"Yes," he whispers, looking up at me. "It would have mattered."
"Then it matters now!" I snap. "If it would have mattered then, then it matters now. We can do this Ty. You just have to take the chance. Please take the chance. Please," I beg.
His emotions shift once again as anger and resentment visibly overtake the sadness/ Reaching for his head, Ty grips his hair tightly, and a deep growl rips from his throat. "Damnit Harley." His voice is low and hard. My eyes widen in shock at the menacing glare he shoots at me. "What the fuck do you want me to say to that? You're doing this because I told you I'm leaving. Do you realize what you're asking? You're asking me to uproot my entire life. Do you know the work it took to transfer medical schools? And what about Brit?" His mouth parts and a look of horror overcomes his features. "Brit," he mumbles to himself. “Fuuuuuck. Brit was right.”
He begins to mumble. I’m not sure if he is talking to himself or to me, but his words are like a punch to the gut. “Brit told me you had feelings for me. I didn’t listen. I defended you. I mean . . . I had hoped you did, but I didn't know. I told her she was wrong and that she was just jealous.” He looks up at me, eyes wide with shock. “But she was right. My god! All those times I left her to spend time with you . . .” His words drop off but quickly resume. “I told her there was no way you felt that way about me because you're my best friend.” He stops pacing and turns to face me, but his eyes are trained on the ground.
Silence consumes us. Tension fills the air.
“Ty, say something please,” I whisper. “Please tell me what you’re thinking. You’re my best friend, and I know you feel like I’m just throwing this at—"
“But you are,” he interrupts loudly. “You are just throwing this at me, Harley!” I grip my hands tightly in front of me, wringing my fingers together in pure desperation. My heart slams in my chest. I know he feels the same way. He loves me. I saw it in his eyes. I just have to convince him that this is right. I wait patiently for him to continue, but when his hard gaze lands on me, my hope vanishes into thin air. My heart plummets to the ground. His lips are set in a firm line, and his eyebrows are dipped low in disappointment.
“I’m with Brit,” He states firmly. “And I’m not going to hurt her; I can’t." He shakes his head. "She hasn’t done anything to deserve that, to deserve this," He says, waving his hand between the two of us. The pacing continues, back and forth in front of me until he finally removes his hands from his hair and places them on his hips. He turns to face me. There is a finality in his eyes that causes my resolve to crumble. I throw a hand up to my mouth, but I can't stop the sob that slips out.
“Harley . . .” He trails off; his eyes are searching mine, for what, I’m not sure. “Harley, I can't do this. I'm sorry, but I just can't.” He pauses again, taking a second to sit down on the table. Placing his elbows on his knees, he bends forward and lowers his head. His voice is so soft that I almost don’t hear his final words. “We need to step back and take a break. From our friendship Harley . . . We need to take a step back from our friendship.”
I cry, and my body trembles. "No." My hands shake, and my mind works furiously to find a way to fix this. "No," I repeat desperately. "We don't need to take a step back. We need to move forward." I crouch down in front of Ty and grip his fisted hands in mine. "Please give me a chance. I know you're scared, but I promise, you won't regret it; you won't regret me." My eye flicker across his face, pleading with him to take this leap.
He exhales loudly and raises his face. “I can’t believe you're doing this to me. To Brit. Now. When I’m suppose to be moving to New York in a week. A fucking week, Harley!” Standing abruptly his eyes locks on something over my left shoulder, but I can’t tear my eyes away from him to find out what it is. “I can’t do this. I won't do it.” There is finality in his words, and a cold shiver of realization trembles through me. “I’m leaving next week for New York. With Brit. It's best for my relationship with her if you and I don’t talk . . . at least not until I can sort through all of this in my head.”
His words hit me like a knife to the chest. He can't mean that. He's just shocked. "We can't be friends?" I hiccup, gripping my chest where I'm sure there's a gaping whole from his words. “Please don’t do this. Please Ty! I’m sorry.” I grab his arm, forcing him to face me. “I’m so sorry. Please forgive me, forget I said anything. I can’t lose you, I won’t lose you.” My tears fall freely. I’ve stopped wiping them away; there’s just no point.
I startle when I hear someone behind me clear their voice. I turn slowly and come face to face with Brit. I’m not sure how long she's been standing there, but based on the look on her face, I’d say she pretty much knows what’s going on.
Ty moves to walk around me, and I quickly grab his wrist. “Please Ty,” I whisper. Gently removing my hand, he reaches for Brit, entwining his fingers with hers. Without a glance back, they walk in the door.
Slumping down onto the picnic table, I close my eyes, praying that this was all a bad dream, and I just have to wake up. Realistically, I know it’s not, but there is always that small window of time right after something horrible happens that you feel like if you hope and pray hard enough you can actually rewind time and undo it.
I grip my hair tightly at the scalp and watch as my tears cascade off of my face and hit the table below. I'm not sure how long I sit, but eventually I get up and pace the alley behind the bar, trying to wrap my head around everything that just happened.
What on earth have I done?
He can’t seriously end our friendship,
He can’t really walk away.
There is way too much history for him to do that. Right?
A gravelly slurred voice interrupts my thoughts. "Harley? That you?" The hair on the back of my neck stands up, and I squint through my tears, trying to see who the drunken voice belongs to. Relief washes over me at the familiar face. I try to respond, but a deep sob comes out instead. He moves to my side quickly. "You're crying," he says, putting a comforting hand to my back. "Please don't cry."
I normally wouldn't get this close to someone who isn't Tyson or Quinn, but right now, I need the familiarity. I need the comfort that he offers, and in a desperate move, I wrap my arms around his middle, bury my face in his chest, and cry like I've never done before.
The stench of smoke deeply rooted in his shirt fills my nostrils and the stale odor of liquor makes me sick as he whispers calming words in my ear. I should be worried. I've heard that he's gotten into some heavier drugs recently, but I know I'm safe.
We stand there for several minutes, neither of us saying a word. His body sways slightly to the left. I grip him tightly to steady his balance and raise my face to his. "Are you okay?"
His red rimmed , glossy eyes lock onto mine, but he doesn't respond. I watch his expression change. A shiver runs up my spine as goose bumps take over my body. "Are you okay?" I repeat, trying to keep the fear out of my voice. Loosening my grip, I attempt to step back, but his arms tightens around me.
"You always smelled so good," he slurs, eyes roaming my face. His hand slides up my back and to my neck. He wraps his fingers around my hair and tugs, forcing my head to snap back. Leaning into me, he runs his nose up the side of
my neck, and my stomach churns. "I would have given you anything. But I wasn't good enough for you was I?" I don't respond and he yanks my hair again , arching my back. "Was I?" He seethes.
I’ve never been in a situation where I feel legitimately uncomfortable in the presence of another human being, but right here . . . in this second . . . I am terrified. Adrenalin courses through my body. My heart slams violently in my chest and my muscles tense as the terror washes through me. I squeeze my eyes tightly shut. A sharp pain rips through my scalp. My face smacks the ground, and a metallic taste fills my mouth.
Please God. Please let me survive this.
Tyson