Mitch hated December 14th more than most days. It fell on a Saturday, which made it harder to ignore than last year when he'd spent the day working. The heat and humidity in the courtyard weren't making his afternoon any more tolerable.

"I've never seen you play such a terrible game." Shawn clutched the basketball after it rebounded from his latest basket. Mitch had lost count of how many points he was down. "I'm hardly sweating."

"Thought you should win one for once," Mitch said, but his heart wasn't in the jab, nor did it hold much truth. They were pretty evenly matched with Shawn having the height advantage.

"That's crap." Shawn tucked the ball under his arm instead of passing it to Mitch. "You doing alright?"

"I'm fine, just..." But he couldn't create a convincing lie like he usually did. Everything weighed down on him worse, even though it should have been the opposite. What was wrong with him? Probably the hangover.

Maria still hadn't replied after he asked how about her night, which was odd, but maybe she'd slept in. Or Becca and Tom had gotten to her. Why couldn't she have come dancing instead? Without her, he'd been stuck watching Shawn and Emma together which brought back too many memories off...

Clear your head, Foster. They're not the same person, similarities aside.

"You're fine?" Shawn repeated. He looked around the empty courtyard and added softly, "It's okay if you're not, especially—"

"I'm hungover."

Shawn tried to meet his gaze, but Mitch stared down at the green-painted concrete whose layers were beginning to chip. "I've seen you play hungover before."

Mitch backed away. "Why am I getting questioned? Who cares if my game is off? It's just a damned scrimmage."

Shawn stepped closer and kept his voice low. "Today is extra shitty, for both of us. If you want to stop by tonight, I'm—"

Mitch's heart raced until his head grew faint, and a loud ringing overpowered all other sounds. He couldn't have this conversation. Not in the middle of a basketball court, not anywhere. "I need to go," he muttered and jogged away before Shawn protested.

The midday heat beat down on Mitch, and his muscles groaned as he ran, but they were reminders he was still here and alive. If he was fighting exhaustion, his mind couldn't drift, so he pressed on down the streets and alleys until the world faltered, and he was on the brink of collapsing. After catching his breath, he hobbled into a convenience store and bought himself a bottle of water for the walk home, nearly getting taken out a few times as he stumbled near quick motorbikes.

In the evening, as if in punishment for blowing off whatever plans Shaw had made for tonight with a lie, Mitch received an e-mail from his mom. Most people wouldn't have found it weird, but Mitch had cut ties with anything related to his life in Nebraska, including the e-mail address his mom knew, years ago. His supposed 'best friend' was the only one who both had access to his recent e-mail address and who knew his mom. Mitch deleted the message the second he glimpsed the subject line.

That called for a drink.

The world heard his internal plea for a distraction as Maria's voice carried through the wall, discussing going out again with Tom. Was that stuck-up redhead the reason she'd been ignoring Mitch and had they spent the entire day together? She never used to do that with Tom, and she'd always texted Mitch back. He slung back his cold beer and let it wash down his throat.

In theory, Tom and Maria worked. They both wanted to settle into relationships that ended in marriage and a terribly predictable sex life. The idea still made Mitch's skin prickle. What if Tom turned her into a personality-lacking Stepford wife? She was so much more and just beginning to realize it. At least they'd returned early, so their relationship was probably as platonic as Maria claimed.

Mitch wanted to know why she'd been ignoring him. When Maria's door clicked shut and heavy footsteps echoed through the hall, he seized the opportunity to mix up a hurricane cocktail and garnish it with an orange and a cherry, before knocking on her door with the glass in hand.

"Em, you're—Oh!" Her eyes widened, and her tone wasn't as welcoming as it usually was.

"It's lovely to see you too," he teased to try to fight the sinking anchor in his stomach.

"If this is another invitation to go dancing, Em, Prae and I are going out, and I'm running late."

Mitch smiled. At least she was taking his advice to go out, and as far as he knew, Emma and Becca didn't get along well enough for that schemer to join them. "You'll want this to save you money at the bar." He handed her the drink which she accepted with a frown.

"Why'd you make me this?"

"Because you like rum drinks, and I had the ingredients? You okay?"

Maria sighed and closed her eyes. "I don't know what to think."

A chilly breeze came through the hall windows. He hoped his instincts were wrong. "About what?"

"You."

Shit. He knew Becca and Tom would get in her head yesterday. Why couldn't they leave the woman alone? She'd been through enough hardship for a lifetime. Mitch was respectful of lines she'd drawn about their relationship even when he longed not to be, and he sure as hell didn't want to lose her. 

He could still fix this. She hadn't shut him out completely. "Talk to me, Maria. Why are you confused?"

"Were you really that awful to Becca?"

He bit the inside of his cheek hard. Her words flew back at him "Selfish, arrogant bastard!" Her tears still stung his conscience, but she'd gotten the message this time. Ice and fury had replaced the usual lust and affection. The other four times he'd asked for space or told her they would not work had all failed. She'd come back to him in a passionate rage, and they'd fuck until they were both spent. It'd been hot the first few times, but Becca thought it meant more than it did and got too attached.

"Yes."

Maria shook and her doe-eyes met his. "Why?"

He'd run out of other ways for them to stop falling back into bed together. When Becca had brought up meeting her family, it'd gone on too long. If she saw him as a heartless jerk it'd be easier for her to move on.

Maria sighed. "You criticized my ex for treating me like that then turn around and do it to her."

His skin was sweating despite the cooler air. This wasn't about Becca anymore. Maria was scared Mitch would hurt her, and he didn't blame her. As much as he needed to push her away, so she didn't suffer again, he wasn't ready to give her up yet. She was the only person who could make a day like today tolerable. If she severed their friendship, he'd be crushed. He'd tread carefully around her feelings and avoid giving her the wrong impression so this wouldn't hurt her.

"I never told Becca we were exclusive, and we never loved each other. It's different than with your ex. I might be an asshole, but I'm an honest one. I don't make promises I can't keep."

"Didn't you call her delusional and pathetic?"

Mitch rubbed at the tension in his temples. So Becca had intended to assassinate his credibility with Maria, and sadly, he'd given her the right arsenal. "Honest about my intentions and my feelings, not the other things."

"Don't you realize how destructive your words can be?" Her eyes grew glassy. Every bit of rage he'd felt toward her ex struck him, adding to the many reasons she and Mitch could never date, no matter how much he enjoyed having her around. "Becca's crushed."

He hadn't thought she had strong feelings for him and low enough self-esteem to take his words to heart. Becca had hooked up with plenty of men in the past and radiated confidence.

"I'm starting to see that." This was as much his fault as it was hers. He sighed, knowing what he had to do next. If he didn't, he really would be the monster everyone saw him as. "I'll see you later." He locked his door from the outside and ran a hand through his tangled hair. "Have fun with Emma and Prae."

Mitch trudged to Becca's room. This would be an apology with no hook-up. Give her closure, make her feel less shitty, and walk away. When he reached the number two oh nine on her door that used to thrill him because of the sensational things she'd do for him, he grew nauseous.

Could he text her the apology or call? No, being a dick to her in person meant apologizing in person. He knocked on the door.

Becca swung the door open and scowled. "The fuck do you want?"

His shoulders hunched. "I came to apologize."

"You think I'm that delusional to fall for your shit again. Piss off, you bloody slag," Becca drawled, tequila on her breath. Maria was right. She wasn't taking this well at all, and it was his fault. Being an asshole to people who didn't care about you much was one thing, but seeing how deep his action had cut Becca splintered his soul. He'd have to go back to meaningless flings or avoid romance altogether. 

"I don't, and I'm sorry I called you that, and everything else. It was uncalled for."

Her eyes narrowed like she was trying to obliterate him with her gaze. "I don't forgive you."

He didn't expect her to, especially not in this state. "As long as you know I didn't mean them. We don't work as a couple, we were never meant to, but that's not your fault and you didn't deserve what I did or said."

Her posture straightened. "Bloody right it isn't. You're the over-reactive wanker. Wouldn't have supper with my sister and parents."

The word wrung his gut like a dirty, soaking rag. Instead of deflecting the feeling with insults, he said, "I am, and I'm sorry. Have a good night."

As he turned, she called out, "Wait! This wasn't a terrible attempt to sleep with me?"

Mitch shook his head and continued to his room. A pair of footsteps trailed up the stairs behind him, but the person didn't speak. He crossed his fingers it wasn't Becca. He was out of ways to convince her he had no long-term romantic intentions with her, and he couldn't live with himself if hurt her or anyone else like that again. When he reached the stairs, Emma wasn't far.

"I'll be damned. I didn't think I'd see the day when you apologized to her."

His face heated. He didn't need any more of this crap. "Can no one in this building mind their own god-damned business?"

"Someone needs a drink," Emma muttered as she hurried past him.

That wasn't the worst idea. If he drank enough, he'd blackout, and when he woke up, this miserable day would be over. He had no idea if Maria would ever speak to him again, and the thought was dizzying. When he entered his room, he contemplated the rum, before setting it aside then grabbing the whiskey. He took straight shots from the bottle which burned, but the discomfort was a pleasant distraction.

After a few more shots, he searched his e-mail recycle bin and opened the e-mail from his mother. He had no idea why she sent messages to his other account when he'd never answered a single one. The first few years, it had hurt too much to reply, and now he'd waited so long he struggled to find words to absolve him.

Mitchell,

I hope this message finds you alright. Shawn tells me this is the best way to reach you these days. I can't say I blame you for blocking out what happened.

Tears blurred Mitch's vision, and he wiped them away with enough force to scratch the skin under his left eye.

Many days I'm tempted to do the same. I hope you've found a way to enjoy the day and celebr—

He scrolled away from her nonsensical words. Was she serious? There wasn't a damned thing worth celebrating about today. Only a sociopath would enjoy it in Mitch's position. At the bottom of the message, it seemed like she'd forwarded what Shawn had sent her by accident.

Hi Darla,

Thinking of you and Emily today and sending lots of love your way. My mom should be stopping by with flowers, and I'm making Penang curry in her honour tonight. I found this picture and thought you'd like it.

Take care of yourself, big hugs!

Love Shawn

The photo was from their high school prom, and Mitch slammed the laptop shut when his eyes connected with her digital ones.

Their blue hue lingered in his vision. As her voice flitted through the air, he blasted his music to drown her out. He didn't need another reminder of how he'd failed everyone. He grabbed his bottle of whiskey again and took another long swig. After the burn and strong after-taste wore off, the liquor warmed his chest. He kept adding just enough booze to chase that warmth and happiness that always flitted out of reach until the world darkened.