Fresh

by Margot Wood

  “You okay over there?” she asks as I cough the noodles up.

  “Yeah, wrong tube,” I wheeze as I wipe soup from my chin. “Could you hand me a napkin, please?” Reaching over our picnic spread to hand me a napkin, Rose fumbles and drops the bowl of scalding hot noodle soup in her lap. The steamy liquid splashes all over her legs and soaks through her pants.

  “FUCK!” Rose jumps up and dabs at the mess but the thin napkin is futile. I spring into action and grab one of the many fabric skeins stacked in her wardrobe and rush to help soak up the rest but she stops me. “You can’t use that! That’s waxed cotton!”

  “And?!”

  “It’s waterproof!”

  “Well, shit, how was I supposed to know that?!?” I panic and throw the skein back at her closet. “Do you have any towels?”

  She squeezes her eyes shut in pain and points to a small chest in the corner of her room and I run to it. I grab all the towels, you know, just in case she needs all six of them. I turn around and all the towels slip out of my hands and tumble to the floor in a heap. Rose has taken her pants off. I just stare at her. I stare at her standing a few feet from me wearing nothing but thick wool socks, bare legs, and a big cashmere sweater that only slightly covers her white panties. Fuck. I clear my throat as I force myself to look away and give her some privacy. I pick up one of the towels from the floor and blindly toss it to her. I don’t dare move any closer.

  “Ahh, that’s so much better. Hey, would you mind fetching some ice from the common room?” she asks and at first I don’t hear her because all I can think is don’t look don’t look don’t look. “Elliot?” she asks again.

  “Ice, yeah, sure, right. On it!” I dart out and jog down the hall to the common room. I reach for a plastic cup from the side of the ice machine but they’re all gone. They must have cleaned everything out today. I look for anything I can use to carry the ice back but there’s nothing. “Ahh shit,” I say when I realize my only available solution. I take off my thin, ratty T-shirt, exposing my black sports bra. This is fine, I think. It just looks like I’m going to a yoga class now. I go to the machine and fill up my T-shirt with ice and carry it down the hall. Before I reenter Rose’s room, I take a deep, not-at-all-calming breath and push the door open. Rose is sitting on the edge of her bed, still pantsless I might add, and rubbing some kind of sweet-smelling balm on her burned skin.

  “What’s that?” I ask as I set my shirt ice bag on the bed next to her.

  “It’s manuka honey.” She scoops a bit more out of a clear tub and rubs it on her thighs.

  “Honey? You can use honey on burns?” I ask, trying not to think about how that honey might taste on her skin.

  “You can use it for all kinds of medicinal purposes. My mom is really into homeopathic remedies,” she says as she applies another layer of honey. “This should be enough though. Hey, can you help me with the ice? I don’t want to get any stickiness on your shirt.” She holds up her hands and I fight the urge to reach out and lick the honey right off her fingers.

  “Don’t worry about it,” I tell her as I take a tentative step back from her, hoping that a change in proximity will help. “It’s an old shirt anyways, I can just throw it out or whatever.”

  “Or you could just wash it,” she suggests with a small smile.

  “Oh right, I guess I could do that too.” Rose takes my shirt full of ice and gently places it on her thighs. She holds back a yelp as the cold fabric touches her hot skin. A water droplet forms on the edge of my shirt and I watch as it builds up until it becomes too heavy and trickles down the inside of her thigh and turns inward. Rose doesn’t wipe it away. I want to trace that water droplet with my tongue.

  “Sorry about all this.” She waves to the mess. “I was kind of hoping we could talk over dinner.”

  “Talk?” I swallow. “About what?” Blood is pumping in my ears, my heart is pounding.

  “Monica and I broke up,” she says and my heart stops. She has my full attention. She sets the ice aside, tilts her chin up and we lock eyes. Her gaze is intense but unreadable. “I left her, for many reasons, but—”

  “Why are you telling me this?” I interrupt.

  “Well, for starters, I wanted to apologize for giving you shit for dating Nico. I’ve spent this whole year lecturing you on who to be and how to love and the truth is, I wasn’t even taking my own advice. Since the moment we met, you have been unapologetically you. You’ve let me see you at your best and your worst, and I’ve been an unfair friend because I have kept so much of myself hidden from you. I want you to see me, all of me, and for that to happen, you need to see my ugly side too.”

  “Rose, you don’t owe me anything.”

  “Yes, I do, so here it goes,” she says, and as much as I want to try to stop her again, I let her keep going. “I fucked up with Monica. When she and I first got together, I had no idea she was dating someone else already. I didn’t find out until last summer, just before the school year started. Her lie caused a rift between us, but we worked through it and made a commitment to try and make it work. But then I started having feelings for someone else, strong feelings from the second I met her. I should have left Monica right then, but I didn’t because we had decided to commit. I know rumors about me being a homewrecker have been flying around since last year and I guess I was scared that if I left her for someone else, I would always be seen that way. So not only was I lying to myself this whole time, but I was lying to her as well,” she says, her voice starting to crack a little. She stops to take a breath. “But I wanted you to know that I finally listened to my heart and I left Monica.”

  I have to stop this. I know where this is going. She’s going to tell me about how she’s with Eva now and how wonderful it is to be with someone who is right for you and how she hopes that I find that special someone in the future and blah blah fucking blah.

  I break eye contact and stare down at my feet. “I can’t do this,” I say. It comes out quiet and small.

  “Can’t do what?”

  I reach for something, anything but the truth. “I can’t—I can’t help you pack anymore.”

  “Why not?” she asks calmly.

  “Because,” I say, feeling increasingly agitated.

  “Because why?” she says right away, pushing me harder for the truth. I run my hands through my hair and pace in front of her. “Elliot—” She starts to get up from the bed to come to me, so I stop pacing and hold my hand up to stop her.

  “Stop, Rose,” I say. “Just stop. I already know all of this, okay?”

  “You do?” Rose asks. “How?”

  I let my arm fall in defeat. “Simon told me at the costume party.”

  “You’ve known all this time?” At first her expression is lit with surprise, but then her face falls into sadness. “Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?”

  “Yes.” I wait for her to say something, anything, but she doesn’t speak. She doesn’t move. She just looks at me with disbelief, like maybe I cracked her soul, but I don’t know why. I’m the one whose heart is broken. “I’m sorry for avoiding you, but I didn’t know—”

  “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything,” she says, her voice cold and distant. Her face goes red as she wipes her eyes, which had started tearing up. “It’s my fault for not telling you sooner.”

  I back up until I get to her door. “Look, I need to get going. I have to wash my clothes and finish boxing up my room anyways, so yeah, thanks for dinner and keep the shirt or whatever—I don’t need it. I’ll see you next year, Rose, have a great summer.”

  I back out of her room and close the door behind me. I don’t know what to do right now—my mind is scratchy and jagged, so I run to the laundry room. It’s the only thing I know to do in this moment that will calm me down. I rip the wet clothes out of the washer and shove them into the dryer, turning the dial to whatever setting it lands on. It is only when the machine starts to rumble that I feel like I can finally breathe. I lean forward on the was
her, placing my elbows on the metal top, and rest my head in my hands.

  What the fuck is wrong with me? I never should have agreed to help her pack. The second she showed up at my door, I should have hopped in a cab and gone straight to Lucy’s. I cannot be near Rose. I cannot trust my instincts when I’m around her. I have wanted Rose so acutely that I misinterpreted all those flirty moments and playful banter as proof she has feelings for me too, but she wasn’t flirting with me in particular. That’s just who she is. Rose and I will not be together. And the worst part is I fucking knew this six weeks ago. So why the fuck does it hurt so much worse now?!

  I slam my fists on top of the dryer and release the guttural cry that has been coursing through me. I take a deep breath in and as I let it out, I let go of the frustration, the embarrassment, the disappointment. Those are feelings I have no use for, so I shove them down deep, locking them away in that old familiar vault.

  There’s a shuffling noise coming from down the hall and I hear Rose open the door to the laundry room. She stays there, in the doorway behind me, but I don’t turn around. I can’t face her. “Please go away, Rose,” I say firmly.

  I hear her take another step toward me. “I’m sorry, Elliot. I know you don’t want to talk about it but if I don’t get this off my chest right now it’s going to haunt me forever,” she begs.

  I say nothing.

  I do nothing.

  I want her to go, I will her to go, but she doesn’t. Instead she takes another step toward me. She’s close enough behind me now, close enough that I can feel the heat coming off her body. I refuse to turn around. Why won’t she just leave me alone? This is mortifying as it is, I don’t need to talk through it. I don’t need to hear any of it. She takes another small step and rests a hand on my shoulder. “Elliot—” she says and that does it. I asked her nicely to leave me alone and clearly that didn’t work. Everything I’m feeling boils over and now I’m just pissed off.

  I spin around and face her with fire in my eyes. “What, Rose?! What do you want?!”

  “You. I want you,” she says and the world stops spinning. “You are stubborn and frustrating and you know exactly how to push my buttons but whenever we’re together all I can think about is what it would be like to kiss you, to touch you, to taste you.” She throws her hands behind her head, her voice overcome with emotion as she goes on. “I knew the moment I met you I was in trouble, so I tried to keep my distance, I tried to push you away. I scolded you and I lectured you and I even made you take those string lights down—which were not a fire hazard, by the way—but nothing worked. And I know I shouldn’t be telling you any of this, I know you don’t feel the same way and the last thing I want to do is burden you with a one-way love, but I had to say it, out loud, just this once. I want you beyond reason and with my whole heart.”

  Rose finally stops talking.

  She is out of breath and out of words.

  But I, on the other hand, know exactly what needs to be said.

  “Are you serious?” I pause. I look at her in disbelief. And then I take a careful, slow step toward her. “You mean to tell me, right here and right now, that I could have kept the fairy lights up this whole time?”

  “What?” Rose cries out. She looks desperate and worried. “No—I mean, yes, I mean—UGH!—What I mean is—”

  And then, I close the distance between us. I press my body into hers, our lips touch and it is heaven and earth and everything in between. I kiss her hard and deep. She pushes me back up against the vibrating washer, her hands tug on my hair and I wrap my arms around the small of her back as I pull her into to me.

  After a moment we part, her lips swollen and wet as she asks, “Are you sure?” I cradle her face in my hands and trace the tip of my thumb along her jawline and over her bottom lip.

  “I’m sure,” I whisper. And I am.

  I know you are dying to find out what happens next. You’re probably all Rose is going to be in New York all summer! She’s studying abroad next semester! What are you gonna do!?!?! And the truth is, I don’t know what’s going to happen but I do know this: I did not go through all the shit this year just so I can fuck it all up over summer break. I’m done winging it. I’m done half-assing things. As of today, I am officially no longer a freshman. It’s time to start full-assing things. So, here’s what Rose and I did on our last day together:

  1 I immediately called Izzy and got her to delay picking me up so I could have a few extra hours with my girlfriend.1

  2 We made out on every single floor of the Little Building.

  3 We searched for summer movie production internships in New York and created a list of all the ones I’m going to apply for in the next few days.

  4 Since I missed the deadline to apply to study abroad, Rose called the director of the Kasteel Well program and switched it so she’ll be spending her spring semester next year in the Netherlands. Now we get to spend next fall together.

  5 We made two PowerPoint presentations for my parents on why they should let me spend part of my summer in New York. One presentation is in case I get accepted for an internship and I need to convince them to let me take it. And the other presentation is in case I don’t get an internship. It’s just a bunch of old memes and a shameless video slide of me begging them to let me visit Rose for a week . . . or two or three or four.

  6 We continued to pack all of Rose’s crap but she has so much stuff, I gave up and instead made her a PowerPoint presentation on why she should own less shit. But then she pulled out her Trinity costume from The Matrix and I concluded the presentation by taking back everything I had just said.

  7 We said goodbye to each other in the most epic way possible but I’m not gonna tell you about that. Some things are between me and my girlfriend.2

  * * *

  1 THAT’S RIGHT. I SAID GIRLFRIEND.

  2 My girlfriend. My girlfriend.

  EPILOGUE

  The next day, Izzy picks me up in Boston and we set out on the twelve-hour drive back to Cincinnati. My phone vibrates when we’re somewhere in the middle of Nowhere, Fly Over State and I get a text from Lucy.

  Lucy: What happened? Did you survive the night?

  Me:

  Lucy: WHAT DOES THAT MEAN? WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?!??!?!?!

  My phone buzzes again and I think it’s Lucy pleading for more details about my night, but when I look down, it’s a text from Rose.

  Rose: Did you get off okay?

  Me: Which time? Last night or this morning?

  Rose: Stop! You’re going to give me tender turkey again.

  Me: It’s chicken, Rose. Tender CHICKEN.

  Rose: You’re so weird.

  Me: Fuck, I miss you already. How is that possible?

  Rose: I’m just that good.

  Me: Yeah you are.

  Rose: Call me when you get home?

  Me: Definitely.

  Rose: xxxxxxxxxxx

  Me: 1

  * * *

  1 The end.

  CREDITS

  First and foremost, to my personal chef, Sean: thank you for feeding me. I lur you.

  I will be forever grateful to Joanna Volpe for believing I could do this, even when all I had to show her at our first meeting was one very raunchy chapter. Jo and the New Leaf team have been in my corner since day one, and I am incredibly lucky to be working with them.

  If you finished reading this book and you have had the thought, wow, that was a good book, you have Maggie Lehrman to thank for that. She’s the editor who uncovered all the hidden depths I didn’t know this story had. I am a better writer today because of her.

  The tricky thing with acknowledgments is there’s going to be people you’ll forget or people you’ll meet along the road to publication who support you in ways that are absolutely deserving of recognition but you already submitted your acknowledgments and it’s too late to add them. Therefore, to all those I forgot to include because I’m writing this at 2 A.M. and all those I haven’t met yet who are future champio
ns of Fresh: I will find a way to thank each and every one of you personally. You know who you are. I love you all!

  THE INCREDIBLE CREW BEHIND FRESH

  Agent Joanna Volpe

  Editor Maggie Lehrman Editorial Assistance Emily Daluga

  Publisher Andrew Smith

  Cover Design & Art Hana Anouk Nakamura & Noah Camp

  Production Erin Vandeveer, Kathy Lovisolo

  Managing Editorial Marie Oishi, Shasta Clinch, Sara Brady, Margo Winton Parodi

  Marketing & Publicity Kim Lauber, Patricia McNamara O’Neill, Megan Evans, Mary Marolla, Jenny Choy

  Sales Elisa Garcia & her team!

  The New Leaf Team Jordan Hill, Veronica Grijalva, Victoria Hendersen, Pouya Shahbazian, Katherine Curtis, Hilary Pecheone, Kate Sullivan, Meredith Barnes, Abbie Donoghue, Jenniea Carter, Suzie Townsend, Madhuri Venkata, Patrice Caldwell

  FRIENDS & FAMILY TO WHOM I OWE MANY FAVORS

  Favorite Person Sean

  Best Dog (sometimes) Olive

  Seestors Val, Smeek Master 2000

  Daily Source of Entertainment Eric & Baby Leo

  My Soulmates Alien #3, Jamie, Rebecca, Sarah

  Forever Work Wives Aubry PF & Emily Butler

  NYC & PDX Squads Maggie, Meaghan, Lizard, Ku, Reb, Jess, Kristen, Ali, Monica

  Emerson Mafia (Friend Edition!) Maggie, Adam, Dylan, Claire, Sylve, Brendan, Jesse, Savasti, Sa’iyda, Kathryn

  The Person Who Introduced Me To YA Kristan

  My Aunties Andrea, Carrie, McCrystle, Alice

  Families Who Tolerate Support Me Wood, Willis, Kotchka & Tesmond

  To Whom I Owe My Good Looks Mom, Nana, Papa, Pappy, Mimi

  The Seven Hills Crew Maggio, Emily, Ashleigh, Meg, Susie, Sarah & Ms. O’Brien.