The Truth About Bad Boys

Dinner, Soccer, and the Strokes

Memphis’s POV

I can’t stop thinking about him.

I think about him when I wake up in the morning and help my parents get Todd ready for school. I think about him when I get to school and sit through the monotony of senior classes. I think about him when I go to Tally’s volleyball games, or Bridget’s student council seminars, or whatever other dorky ass events my friends partake in.

I even text him back. A little.

He wants to see me again this weekend, but, unfortunately, that won’t be possible.

The reason will really make you cringe, so be warned.

Tally has a date with Ezra this weekend.

I know, I know—horrible. Apparently he bent over backwards apologizing to her, saying he was drunk, blah, blah, blah. He even sent her an apology text to send to me for what he said to me, which, I guess, was something. And then—this is the worst part—he surprised her with tickets to the NYC FC game on Saturday. Which is basically Tally's kryptonite.

Technically, that isn’t the only reason I’m not free. By random coincidence, Matt Hirsch, the ex-boyfriend I mentioned once before, got us tickets to go see the Strokes in the city this weekend. He’s not much of a music geek, but he knows I am, and every year, on what would have been our anniversary if we didn’t break up, we go to a show together.

I thought about canceling this year, but with Tally’s sketchy ass NYC date, now I can’t.

Anyway, I don’t tell all that to Gray for a number of reasons; instead, all I write is, Sorry, can’t. Going to the city to see the Strokes.

Bummer, he writes back. Then, Maybe sometime this week?

I want to see him this week. I want to see him today.

But if I see him, I’ll have to tell him about Ezra—and about Matt. And I’m not sure which he would find more upsetting.

I’ll have to fill him in afterwards.

- - - - -

Tally and Bridget like to say that Matt is still in love with me, but I don’t think so.

He’s still in love with the ghost of me, I think—the girl that I used to be. He misses what we had, and he’s scared he’ll never find it again—that we made a mistake ending things.

I don’t think so. I like remembering, but we can’t ever go back to that.

“You seem distracted,” he says as we drive. We’re about two hours in, which means the soccer game is almost over. I timed our arrival to line up perfectly with the end of their dinner so that I could swoop in to save her, if needed. She told Ezra repeatedly that she wanted to be taken straight home after dinner, but I have my suspicions that he'll try to take her to a hotel, or something even skeezier.

“Just worried about Tally.”

He smiles. “Some things never change.”

I glance thoughtfully over at him, studying his face. It hasn’t changed much in the two years we’ve been apart. Matt was always cute, but it’s hard to remember a time that I found him “sexy” in any way. He’s sort of… plain. Unremarkable. Simple.

Nothing like Gray.

“The girls miss you,” I tell him, leaning back and propping my feet up on the dash. “You should reach out to them sometime.”

“I know. I miss them, too. But not as much as I miss you.”

The flirty undertones are impossible to miss. He always does this at least once per hangout. “Matt—”

“I know, I know. I’m just saying. I’m glad we’re doing this.”

That, I can handle. “Me, too.”

- - - - -

She calls me when we’re thirty minutes from the city.

She’s crying.

“Mem?”

I shoot up straight in my seat, sending Matt a panicked expression as I ask, “Tal?”

“Y—yeah—it’s me. Are—are you here?”

The restaurant, I mouth to him. She already sent us the address ahead of time. Straight to the restaurant. My heart is pounding. “Are you okay?” I demand.

“He—he—he—”

Talk to me, Tally. For the love of God, talk to me. Is this what a heart attack feels like? “He what, Tally? What did he do?”

“I c—I can’t even—can you just get here? Please?”

I glance urgently at Matt’s GPS. 28 minutes. My heart is ricocheting in my chest at this point. “We’ll be there in less than thirty, Tal. Can you stay on the phone with me? Can you please try to tell me what happened?”

“N—nothing—I’m fine. I just… just get here, would you? I can’t…”

And she hangs up.

- - - - -

The next twenty-seven minutes are the most agonizing twenty-seven minutes of my life. I try to call her back, but she doesn’t answer; she just sends me vague texts that say I’m okay and I can’t talk and just hurry up and get here. I beg Matt to floor it, but the New York traffic is as bad as ever, and we don’t end up getting there a minute faster than the GPS said.

When we finally get there, I sprint into the restaurant, but I don’t see her anywhere. “Tally!” I nearly scream at the poor hostess. “Tiny little girl with brown hair—have you seen her?”

There are tears streaming down my face, I realize as the woman stares back at me, horrified. “I—I don’t know. She left with a man, maybe thirty minutes ago.”

“Dammit!” I curse, so loudly that the customers all look up at me. I exit the restaurant and shove my finger in one direction, barking at Matt to go that way, as I head the other.

“Tally!” I shout, holding my phone to my ear as I dial her again. “Where the hell—”

And then I see her, crouched against the wall of the alley next to the restaurant, sobbing.

I dive over to her to take her in my arms, but, to my mortification, she flinches when I do so. Flinches—the way I flinch when I’m touched.

I swear to God, if he did to her what was done to me, I’ll kill him.

“It’s okay,” I tell her softly, wrapping my arms around her. This time, she allows it. “It’s okay, Tal. I’m here now.”

She buries her face in my chest, wailing, for a good ten minutes before her sobs finally start to subside. When they finally do, she ends my misery with, “He didn’t hurt me. Not physically, anyway.”

For the first time in an hour, I feel like I can breathe again.

“He insisted we go back to the hotel,” she sniffs, pulling away from me and rubbing her eyes. “When I said no, he… called me things. Said things. About me, about you… He scared me. I thought he might hurt me, so… I ran. Winded up here.”

“s**t,” I mutter, shaking my head. “I should never have let you do this. I’m so sorry, Tal.”

She laughs dryly. “You begged me not to—the both of you. I have no one to blame but myself.”

“No, you have him to blame. And he’s the only person you should.”

She heaves a sigh, nodding. “I know. You’re right.”

I rub her back for a few seconds, then ask with a bit of a grin, “How the hell are we gonna get home?”

She laughs. “Guess it’s an expensive Uber ride. Do you want to drop me at a motel on the way to the Strokes, and pick me up afterwards? I could get a few hours of shuteye.”

“No way,” says a voice from behind us. I whirl, relaxing only when I see that it’s Matt, giving us a friendly smile. “We’re going home.”

“No!” Tally says quickly, rising shakily to her feet. “That’s not fair. You guys had this great evening all planned out. Don’t let me and stupid Ezra ruin it.”

“If I take Mem to the Strokes tonight, all she’s gonna be thinking about is you, and that’s no fun for anyone,” Matt points out. “And if I go by myself, well—I can’t even name a single Strokes song, so I’m not exactly their target audience.”

We both laugh at that, but I can’t help feeling a little guilty. It’s times like this, more than any others, that I almost regret breaking up with Matt. He’s a good guy where so many aren’t.

He’s just not my guy.