Chapter 02.9

“I couldn’t be with someone who wasn’t,” she replied, regaining her confidence. She was calm again.

“And what exactly makes him a real man?” I raised my voice, unable to hold back the surge of maddening jealousy.

“A real man isn’t just a man in bed,” she said, clearly unaware she’d just handed me the perfect comeback.

“There wasn’t a single bed in that list I gave earlier,” I smiled confidently again. She grew flustered once more—I was starting to enjoy this.

“You know what I meant,” she tried to recover her composure, but for now, I was winning.

“No, tell me—what did you mean?” This was my territory, not hers.

Jenny didn’t answer right away. She clearly took a moment to think through her response.

“A real man knows what he wants, owns his feelings, and doesn’t mock the girl he supposedly loves,” she said calmly, putting a sarcastic emphasis on supposedly.

“Oh, come on—when did I ever mock you?” I snapped, anger flaring.

“We both know you’d never actually propose,” she said, infinitely calm, while I grew more and more agitated. “But you’re still shameless enough to call me Mrs. Messyhair in front of our friends and then ask if I’d say yes—just to show off.”

“It never occurred to you that I might have meant it seriously?” I shouted across the table.

“Oh, I’m sure,” she replied, voice dripping with sarcasm. “You only emphasized a hundred times that you’d never marry me—just so it would be a surprise, right? And when the girl starts to believe that this so-called real man actually loves her and would give up everything for him, that’s when the real man—” more sarcasm “—runs away like a coward.”

“Excuse me?” I was starting to see red. “Don’t you dare call me a coward.”

“What are you going to do about it?” she asked, infinitely calm. She caught me off guard; I didn’t have an answer.

“I thought so,” she noted. “You’re terrified of even moving in together,” she snapped. “Said I’d take over your life.” She started mimicking my expressions—if I hadn’t been so furious, I might’ve laughed.

“I’m not going to let a woman wear the pants,” I shouted. “And I have the right to know if my woman would say no!” I added. “You don’t seriously think I’d ask something like that without being sure of the answer, do you?” I demanded. “I have the right to be certain.”

“Certain?” she repeated mockingly, her voice now tinged with anger. “You can’t always be certain in life,” she said, standing up from her chair. “But you know what? Let me help you out,” she added, her tone both mocking and furious. “I’d say yes exactly as seriously as you’d ever ask. Never. Not in a million years.”

“I suppose you’d say yes to your current guy,” I muttered bitterly.

“I’m not planning a wedding anytime soon,” she said calmly again. “I’m just enjoying my youth.” She smiled smugly, while I could barely see through my rage.

“Well, I’ll never take a salad girl seriously,” I snapped, pointing angrily at the bowl.

“Funny, it’s the salad girls who end up having the biggest impact on your life, isn’t that right, JJ?” Her voice was growing more emotional, but love wasn’t one of those emotions.

“At least they never made decisions for me,” I shot back. “They knew their place. They didn’t tell me what I should do.”

“I guess that’s what makes Helen so perfect, huh?” she blurted out suddenly, sinking back into her chair. I’d never seen that expression on her face before. I just wish I knew who Helen was.

“Exactly,” I said, even though I had no idea who she was talking about. But I wasn’t about to back down now.

“Then why did you call me drunk at dawn?” she asked, her voice rising as she slammed the knife down.

“I had a right to know who you’re seeing,” I snapped.

“What business is it of yours who I’m seeing?” she shouted. “And by the way, ‘I’ll allow you to move in’ isn’t a question!” she yelled, gesturing furiously.

“I never said that!” I shouted back. “I never wanted you to move in!” My voice echoed through 

“Well, I told you I’d pass on the offer,” she said loudly. The memory started to come back to me. 

“And your solution was to drink,” she added, tasting the salad. “Drinking is the coward’s way out.”

“Coward?” I jumped to my feet. “I’m not a coward!”

“Yes, you are,” she stood up too. “You’re afraid of anything uncertain. You’ve planned your whole life down to the last detail, and you can’t handle it when something doesn’t go according to plan. How often do you drink?” Her voice carried disappointment.

“I don’t drink!” I snapped, offended. “I have complete control over every aspect of my life!” I raised my voice.

“Control?” she laughed mockingly. “You made one bad decision, and instead of facing it, you started drinking and blaming everyone else. Look at yourself—you’re wasting away, falling apart, clearly not sleeping.” She listed it all off. “I bet you’re not even swimming anymore,” she added, sitting back down to toss the salad.

“I still go,” I muttered defiantly, sitting back down. She just glanced at me, clearly seeing through me. “And it’s not self-destruction to attend the best university in the country—the one I’ve dreamed of since I was a kid!” I shouted.

“Look at yourself—look at the price you’re paying for it!” she yelled back, standing up and speaking so fast I could barely keep up. “There’s a university closer to home, and Uncle Steve could teach you everything they’re teaching you at that place.” She spat out that place with biting sarcasm. “You sacrificed everything for some so-called childhood dream instead of thinking like an adult.”