The One & Only(110)
He took a step toward me, backing me against a wall. “You freakin’ lied to me!” he yelled, jabbing his finger into my chest.
“I know. And I’m sorry,” I said, cringing as I made eye contact with a girl headed to the ladies’ room. She was staring at us, taking it all in.
“You’re sorry?” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “You say that a lot, Shea. Don’t you?”
“But I am sorry,” I said, feeling pathetic and ashamed. Not for lying but for being trapped like this, in a bar no less.
“Bullshit!” he yelled. “You’re not sorry!”
“I am, Ryan. I really am. I only lied because you were so upset about the game … and I didn’t want to make it worse. And nothing is going on … I just saw him at the bar. And he got my credit card. That was it.” I was talking as fast as I could, but nothing seemed to work.
“You just saw him?” he shouted louder as another girl stared, along with the guy she was with.
“I mean we talked … in a group … that was all.” The more I babbled, the more enraged he became. And, at one point, he grabbed my other arm, our chests inches apart, so I had no choice but to look directly into his face, veins bulging everywhere, his features distorted with rage.
“Yet he got your credit card? Huh. And how, exactly, does that work?”
“I left my card. He got it for me. That was it. Do you really think he’d hand me the card in front of you if something were going on?” I was frantic now, my cheeks on fire.
“Yeah,” Ryan said. “I think he would. I think he absolutely loved disrespecting me in front of everyone.”
“Nobody’s disrespecting you,” I said. “Stop being crazy!”
“Crazy?” he said, ratcheting up his grip another notch.
“Ouch,” I said, wincing. “Ryan, that hurts. Let go!”
“I’m not crazy, Shea. You’re the one who got drunk, left your credit card, and let your ex-boyfriend pick it up for you. You’re the one who broke your promise. You’re the one who lied to me. What am I supposed to think?”
“You’re blowing this out of proportion,” I said, sweat trickling down my sides. “Let go!”
“No. Answer me. What am I supposed to think?”
My arm hurt too much to struggle, so I stopped and said, “You’re making a scene.”
“Answer the question. What am I supposed to think?”
I said I didn’t know, my voice coming out in a whimper.
“Okay. I’ll tell you what I think. I think you fucked him. Didn’t you? Admit it, Shea. You fucked him.”
“No.”
“Yes, you did,” he yelled, shaking me.
“No, Ryan,” I said, on the verge of tears. “I didn’t. I swear I didn’t. Nothing happened.”
At this point, Lucy appeared, taking everything in, her eyes wide, horrified.
“What’s going on here?” she said, as Ryan finally released me from his grip.
“Nothing’s going on here,” he said. “I’m out.”
He turned and stormed off, leaving me with Lucy. “What in the world? …” she said. “What just happened? Is this because Miller walked in?”
I got choked up but managed not to cry as I cobbled the story together, downplaying things.
She looked at the red mark on my arm and winced.
“It doesn’t hurt,” I said, wishing I had kept my jacket on.
“Omigod,” Lucy said.
In some kind of shock, I said, “I can see how bad this looks to him. God, I wish I hadn’t lied.”
“That doesn’t excuse this,” she said. “There is no excuse for this.”
“I know,” I said, although I could hear the rationalizations forming in my mind: He has big hands. He doesn’t know his strength. And the most pathetic: It’s my fault.
Lucy’s face twisted in anguish. “Shea, honey … I don’t like this. I don’t like this at all … I think maybe Blakeslee was telling the truth about him. On some level.”
Maybe. On some level. I could see and hear that she was qualifying, too, trying to find a way out for Ryan, not wanting to believe what had just happened. Surely Ryan wasn’t that person. Surely I wasn’t the girl in peril.
“I just want to go home,” I said.
“You can’t drive.”
“I’m okay to drive,” I said. “Honest.”
Lucy nodded reluctantly, then said, “Okay. Call me when you get home. I’m really worried about you.”
“Don’t be. I’ll be fine. I promise,” I said. As if that were something I could will to be true.