Page 32 of Keep Me
“I don’t feel great.” Pulling open the drawer next to Sienna, I grabbed a bottle of Pepto-Bismol and cranked it open, drinking the pink liquid straight from the bottle.
Sienna’s face drained as I gulped down the thick fluid. “Oh no.”
“What?” I wiped my mouth with my arm and licked away any remnants.
“How did I not see it before?”
“See what?”
“The refusal to tell me what happened with Matty. The reluctance to go on a date. Your bowel issues. Brittany Brennon, are you pregnant with Matty Michaelson’s little Michaels?”
“It’s Mathieson, and no.” Thankfully, I’d swallowed the Pepto-Bismol before she had the audacity to ask that.
“Are you sure? Did you use protection.”
We might have gotten alarmingly close, but there was no point in mentioning that. It was all a distant memory at this point. I wasn’t pregnant. I couldn’t be.
“Doesn’t there have to be some kind of insertion for that to happen?”
“Oh, Britt.” She pointed at my face. “Didn’t I just say you were terrible at keeping secrets? You didn’t have sex, but clearly, something happened.”
I pursed my lips.
“I knew it. That guy is in love with you. Honestly, how you didn’t get together before is beyond me. When you’re in the room, he can’t stop looking at you.”
“Enough! He’s not in love with me, and hearing those things only makes this harder.”
Sienna stepped back, surprised at my outburst. I wasn’t one to get angry usually, but the constant mention of Matty was reminding me of the worst day of my life.
“I’m sorry, B.” She was much quieter now, looking at me with the sympathy I was trying to avoid. “I don’t know what went down between you and Matty, but it’s clearly messing you up, and I hate seeing that. You know I’m here if you want to talk. Ipromise I won’t jump to conclusions like I did just now. I will listen, and I’m here when you’re ready to tell me.”
“Thanks,” I quipped, still unwilling to look at her. I’d overreacted mainly because I was keeping everything pent up inside, worried that if I told her the truth, I’d have a meltdown at my desk.
Sienna squeezed my shoulder as she silently walked past. I’d apologize for my little scene tomorrow, but first, I needed to finish the answer to the stupidSpillitblog.
Rereading the question, I couldn’t figure out anything insightful to say, and it only made me more annoyed.
I hated this stupid blog. Not just because I was terrible at giving advice, but because it was the sole reason I attended that bonfire freshman year. Ergo, it was the sole reason I was best friends with Matty in the first place. If that hadn’t happened, would I even be feeling this heartbreak right now?
Matty would have been the cute kicker in my class who I admired, and that would have been it. I’d have never known just how much we had in common or what it felt like to be around him.
I wrote out a nonsensical answer, not really caring about the poster’s problem because she had nothing to complain about. She had a boyfriend to fight for. I had nothing except embarrassing memories.
I’d spent my entire college career pining over a guy who saw me as nothing more than his best friend. Then I fell for his drunken words, thinking he actually wanted me, and let him go down on me, only to realize he was engaged.
Engaged!
The word flittered through my head as I tried to make sense of it again. It just didn’t match up to what happened between us, and that was making it hard to get over.
My gaze drifted to my phone, and I laughed bitterly at just how many texts Matty had sent me over the summer. Strangely, it didn’t matter how many times I blocked it, the messages still came through.
I’m sorry, Britt.
Can we talk about us and everything that happened in Vegas?
I know it was a lot, but I can fix it.
Britt, please. I don’t want to lose you.
