Page 41 of Total Exposure

“Shall we go up to my place?”

Her question lingers in my head like the terror you feel waking up from a too-real nightmare. Her voice is clear, like she’s standing here next to me, her intent obvious. The promise of something coming evident.

I should’ve said no.

None of this would’ve happened if I had just said no.

But Augustine had me from the first time Ixion introduced her. “My Augustine,” he joked.

His.

His Augustine.

And where is she now?

God, that’s the problem, isn’t it?

And I’m sick. Fucking stuck on a girl who walked out seven years ago. And she didn’t just walk out. She stormed out. Like a raging fucking wind. Upending lives in the process. Friendships severed. Love lost.

And then that was it.

I didn’t plan what happened. And I didn’t ask Ix for the favor.

Which is the part that makes me feel so shitty. I didn’t need to ask. He gave, just like Chella. He knew what I wanted, what needed to happen, and he gave it to me like a gift. With no expectations of receiving something in return. And I was selfish, because I accepted his gift and gave nothing back in return.

I should’ve said no. At least I wouldn’t have lost both of them. Augustine was already on her way out. Ixion was never leaving.

At least, not until I fucked everything up. We’d still be friends today if I had just owned up to what I did. If I hadn’t let him take the fall for me instead. If I hadn’t ruined his life, and his family, and his future.

Ixion picks up on the third ring, just before it goes to voicemail. “What?” he asks, irritated. Like he’s a mind-reader and he knows what I was just thinking about.

“You know, I meant it when I said I was sorry.”

“When did you say you were sorry?”

“Don’t be a dick.”

“No, I’m really asking.”

“Couple weeks ago, asshole. When you were in my office.”

“Oh, that?” Ix laughs. “That’s your idea of an apology?”

“Why are you here?”

“You called me here, remember?”

“But why did you come?”

“You know why,” he says.

“Because—”

“What the fuck do you want from me now, Jordan? Huh? What more do I need to give you that I haven’t already?”

“I’m sorry,” I say. “You know—”

“I don’t know shit. I don’t know you, I don’t know her, and I don’t care, either.”