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I can't look at Kyle. I don't want to see his face. He's leaning against the fireplace, his arms crossed over his chest, his head angled down at the cream-colored carpet I wish would just swallow me whole.
But it doesn't.
So, I keep my focus on Matt's coppery brown eyes. They're staring back at me, wide-eyed and...devastated.
He doesn't say anything. He just strides through the house, to the front door, and slams it shut behind him as he disappears.
I know I shouldn't, but I quickly stand and chase after him.
The warm mountain air hits me as I step outside, see Matt doubled over by Danny’s truck, throwing up.
What have I done?
My heart crumples in my chest.
I slowly walk over to him as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Stay away from me, Jen,” he warns, but I ignore him and take another step forward. “I’m serious right now. I can’t even look at you.”
There are so many words that I want to say, but they all seem to get lodged in my chest, in my throat, on the tip of my tongue. I reach out and touch his arm, but he recoils and slams his elbow against the baby blue truck door.
“Fuck!” he yells.
“P-please,” I whisper. “Let me explain.”
“How long?” he grits his teeth and stares over my head at the house. “How long have you been fucking my brother?"
I wrap my arms around myself, ice coursing through my veins as the warm summer breeze drifts by, ruffling the hair on Matt’s head.
“Since Spring Break.”
His fist collides with my truck and he relentlessly pounds into the aged steel. I know his knuckles are going to be bloody and bruised, but I can’t find it in myself to stop him. I should want to, shouldn’t I? I should beg him to stop.
But I don't.
Bloody splatters stain the paint with every punch, the skin on his knuckles flays from his anger.
“I thought you loved me.” He sounds heartbroken, grief-stricken, pained as he slumps against the door.
“I do,” I respond. “I do love you, Matt. You’re my best friend.”
He stands, refuses to look at me. There’s no trace of warmth or understanding in his eyes. Just fury, red and angry and harsh. “I kissed you. I told you I loved you and I asked you on a date. Why did you let me do those things?”
I swallow thickly. “It wasn’t serious then. We just…”
“You were just using him?” He sounds disgusted
“Maybe the first time,” I answer honestly, “but not anymore. I’m in love with him, Matt.”
“You could have chosen someone else. Anyone else.” His breathing is shallow and labored. Like he’s just ran sprints on the basketball court.
“I didn’t choose him,” I explain softly. “He chose me.”
Matt laughs and runs a hand through his golden-brown hair. “My dickhead brother doesn’t love anyone except himself. There’s no way he loves you, Jen. He’s just going to hurt you.”
“You’re wrong,” I argue weakly. My head is spinning, and my heart is thudding so violently in my chest I’m afraid it might stop beating altogether.
“I expect this kind of shit from my brother,” Matt chews on his lower lip before finally looking me in the eyes. “But I never expected my best friend to fuck me over like this.”
