Chapter 23: Jake

I was fuming by the time my last class of the day ended, raging still because I hadn’t felt even a smidge better since our run-in with Renee this morning.

I was fucking irate, actually. Furious that she could do this to me, enraged that not only was she okay with fucking me, but also one of my best friends.

I was an angry person. More than one of my friends would tell you that, but I’ve never felt quite this emotion pulsating through me, poisoning the blood in my veins. It was a mixture of rage and something else I couldn't quite pinpoint. Part of me, some hidden part I won’t let out, wants to tell me that it was something disgusting, like hurt, but that couldn't be it.

No woman has ever hurt me before. Not even this one.

Beer wouldn’t cut it, not tonight. I kicked off my shoes and bag and went straight to our kitchen for the nearly full bottle of whiskey, unscrewing the top and taking a long drink. Somewhere upstairs, some hippy-dippy musical shit is playing, so I know Aaron is home, but I didn’t give a fuck. I haven’t decided what to do with him yet.

Matt, however, isn’t here.

But I know where he is.

I sat on the couch with a heavy thud, taking another swig of whiskey. It burned so good going down, and I could feel the numbing sensation rush through my veins. I take my cell phone out of my back pocket and check it. There’s nothing yet, but there will be.

Soon.

Upstairs, Aaron’s music grew louder. He must have heard me stomping around down here. I reached for the remote and flicked on our TV, heading straight to YouTube for a playlist that isn’t so dumb. Classic rock. Led Zeppelin blows through the speakers, and I turn it up until it drowns out Aaron’s music upstairs.

Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath and rest my head against the back of the couch, wishing this rage in my chest would simmer down. I’ve never had this kind of reaction before, not to anything, and especially not to some girl. Why do I feel like this? Why do I feel so betrayed by someone I used to actually hate?

I didn’t know. But it was not a pleasant sensation. I was over it.

I was about seven shots of whiskey in when my cell phone finally buzzed in my hand. I look down at the screen with bleary eyes. It was Carly. I set the bottle down and swipe my finger across the screen to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Jake?” She had been crying, I could tell, and for a mere second, I felt badly for her.

But not enough to change my mind.

“Hey, baby,” I said sweetly. I was sure she could hear the drunken slur in my voice, but if she could, she didn’t let on. “What’s wrong? You sound upset.”

“Matt was just here,” she sniffles into the phone.

“Why in the hell was Matthew there?” I was trying to sound angry, but I didn’t know how well I was doing. Still, I didn’t think Carly noticed.

“He came to tell me something … something about you.”

“About me?”

“And about Re—Renee!” She was wailing now, her high-pitched voice ringing in my ears with such devastation I winced and pulled the phone away from my face.

“Renee, your roommate Renee?” I asked innocently. “What did he say?”

“He said you two had sex!”

Carly is sobbing now, rattling on and on with words she couldn't quite form. I listened to her patiently until I could get a word in edgewise, then sighed deeply. “Oh, baby, I’m so sorry,” I told her. “Honestly, I am so sorry. I—I didn’t want you to find out.”

“Well, I did, Jake, you fucking asshole,” Carly screamed, and I pulled the phone away again so my eardrums didn’t shatter.

“Is Renee there?” I asked. “Have you confronted her about this, or am I the only one in trouble?”

“You could bet your sweet ass I’ll deal with Renee,” Carly snapped, and I knew she was still crying. “I fucking hate you both, Jake Denny, and I never want to see your face again.”

The line went dead, silence settling over the living room. With a grim smirk, I tossed my phone aside, catching a glimpse of a figure at the bottom of the stairs. It was Aaron, and I could tell with one look that he had heard the entire conversation.

“I sure hope you two know what you’re doing,” he said softly. “Because if either of you cared about her as much as you pretend to, you wouldn’t do this.”

“Piss off, man.” I stumble to my feet and walk past him, thrusting the bottle into his hands as I pass him up the stairs. “She fucking deserves this. You should be angry too.”

“I’m not angry,” the words are so quiet I almost didn’t catch them, but something in his tone made me pause before I was out of earshot.

“What?”

“I am not angry,” Aaron said again. “I was hurt. And I guess I know that it was an eye for an eye …” He trails off, getting that stupid, profound look that has always annoyed me so much. I shake my head, sneering, but as I tromp up the stairs to my bedroom, the rest of the words play in my mind, insulting me.

… makes the whole world blind.