Chapter 5: That's What You Get
I can't decide
You have made it harder just to go on
And why?
All the possibilities…
Well I was wrong
That's what you get when you let your heart win
That's What You Get – Paramore
I groaned, running a hand through my hair for about the millionth time that week. I really had to stop it before it became a habit.
Thousands of things were running through my mind…
When did Nate meet Mitchie?
Why did Mitchie decide to "do the deed" with Nate?
How come Mitchie kissed me, then just left?
Why did Mitchie spend the night?
And most importantly…
Why doesn't Mitchie love me?
So much was invading my mind, but they all had the same thing in common.
Mitchie.
Suddenly, my phone rang, shaking me violently out of my Mitchie-related thoughts. I read the screen – Nate.
I groaned once more. Even my ringtone – "This is Me" – had something to do with Mitchie.
"Yeah?" I asked, answering the phone.
"Shane." His tone was dangerous, angry. Oh, no, he didn't find about about me and – "You kissed Mitchie!"
Oops. Too late. "Erm – yeah?"
"What. The. Hell." Nate growled, and I could hear sobbing in the background. Mitchie, I presume. Suddenly, a loud rumbling noise erupted, and I was forced to hold my iPhone inches away from my face.
"Shane, I think it'll be better if we forget about this and just stay away from each other right now. I'm sorry, bye." Mitchie's voice suddenly came onto the line, and my heart dropped. I could hear arguing, Nate's angry shouts and Mitchie agonizing screams. I realized Mitchie forgot to press the "End Call" button. I sighed, debating whether or not to invade their well-deserved privacy.
To hell with privacy. I bit my lip, then hit the speakerphone and listened intently.
"What are you doing out with my best friend, Michelle Torres? What are you doing, making out with my best friend?!" Nate yelled.
"Nate, I'm sorry." Came Mitchie's soft voice, and I felt guilty for forcing her into this mess.
"I'm sorry, too, Mitchie." Nate whispered, and they mumbled a few things I couldn't make out. Finally, they began speaking clearly again. "Just tell me – who do you love more? I understand you love both of us – I understand your position, Mitchie. But just, just please, please tell me who you love best? Shane? Or me?"
I crossed my fingers, biting my lip hard until the metallic taste of my own blood dripped into my mouth. I swallowed, wiping away the red substance, then pressed my ear up against the phone, not caring that it was already on speaker.
"I – I don't know, Nate." Mitchie murmured.
"Crap, Mitchie." Nate groaned, and I heard him pace around the room. "You don't know who you love more – the guy who broke your heart, or the one who mended it? Crap." I heard a soft sob erupt from Mitchie, then Nate's soothing voice. "Mitchie, Mitchie, don't cry, please, don't cry."
"I – I – I'm s – so–o–o sorry, Nate." Mitchie cried, her voice coming out in shaky breaths.
"Shh, shh, s'okay, Mitchie. Please, don't cry." Nate whispered, and I couldn't hear their soft voices after that.
"Nate, I think I need some time alone. To think." Mitchie finally said quietly. The line was silent and awkward, and I could hear Nate's labored breathing.
"What?!" Came Nate's exasperated voice. Mitchie was silent. Everything seemed to freeze, and I felt like I was in the room, watching this horrific fight. "You know, I was going to ask you to marry me today." Nate was screaming now, his voice cracking, and I knew he'd broken down and cried. "I was going to kneel down and give you a damn ring, Mitchie! But then you call, and I come running to your apartment, and now you're telling me you've been kissing my best friend behind my back, and you don't know who you like better!"
"I'm sorry!" Mitchie screamed, her voice filled with anguish. Silence engulfed the couple and the man who had broken the two up, who was secretly listening to their private conversation.
"Ok." Nate said simply, then I heard him thrust the phone into his pants pocket, hearing the stomping of his feet as he rushed out the door.
I threw the phone onto my bedspread as if it were boiling hot. Then, I walked slowly toward it, pressing the "End Call" button.
Oh, crap. I really screwed everything up. Three lives, and one perfectly happy couple are now ruined because I'm in love with a girl. Again, my ringtone shook me violently out of my twisted thinking, as "Light Up the Sky" by Yellowcard played, signaling a text message. I gasped; "Mitchie", it read on the screen. I took a deep breath, then pressed the "Yes" button.
I know you were listening. I didn't press "End Call" on purpose.
I gulped softly. She didn't sound as though she regretted it. I sighed softly, then texted her back.
I'm coming. I'm sorry for everything, Mitchie. I'm coming.
I sent the message, grabbed a jacket, my wallet, a book, and my phone, then zoomed out the door, starting my car, then heading towards Mitchie's apartment, the address I wasn't supposed to know, but had imbedded into my mind.
