Unloved: A Novel (The Undone)

TYLER

Tonight is going to be perfect.

RO

I can’t wait for a fresh start.

My last text is left on read, unanswered for twenty minutes. My anxiety is loud and raucous in my chest as I apply two more unneeded layers of my favorite pineapple-flavored lip balm, making them overly shiny and slightly sticky.

My text remains unanswered as Liam knocks at my door and asks if he can tie the bow in my hair.

“Like I always do,” he says with a shy smile. “I’m the best at it.” Even though his words seem confident, there is a perpetual fear of rejection in everything he asks.

I’ve been sitting on the end of my bed, fully dressed and done up, for thirty minutes. I need to leave soon if I’m going to—but something is holding me back.

This feels wrong.

I can’t shake the feeling, even as I call an Uber to the restaurant. It’s not too fancy and part of a strip of restaurants in quaint downtown Waterfell, which means it’s a little far from campus. And, for a girl with an unreliable car, that’s not ideal.

I’ve been stranded more times than I can count, so rideshare has become a good friend of mine since freshman year. Sadie and I had bonded once over our car issues, and how illiterate we were when it came to anything about them. And although I knew it would take one text, one mention of an issue with my car for my parents to swoop in and save me, I’d kept my mouth shut and made do with what I had.

Stepping into the restaurant, I shiver a bit—wishing I’d opted for a cardigan to pull on over the shimmery white thin-strapped dress—and then send a quick text to Tyler to let him know I’m here. The waitress seats me by the window and offers the bread service, which I happily indulge in while I wait.

And wait.

Thirty minutes, to be exact.

The restaurant continues to fill up, a popular date spot on a Friday night in early September. Each happy couple that enters only fuels my mortification—even the unhappy ones, because at least they showed up in their misery.

I text Tyler again and again, even chancing his wrath by calling him.

No response.

Unshed tears blur my eyes as I eat my weight in bread and olive oil before asking the waitress if I can pay for my Diet Coke and leave.

She gives me a sympathetic look and a to-go order of cheesy bacon fries on the house, which only makes holding back the impending breakdown harder.

Walking on shaky legs—made worse by the strappy, impractical heels on my feet—I barely make it out of the tinted glass doors before slamming hard into someone.

“S-sorry,” I choke out, the word mushed with a sob.

“Shit,” a deep, soft voice curses before cool hands brace on the overheated skin of my biceps. “Ro?”

Matt Fredderic.

As if this couldn’t get more humiliating.

“Hey, Matt,” I murmur, attempting some sad excuse for a smile through my tears. “W-what are you doing here?”

“Ro, are you okay?”

His voice sounds more serious than I think I’ve ever heard it. He looks mildly frantic, searching around me like we’re about to be attacked.

I finally take him in, only now realizing there’s a wide-eyed pretty blond girl with dip-dyed tips of blue standing next to him, looking at me worriedly.

“Oh my god.”

Now I’m really crying. This is truly the most embarrassing moment of my life.

“You—I’m… Freddy, I’m so sorry—”

“Rosalie,” he says again, his hands framing my face, tilting my head up until my eyes lock on his. “What happened? Why are you crying?” His face suddenly changes. Anger crawls across his usually jovial features and leaves something harsh and fearsome behind. “Ro, did someone hurt you? Who—”

“No. No, I’m fine.”

“Where’s Tyler?”

I shake my head silently because I can’t get the words out. I can’t bring myself to admit my boyfriend stood me up and left me here, especially to Matt Fredderic of all people, but to admit it while accidentally crashing his date? Absolutely not.

“I’m sorry,” I say again. “I didn’t mean to intrude. I just—I’m gonna call an Uber—”

“No, Rosalie.” Freddy runs a hand down his face. “And don’t apologize anymore. I’m giving you a ride home.”

The girl with him doesn’t look angry, only confused and concerned.

“Can you guys wait in the car for a minute? I…” Freddy steps away, muttering about grabbing something he left behind in the restaurant they just came from, before leaving his date and me to stand and stare awkwardly at each other.

Well, awkward for me, at least, considering she immediately sidles up to me.

“Are you okay?” the girl asks softly.

“Yeah. I’m so sorry.” Taking a shaky breath, I wipe away the rapidly drying tears, trying to salvage the mess of mascara I’m sure is caked under my eyes. “I’m Ro.”

“Nice to meet you, Ro. I’m Sarah.” She hesitates before asking, “Would you like a hug?”

I snort out a wet laugh and concede with a quick nod. “Yeah, actually.”

Sarah wraps her arms around me, squishing her head into my collarbone. I’m tall for a girl, even more in the kitten heels that I know Tyler would’ve complained about if he were here, considering they’d make me his height. Not something I’ve ever cared about, but it bothers him.

The physical contact is comforting. I like to be touched, to be hugged. And it’s not often I really get that anymore, except from Sadie and her brothers. But she’s been gone more often than not lately.

Sarah releases me and walks us to Freddy’s car, which looks a little worse for wear. I grab the handle on the back door and slide in before she can offer me the front, because I can feel that she wants to.

“You two are close?” Sarah asks, sitting in the front seat reluctantly. We both wince as the door squeaks loudly when she pulls it closed. I slide to the middle of the backseat.

“I’m his tutor.”

“Oh.” She smiles conspiratorially. “Fair trade, huh? He’s amazing, right?”

I get the feeling we aren’t talking about his hockey skills, which I have yet to see in person, nor his pedigree as a student, and it causes an uncomfortable twist in my gut.

“We’re just friends.”

Her brow wrinkles and she turns in her seat, flinging her long hair back behind her. There’s a dark red spot on her neck that looks fresh, like someone has been sucking on it, and I have to look down at my lap to stop myself from imagining Freddy giving it to her—how his lips might tease and play along her throat. The idea of him biting down to mark her pale skin makes my skin feel tight and overheated.

Inappropriate. Stop being so desperate.

“Freddy doesn’t have ‘just friends’ who are girls,” Sarah says, but it comes out like a question. Like she doesn’t quite know him enough to say whether it’s true or not.

My shoulders bunch. “He is with me.”

Except… that’s not really true, is it?

We aren’t friends—I don’t think. I’ve made that mistake before, hoping we were friends and realizing with overwhelming embarrassment that it was all one sided.

The driver’s-side door opens and Freddy hops in, suddenly handing back two personal-size pizza boxes to me.

“One cheese and one supreme—I wasn’t sure what you’d want, so I grabbed both.”

I blame my multiple breakdowns for how quickly tears start to gather in my eyes at the kindness of it. He didn’t ask if I’d already eaten, didn’t ask if I wanted anything… he just did it. For me.

It’s quiet for the most part as we drive back. Sarah asks a few general questions—like “What’s your major?” and “Where are you from?”—which I field with ease. But I’m distracted slightly by Freddy, who isn’t doing anything really, but he’s enigmatic, and it’s nearly impossible not to be drawn to him.

The way he drives is annoyingly attractive, one hand on the wheel and one free, currently smoothing over his plump bottom lip. When he backed up, he lifted his arm to rest on the passenger headrest, looking over his shoulder and giving me a wink before concentrating on the steady stream of weekend traffic.

His muscular thighs are obscenely on display again in shorts, and spread enough that I can see where the side of his right one presses hard against the center console. And that damn butterfly…

He checks the rearview mirror often, eyes meeting mine like quick check-ins. And for every tentative smile I give him, he repays me tenfold. The three of us fill the ride with lighthearted stories, most of them funny. He listens to Sarah talk to me, occasionally adding little quips and jokes. The smiles lines in his face stretch and expand at the laughter he gets from us, like a kid receiving exactly what he wished for on Christmas morning. As if our praise and attention is the gift he’s waited for all year.

We pull up to an off-campus apartment complex I’ve never been to before. For a moment, I manage to pull my focus from studying him.

Sarah gets out and smiles at us, hand on the door.

“Tonight was great, Freddy. And Ro, it was so nice to meet you. Hope your night gets better.” The last sentence is said with a smirk and wink that makes my face flush.

“Don’t, Sarah. She’s my tutor,” Freddy says, still grinning, but there’s a hardness to it. An underlying sternness. “I’m serious.”

She crosses her heart and gives him a little salute before flouncing toward the staircase behind her.

“Sorry I ruined your date,” I blurt.

“Not a date.”

“Still, I didn’t mean to mess up—”

“Rosalie, I promise, you didn’t,” he says, his tone brokering no argument. “Now, why are you still back there?”

He leans back and grabs my hand, pulling me gently to crawl awkwardly—bumping my head a few times for good measure—over the console and into the passenger seat.