“Not nearly enough. Here.” She passes me a pint of mint chocolate ice cream—my favorite. “Eat.”
“You understand that as a nutrition major, I really should be having a feast that’s entirely sugar?”
She gets up and opens the DVD and puts it in the player. I didn’t even see what it was. “I do realize that. But there’s different kinds of nutrition, and right now you need nutrition for a broken heart. And the recipe for that is ice cream, chocolate, and bad movies.”
“My heart isn’t broken,” I tell her. The words feel automatic, like I’m trying to convince myself as much as tell her.
One loud, boisterous laugh pops out of Bailey. “Bullshit.”
“Bailey…”
“Nope. Shut it, Juno. You don’t cry like that over someone that you don’t love. And I know you’ll try to talk yourself around it by saying you weren’t together very long or something like that, but guess what? Hearts don’t pay attention to timelines. You loved him, whether you want to admit it or not.”
I have nothing to say to that because she’s right, and that’s why it hurts. And more than just a break-up, it’s without cause or explanation. “Fuck.”
“Now eat your ice cream.”
I do, and I should learn to trust Bailey on this. Never underestimate the power of endorphins and serotonin fucking shoved into your system. Not good to rely on it, but sometimes good for the system.
The movie that Bailey bought is a trashy action film about a giant shark rising from the depths of the sea. It’s ridiculous and mindless and absolutely perfect. I manage to laugh at the burly action heroes that are trying to fight a ridiculously sized shark. And when an even bigger shark shows up halfway through the film, Bailey and I are both high on sugar and collapsing into laughter.
It’s exactly what my heart needs.
We do the face masks and paint our nails, and by the time the movie is over, I’m snuggled down in the giant nest of pillows, sleepy. Exhausted. Sad.
The credits roll on the movie. “Is it okay if I stay here for a couple of days until I can find a room?”
I can hear her eyeball even though I’m not looking at her. “Of course.”
“I don’t want to go back there, but I didn’t leave with anything.”
“Don’t worry about it, Juno. I’ll go get stuff for you tomorrow for a few days, and then we’ll figure out the way to get the rest of your stuff. You’re going to be okay.”
“All right,” I say. “Thanks.”
“I’m glad this happened on a weekend,” she says. “Small favors. You don’t have to deal with classes for tomorrow at least.”
“Yeah, that’s good.” I’m falling asleep, and so tired that I can’t fight it. “Thank you, Bai.”
“Any time, Ju.”
19
Malcolm
It’s been five days since I’ve seen Juno. Five days of utter agony and misery. She’s sent me a couple of messages, but I haven’t answered her. She hasn’t come back to the house. Bailey came to get some things for her while I wasn’t here, but that’s the only sign of her I’ve had.
And for the life of me, I wish I could decide whether that was a good thing or a bad thing so I could move in one direction or another. Because I’ve felt like I’ve been ripped in two these past days.
When Taylor told me the truth about her, I’d felt like a spike had driven itself through my chest. And the only thing that I’d wanted was oblivion. I’d gone to a bar that was open during the day and stared at a glass of whiskey for hours, turning over the new information in my mind along with every facet that I knew about her, trying to make sense of everything.
The whole time I was dodging phone calls from John. I didn’t want to explain it to him. After about the twentieth call, I left the money on the bar and took the phone outside. “What.”
“Jesus. Answer your fucking phone much?”
“Did you maybe think that after twenty calls I didn’t want to talk?”
He was silent for a second. “Sorry you’ve gotten your panties in a wad, but we never agreed to a ‘don’t want to talk right now’ clause about our weekly phone calls.”
“We talked earlier.”
“No, you called me and barked questions. I’d hardly call that talking.”
I didn’t say anything to that.
“What’s going on, Mal?”
“Nothing.”
“Yeah, that’s not gonna fly.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose between my fingers. “Jesus, John. Can you leave it alone?”
“No.”
I leaned against the wall of the bar. “I just found out something about someone, and it changes a lot of things, and I’m not happy about it.”
“That wasn’t vague at all,” he said sarcastically. “Care to be a touch more specific there, champ?”
I knocked my head back against the brick. “Did you just call me ‘champ?’”
“I’m going to do it again if you don’t tell me what’s happening.”
“God, you’re annoying. You know that?”
“I do.”
Sighing, I started walking down the street. Aimlessly. “It’s a girl.”
“I figured,” John said. “Presumably the one you called me freaking out about earlier. What was her name?”
“Juno.” Her name burned on my lips. Both a curse and a blessing.
“What about her?”
I swallowed. “We’ve been…seeing each other.”
“Oh my god, Mal. Is this the girl that moved into the house?”
“Yeah.”
“Damn, champ.”
Despite everything, that did manage to make me to laugh once. “I’m going to kill you.”
“Some day,” he acknowledged. “So what’s the problem.”
“That part isn’t any of your business,” I told him. “No.”
John made a non-committal sound. “Considering that you asked me if I remembered her, and you asked about the fact that she was at the party that nearly killed me? Yeah, I’m thinking that it’s my business.”
There was an alcohol store across the street, and I crossed to it, going in, grabbing a bottle of whiskey and paying for it before I said anything to John.
“You still there, Champ?”
“Yeah, I’m still here.”
He laughed. “You know, I can be more annoying.”
“I am well aware,” I told
