As another week began, another week without a single word from Emily; I began to think she was completely over it– over us. Even though Leah told me just the other day that she wanted to talk to me, she’s made no effort in trying. None at all. And neither had I.
If anything, she’s gone out of her way to avoid us, and by us; I mean Denver and I.
Denver is still sour about it, dead set on being done with her. But with what he told me about their history, I had a feeling they were just one good conversation away from being friends again; but us– me and her? I had no clue where we stood.
But I refused to let the shambles of this circle keep me from living, keep me from being me. So after work the following Tuesday, I decided to message our ghost town of a group chat.
Max 5.08 pm. Orioles game anyone? This weekend?
I figured a simple message to extend the olive branch was a decent idea, bringing the masses together; together in public.
Denver 5.08 pm. I’m down.
Roman 5.09 pm. Count me in.
Denver 5.12 pm. Boys trip?
Max 5.13 pm. Leah?
Max 5.13 pm. Em?
I was nervous to text her name, nervous for her to see me speaking about her. But one of us had to try, one of us had to break the ice.
Denver 5.14 pm. Booooo, no girls.
Leah 5.15 pm. I work in the morning Saturday, what time is the game?
Max 5.16 pm. 6:30
Leah 5.16 pm. I’ll be there.
Emily left the group
I felt my stomach drop.
Denver 5.17 pm. HAHAHAHA
Leah added Emily to the group
Leah 5.18 pm. Not nice Em.
But I was done texting. Done trying.
I know it was only a measly effort, but at least I tried. And what did she decide to do? Leave the fucking chat like a child– it pissed me off.
My eyes rolled as I clicked my phone shut. The crazy thing is, I know she’s home; I know they’re both home. They always have off Tuesdays, and the thought of her lounging comfortably in her living room; denying my attempt of breaking the ice– made me angry.
At least I had a distraction, and for once it wasn’t my man; it wasn't Denver.
It was Vic.
And yes, I’ve felt really icky ever since that dream; something about it made my skin crawl. I mean– it could be the fact that a sex dream involved him, the fact that Denver now worries about him. But I convinced myself there wasn't anything to worry about– but was there?
No. No… there wasn’t.
Either way, he was my friend again; something I thought would never happen. I mean, we were thick as thieves during all of middle school and most of high school; his parents knew mine and my parents knew his– we were practically brothers. Well… that makes things weird, but you know what I mean.
I missed him, and we had a ton of catching up to do. So I made sure to tell Denver the night before that I invited him over for a movie night, something we used to do regularly; something I thought could be a fun nostalgic moment for us. Denver wasn’t entirely fond of the idea, but he persisted that he trusted me; and did nothing to convince me of canceling.
And that’s why I love him.
Around seven thirty is when Vic showed up, knocking on my door; “Hey Vic!” I smiled, embracing him in a hug as he walked in. It was almost like he remembered my little tendencies, because before I even asked; he slid his shoes off.
“Nice place.” He admired the newly decorated walls, the shelves that Denver helped me hang and new plants I struggled to keep alive.
I chuckled, “Thanks, hungry?” I asked him, “We could order pizza like old times.”
And he chuckled too, “Sure thing.” He walked around the kitchen, “But no m–”
“No mushrooms. Got it.” I teased him, remembering his hatred for them as I sat at a bar stool and pulled out my phone to call the local pizza shop; ordering one large pepperoni pie– half mushroom.
We ended up on the couch, searching for a movie as we waited for our delivery driver; searching and talking and catching up on everything.
And yes, Hanna did come up– to be expected. But at least the topic of her wasn’t some glorious praise, but more of a trauma dump. I knew she was evil, ever since she did what she did. But I could never imagine the things she’d done to Vic, the things he put up with for so long.
She was indeed controlling. The man couldn’t hang out with anyone, couldn’t eat in the living room; couldn’t fucking breathe it seemed. But the worst part was how she consistently made everything about herself. In their arguments, she’d turn them around; make them about her– about how he hurt her feelings.
But then it dawned on me… I kind of acted the same way– didn’t I?
So I asked, “Can I spill the tea with you?” He nodded, “Promise to keep it to yourself?” I tight-lipped a smile.
And when he agreed, I spilled– all of it. Denver and I’s story, DC, Roman’s family, the bonfire, the blow up– everything.
“...so I was like, hysterically crying about it.” I shook my head, “And we got into an argument outside about it because like… I mean, if what Emily said was true then–”
He cut me off, “You took Emily’s side?” He asked me, brows raised.
I felt my gut plummet, “No.” I shook my head, did I? “No, we made up the day after but still, she brought a lot to light that I wouldn’t have ever known.”
“Did you give him the opportunity to share it with you?” He looked at me with those soft brown eyes, not menacingly or vindicating– but curious and helpful. I shook my head slowly, I guess I didn’t. “Listen,” He started, “Of course he should’ve told you. But would you offer that on a silver platter? Being a cheater?”
No– no I wouldn’t.
He drew his lips together in a forgiving type of smile, “Am I judgemental?” I asked him.
He shook his head, “I can’t speak to that.” He looked me in the eyes, “But questioning if you are, knowing enough to ask yourself– that’s all that matters.” He smiled.
But I couldn’t help but shake my head. To me, that was a roundabout way of saying yes– yes Max, you’re judgemental.
“I’m no better than Hanna, am I?” But I was more or so asking myself, it just came out aloud.
He scoffed, “Fuck no.” He violently shook his head, “Max, listen to me.” And I peered up to him, “I know we haven't been friends for a while, but one thing about you… is that you’ve always put others first, always been there for the ones you care about. Even if they weren’t there for you.”
I slowly nodded, but started to shake my head again; “Instead of consoling him… I berated him.” I couldn’t focus on the nice things Vic had to say about me, no– I could only focus on what I’d done wrong.
“Stop that.” He scooted closer to me, wrapped a friendly arm around my shoulder; “He probably deserved it.”
And that made me chuckle through my breath, “Do you remember a Denver Benedetti?” I asked at random.
And his arm removed from me, “Yeah… no.” His face fell as I just nodded plainly. “No…”
I sucked at my bottom lip, “Soccer… Patapsco?”
“I remember.” He straightened his back, “That’s your Denver?” A strange look in his eyes as I nodded. He let out a breath, shook his head; “Such a small fucking world.” And I agreed, it sure was.
He just leaned into the couch, crossing his arms with a remembering look to his face; “And?” I asked, prying to know more.
He glanced at me, shook his head; “Nothing.”
“Oh my God.” I deadpanned, “What is up with guys and saying nothing? Clearly it’s something.” And he scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Vic.” I punched his shoulder, “Tell me.”
He too bit on his lip, “Okay fine.” He started, “It was the end of junior year and we already stopped talking so…” He trailed, “Anyways. Uhm…”
“Spit it out.” I demanded, getting nervous that something truly unnerving happened between the two of them.
He groaned, “He was my only competition out there okay!” My brows drew, “I needed to win that game, so I got in his head.” But that only grew my confusion, “Get that look off your face.” He teased me.
“Fucking spit it out Vic.”
His head fell in his hands, “There was a red-head in the bleachers with a huge sign, it was clearly his girlfriend so during halftime I sent Hanna over to get in her head, get her mad at him to distract him.” My face fell, it was Emily… he’s talking about Emily. “I didn’t know Hanna was going to go over there and convince her that Denver was sleeping with her.”
“She what?”
He groaned again, “I know! It was wrong, I should’ve known Hanna would take it too far but now… with what you’ve told me. I get why that girl believed her.” He shook his head then met my eyes, “Before the second half started I watched them get in a huge fight, watched the girl storm off. And when we resumed the game, I mentioned it; I threw sideways comments at him that only made him more angry.”
I nodded, “And that’s how you won?” It made sense.
“Don’t hate me.” I shook my head furiously at his pleading eyes.
I put out a hand, “Vic it was years ago. I don’t really care.” I just couldn’t believe truly how small this world is, “That red-head though…” I met his eyes, “That’s Emily.”
And his eyes damn near popped out of his head, clutching his hair and feeling even worse. “Are you fucking kidding me?” I shook my head, “I need a drink.”
I laughed, “I got you.” And as I got up to grab him one, the delivery man showed with our pizza and we decided to take a much needed break from the revelations. Instead, we got comfortable on the couch with our pizza and seltzers and watched a movie.
Though, even throughout the suspenseful movie; my mind would drift to Denver– and everything I felt bad about.
Vic was right about what he refused to say… I am controlling, I am judgemental. Instead of taking my man’s side– I questioned him. Instead of giving him time and space– I insisted he come out. Instead of being a good person– I was a shitty one.
And damn did I feel shitty.
But both of us jumped at the random knock on my door, whipping our heads to each other. “Who’s that?” Vic asked and I shrugged. “If it’s Denver, I’ll just let myself out.” But I waved a dismissive hand at him and looked through the peephole.
Color drained from my face, my heart rate spiked; it wasn’t Denver– it was Emily.
I backed away from the door in a panic, I wasn’t ready for this conversation. “What’s wrong?” Vic asked, leaning up on the couch.
“It’s Emily.” I whisper-screamed, to which he raised his eyebrows.
He stood from his seat, “Answer it.” He told me, “You’ve been waiting for her to talk.” But not right now, not at night time; not when I didn’t expect it.
But Vic took the initiative for me and ran to the door, opened it; and greeted a nail-biting Emily.
“Hi?” She stood confused, dropping her fingers from her mouth and panning her gaze to me who stood anxiously in the background. “Uhm?”
He put out his hand, “I’m Vic.” He smiled.
She only looked at his hand, then back to me; “Am I interrupting something?”
I was silently shaking my head as Vic continued, “Just two buds watching a movie. You are?” He played dumb– played the part.
“Emily.” She threw a sarcastic smile at him, “I’ll just come back another time.”
But I broke, “No.” I walked forward, drifting my eyes between the two of them; “No, come in.” And I motioned a hand inside to which she awkwardly walked around Vic’s figure.
“I guess that’s my cue.” Vic blurted, grabbing his keys and half eaten slice of pizza; “I’ll see you later man.” He nodded a head to me, slipped on his shoes and took a final look at Emily– a long look before saying, “Nice to meet you.” And walked out the door.
“Likewise.” She responded, keeping an eye on him until the door shut; then whipped her head to me– “Who was that?” She questioned me.
Questioning me… really? When she’s supposed to be here to apologize?
I scoffed, “A friend.” And crossed my arms, “You knocked?”
And her figure slumped, her demeanor shriveling to a measly version of the bubbly Emily I knew; “I wanted to talk.” She muttered, “About last week.”
I only nodded, motioning us to the couch and pausing the movie. She sat delicately in her seat, scanning my apartment that she hadn’t seen before. “Are you here to apologize?”
My question grabbed her attention as she looked directly at me, “Yes.” She fumbled with her nails and took a deep breath, “I don’t really know how to start this.” She admitted, “But I’m sorry. I’m sorry I screamed at you, I’m sorry I haven’t talked to you, I’m sorry I blamed you.” She refused eye contact.
I stayed silent, jaw tense as I listened.
“I’m sure D has told you about our past…” At that he did, “And I’m sorry you got caught in the middle of it. You didn’t deserve that.” She looked up at me, eyes glistening.
I still wouldn’t speak.
Her hands patted her lap, “Leah told me you thought that I hated you…” Of course she did, “I don’t, just so you know.”
“You hate him?” I spoke up, referring to Denver.
She shook her head, “I could never hate him.” She looked down again, folded her hands together to stop the anxious tapping; “I didn’t know he was gay.” She whispered.
I scoffed again, “Well no offense Emily, but I’m not the one to console you on that topic.” I let my feelings from earlier cloud her apology, let them overrun and control how I acted now.
Her lips parted, a tragic look in her eyes as she shook her head again; “No… I didn’t mean it like that, I just mean…” She huffed, “It was a shock. I reacted poorly. I’m sorry, I don’t know what else to say.” She took a sharp inhale, clearly holding back her emotions; “Max, I was in love with him for years… please understand that.” She looked at me with pleading eyes.
And I felt my face drop, felt the emotions seeping from her. I remembered what Denver said, how he never told her because he was afraid of how she’d feel, how’d she react.
I nodded slowly, letting her continue; “I was hurt, and I fueled that hurt and attacked you with it. I know it was wrong, I know I shouldn’t have but I couldn’t help myself– it just came out.” Her breath was shaky, “I get it if you hate me, if you don’t want to forgive me bu–”
I cut her off by wrapping her in a hug, squeezing her tiny figure that struggled to breath through impending sobs. “I don’t hate you.” I assured her, “But what you said…” I let go, looking her in the eyes; “It was hateful. And you were drunk and that makes me feel like it was true.”
She shook her head furiously, “No.” She demanded, “No, I wanted to hurt your feelings, that’s why I said what I said.” She admitted, something that did make sense. “Fuck…” She wiped her eyes, “I don’t know how else to say I’m sorry.”
I shook my head too, “I don’t think there is one.” I admitted. She’s said all the right things, said what I wanted her to say– but for some reason it still didn’t feel like enough.
“Will we ever be friends again?” She asked me.
I took a long pause to think– I’d like to. Of course I wanted to, I’ve been waiting for this conversation so that we could be. But in that moment it felt wrong to take her side again, to dismiss what she did to me; what she did to Denver– what she did to us.
I took a deep breath too, “I think so.” I added, “I want to.” I shook my head, “God, this is weird.”
And to that she chuckled, a nervous one; “It is.”
“Are you planning on talking to him?” I asked her, needing to know if anything would go back to normal.
And she took her pause, tensed her jaw before saying; “I will for you.” She added, “But I know he hates me right now.”
I nodded to her statement, he did. He’s made that very apparent.
“I just want to go back in time.” She spoke the thoughts on my brain, “I wish I never said anything, wish I never asked him that fucking question.”
But I thought about that question, the question that brought Denver and I to light. Was it the perfect way? No. Was it how I imagined them finding out? No. But has Denver and I's relationship flourished since? Yes– it has.
“It’s okay.” I told her, “We’re out now.”
But she just shook her head, “Because of me.” Her head fell in her hands, “I took that choice away from you two.”
She did. She did take the choice away, but who knows how long he would’ve waited? Regardless of how badly I wanted him to come out, no matter how badly I wanted me and him to be an us– at that time, a week ago– it felt like he could’ve waited years.
“I forgive you.” I admitted, succumbing to her pleas; “Everything happens for a reason, right?” I tried to source a reason for her actions, tried to source the good that came out of an awful situation.
She shook her head though, “Why?”
“Why?” I asked back.
She threw her hands in her lap, “Ugh!” She swayed her red hair to her face; “I don’t know. Why are you so quick to forgive? Why do you not hate me for what I said to you?” It felt like a regression.
First she was begging for forgiveness, now she was begging for a reason to not.
“Emily, I don’t understand.”
“I called you a fake bitch. Screamed in your face. Outed your relationship. I didn’t come talk to you sooner because I figured there was no point. I wouldn’t forgive me.”
And a bastardly grin took to my lips, “Good thing I’m not you.” I added. I understood what she meant, but she didn’t fully know me. She didn’t understand the backstory of me, why I was so dependent on friends; why I clung to their circle– so I told her.
“I had a friend once that turned my best friend against me.” I started, “That guy actually, Vic.” I pointed a thumb at the door, “He was my best friend for years and all it took was that one girl to change his mind, to out me to him; to ruin my self esteem and ruin what my definition of friends was.” I nodded to myself. “It took almost all of college to rebuild trust, to reconnect with my peers.” I took a sharp breath, “And when I came back to Maryland, I decided to be done with it– to live life as me and to roll with the punches.”
She only shook her head once more, her brows drawn.
“I had no friends moving back here. No one. But you…” I poked her chest, “You invited me to hang out with you guys. You invited me into your circle. And you have no idea how much I needed it.”
A smile grew to each corner of her face as she hugged me, squeezed me and let out a sigh; “I’m so sorry Max.” She breathed, “For everything.”
Emily and I made up that night… mostly.
There was still a part of me that believed she was a little crazy, a little unhinged; and maybe still held resentment towards me. But I was over it. I needed to be.
And more importantly, we devised a plan on how to help her apologize to Denver.
It was the next day, after work and almost evening. Emily called out of work to help me, did most of the work actually as I did my job for the day. But we had everything in motion, everything set up.
And I called him, “Hey sunshine.” He answered the way he’s grown used to.
“Hey babe.” I answered back, “What’re you doing?”
I heard the shower running in the background, “About to hop in the shower, you?”
I smirked, “Nothing… wanna come over after?” I walked my fingers on my kitchen island as I spoke.
He chuckled, “Of course.” He answered back, “Got plans?”
“Nope.” I said, “Just want you to come over.”
And he chuckled, “Be there in twenty.” And the phone call ended.
I whipped my head to Emily who sat patiently behind me, “He’ll be here in twenty.”
“Perfect.” A devious smile on her lips.
I texted him that the door would be unlocked, so no more than twenty minutes later; he walked right inside.
His face dropped, “What the fuck are you doing here?” He spat.
“I’m just here to talk.” Emily pleaded with her hands up, “Please.”
He looked around, “Where is Max?” He demanded an answer.
“He helped me, okay.” She motioned him to sit at the bar counter with her, “Please.”
His jaw tensed, a fiery look in his eyes as he sat down with her.
“What do you want?”
She took a deep breath, “Denver, I’m sorry.” She admitted, earning a surprising switch in his eyes; “You know I’ve only ever wanted the best for you.”
He didn’t agree, but he didn’t retort.
“I’m happy that you’re happy D.” She smiled at him, “I don’t care about our past anymore, I let it go.” She said, “You want to be with Max– fine by me.” She nodded.
His brows only drew together, “Who are you?”
She laughed, “Denver I’m being serious–”
“So am I.” He started, “Who are you? And where is Max?”
My heart fluttered at his second mention of my name. I know what we were doing was tricky, using me to get them to talk; but it felt good that all he seemed to care about was me.
“He’ll be here in a second.” She assured him, “Denver, look at me.” And their eyes met, “We both brought out old shit the other night. Shit we agreed we’d leave in the past.” He nodded, “We were both wrong, both unfair.” She was right, they were. “I’m trying to bury the hatchet officially.”
He paused, took a deep breath as he stared her in the eyes; “You mean that?”
“Only if you are.” She added.
He scanned her whole being, sat rigid in his seat; “You aren’t mad at me?” He asked, and I was thoroughly surprised that those were the words he decided on.
It was clear that underneath the comments, underneath the facade of hating her; he still cared for her.
She shook her head, “I was. But not anymore. Are you mad at me?”
“Yes.” He answered, “I’ve been trying to do the right thing with him, and that blow up fucked it all up.” My heart fluttered.
She shook her head softly, “It didn’t.” She assured him.
But he only huffed, “It did Emily.” He shook his head too, head in his hands; “I had a plan to bring all that shit up to him, to explain my past actions when the time was right.”
“I’m sorry.” She added, tilting her head to meet his gaze.
He just continued shaking his head, “Why are you even here?” His anger was coming back, “I came over to hang out with Max, not you.”
“I know.” She answered, “We needed to talk.”
He scoffed, “Not everything’s about you.” He spat at her.
But she kept her composure, and didn't lash out like the other night; “You’re right.” And his features softened, “This isn’t about me. This is about the five of us.” She nodded her head, “This is about you knowing that I’m done being psycho Emily, okay?”
He chuckled at her words, “Yeah, okay.”
“I’m serious, Denver.” She put a hand on his shoulder, “I’m done. And I’m happy for you two.”
He whipped his head to hers, scanned for the truth; scanned for the deception– “You don’t mean that.”
“I do.” She said with a soft smile, “We grew apart. We were not meant for each other.”
He scoffed again, “Clearly.” He started, but looked in her eyes; “I’ve never loved anyone else before.”
And my heart cracked wide open. Is he saying what I think he’s saying? I shouldn't be over-hearing this.
But she smiled all the same, “You love him?” She asked softly, not a drop of jealousy in her tone.
And he nodded, “I think so.” He said, “But I’m not sure after the other night if he’ll ever love me, if he’ll ever trust me.”
He’s so wrong… so so so wrong.
“Hike up your panties Denver.” She stated, “You’ve never been one to be unconfident.”
He chuckled, “I know.” He smiled too, “That kid makes me nervous.”
They both smiled at each other now, “Please… let’s be done.” She opened her arms, “I’m sorry.”
And he agreed, embraced her in a hug that silently meant the end of them; the end of their long running game of chess. “I’m sorry too.” He whispered, barely audible to me.
And when they pulled away, Emily stood; “Okay.” She began walking to the door, a confused look on Denver’s face– “You can come out now.” And she left.
I could see the panic arise in his face, maybe worried that I overheard him; maybe worried for another reason. But I slid open the laundry room door next to the kitchen and walked out, met his face that stared into mine.
I smiled ear to ear, “What did you hear?” He demanded.
I shook my head, “Nothing.” But obviously that’s a lie. Why ruin the moment, why ruin that special moment that he’d tell me himself?
“Liar.” He smirked at me.
I guess he knew too, nothing really did mean something. I smirked back, rounding the island and standing in front of him; “I love you too.”
And his smirk faded to a smile, one that filled his eyes with a type of joy I couldn’t comprehend.
He grabbed my waist, “What’d ya say?”
I smirked down to him, straddled his lap in the stool; “I love you too.”
And he smashed his lips into mine, squeezed my hips as I draped my arms around him.
He pulled away, nothing but love in those eyes; “You do?” He asked, brows raised; “Even with all my shit? All my problems?”
I nodded, “Ever since that bonfire.” I admitted, looking into those emerald eyes that I loved.
He smiled back, chuckled slightly as he parted his lips and squeezed me harder.
“I love you, Max Harrison.”
“I love you, Denver Benedetti.”
And we kissed… embraced… loved each other for the rest of the night.
I couldn’t be any fucking happier.
A/N - OOOOOOOP. Yeah. Maybe not the most romantic way of figuring it out but this is what happened, this is how I heard it; this is the moment I knew– he loved me too. Oh, and get prepared for the next part– it’s my attempt at Denver’s POV.
