"Like me?"
"Yeah, you know." He leaves it at that.
“No, Riley, I don’t know."
"Too fucked up and scared or whatever to let anyone in."
"Like you're any better?"
“No, I'm not. I'm worse. Not the point because we’re not talking about me.”
I growl, burying my face in my hands. "Yeah," I say, the word muffled behind my palms. "I thought of that…after."
"Dumbass."
"I know. But…it was hard as hell to ask her out. And the way she hesitated. It wasn't, 'ohhhh, I'm thinking about it,' it was a 'yeah, I don't know about that.' Maybe I read it wrong. I don't know. But it sucked, because I…" I sigh, shaking my head. "I can't stop thinking about her."
"So quit being a puss. Hunt her down and try again."
I growl, and then slug back a big swallow of beer. "Yeah, maybe."
Riley claps me on the shoulder. "No, fuckwit, not maybe. Yes.Definitely. You haven't so much as looked at another woman since Amy, and hookups to get rid of blue balls don't count."
"Stop saying her goddamn name," I hiss.
"No. You gotta get over her, Fee." He grabs my cheeks and forces me to look at him, squishing my face. "Amy, Amy, Amy. Amy Henderson. Amy Eileen Henderson. Wait, she's married now. I looked her up a couple months ago—what's her married name?"
"Quincy," I mumble.
"Right, right, Amy Quincy. Amy Quincy. Amy Quincy."
I rip myself out of his grip. "Fuck off, Rye."
"No, Fee. You gotta get over her. That was a long time ago. It was a dumb mistake, and, not excusing you, but she wasn't innocent either. You've let it hamstring you. You've spent, like, a third of your fucking life hating yourself for a mistake you made when you were fucking nineteen. Forgive yourself and move the fuck on."
Rage, guilt, shame, confusion, pain…it's all a jumble inside me. I slam the rest of my beer, toss a pair of twenties on the bar, and shove my phone in my back pocket.
"Good talk, Rye. Thanks. See ya."
He shoves the cash into my hip pocket. "I got it, ya fuckin' shithead. Go on—run away and hide like you always do. Keep living your life stuck in the past on a single bullshit mistake."
“Yeah, maybe I will…dick."
By the time I get home, I feel bad, so I text Riley.
ME:
I know you were just trying to help. Sorry.
He answers a minute later:
Riley:
You're good. I get it. But for real, find Big Boobs and ask her out again.
Me:
Her name is Ember.
