“Oh, ’cause we were all there when the original incident happened. Long story short: Manny met some girl at a bar last month and took her home. Few days later, he sees her again and asks her out. They’re dating for a few weeks when a group of us are out bowling, and he apparently calls her by the wrong name. I don’t know how he’d managed to go all that time never calling her by name, but turns out he’d slept with her older sister that first night, then met the younger sister and confused the two.”
“Ouch.” Every time I think I’ve heard it all, there’s a new twist on an old favorite.
“Anyway, fast forward to tonight. Caitlynn’s showing Manny the BoyfriendFails post when this teenage kid walks in. He marches right up to the bar. And it’s the middle of the lunch rush so we’re pretty slammed. The kid shouts something at Manny in Spanish, then grabs some dude’s drink, splashes it on the bar, and throws a match.”
I gasp loudly. “Oh my God, is he okay?”
Steph waves away my concern. “Oh, yeah, he’s fine. Joe’s been watering down the wells for decades.”
And this is why one of the first things I did after the money started coming in was get a lawyer to write up a liability disclaimer for the website.
“When the bar doesn’t ignite, he’s furious and jumps over it,” Steph continues. “Kid isn’t more than five-foot-nothing and can’t be older than fifteen. Must not be the first time Manny’s been chased because I’d never seen him move so fast.”
Alana snickers.
“He ducks out from behind the bar and hauls ass. The kid’s diving over tables. Takes a swing at him with a chair until Daryl picks him up and tosses him outside. Daryl has to barricade the doors until the kid finally gives up and leaves. Manny sneaks out the back.” Steph starts cracking up. “Turns out it was those girls’ little brother come to beat Manny’s ass. It was adorable.”
“You know,” I say, trying not to choke on my food, “good for the kid.”
“Right?”
I swallow my lemon chicken and reach for a can of Diet Coke. “Speaking of bitter exes, I ran into Preston today when I was having lunch with Bonnie on campus.”
Steph lifts a brow. “How’d that go?”
“Not terrible,” I admit. “He was with his new girlfriend. Cute, typical Garnet girl whose father is some hedge fund guy and mother is an heir to an electric fan fortune or something. They’ve been together for a couple months now.”
Alana makes a face. “Poor girl.”
I shrug. “I don’t know, far as I can tell, she worships Preston. Which is all he really wants, I guess. Someone to smile and thank him for making the decisions.” I pop another piece of chicken into my mouth, talking while chewing. “If it makes them both happy, then who am I to judge?”
“Oh, hey, did you see this?” Alana shoves the last bite of an eggroll in her mouth, then wipes duck sauce from her fingers before handing me her phone. “From today.”
I glance at the screen to find a new post from BoyfriendFails. Except it starts with a caveat. This isn’t from a disgruntled girlfriend anonymously blasting her ex—it’s from the boyfriend confessing his misdeeds to the world.
I’m the #BoyfriendFail
You read the title right. I’m the boyfriend fail. As in, I failed. Big-time. I failed the woman I love, I failed our relationship, and I failed myself.
I raise my head to shoot a suspicious look at Alana. She pretends to be overly focused on her food.
I messed up the best thing that ever happened to me. Let my perfect girl slip through my fingers because I was a selfish asshole. The night I met her, I had revenge on the brain. I had a beef with her boyfriend. I wanted to punish him for getting me fired, for stirring up all my insecurities about being a loser townie, being stuck here without prospects for anything better. Anything more.
But then I got to know her, and something happened. She inspired me. She showed me there’s more to me than this anchor around my neck weighing me down. She made me believe I’m capable of greatness.
She was right. But also wrong. Because I don’t want greatness, I don’t want a bright sunny future—if she’s not by my side to enjoy it.
A pit grows in my stomach as I read on. It’s sweet and sincere. My fingers go numb and my eyes sting.
She doesn’t owe me a second chance, I know that. She doesn’t owe me anything. But I’m still going to ask.
Give me a second chance, princess. And if you do, I promise you this—I will never lie to you again. I will never take you for granted. I will never, for the rest of my life, forget the goddamn treasure you are.