Unloved: A Novel (The Undone)

God, it feels fucking good to finally hit Tyler Donaldson.

Partially because he’s tormented me for years with his asshole comments during our previous tutoring sessions. But mostly because of the look on Ro’s face I’ve seen one too many times.

If I get even slightly tired or distracted, my brain tosses up the image of her, crying, red eyes and butterfly clips halfway pulled out of her hair, with another image of her waiting in the cold because he fucking abandoned her in a random town an hour from home.

And it hadn’t been the first time.

It’s almost too easy to conjure the mental images of other times he’d left her stranded, alone, and without me to guide her back.

I throw my entire body into the next one, unashamedly proud of the blood that starts to trickle across my fist.

Glancing over to where Ro should be, I realize she’s gone. Holden is still there, but he just shrugs at me.

“Sad you can’t show off your muscles for her now?” Tyler snaps.

He’s a talkative fighter, but I love to chirp, so I smile.

“I’m sure you’re happy she’s not watching me kick your ass right now.” I land another hit to his side, hearing the air gush out of him as he stumbles back. “Besides, I think I’ll be the one she’s going to be taking care of after this.”

Two thick arms wrap around my chest, yanking back my arms with enough force it makes me wince. At the same time, I see Holden jerk Tyler back by his collar, which is now stretched ridiculously from the beating he’s taken tonight. He doesn’t fight Holden. Clearly, he’s lost, and he doesn’t want to keep fighting me.

But he won’t. Shut. Up.

“You good?”

It’s Bennett, I realize, holding me back, and I nod, trying to relax so he’ll release me. Especially when I see Ro heading toward me, her expression a mix of concern and restrained anger. Like she wants to hit me, but then nurse me back to health.

I’d happily let her do either.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

“I’m fine, princess,” I answer immediately, and Bennett drops my arms, grumbling something under his breath as he steps back.

Holden starts to walk Tyler out the door, but not quickly enough as the little idiot turns around to us and spits out, “Better add ‘Get an STD’ to that stupid sex bucket list of yours.”

Ro’s face drains of color. I want to tell her that I saw the list, that it’s nothing to be ashamed of—but she’s embarrassed, clearly upset. And that’s more than enough for me.

But I also want to hit him again, so I snap forward. Bennett is surprisingly quicker for all his size, jerking me back.

“Stop,” he commands, quiet and steady. “Holden, get him the hell out of here.”

Holden does as he’s told, but Ro still looks borderline ill.

Wrapping my arm around her shoulder doesn’t seem to shake her. Even as she patiently cleans up my blood from the one or two hits Tyler managed to get in, she barely breathes, eyes distant.

By the time we emerge from the bathroom together, Bennett looks distressed.

“Go home. Make sure Rhys drinks some water before you leave him in his room. I’ll be there soon to deal with it,” Bennett snaps. As if handling the sad, drunken Rhys situation and breaking up a fight in the living room wasn’t enough, I can see something else has clearly happened to fray the edges of his careful control.

But I’m too worried about Ro to ask, so I nod and take her hand as we go down the back staircase and outside, rounding the house toward Sadie’s car parked down the street.

We’re barely past the yard before I try to stop Ro.

“Princess,” I say, but she doesn’t even pause her stride. “Hey, Ro, wait.”

Coming to a sudden stop with my hand wrapped around her wrist, she looks up at me, eyes glassy.

“You don’t need to be embarrassed about whatever he was talking about.” Real subtle, Fredderic. “You can talk to me about it. I’m not—I want to know.”

It’s not the right thing to say, but I can’t stop thinking about it. I can’t stop wishing I knew his address to add a few more injuries to the count for making Ro feel like this.

“Just drop it, Freddy,” she sighs, tugging her hand away.

It makes me feel alone, that trickle of abandonment playing at the edges of my mind. I try to shove the voices back, already trying to tell me what a pathetic idiot I am. A whore. A brute.

“Rosalie—”

“I said I don’t want to talk about it, Matt,” she snaps, and I almost flinch. “Especially not with you.”

Her words might as well be fucking knives for how they land. Swift kicks to the stomach would be preferable.

But instead of letting any of it show, I nod and slip a tiny smile onto my face as we walk to the car.

The ride is silent.

Even Sadie doesn’t play any music.

I wasn’t expecting a text back from Ro—I even thought she might dump me off on another tutor after my display last night. So her last-minute agreement to meet up with me at Brew Haven has me jumping out of bed and throwing on a hoodie and sweatpants lightning fast.

Thankfully, I woke as early as Bennett, surprisingly—early enough to hear the whispered conversation in the hallway and wait until the front door closed to make my entrance.

“You’re up early.”

It’s more of an inquiry than it is a true statement, because Bennett is always up early. He looks upset, but nods while continuing to stare at the front door like he’s trying to make some sort of decision.

“Didn’t know you even came home last night, let alone with a houseguest,” I say, sliding on my shoes by the door, carefully tying the white laces. Even now, nearly two months later, it’s hard to erase the memory of that string weaving around Ro’s hair, looping the lace and the feel of the frizzy curls against my palms.

The overly loud clearing of my throat seems to shake Bennett as he finally turns to face me. He’s in long sleep pants, shirtless, and his chest is heaving slightly… like he’s holding back panicked breaths.

“You okay?”

“Fine,” he mutters before stomping up the stairs and heading to Rhys’s room to knock loudly. There’s a muffled groan through the door—sounds like a hungover Rhys—before Bennett shouts, “We need to fucking talk.”

And I think that’s my cue.

It’s getting cold faster now. You’d think after nearly four years in the northeast I’d be used to the temperature drop, but I’m shivering by the time I duck into Brew Haven after parking down the block—with it being a dreary Saturday morning, the coffeehouse is busy enough that the small back parking lot is full.

Suki Waterhouse plays softly over the old overhead speakers, “Good Looking” making the scene almost dreamy with the cloudy mist outside. The line for the counter is long enough that I would leave were it any normal day.

But Ro is there, shining and bright against the mahogany booths on the left side. The tawny skin not covered in her oversized cobalt-blue hoodie is warm and beautiful. Her hair is a mass of curls piled into a scrunchie on her head, some falling loosely around her face.

When I picture Ro in my head, which is becoming a more common occurrence lately, she’s always like this, soft and comfortable—except her hair is tied with my shoelace. And even more, she’s holding me—

Stop.

I nearly trip in my stride to her before shaking the precarious thoughts from my head like she can hear them. She’s so brilliant it wouldn’t really surprise me if she could read minds, especially mine.

But, no, she’s still smiling shyly up at me as I stand awkwardly by the booth for a beat too long.

“Morning,” she says quietly, tucking her hair back behind her ear, even as it immediately falls back into her face. “Thanks for meeting me.”

“Thanks for inviting me,” I reply, voice matching hers in softness as I settle my body back against the wood. My knee is already bouncing too rapidly, so I keep my hands off the table so I don’t shake the entire thing.

“I made you a coffee—I think I got your order right.”

I think I’d drink rotten milk if she made it for me.

“Thanks, Rosalie,” I breathe, basking slightly in the flush hearing me say her full name brings to her cheeks.

There’s only a beat of silence, before—

“I’m so sorry—”

“I’m sorry—”

Both of us speak at the same time before stopping in unison to let the other speak. And then, nothing but laughter, giggles from her and soft chuckles from me. The sounds settle some raucous thing in my gut.

“You first,” she says.

I’m happy to oblige.

“I’m sorry about last night. I just… I got a bit carried away with Donaldson. Not just because of you, Ro. He’s been a jerk to me for years—you…” I trail off, trying to figure out the best way to say it without scaring her off. “I care about you. And he was being an asshole. He’s been an asshole to you all semester.”

“Yeah, he has.” She shrugs with a little self-deprecating smile that makes my chest hurt and hands tighten into near fists atop my thighs. “But it’s okay. Thank you, actually, for defending me. I’m sorry I didn’t—”

She cuts herself off suddenly with a shake of her head.

“What?”

Ro leans forward on her elbows, and I match her posture. Even tucked into the booth, a private corner, she wants this to be quieter.

“Tyler was using something private against me, and he was being mean to you, too. And I just… I realize how naive I was being. I was upset and I took it out on you last night, so I’m sorry, too. Are we friends again?”

I smile, heart too full of the goodness of this moment. “Were we ever not friends, Ro? C’mon—I don’t scare that easily.”

She laughs, and it feels like she’s stitching together pieces of me I didn’t know were torn—the parts shredded by my insecurities with friendship and mistakes and not being fucking good enough for any of it.

We talk quietly for what feels like minutes, but it’s actually hours before she heads back into the kitchen and returns with a full breakfast spread of her favorites for me to try.

We’re only halfway through our shared meal when I realize my cheeks hurt from smiling so much, and not one of them has been for show.

Just like everything else when it comes to Ro, it’s so real.

After we finish eating and the cafe is mostly cleared out, she orders us another drink from the girls behind the counter—Sadie isn’t here today, otherwise I’m betting she wouldn’t have met me here since our connection, our friendship, is still somewhat secret.

But I don’t mind it. It feels like for now, it’s just ours. Nothing our friends can taint as long as it’s just ours. They’re all so busy, too wrapped up in their own dramas to pay any real attention to us anyway.

She’s still laughing at the story I’ve just told her—involving costumes from the sophomore year Halloween party and an accidentally naked drunk Bennett, who had to sprint to the bathroom covering himself with a torn toga, ass on display—when I finally work up the nerve to ask her about Tyler.

“So… can I ask about Donaldson? You guys still together or—”

“No.” She cuts me off, emphatically.noveldrama

“He broke up with you and he’s being mean to you about it? Why?” As soon as I ask, I shake my head and put my hands up like a surrender. “You don’t need to answer that. Just… let me know if I can help, like, get him off your back or something. If he’s bothering you and you want my help, I could keep him away from you. Like, maybe play up the flirting with you? Or threaten him? Sic one of the guys on the team on him. Or multiple—”

I’m rambling but I can’t seem to stop, so instead I take one of the forks and swirl it in the leftover sauce, drawing an infinity symbol and tracing it over and over.

“Actually… yeah. Tyler is bothering me. He’s—” She stops, biting her lip and shaking her head a little so the springy curls surrounding her heart-shaped face sway. “He already thinks we are sleeping together.” She barely manages to say the words with a deep blush. “So, maybe you could… I, um…”

She looks at me pleadingly, as if begging me to fill in the gaps here.

“Sooo.” I drag out the word, leaning on my forearms on the table. “You want me to…?”

Even though I think I know what she’s hinting at, I won’t say it for her. She has to be the one to ask.

“Not, like, go out of your way. But maybe, at least before or after class, you could just flirt with me. Like you usually do, but—”

“Like, kiss you?” I say a little too excitedly.

Her nose wrinkles like what I’ve said disgusts her, and for some reason the reaction makes me laugh.

“No, Tyler knows I don’t move that fast.”

“That fast?” I ask, smirking. “Are you a virgin?”

“No!” she nearly shouts before glancing around as if anyone could hear us in our secluded spot. She wraps her arms around herself protectively even as she lengthens her spine and neck haughtily. A contradiction of anxiety and bravery that I can’t quite figure out. The silence hangs heavily between us before she slumps and bites down on her lip.

“Why?” she asks, her voice softer, quieter than it was before. “Do I seem like a virgin?”

I have to hold my breath to keep from laughing because her expression is devastatingly serious.

“I’m not a baby.”

My eyes widen, hips hitting the table hard as I scramble uncoordinatedly to stand, my hands gently grasping her upper arms. Gentle, yes, but enough to get her attention. Because her expression and the tone of her voice are hurt.

“Ro, no. I didn’t mean it to sound that way.”

She shakes her head. “No, it’s fine. I mean—I’m not. I’ve had sex. With Tyler.”

I am unfortunately aware of that, as per my snooping. But I’d rather not hear another word about it. My hand shoots up between us as I settle back into my seat. “Please, spare me the details.”

At least when it comes to Tyler Donaldson. Inadvertently, I have thought about what she might be like beneath the right touches. How quickly she’d break apart under my hands, tawny skin flushing red, hazel eyes sparkling.

Stop. Stop. Stop.

She’s your friend.

“So, what exactly do you want me to do?”