Neighbors with the Bad Boy (In Editing And Reconstruction)

We Know

 ~not edited

Chapter 22

My eyes were wide, my mouth was agape. My head was swarming with thoughts, although because there was too many I was unable to comprehend any of them—not a single one. I didn’t even know how to respond. This was all too much, especially for a sixteen-year-old girl like me.

My best friend likes my boyfriend.

How could I have not seen this before? It was simple: My mind never crossed that thought, never grasped that theory. They had always been like brother and sister, and Linda had never showed any emotion to hint that she had liked Mike and in that way. She had always claimed to like someone else, such as that Tim Johnson kid from her newspaper club. And the feelings she had expression whenever talking about him, they appeared true, real. Not fake.

But maybe it was just an act, a way to get all of us to believe her, and maybe it was a tactic to slowly get Mike to like her, to get him to feel jealous. Or maybe she truly did like Tom Johnson, but her love for Mike had always dominated.

I couldn’t process this, and I couldn’t even muster an image of ever seeing Linda and Mike together. How could this be? She had never showed it, not her compassion for him—not even jealously. Not ever. Rarely, at least. It was true I had seen hurt, pain, cross Linda’s features whenever I had brought up Mike and I—especially when I had confessed that we were dating, as well as another scenario when the winter dance had come rolling around and I was trying on dresses and I had asked for her opinion, whether he would like it or not. But not any other times. The other times, she was expressionless, neutral. It was as though she felt nothing.

My brain, all of a sudden, zoomed back to one of my other thoughts: Her love for Mike had dominated. I felt tears form in my eyes. I thought I loved Mike, but I was wrong. Lela? She loved Mike. I loved the idea of being with him. Lela? She loved him so much she would have done anything for him, such as give up her love so he could be with his. But me? After just seeing Mike and Lela converse with one another and just laugh, envy, jealousy, all of those negative emotions riled up inside of me and I did the unspeakable—I made out with Kayden Maxwell. I cheated on Mike Jones, my boyfriend. That wasn’t love. No way in hell was it love. That was . . . that was impulse.

I had always, no matter how many warnings or kisses or hugs or touches Mike would give me, go back to Kayden Maxwell. And, if I were to be truthful, I wouldn’t regret any of it, not for the world.

I groaned, covering my face with my hands, and laying on the carpeted ground. “Oh, my, gosh!” I exclaimed. “I am so stupid!” Tears, they were forming in my eyes once again, but it wasn’t I who should be crying. I didn’t deserve to cry. I didn’t deserve to have friends. I didn’t deserve to have anyone—not Mike, not Kayden. I deserved to be alone, to be drowned in the darkness of a whole and stay there. Forever.

I heard Lela chuckle softly. “Maybe,” she admitted. “I mean, you did cheat on your boyfriend. That was a bitchy move, Elyse. I thought you were better than that.” I froze. The topic sure had changed abruptly.

I peeked through the space my slightly spread-out fingers allowed me with. “You don’t think I know that?” I asked, rather loudly, uncovering my face and sitting back up. “I know what I did was bad. But I—I saw you with him, with Mike, and I just . . . I lost it.” I was getting choked up now.

“That still doesn’t make it right.” No sympathy was laced in her words at all, and I didn’t expect her to have any type of concern for me. It was my fault, I had chosen that action, to kiss Kayden—I would pay for it. 

I sighed softly, looking at my blue jeans. “Yeah, I know.”

“I blame it on that boy.” My head snapped to Lela, and I looked at her wide-eyed. “He was kind of bad ass, doing quite a lot of bad crap. Did he make you kiss him? Oh, shit! I thought he was bad, but I never thought—“