Sean Olin - Wicked Games

“You’re thinking about what you’re going to tell Lilah,” she said.

“Yeah. I’m sorry. I can’t help it.”

“It’s okay. I don’t expect you to all of a sudden be my boyfriend. I understand. You’ve been with her forever. I don’t want to be the girl who broke up the class couple.”

She meant this as a mild kind of joke, to put him at ease, but Carter flinched when she said it. “What do you mean?” he said.

Reluctantly, she let go of his hand. “Just let me know when you’re ready,” she said. “Maybe you never will be. I don’t know. It’s the chance we take. Like the I Ching, remember?”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ve created a total mess, I know.”

“It takes two,” she said.

He’d tensed up—listening to something outside.

There was someone moving around by the pool. The rustles and metallic clankings of cans in a trash bag. They couldn’t see who it was—the pool-side wall of the house wasn’t made of glass like the ocean-side wall.

Before either of them had time to gather themselves, the doorknob turned and the door flew open. There was Jeff, hiding behind a pair of Ray-Bans, his short hair matted with bedhead. He was shirtless, barefoot, wearing only a bright yellow swimsuit festooned with blue palm trees.

Jules was up and slammed shut into the bathroom with her clothes before he could say, “Oh! Shit!”

Jeff’s trash bag full of empty beer cans fell to the floor. He lifted his Ray-Bans onto his forehead, and his bloodshot eyes bugged out of his head as he stared at Carter in disbelief.

“Wow,” he said. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”

After Jules left, Carter sat with Jeff by the edge of the pool, dangling his legs in the cool, clear water.

“But, man. Lilah. She’s totally wound up already. Can you imagine how she’s going to react to this?” Carter asked. Part of him thought that the best thing to do at this particular moment would be to drown himself in the chlorinated water—at least then he wouldn’t have to face her.

“Just don’t tell her,” Jeff said. “I sure as hell am not going to say anything.”

Carter shook his head wearily. He resisted the urge to unload the secrets only he and Lilah knew about the depths of her depression after the swim-team blowup. Instead he cupped a handful of water and splashed it on his face, hoping this might help him think more clearly. “It’s not that simple,” he said.

“You’re eighteen years old, dude. These are your best years. You’re smart. You’re good-looking. Chicks are gonna be into you. And you know, that’s a good thing.” He punched Carter lightly on the arm. “I gotta hand it to you, though, bro. That Jules is way above your weight class. If I hadn’t seen it with my own two eyes, I’d never believe you could bag someone like that. You know what I mean? Hot chicks are my thing. You’re the old married guy. But, yo, I guess not so much, huh?”

This was just like Jeff. He could be so crude sometimes. And even though Carter knew his friend was trying to be funny—playing his part as the freewheeling hedonist he thought he should be, and talking tough in a way he would never dare to act—he wasn’t in the mood for jokes right this moment.

“Come on, man,” he said. “I’m trying to be serious.”

Jeff sized him up for a few seconds, studied the misery clouding his face. “Okay, being serious,” he said. “Whatever happens, you’re going to live. I mean, you know that, right? Either you’ll stay with Lilah and try to forget about last night, or you’ll finally leave her and then you’ll be a free man. You want to know what I really think?”

Carter shrugged. “Sure.”

“I think maybe this could be a wake-up call for you. I’ve always thought you could do better than Lilah, if you weren’t so scared of trying.”

“I take it back,” Carter said. “I don’t think I do want to hear what you think.”

“I’m serious, dude. Sometimes I wonder if you even still like her. It’s not like the two of you are feeding your larger lives … you know what I mean? Except for last night—and look at how that worked out. When was the last time the two of you hung out in public together? Sometimes it seems like you’re just still with her because you’ve been dating her so long you don’t know how to do anything else.”

“That’s not fair,” said Carter. He was wishing he’d asked someone else for advice, but there was no one he trusted more than he trusted Jeff. And since Jeff had walked in on the scene of the crime …

“Whatever. I’m not trying to be a dick, Carter. I’m just saying.”

Carter slipped his hand into the water and waggled it around.

“Anyway, it doesn’t matter,” said Jeff. “What we really should be talking about is your cover story.”

Jeff slid into the pool and swam out a couple yards. He doused his sunglasses and then put them on. Treading water, he turned to Carter and said, “The best lies are ones that keep close to the truth, so really, it’s simple. After Kaily and Teresa took Lilah home, you hung out with me and the guys. This actually happened—for a minute or two, anyway. If she double-checks with Reed or Andy or Carlos, they’ll back you up without even realizing that they’re supporting your alibi. So, you had a few beers. The guys left. Then you had a few more. And you figured you were too drunk to risk driving home. Cool?”

“Sure.”

“You and I stayed up watching old episodes of Futurama on Hulu. Piece of cake.”

Jeff was right. It was that simple. The complicated stuff was all inside Carter’s heart. He closed his eyes and felt the morning sun, warm on the backs of his eyelids. He was suddenly exhausted. He’d been up with Jules until four, at least. He’d barely slept at all the night before.

“Whaddya say, bro?”

Carter reluctantly nodded. “Sounds like a plan,” he said quietly.

“All right, cool,” said Jeff. Then, splashing a plume of water at Carter, he said, “I gotta say, though, man—you’re one lucky dog.”

Slowly lifting himself from the edge of the pool, Carter wandered back into the pool house and laid down on the unmade futon. He could smell Jules’s scent on the sheets—peaches and rosewater. He remembered his face buried in her hair the night before, breathing her in, gulping down these smells. Images from their hookup flooded his head—his hands running up her smooth legs, the devilishly playful expression on her face as they’d chased each other up the beach toward Jeff’s house, and then the warmth of her skin when he’d covered her body with his own. An enticing, lingering memory of the night before.

Was it possible that Jeff knew what he was talking about? That the problem wasn’t with what he’d done the night before, but with the fact that his love for Lilah was disappearing? And then what? What would happen to Lilah if he up and left her?

The possibility disturbed him. He imagined her spiraling into a depression like she had after the swim-team fiasco. Hurting herself, maybe seriously. It made him sick to his stomach.

In a sudden panic, he leaped up and stripped the bed, crumpling the sheets into a ball and stuffing them deep in the hamper in the bathroom.

Back on the futon, he closed his eyes and tried to calm himself. If he could just somehow get back to sleep, maybe he’d wake up in a world where he wouldn’t have to worry about any of this.

In the three and a half years they’d been together, Carter had never once neglected Lilah’s calls. Never once failed to return a text.

If only she hadn’t gotten drunk, if only she’d tried a little harder to enjoy Jeff’s party and not made such a spectacle of herself. She should have remembered how fragile things were in their relationship. She should have been more careful, more attentive, less selfish. She should have put Carter’s needs before her own.