The Boyfriend Rivalry by Milana Spencer

23

Curtis: Fragile

I knock on the door of the master bedroom. "Hey," I say.

Kennedy, who's on the floor, folding her clothes, looks over her shoulder at me, brows up in surprise. She rearranges her face. "Hi."

I walk over to her but don't sit down.

Three hours have passed since the girls returned, and they're all pretty tired. The whole time, my body has felt tight. It's like the beginning of the holiday all over again, where I second guess everything I say, like I'm putting up a performance of the good, responsible Curtis.

When I don't say anything, Kennedy gestures to the bed. "Thanks for changing the sheets and making the bed, by the way. You didn't have to do that. I would have done it myself."

I look at the bed with a jolt. After I made the bed this morning, I wasn't satisfied and stripped it down and changed everything. It was part of the rush of cleaning I did this morning to distract myself from the night before.

The euphoric high I felt when Liam kissed me first, when I knew he felt the same way, the feeling of his body in my arms. And then, the guilty happiness when I could stay in his bed. And then, of course, the crushing low.

I swallow thickly. "How did you know I did that? This was Liam's room for the past two nights."

"I know how Liam makes beds, and it's not as neat as the way you do it." Her face changes. "Did you want the master bedroom? I understand if you do since everyone else has had it but you. I don't think anyone will mind if I share a bedroom with Liam."

Because he's gay. He likes me, and he kissed me, and I kissed him and I like him —

"No, no, no, it's fine." She's being so nice, and it's killing me. "You have it." I might not even be staying in this place any longer.

"Okay," she says, then chucks a pair of socks into a pile of clothes I'm guessing are to be washed. "So, what's up then?"

"Um." I take a breath. "Did you want to go on a walk, together, later? Once you've finished this. I… I want to talk."

A cloud passes over her face, but then she nods. "Alright. I should be ready in half an hour."

"Okay. Perfect." I turn away and leave the room, feeling Kennedy's eyes on me.

*

While I wait, I go to the attic bedroom and tidy my things. While I was cleaning, I already did a preliminary clean through of my stuff but this time I grab everything, including my toiletries from the ensuite bathroom and my books and lozenges from the bedside table, and put it all into my duffle bag.

Liam appears in the doorway. "The cousins and I are going to the supermarket. Want to come?" His voice is hesitant, quiet.

"I'm okay," I say, trying to stuff my textbooks into the bag.

"Okay. You won't be alone in the house, Kennedy's staying back too." He enters the room and picks up his black jacket from his trunk.

"I know," I say. "We're going to go on a walk."

Liam stiffens and turns to me. "Are you going to tell her?"

"I have to. I can't stay in her family's home and keep something like this from her."

Liam nods. I think of this morning. Maybe Liam never wants to say anything. Maybe he thinks our kiss was a one-off thing, and it isn't worth causing all this trouble over. Maybe he plans to return to Easton and never speak to me again. Maybe he's attracted to me, sure, but maybe he doesn't feel the way I feel. Maybe he doesn't like me the way I like him.

I take a deep breath and look down so he can't read the hurt on my face. I feel stupid for feeling like this. It's not as if Liam and I could ever be together, anyway. There are rules of friendship, and one of them is that you can't date your best friend's ex.

"I won't say anything about you," I say. "You should tell Kennedy that yourself — if you are going to tell Kennedy. It's your choice. I won't force you into anything."

"Curtis," Liam says, his voice fragile.

I don't meet his eyes.

After a moment, Liam leaves, and all I see are his weary footsteps in my periphery. Once the door closes, I squeeze my eyes close.

*

"Ready?" Kennedy asks when she runs into me in the hallway.

"Yeah," I say. "Want to go on the back porch?"

I thought about going on a walk around town, but I don't want to go to the beach again. It'll just remind me of when we first broke up. We could walk around the neighbourhood, but I don't want to risk either of us getting emotional in front of other people, which is a strong likelihood.

"Sure," she says, her voice indifferent.

We leave through the backdoor. I haven't been in the backyard for a while, and it looks just as I remember it. A big lawn and the porch full of chairs and tables and the hammock.

Kennedy takes the hammock, sitting in the centre with her back up, rather than climbing into it. Makes sense. She knows this won't be a laid-back conversation.

I drag a chair close to the hammock, though not close enough for Kennedy to reach out and slap me. It'd be understandable if she did, though.

"So, what is it?" Kennedy asks after we've been sitting for a minute and I haven't said anything.

I look up from where I've been staring at my fingers.

As soon as she sees my expression, her face pales. "It's bad news, isn't it?"

"It's another reason for you to hate me," I say, trying to turn it into a joke. It's not funny.

"What," Kennedy demands.

"I — I like someone else," I say.

She stares at me as if she doesn't understand why I'm telling her this. Then her chest heaves with a breath. "How long?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"I only realised that day. When we were…" I trail off, unable to make myself say it.

"When we were about to fuck?" Kennedy asks. "When we were about to have sex, and you thought to yourself, huh, I like someone else?"

"I think I've unconsciously felt this way for longer. I only realised it then."

Kennedy looks at me before craning her neck, so she's looking anywhere but my face. "Well. Shit."

"I'm sorry," I say. "I am."

She shakes her head before trying to compose herself. "So what?"

I blink at her, confused.

"Why are you telling me this?" she asks, her voice louder. I'm glad the others have left the house, otherwise they'd be able to hear us. "Why now, and not when we broke up?"

"I didn't think anything would come of it," I say.

Kennedy's brown eyes glitter, but not with her usual happiness. "Something came of it?"

I can't make myself say it. I try to open my mouth, but Kennedy cuts in.

"So what happened? Did you confess your love for each other? Have phone sex?" Her expression twists. "Did you ask her out?"

"We're not going to date," I say, but Kennedy ignores me.

"Who is she, anyway?" she asks. "A girl from school? Wait, don't tell me, I don't want to know."

I don't correct the pronouns. Kennedy's smart, and if I specify she's a he, it won't take her long to put the puzzle pieces together.

"I just felt I owed it to you," I say. "I feel shitty about it."

"I bet," Kennedy says, rolling her eyes. "It's been, what, three days? And you said all that crap about wanting to stay friends."

"I know," I say. The backyard is quiet, with no ocean rushing in the background, no birds shrilling from the trees. It makes my words sound even lamer.

"How am I supposed to react to all of this? Thank you for being honest?"

"No, of course not," I answer quickly. "I know you won't believe me, but I do care about you, Kennedy. I think… it'd be better if I went home to Easton. I think you'd prefer that, too."

It's Thursday today, and the original plan was to leave Saturday afternoon. It's two more days, but two days too many.

It takes Kennedy a moment to respond. I watch her jaw unclench so she can speak. "You want to go home?"

"I should go home," I correct.

"How?"

"By bus," I say. "There's a route from here that takes me to Easton. I just need to change over at — forget it, it's unimportant. The point is, I won't impose and stay here. Um. But, thank you for inviting me —"

Kennedy stands up, and I cut myself off. She looks down at me, the sun behind her head blinding me. "When are you going?"

"Today. There's a bus in an hour, which is the only one left that'd take me to Easton by tonight —"

"Okay." Kennedy is already walking across the porch.

"Okay," I say.

I think about saying sorry one last time as she disappears through the back door, but I know that it's pointless.

*

The closest bus stop is fifteen minutes away, on the way out of town. I wait at the front of the beach house for as long as I can, with my duffel bag on the front porch, but Bonnie, Erin and Liam don't arrive.

My legs shake because I don't want to leave without saying goodbye, but I can't be late. I'm already cutting it close as it is.

In the end, I text Bonnie and Erin a quick message: I'm leaving, but thank you for having me. It was so much fun.

I stare at Liam's contact number for a long time, but I can't think of what to say. Everything is too cold or too vulnerable. In the end, I don't write anything.

I've already said a short goodbye to Kennedy through the doorway of the master bedroom. Now, I hesitate before shouting "I'm off," through the open front door.

I cringe. I sound so perky and nonchalant. Instead of waiting for a response I doubt will come, I close the door and disappear through the front yard.

My body feels heavy as I walk through the familiar streets, with the white, blue and light-grey homes. Over the past twelve days, I've grown used to the smell of salt, but now that I'm leaving it, it's even stronger. The expanse of the beautiful blue sea remains to my right. The sky is a lighter shade of blue, the clouds a creamy-white.

This place is beautiful. I'll miss it.