Chapter Twelve

Six Years Earlier … First Semester Sophomore Year

My life was a study in guilt after that. Guilt over cheating on Alex, guilt over taking him back without telling him, guilt for disappointing Matt. I could hardly separate one source from the other. Every time I saw Alex, my stomach felt like it was full of lead shot.

After he fell all over himself apologizing for acting like a jerk, he knew something was bothering me. He assumed it was him. He said he’d never felt so strongly about anyone before, and it was hard for him to believe that I liked him as much. He said that he’d been cheated on before, and hadn’t found out about it for a long time, so he was always suspicious after that. He said that he wanted to work on his jealousy, and be the boyfriend I wanted. I felt so awful for cheating on him—even though I’d assumed we were broken up—that I accepted his apologies and his promises to do better. I made myself a mental promise to do the same.

We lasted two more weeks.

The last straw was an argument about holiday plans. Christmas was coming up, with my birthday not far behind. Alex was from St. Louis, and I wasn’t willing to change my family plans to go down to Missouri with him, even though he said that I was making life difficult for him with his family. This particular fight happened over the phone, which always made it easier for me to speak my mind. Seeing his puppy-dog eyes made me lose my resolve.

“Jocelyn, they’re counting on meeting you. We’ve been together for nine months. It’s not only appropriate, it’s necessary.”

“Why?”

“I shouldn’t have to explain this to you. I’m sure your family will understand if you come down to St. Louis for the holidays.”

“Would yours?” I challenged.

“My parents invited you,” he said. His tone made it plain: he didn’t appreciate that I hadn’t extended an invitation to him from my family. The thought of bringing him around my parents and my sister, Darcy, made me cringe. I knew what Darcy would think of him, and I didn’t want to see that look in her eyes. All of it added up to a great, big, flashing, red neon sign in my head: WARNING! THIS RELATIONSHIP IS OVER! GET OUT NOW!

“Alex, I’m not coming to St. Louis. End of story.”

“Where is all this hostility coming from? This isn’t like you at all.”

Yes, it is, I thought. I haven’t been myself since I met you. “I’m just tired of having the same argument over and over again. I want to go home to see my family for Christmas. Not yours.”

“You’re going to meet up with some guy, aren’t you?” he said. “That’s why you don’t want me there. You’ve got some guy waiting for you back home.”

“No!” I shouted, twisting a handful of my hair hard enough to hurt. “There. Is. No. One. Else.” Even though it was technically true, I couldn’t prevent an image of Matt from entering my mind. I squeezed my eyes shut as if that would block him.

“What am I supposed to think when you’re being like this?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe you could just believe me?”

“Then tell me who you’re going to see.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because you won’t believe me anyway.” My head pounded with my heartbeat.

“Or maybe you’re just trying to hide something from me.”

“Friends!” I ground the inside of my wrist into the pulse point on my right temple. “I’m going to see some friends from high school.”

“Which friends?”

“No one you know, Alex.” I said his name with the same intonation I would have given the much-less-flattering names I wanted to call him.

“Who?”

“My friend Lila and her boyfriend, Tom, my other friend Danielle … I don’t know yet!”

“Who else?”

“I don’t know! Stop accusing me of cheating on you in the future!” It was hard to say the words, knowing that in fact, I had.

“I’m not saying that.”

“Yes, you are.”

“I hate it when you tell me what I’m thinking!” he snapped, and I let the phone drift away from my ear in annoyance.

“It’s just that you always think I’m up to something!” I retorted. “You don’t trust me.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Obviously, you don’t.”

“Jocelyn, I’m working really hard at this. But you’re not helping me. You don’t tell me what you’re doing, who you’re seeing … it’s like you’re intentionally hiding shit from me.”

“Maybe I am,” I said and hung up the phone. The moment I did it, I felt like a heel. A real pillar of maturity. So, I dialed his number right away, and told a big fat lie. “Sorry, I dropped the phone.”

“Why would you say that? You know that’s gonna drive me crazy.”

I sighed. “Maybe that’s the point.”

“What are you hiding?”

“Alex, just drop it.”

“No, tell me!”

“There’s nothing to tell.” Although my conscience protested, Yes there is, you big fat liar.

“Jocelyn, I hate it when you do this shit.”

“This shit?” I repeated. “When have I ever done this before? Why are you so fucking suspicious of me all the time? What have I ever done to make you think I’m such a horrible person?”

“I’m sorry. I know.” He sighed. “You’re not a horrible person.”

“I just don’t think this is working.”

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t be this stressed all this time. You’re too intense for me.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying … I think we should not see each other anymore.” The nervous fluttering in my stomach settled the moment the words were out of my mouth. “I think we’re just not meant to be.”

“Don’t say that. We can work on this. I swear.”

“It’s not just that,” I said.

“Whatever you say. I’ll work on it. Just tell me.”

“You can’t work on it, Alex. It’s not like that.”

“Why not? We can get through this. Just talk to me.”

I squeezed my eyes shut and covered them with one hand to block out any possible light. “I—I cheated on you.”

There was dead silence from the other end.

“Did you hear me?” I asked.

“Who was it?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Who was it?” he growled.

“No.” I swallowed hard around the tears that threatened to choke me. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to me,” he snapped.

“I’m not going to tell you.”

The click and silence in my ear told me he was on his way over.

I could have broken up with him without telling him I’d cheated. I don’t know why I did it. Maybe some misplaced idea about confession being good for the soul. Maybe I was small enough that I wanted to hurt him. I don’t know, but now that I’d said the words, I had to follow through.

It was an ugly, drawn-out breakup fight of epic proportions. It could have had a music montage if it had been a movie. It would have been done in high speed, with the two of us pacing around my living room. I refused to give up the name of my partner in crime, even more stridently when it became clear that Alex only wanted to know so he could find the guy and beat the crap out of him. He started in the What-did-I-do-to-make-you-cheat? camp and slowly moved through How-could-you-do-this-to-me? on his way to You-filthy-whore.

After my throat was sore from talking, my shoulders were hunched up around my ears with tension and my head was pounding with exhaustion, I finally found my last words. The ones that put an end to the fight and removed Alex from my life.

“I knew I had to break up with you when I realized I felt like I was cheating on him by staying with you.”

“Do you love this guy?” Alex asked, head resting in his hands. All the fight was out of him. His voice was hoarse and quiet. I felt evil.

“In a way …” I said, too tired to explain what that meant.

“And you don’t love me?”

“Apparently not the same way.”

He winced. “Okay. That’s fine.” He stood up from the couch and looked at me. “I hope you’re happy together.”

“We’re not together,” I said without thinking.

He winced again. “Then I hope he fucking breaks your empty fucking heart.”

“Thanks, Alex,” I said tonelessly.

“You’re a bitch.”

My temper flickered back to life and I leveled a glare at him. “You can go now.”

“I’m not done yet.”

“Yeah, you are.” I hopped to my feet, applied both palms to his back, and propelled him toward the door. I think it was sheer surprise that allowed me to move him—he was much bigger than me, and at least seven inches taller. “You’re completely. Utterly. Beyond. Fucking. Done!” I ripped the door open and gave him a final shove. He could have stopped me that time; he had to see it coming, but he went out the door and didn’t turn back when I slammed it behind him.

The very next thing I did was go to my computer and send an email to Matt. It’s over. It’s exhaustingly, humiliatingly, humblingly over and I am the world’s biggest idiot. I’m sorry.

I didn’t get an answer right away, but he called me the next day.

“Hey, Joss.”

“Hi.”

“I got your message.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, really. I shouldn’t have done that to you. You didn’t need to be involved in that.”

“It’s okay,” he repeated.

“You were totally right. He was just a jerk.”

“I have to hate him, remember? It’s in the rules.”

I felt relief at the mention of the rules. It gave me hope that I hadn’t broken our relationship beyond repair. “Right.”

“So, you’re sure this time?”

I thought of the hours of soul-crushing arguing the night before. If I never saw Alex again, it would be too soon. “Oh, I’m sure.”

“Sounds like an interesting story.”

“Completely uninteresting, actually,” I said. “It was just this horrid, drawn out argument that ended with him calling me a bitch and me throwing him out of the house.”

“Now that I would have liked to see.” His grin was audible.

The spark of hope in my chest caught fire as we found our footing. I let myself smile as I answered him. “I was magnificent.”

“I’m sure.” He laughed.

“Does that mean you’re not mad at me anymore?”

“I was never mad. Disappointed, maybe.”

“Ugh! That’s worse! My mother is always disappointed in me.”

He laughed. “Good, then that’s exactly the word I’m looking for.”

“Matt …” I couldn’t stand the thought that he was actually disappointed. I wanted to curl up in the fetal position and rock myself.

“I’m kidding.”

“Why do I not believe that?”

“That’s on you, Joss.” I could picture him shrugging as he spoke.

“I did mention I’m sorry, right?” I chewed on the inside of my cheek.

“You did.”

“And you’re not forgiving me. Is that about it?”

He inhaled loudly through the phone. “I wouldn’t say that.”

“Is there something I need to do to make this up to you? Three Hail Marys, that sort of thing?”

“Definitely not that.”

“Okay, well … what?”

He hummed for a moment. “I’m not sure. But I’d like to keep my options open for the future.”

It was a lighthearted enough response that I felt a little better. “You’re like a goddamn mafia don, I swear.”

He laughed.

“So … am I allowed to be in the same room with you again?”

“Joss, it was never like that …”

“Okay, but your … disappointment was a wicked third wheel to have around.”

He chuckled softly, seeming pleased with that idea.

I sprung my last test. “Are you free tonight?”

“I can be, why?”

“I’d like to see you.”

“Do you need to see me?”

“That’s not what I’m saying …” It was what I meant, but not what I was saying. I wasn’t sure how far through the apology process we’d gotten. I didn’t want to snap the first fragile supports of a rebuilt bridge between us. “I haven’t seen you in days.”

“All right, all right.” He laughed. “It’ll be late, though, I have to work.”

Matt’s late shift at the restaurant gave me plenty of time to go through the usual preparations. I had no idea what the night would bring, but if there was even the slightest chance of him seeing what was under my clothes, I wanted to be ready. I wanted to be more than ready. By the time he showed up at eleven, I was smooth, dressed to kill—against my skin anyway—with clean sheets and minty-fresh breath. Nothing I couldn’t account for on a regular night, but I knew my intentions. They were not pure.

“Wait, before you say anything, I have something for you,” I said after I’d let him in. I crooked my finger at him to lead him to the bedroom and retrieved the tattered sheet of loose-leaf from my desk. It was the rules, and I had a new addition. I handed it to Matt.

“Number nine. The relationship requiring Sorbet must be over for Sorbet to take place,” he read aloud, then laughed. “Good call.”

“Did I mention that I’m sorry?”

“Two or three hundred times.”

“I actually felt worse that I made you mad than I did for breaking up with Alex.”

“I wasn’t mad, Joss.” Matt rolled his eyes.

“I know, I know. You get what I mean.”

“Yeah, I get it.”

“So … I broke the rules, and I’m sorry.” When his expression made a move toward annoyance, I held up my hands. “Last time.”

“It better be.” He studied the contract. “According to your own addition … yeah, you broke the rules.”

In that moment, the thought occurred to me that no one else I knew would be able to play this ridiculous game. It wasn’t just that Matt had originated it—he was the only person I knew who would be so dedicated to an arbitrary list that was one step shy of being written on a cocktail napkin. We’d always had a deep appreciation of the absurd in common.

“Maybe …” he murmured before searching my desk for a pen. He bent over the rules for a moment. “There.”

I took the paper from his hand and read:

10. The Sorbet partners are allowed one violation of these rules without penalty.

11. Any conflict between the partners should be considered eligible for a Sorbet resolution.

“So I’m not banned for life?” I asked.

“Nope.”

“How do you figure rule eleven?” I asked.

“Well, why do you need Sorbet Sex?”

I folded my hands at my waist like a good pupil. “To get rid of the bad feelings left from the last guy.”

“So, there can’t be any bad feelings between us or it won’t work, right?”

The whole thing smacked of rationalizing, but I wanted to agree. “So, we have to Sorbet our way back into Sorbetability.”

He laughed. “Wow, that’s a hell of a word.”

“I made it up just for you.” I smiled.

“Thanks.”

“So …?”

“Yeah, I’m in.”

I smiled and put my arms around his neck. “Thank you.”

“It’s okay. I think we both need this one.”

I kissed him, happy to get an equal response. “I picked out some really nice underwear for you.”

“You were pretty confident you’d get your way, weren’t you?”

“I was willing to take my clothes off again, if I had to,” I said in all seriousness.

He laughed. “That’s your go-to move, huh?”

“It worked last time.”

“True.”

“So … do you want to see?” I asked.

“Absolutely.”

Snow fell overnight, and the temperature in my bedroom dropped dramatically. December had been unseasonably warm, although a few nights had already alerted me to the crappy insulation in my bedroom. It had northern and eastern exposure, which combined to create a chilling effect during the winter months.

I knew it was cold when I woke up with a drippy nose. I snuck an experimental arm out from beneath the blankets and immediately regretted it. I shivered and buried myself deeper in the comforter, scooting closer to Matt to borrow some body heat.

“Hey,” he greeted me, reaching back to pull me tight against his body.

“You’re awake?” I asked.

“Yeah, I have been for a while. I’m afraid to get out of bed.”

“Why?”

“It’s freezing in here!”

“I know!” I agreed.

“Look at this.” He turned his head so I could see and blew a plume of frosted breath into the air. “I can see my breath. Inside.”

“I know, it’s awful.”

“Is it always like this?”

“Only when the temperature drops.”

“Jeez.” He twisted to face me and hugged me close. “Does your landlord know about this?”

“Ha!” I scoffed. Our landlord was not prone to answering his residents’ complaints. Nor did he have to be, I supposed. We’d all be moving on at the end of one year, and he could wait for the next tenants to notice that the front two bedrooms didn’t heat. All over Madison, the property owners who rented to students were an immoral, unsavory bunch. By the time anyone realized it, it was always too late—contracts signed, deposits made.

“I guess you’re right,” he said.

“I’m glad you came over last night,” I said. “It’s way warmer with you in here.”

He laughed. “You’re just using me for my metabolic rate.”

“No, no, no. I’m using you for lots of things.”

He laughed again, and I kissed him.

“I’m glad you came over. For real,” I said.

“Me, too.”

“I guess I’m ahead now, huh?”

“Two to one.”

“Not that you’re keeping track, right?”

“Of course not.” He grinned.

“Well, I guess you better get yourself out there,” I said.

“I’m out there, trust me.”

“Okay, so you need to get out there and find someone you actually want to see more than once.” I slipped a foot between his shins and wiggled my toes.

“I’m doing just fine, thank you.”

“I’m serious, Matt, you’re a great guy, you should find yourself a new girl.”

He hooked one of my rogue curls away from my lips. “You realize this is a completely fucked up conversation, right?”

“How can you say that?” I slung my thigh over his waist and gave him a wicked grin.

He covered my face with one hand and sighed. “Okay, I have a question.”

“Shoot.”

“Why don’t you want me?”

Fear darted through my stomach. “Matty, I—I—”

“Relax.” He rolled his eyes. “I’m asking out of pure curiosity. You’re sort of in a unique position, you know.”

“You’re just …” I shrugged. “You’re not my type, I guess.”

“That type thing is bullshit.”

“Oh, really? So why don’t you want me?” I challenged him.

“No way, I’m not telling you that.”

I lifted my head and narrowed my eyes at him. “Why not?”

“I’d have to be an idiot to tell a girl I’m in bed with why she’s not girlfriend material.”

I considered pursuing the line of questioning, but he was probably right. I didn’t want to lose my Sorbet Guy, or more important my friend. Honesty is not necessarily the best policy. Alex would probably agree with that one. “It’s because I won’t eat anything blue, isn’t it?”

He laughed.

“Never mind, don’t tell me.”

He freed one hand and held it out to me. “I’ll never tell if you don’t.”

“Deal.” We shook on it, and I unhooked my leg from his waist.

“I guess I should get up.” Matt sighed.

I groaned. “If you move, it’s gonna get all cold under the covers.”

“I thought you wanted me to get out and meet a new girl.”

“I do! But I also don’t want you to take away your warmth.”

“You are a complicated woman.”

“What can I say? You’re very warm.”

“Using me again.” He shook his head and gave me sad eyes.

“Guilty.” I pulled the blankets up higher around our shoulders. “Who knows? This could be the last time we do this, you know. You could meet the love of your life on the way home this morning.”

“I’d never recognize her in this weather,” he said. “Too many layers.”

“True.”

“And that would require me getting out of your bed.”

“Also true.”

“It’s frickin’ cold out there.”

“So, maybe not today.” I shrugged. “Maybe you’ll meet her tomorrow.”

“Yeah, I’ll wait.”