I didn't want to think about it. I couldn't do that to myself. If there was somebody else, I'd just get checked out to make sure he hadn't given me anything. I’d thought I knew the guy, but obviously, I had no idea who he was if I hadn't seen this coming. That meant I couldn't trust that he'd be smart or considerate enough to wrap it up if he had been sleeping with someone else.
It made sense, though, now that I thought about it. He had canceled the vacation plans we had been making because “he wanted to spend his limited off time at home.” He hadn't wanted to see my parents because “he had a lot of other stuff going on.” He had been distant because he was waiting for the right time to fucking dump me.
I unlocked the door of my apartment and let myself inside, calling Deana's name to see if she was home. She wasn't. She was alright as a roommate, but I doubted she would want to be around me when I was feeling like this. I went straight to my room, dropping my backpack on the ground and face-planting into my bed.
What now? I couldn't do anything. I didn't want to lie in my bed and think about him, but how could I not after what had just happened? He had hit the brakes so hard and so suddenly, I was still careening out of control. It just didn't make sense. He was one of the things I thought I could be sure about. I felt secure with him, in love and proud of the friendship and love we had built that was thriving... Or at least had been.
I couldn't take it anymore. I cried. All my anger and frustration escaped, and I broke. I hated him so much for what he had said to me, but it was no match for almost three years of loving him with everything I had. He hadn't been my first, but he had been the first person I had slept with who made me feel good afterward, like it wasn't a mistake or could have been better. He felt part of me, so obvious there couldn't have been a time that we weren't together because the two of us fit so well.
I couldn't do this. I felt like shit, but how the hell could the first thing I did after Roman dumped me be lying in bed crying about it? I felt so weak already, I was just going to make myself feel worse. I got to my feet and took my hoodie off, trying to figure out what to do with myself.
A shower. I always felt better after taking showers. I could start there and once I was out, I would be able to do something other than lie in bed being pathetic. I had pulled my t-shirt up over my head when there was a knock at the door.
I dragged myself to my feet and went to get the door. Tiffany was standing on the other side, phone in hand. She didn't look like someone who had just come out on the other side of finals week. She was a tall girl and had no problem making herself even more imposing with heels. I was guessing that we didn't feel cold the same way because she somehow wasn't freezing outside in tights, a short skirt, and a light sweater. It was spring, but it was still a little windy in the sixties. She was the best and worst person who could have possibly walked through my door.
It wasn't her fault that her dark, almost black hair and blue eyes were traits she shared with my now-ex, but I was a little mad about it, I couldn't lie. They were siblings, she couldn't help that they sort of looked alike.
"I was just about to call you? What took you so long," she said, walking in past me.
"Welcome. Come right in," I said sarcastically, closing the door behind her.
Someone was in a good mood. I hated her a little for it, then reminded myself it wasn't my fault I was feeling so rotten. Getting dumped did that to you, and it hadn't even been half a day since it had happened. I was reserving the right to feel like shit, at least till that edge wore off. That said, she couldn't help that her brother had just dumped me for no apparent good reason, and I had to remember not to lash out at her just because I was feeling hurt.
"For a minute, I thought you were out or something. Is Deana here?" she asked. Suddenly, I felt exhausted. Tiffany had blown in with a wave of energy that I just couldn't mirror. I was spent. I was feeling mopey and upset and being around someone who was obviously in a much better mood was doing nothing for me.
"Just me," I said, watching her sit on the couch, nothing out of the ordinary, but part of me hoped she had plans later. It wasn't that I didn't want to see her, it was that I didn't want to see anybody. I wanted to cocoon myself in this apartment till it stopped hurting. The other part wanted to tell her, tell anyone that Roman Blake was a piece of shit and I hated him and list all the reasons why.
"I've been trying to call you."
"Sorry. I forgot to turn my ringer back on after my test," I said, trying to jolt myself into a better headspace. "I should have asked you to bring something with you, the fridge is bare."
"I grabbed a bite to eat after my paper today. I'm so glad the semester's almost over. Just one more test tonight," she said. One of her classes was at night, a general education course she had taken because she didn't want to end up taking it sophomore year.
"Already done," I quipped.
"Ugh, I'm jealous," she said. "I can't wait to be home again. I'm not looking forward to longer hours at work, but at least I won't have to juggle that with school," she said.
"That sounds great," I said, coming to sit on the couch with her. I had heard maybe half of what she had said and guessed the rest.
"This girl in my statistics class is an international student; she invited her boyfriend to spend summer with her and her family in Italy, can you believe that?" she said.
"At least they're staying together," I said mostly to myself, dazed before I realized that wasn't the sort of response Tiff had been looking for. She sat up straight, her eyes scrutinizing my face.
"Are you alright?" she asked suddenly. I bit my lip and shook my head. "What happened?"
"Ask your brother," I said bitterly.
"Roman? What did he do?"
"What does it mean when a guy tells you out of nowhere after almost three years that it's over?" I asked. Tiffany's jaw fell open.
"He didn't."
"He did. I had the same reaction."
"What? No way. Wait, I don't get it. He just said it was over? How did he do it?" she asked. Tiffany and I had known each other almost as long as Roman and I had. She was a year behind me, but we had met the first time Roman had brought me home to meet his dad, two or three months in, then she had joined our college the next fall.
She had basically been there since the beginning, and I had gotten as close to her as I had to her brother. I was an only child, so she filled the void that I didn't have a real sister to fill. She knew everything that happened between Roman and me.