Her tyres screeched as she reversed out of her car space, and the look of utter heartbreak she met me with before she sped off nearly brought me to my knees.
"Wait!" I called out, my voice lacking its prior volume. Friends shouldn't fuck … unless they're in love, and in that case, they should definitely make love.
I knew it. Every intelligent particle of my body had tried to tell me not to fall for and have sex with Elliot Parker. Every. Single. Fucking. Particle. But like the stupid idiot I was when it came to sleeping with my friends, I'd chosen to bathe in ignorance and let its false sense of security cloud my amenable mind.
Because it felt good.
Because a lie that suited your purpose always felt good.
Wiping my tears, I drove home as quickly as possible, which didn't take me long considering I only lived ten minutes away.
"You stupid, stupid idiot," I berated myself, slamming my hands on top of the steering wheel. "You never fucking learn."
I was so angry, so hurt … so ashamed. I'd done what I swore I would never do again, and I'd done it so easily. How did I get it so wrong? How did I get him so wrong?
It had felt different this time around. Elliot had felt different. Our connection seemed incomparable to the others. It seemed real; it always had. Every second we spent together as friends was consistently effortless. But maybe that was the problem? Maybe we were only ever supposed to be friends? That notion hurt my heart because it meant I'd royally fucked up the best thing I'd ever had … twice.
Pulling into my driveway, I got out of my car, rushed inside and slammed the door shut only to hear Elliot pounding on it moments later.
"Danielle! Open up. We need to talk."
"No, we don't," I shouted from my position half way up the stairs.
"We do! Please just open the door."
"Open the door? Just like I 'opened' my legs? No. Fuck off."
Dudley appeared at the top step and slowly hobbled down until he was in patting distance. "It's okay, baby. Mummy is just angry at the stupid man outside."
The door rattled in its hinges when Elliot pounded on it again. Dudley barked but then turned around and went back upstairs. I went to follow.
"Danielle, please! I never finished what I was trying to say."
"Oh, you said what you needed to say, loud and clear."
"I love you."
Hearing those three words lit a fuse that barely crackled before it exploded, my legs stomping back down the stairs, my hand wrenching the door open and nearly causing Elliot to crash into me.
"LIES!" I screamed, poking him in the chest, tears stinging my eyes like liquid razorblades. "Everything you've said has been a lie."
"WHAT? What are you talking about?"
"The first chance you got after fucking me, you left. You left mentally and physically. Just like everyone else. So don't you dare tell me you love me."
"I didn't leave you. I just needed-"
"A little time? Some space? I've heard it all before. What you did was fuck me then fuck me off."
He stepped closer, so I stepped back. "I did not fuck you and then fuck you off."
"Yeah, you did. You got scared and you abandoned me, just like you did when we were kids."
"What are you talking about?" He clasped my arm and tried to pull me to him. "Danielle, listen-"
I slapped him away. "Don't touch me."
At that moment, Chris arrived home, concern and anger etched all over his face as he closed his Ford Ranger door and walked along the entry path. "Is everything okay?" he asked, stepping between Elliot and me.
"It's fine. Elliot was just leaving."
"No, I wasn't. Danielle, you've got it all wrong. Let me explain."
I shook my head and stepped back inside the house. "I haven't gotten anything wrong. Friends should never fuck … unless you're Chris and I." I pointed to Chris, whose eyes had near widened to the size of the dumbbells he was carrying. "Because when we fuck, we know how to respect each other afterward."
The realisation on Elliot's face as he looked at Chris and then me was all I needed to know that I'd successfully rubbed salt into the wound, and as I ran up the stairs, the sound of the two of them scuffling below, I wasn't sure whose wound I'd just rubbed it into.
His.
Mine.
Chris'.
Or all of the above.
"What happened?" Chris asked, the creak of my bedroom door sounding as it slowly opened.
"We fucked and fucked things up. The usual. End of story."