“Asa,” he grumbles.
“No, let me finish.” I hold up a hand, palm out before tucking it back under my arm. “You see her again, not only ask for her forgiveness, but you beg her for another chance to be together. You tell her you still love her. And then, not hours later, you’re fucking another woman? What the fuck, Jessie?”
“Yeah, what the fuck?” he snaps, damn near slapping his coffee cup to the table. A little of the brew sloshes over, but he doesn’t notice, all of his frustration and irritation are focused on me. “India’s the one who said she doesn’t want anything to do with us being together again. She doesn’t even want a friendship, and she damn sure isn’t in love with me. Do I still love her? Yes. But what do you want me to do? Spend two more years pining after a woman who can barely stand to be within three feet of me? She says she doesn’t hate me, but she must, to not even send me a fucking text in two years letting me know she’s alive.” His nostrils flare and his harsh breaths punctuate the silence in the room. “So yeah, I went home with Tracy. I used her to forget that the woman I love could give a single solitary fuck about me. I’m not proud of it, but don’t sit there and judge me either, Asa.”
I struggle not to; I can see his side.
But then I put myself in his shoes.
If India had told me no, I wouldn’t fold and go bury my dick in another female. I’d probably get blind fucking drunk, then figure out how to win her back. How to change my damn self so I’m worthy of a woman like her. To fucking beg her to not shut the door but to leave it cracked. Something other than what Jessie did… again.
“I wish you hadn’t told me,” I murmur. “India and I… we’re…”
“India and you are what?” Jessie asks sharply, his eyes narrowing. “What the fuck are you, Asa?”
Wish the hell I knew. Fuck buddies. One-time lovers. More than friends.
She’s the woman I’ve always longed for, but could never have because she belonged to you first. First and always.
“We’re friends,” I quietly say instead of all the replies rushing through my head. “Since she’s become Rose’s vice principal, we’ve grown to be friends.” And this feels like a lie of omission. A-fucking-gain.
“With one big difference. We’re not together. And according to her, she doesn’t give a damn,” he says, bitterness coating his tone. “So your conscience is clear.”
My conscience clear? Yeah, not so much.
My sins went back two years and were as recent as last night. Absolution wasn’t coming to me anytime soon.
Especially not from my best friend.