The Absolutely True Story of Us Read Online Free

through his hair.
    "I'm sure she was not doing that," I insist. "Probably."
    Dean groans, flopping back on the sofa. "I'm really starting to regret saying I would do this. Can't we invent some kind of emergency that sends me out of town?"
    Glaring at him, I sprawl on the lounge chair across the room. "Are you really giving me a hard time? This is the least you can do."
    "Fuck's sake, Lissy." He scrubs his hands across his face. "Don't start this again. I'm happy to be here. Really. I'm happy to help you out. I know what you think about me these days, but..."
    He drifts off, gazing at the floor, seeming to think better of whatever he was about to say.
    "But?" I prompt him, tone softening slightly.
    "But I still care about you," he says, glancing at me. "You were the most important person in my life for five years, I can't just throw that away."
    And now I'm not the most important person in anybody's life.  
    The thought comes, unwelcome, and I can't seem to push it aside.
    Sighing, I curl up, drawing my knees into my chest. "Well, that's nice." I'm honestly not quite sure if I'm being sarcastic.  
    "And I know you care about me, too," he prompts. "Because otherwise you would've just hired a gigolo."
    A burst of laughter escapes before I can stop it. "Shit. I could've written that off as research, probably."
    "Sure. Tell the IRS you're hiring hookers. What could go wrong?" Dean shrugs, and it all comes back in a rush. The sadness, the regret. I remember now why I loved him so much. We had that rapport. We just got along so well - like two people who were meant to be together.
    Too bad he turned out to be a liar and a cheater and a general, all-purpose scumbag.
    I still can't reconcile what I know about Dean with the man sitting in front of me. It's never made sense to me. I've never quite accepted it, never been able to wrap my head all the way around his betrayal.  
    It's not like him.
    I'm letting his unasked question - do I still care about him? - linger in the air. I don't know the answer, and I don't want to. Of course I still care about him as a human being, more or less. I'd drag him out of a burning building just as readily as I'd drag anyone else. Maybe because I'm too compassionate, or maybe, just maybe...
    No. I can't let myself have doubts. Not now. The past is the past, and if he was innocent, then why did he leave? Innocent people don't walk away from relationships like that. He had "guilty conscience" written all over him.
    Goddamn it. I want to forget. After all this time, there's still a part of me that wants to just crawl over to the sofa and curl up in his arms. Pretend that I've forgotten everything that's come between us. I just want to feel him breathing, hear his heartbeat.
    I want to make love. Maybe it wasn't always the best sex in the world, but at least it felt like it meant something. Even if that was a lie, I didn't know back then. It seemed real. It seemed right .
    Warden, don't do this now.
    Get yourself together.
    Any day now.

    ***
    After Dean goes to bed, I finally feel brave enough to check my phone again. I know M's going to be mad, that's a given. The only question is why I care so much.
    It's just a silly game. That's all. It's fun, it's an escape, and it's completely harmless. I can stop anytime I want to.
    Right.
    He only sent me two messages after I started ignoring him earlier.  

    M: Lana?

    And then:

    M: ?

    Two messages in four hours, that means he's pissed for sure. I should just ignore it. I should delete this damn anonymous messaging app, block him on every social media profile I have, and move on with my life. Instead, I text him back.

    I had to go to dinner.

    It takes me a few tries to delete the "sorry" from the beginning of the message. He doesn't need an apology. I haven't done anything wrong. But I still feel like I ought to apologize, and I don't know why.

    M: Really?

    What?

    M: You know how I feel about being ignored.

    I told you. I was busy.

    M: You're always