation.

"Him who?"

"The one you left Bennett for."

I wasn't sure I was understanding him right at first. My brows furrowed as I replayed that phrase again in my head. I didn't know what Beau had told them about why we broke up and I disappeared right out of their world, but this? Had he actually told them that I'd just dumped him for some other guy? I couldn't believe he would do that, no matter how much he didn't want to tell them the truth. Did they all think I cheated on him too? Was that why they seemed to hate me now? I felt my whole face crumple at the thought and my shoulders sagged a little.

"Is that what he told you?" I asked but my voice cracked in the middle of it and I wanted to cringe at how pathetic I sounded.

His face fell when he noticed my reaction but he didn't have time to say anything else before an arm wrapped around my shoulders, causing me to jump in surprise. "Jesus, Aud. Jumpy much?"

"You scared me, you jerk," I mumbled, trying my best to jab Dylan in the ribs with my elbow but he pulled me tighter into his side so that my arm was trapped between us.

"Hey, you okay?"

"Yep."

I wasn't convincing and all three of us knew it. He squeezed my shoulder, ducking his head down to my level to look me in the face. "You sure?"

"Mhmm," I nodded quickly, avoiding eye contact with him to look at Flower, who was also watching me carefully now. Great. "Um, Flower, this is my friend, Dylan Cruz. Dyl, this is Marc Andre Fleury."

They shook hands and exchanged pleasantries briefly before both looking back at me for guidance. I guess because I was their common link, they decided I should be the medium through which conversation flowed but I had nothing so I just bit my lip, avoiding both pairs of eyes on me. "So, looks like you knew someone here after all," Dylan commented, nudging my arm with his elbow to get my attention.

"Hm? Oh yeah. We....used to be friends." My eyes automatically shifted up to Flower for confirmation but he just looked back at me with a sad expression.

"Oh," Dylan said awkwardly. "Well, in that case, I'm especially sorry to interrupt, but Aud, there's a few more people we need to speak to before we go."

"Okay," I nodded, keeping my head down and my gaze on the floor while listening to them exchange it-was-nice-to-meet-you's and it wasn't until Dylan gently tugged on my wrist that I finally looked back up at the one who had effectively ruined my night. "It was good to see you, Flower," I mumbled softly before dropping my gaze right back down again and letting Dylan lead me away.

It wasn't until we were turning to go out the French doors on the side that I realized we were supposed to be doing something else. "Where are we going? I thought we had more people to talk to."

"I lied. You look upset so I figured you might want an out from that."

I sighed heavily in relief when I stepped outside and the noise from the ballroom cut out immediately. "Thanks," I told him, dropping onto the little wrought iron bench at the edge of the beautiful courtyard. If I wasn't about to cry, I would've been wondering why more people weren't out there enjoying the cute stonework and gardens all around. I put my head in my hands, feeling the tears welling up behind my eyelids, and I tried my hardest to stop it because I didn't want to ruin my makeup, but I couldn't help it.

Dylan was hovering over me with his hands shoved into his pants pockets but when he heard me sniffle, he sat down next to me and rubbed my back. "Hey, please don't cry, Aud. C'mere." He easily pulled me up from my hunched over position and hugged me to his chest, giving me a tight squeeze before running his palm back and forth over my shoulder.

I wasn't sure why I couldn't stop. I mean, sure, I was still upset about Beau because I still missed him more than anything, but I'd finally stopped crying over him months ago. I'd reached the point where I could think about him without bursting into tears, even though I was still sad and I'd probably never get over it. But that was before I'd seen him again-- seen him and saw the look on his face when he thought I was with Dylan, instead of just there with him. He was the one who'd decided we couldn't be together but he still had the audacity to look heartbroken over a wrong conclusion.

The sound of the french doors opening vaguely registered in my mind for about a half second but then it was gone again until a familiar voice tentatively called my name. "Fuck," I muttered under my breath as I pulled away from Dylan, wiping the tears from under my eyes as carefully as I could before I turned to look yet another person I hadn't spoken to in months. "What?"

Kris seemed thrown off by bite of my tone, but his expression softened when I sniffled right after and dabbed my cheeks with the back of my hand. "Are you okay?" he asked quietly, his gaze momentarily sliding past me and hardening on Dylan. As if Dylan were the reason I was upset.

I couldn't help the bitter laugh this time. "I'm fine, Kris. Just like always." He started to say something in return but I looked away from him before he could, turning my head back to Dylan beside me. "Can I go home now?"

"Of course," he agreed, standing up from the bench and holding out a hand to me. "Come on."

Kris didn't try to stop me and he didn't say anything as we walked right past him and continued on down the sidewalk that led to the front of the hotel, rather than going back inside. I couldn't go back in there now; I could imagine how messed up my makeup was, plus my head felt all foggy. The car was waiting for us and I slid into the back seat silently with him right behind me. I'd stopped crying but my eyes still felt heavy and itchy and my chest hurt when I took deep breaths.

"So you wanna tell me what that was about?"

"No," I sighed. I knew it was coming and I knew I didn't want to talk about it but I also knew that it wasn't fair to not tell him anything after I'd just cried all over his nice suit. "My ex boyfriend was in there. Those guys were some of his teammates. Although I don't know why they're still in town. I mean, the season's over so most of them should be going back to-"

"Wait," he interrupted. "Teammates? Season?"

"Oh....Yeah. They, uh, kind of play for the Penguins."

"As in, the hockey team? The hockey team Mario Lemieux owns?"

"That's the one," I mumbled, looking out the window to watch the city lights fly by.

"Shit, I knew that guy's name sounded familiar! Fleury?"

"Mhmm."

"So....."

"So?"

"Which one'd you date?"

I scoffed. "Does it matter? You don't know any of the players."

"Excuse me," he scoffed in return, mimicking me. "I do know how to use google though."

"Well then use google to figure it out," I retorted, annoyed, but I rolled my eyes when he actually took out his phone to do it. "Dylan-"

"Audrey Lane Penguins," he said aloud as he typed the words into the google search bar. The results came up immediately and he glanced up at me confused for a moment before looking back at the screen. "Umm, well that wasn't so helpful I guess. I've got Audrey Lane Sidney Crosby, Audrey Lane Kris Letang, Audrey Lane Beau Bennett....."

I squeezed my eyes shut automatically when he said it. Even after the months apart and all the thinking about him I'd done, I still wasn't able to say his name out loud and it still really hurt to hear it, especially when it was grouped with my own name. Dylan seemed to sense that he hit a nerve with the last one by the apparent look on my face so he went back to work on his phone, doing who-knows-what. Then suddenly he laughed.

"How old were you in this, twelve?"

Unable to resist, I leaned in to look over his shoulder at the phone screen which was open to google images. The photo in question was one of the first that Beau and I had ever taken. It was in my dorm room at three in the morning in the middle of watching The Hangover for the twenty millionth time since we'd become friends. The faded dark blue hoodie of his that I was wearing in it was the same one I still had now buried in my closet. I had the sudden urge to dig it out and pull it on when I got back to the apartment. "That was my sophomore year of college," I told him, smiling at the memory.

"You look like little kids."

"We were little kids. God, it feels like forever since then. So much has changed."

I was too busy relishing the bittersweet wave of nostalgia to notice that he had moved on from that photo and was on to the next one. He bumped my shoulder with his and held the phone out for me to look again. "How the fuck did you survive the cold in that costume? How the fuck did that guy survive? He's not even wearing a shirt."

I knew what he was talking about without looking but I did anyway because I distinctly remembered the smile on Beau's face in the picture and I missed it desperately. He'd had gotten invited to a Halloween party by some sorority girl in his psychology class and distinctly told not to bring a plus one, but he decided that meant he should definitely bring one so that was how I ended up tagging along. He'd heard it was the best party of the year on campus and he really wanted to go but he knew the girl was after him and he really didn't want to have to rebuff her advances all night so he thought it'd be a good idea to pretend I was his date. That all ended up blowing up in his face the next day, but we'd had a kickass time at the party, so we still counted it as a success.

We stood side by side in the photo, sandwiched between a few people I couldn't even remember the names of anymore, our arms wrapped around each other and four of us grinning like we were having the time of our lives, which we were. The guy next to Beau was dressed as an incredible replication of Ace Ventura, while the guy next to me was dressed in what basically amounted to a little brown leather skirt and a cape with a plastic helmet modeled after a Spartan warrior. On his other side was Wednesday Adams, the signature black on black on black and unamused homicidal stare perfectly displayed.

I looked ridiculously short standing between two very tall guys despite the high heeled mary janes that completed my Minnie Mouse look. Really, all I'd done was borrow a little red mini dress with white polka dots from my roommate and dig out the mouse ears I'd bought when Beau and I went to Disneyland that summer but I'd thought I looked pretty damn adorable. The real cutie of the night though was Beau of course. From the tight jeans and plaid button up with rolled sleeves to the bandana and the obscenely huge gold belt buckle, he looked just like a little kid playing dress up. He had a black Stetson perched over his blond hair to really solidify the look, and I wasn't sure where he got the leather cowboy boots, but I knew for sure it was a special treat to get to witness my California boy wearing them in person.

"We nearly froze our asses off all night," I said, finally answering Dylan's question. "But we had alcohol and each other to keep us warm."

"So that's him then. Your ex."

Dylan tilted the screen towards me again and I nodded when I saw yet another photo that had originally taken from my instagram. All the photos of Beau and I that were on there I'd deleted when we broke up, but I kept them saved in my camera roll so that I'd always have them. Even before, when they were still posted, my account had been private so someone had to have stolen and posted them elsewhere for them to have ended up in a google image search. This photo was from the previous summer when I'd gone out to visit him at home and all his siblings had gone with us up to the Santa Monica pier. We'd spent the early morning on the beach then put some shirts on and went up to check out the aquarium before spending the rest of the day and night riding the roller coasters in Pacific Park and, of course, the ferris wheel and the carousel (because I insisted upon it). His younger sister had taken the candid picture of us from behind, walking side by side down the beach in ankle deep water. Even with our sunglasses on, it wasn't hard to tell that we were looking over at each other, and the smiles on our faces were huge and genuine since we didn't know it was even being taken until I found it on my phone once we were back at their house.

I adored that one. Out of the probably hundreds of photos of us that had ever been taken, that one was definitely my favorite because it was so obvious that I was in love with him, even then, before we were dating. I hadn't realized it at the time I originally posted it but I saw it plain as day now. I remembered his older brother being on my other side when we were walking along but she'd apparently cropped him out of the picture; I wasn't paying attention to anything that wasn't Beau anyway.

Part of me wondered if he still had it saved on his phone too. He'd taken a shit ton of photos that day, at least a dozen for every activity we did. There were pictures of us in the aquarium being photobombed by a big shark in the tank behind us; there were pictures of all five of us squeezed into one cart on the ferris wheel with the view from the top in the background; there were numerous photos of me pigging out on cotton candy, funnel cakes, and dippin' dots; there were even about five different photos of the whole group mixed in with the ones of just him and me on the beach. He'd made a particularly embarrassing photo of me eating a churro his phone wallpaper that day, but he'd changed it to one of the two of us on the beach after we started dating. He made a point to assure me that the only reason the churro photo was being replaced was because I had agreed to be his girlfriend. And that meant that, as boyfriend, he had permission to use a bikini photo of me as his wallpaper without it being weird.

I had that photo stashed away in my camera roll too and my fingers itched to pull out my phone to look at it, but I refrained, deciding to do that once I got home and could lock myself away in my room alone to cry about it. Dylan got busy looking at his phone screen again and he mumbled something about a bio under his breath. I assumed he meant he was going to read Beau's wikipedia page at the very least because he was a protective freak even though he'd only known me for a few months. I stayed quiet and let him do it because it didn't really matter to me one way or the other. It wasn't like Beau was even in my life anymore.

"Huh," he said, more to himself than to me, but I was nosy curious so I looked over at him expectantly and waited for elaboration. "According to this article, he's been playing with a wrist injury. Says he's having surgery next week."

"Let me see that," I demanded, snatching the phone from his hand before he even had a chance to process and I read over the article myself twice before I gave it back to him. Suddenly, I felt like a horrible friend. I mean, I knew we couldn't even really be considered friends anymore because we'd effectively severed all ties between us months ago, but hearing that he'd have to undergo surgery for an injury I didn't know he even had made me feel like I'd failed him. That had to have been hard for him to deal with. Before, I would have been the one he confided in about his injuries, his fears, his problems; I would have been the one who took care of him in the days and weeks following surgeries because I'd been doing that since college. But now we were at a point that I didn't even know about it until a statement had been released by the team. I hoped he at least had someone else now who did all that for him, even if if meant I'd been replaced.

That thought nearly made me sick to my stomach and I leaned my head against the cool window for the rest of the ride back home. Once we were back inside the apartment, I left Dylan to watch tv in his makeshift bed on the couch and went straight to my bedroom with the puppy. I didn't even bother taking my makeup off, instead just stripping out my dress and crawling into bed.