Scratch

by Rhonda Helms

  Instant relief washed over her face. She gave me a genuine smile. “I had no idea. Thank you so much for the head’s up—I really appreciate it. Maybe we could get together this week? Like, do a little study session and grab coffee or something?”

  I blinked in surprise. “Um, sure. That would be . . . fine.” And I was even more surprised to realize I meant it.

  “Thanks.” She ripped off a corner of her notebook and scrawled her name and number on it. “Here’s my cell. Let’s make plans to meet up.”

  I gave her my number, too, and she beamed in pleasure as she typed it into her phone.

  Amanda’s gratitude and desire to hang out with me, despite my attitude toward her all semester, chipped away at something in my chest. Since yesterday’s visit to the cemetery, I’d been feeling . . . different. I’d woken up early this morning and made breakfast for Megan. She’d been floored when she’d emerged from her room and saw the kitchen table all set. It made me realize how few truly unselfish things I’d done for others over the years. No wonder I had no real friends. At least, not yet.

  So when I swung by the coffee shop before coming to class, I’d bought my drink and then secretly paid for the harried-looking guy’s coffee behind me, leaving a nice tip as well. I didn’t stay around to see what happened—after all, it wasn’t about fulfilling my ego. It was about trying to put myself out there and not be so closed off to the world.

  I shifted in my desk and glanced over at where Daniel sat now. He was staring at me with an unreadable expression on his face. But unlike the other times when our eyes had connected, he didn’t tear his gaze away. His jaw was smattered with a sexy five o’clock shadow, like he hadn’t bothered to shave this morning. I wanted to brush my fingers along the soft stubble. Breathe him in.

  My heart throbbed with a painful intensity, but I didn’t blink, didn’t move.

  The professor came in, breaking the moment. Daniel turned his attention forward, fiddling with the pen in his hand.

  I sighed and made myself begin to take notes as Professor Wilkins wrote all over the board. Daniel hadn’t looked away immediately this time . . . was that progress? Would he be willing to talk to me?

  Last night I’d lain in bed, staring at my ceiling, replaying the day’s events in my mind. After the visit with my parents and sister, I finally understood what Daniel had been trying to do for me. He’d wanted me to shed my fears and take a leap of faith, but I’d shoved him away. I’d been so hurtful in my language.

  I’d shut him out completely.

  Did he hate me now? A knot formed behind my rib cage. So much time had passed since we’d last talked. Maybe if I’d come to him weeks ago instead of waiting this long, wallowing in my own pity, we could have repaired things.

  If I attempted to reach out to him and he shut me down, it was going to kill me. Which was probably the biggest reason I was paralyzed in my seat at the moment. And yet I knew that was the coward’s way out. I wasn’t going to be that person anymore.

  My eyes trailed over the classroom and found their way back to his corner. A blond girl with a confused face was leaning close to his desk as he whispered and pointed toward the open book. She nodded a couple of times, and I saw her give him a grateful smile.

  A fresh bout of pain grabbed my heart, twisting it right in my chest. I bit my lower lip. Daniel was always quick to step up and help someone who needed it. He was generous with his time, his affection. How could I have thrown all of that away so easily, like he hadn’t mattered to me?

  No wonder he was shutting me out. I’d made him feel unimportant, unworthy of my affection or secrets. Yes, I loved him. But with the way I’d treated him, how could he ever have known?

  Now Daniel was protecting himself. And could I blame him for it?

  My hand shook a bit as I clenched the pencil. Daniel was worth the risk. He deserved someone who put forth everything. I didn’t know if he’d be willing to talk with me again—to listen to why I’d freaked out and possibly accept my apologies—but I knew I had to try. And I had to give this effort everything I had in me.

  If he rejected me after that, then I could hold my head high and know I gave it my best. I would be proud of myself regardless. But God, I hoped it worked. Because all of that love for him that I’d been afraid to look at too closely over the last few weeks was still right there inside of me, simmering beneath the surface. I ached for him. I needed him.

  And I wanted to let him know that it was safe for him to need me too. That I could be there for him the way he’d tried to be there for me.

  Suddenly I couldn’t wait for class to end. Anticipation bubbled in my veins. It was hard to focus on the lecture when my heart and head were locked on thoughts of Daniel. I made myself take notes, though the effort was halfhearted.

  When our instructor released us to go, I grabbed my stuff as quickly as possible and stood outside the door. Students filtered out while others for the next class slipped in. Daniel was in the back of the group.

  My heart slammed against my rib cage as I reached out and touched his arm. “Hey, can we talk?”

  He blinked in surprise, then his face grew expressionless. “I don’t have time right now, sorry.”

  “Tonight, then? Are you free this evening? For coffee, even?”

  My stomach sank when he shook his head. His flat eyes glanced on mine, then turned away, Adam’s apple bobbing when he swallowed. “Look, I just . . . I can’t.”

  “Five minutes.” I could hear the begging in my voice, but I didn’t care. “I promise it won’t take a lot of your time.”

  He gave a heavy sigh, then finally peered down at me. I saw a flicker of emotions before he seemed to pull into himself, to hide behind a smooth mask. He scrubbed the back of his neck with the hand not holding his backpack strap. “I can’t do this anymore, Casey. I can’t keep riding the roller coaster with you. I’m sorry.”

  Then Daniel walked away from me, down the hall, out of the building without looking back.

  Wow. Despite the way things had gone with us in the cemetery, I’d thought he would at least talk to me. But he’d shut me out.

  Crushing defeat cramped my belly. I leaned against the wall for several minutes and fought the urge to cry as the beginning of a headache pounded my temples. No, this couldn’t be the end of us; I couldn’t let him go without a fight. I just needed to get him to listen, to see that I was changing. I knew Daniel was afraid to be vulnerable with me, for good reason. But if I opened myself up and did it first, if I showed him I was willing to put myself out there and risk it all, it might convince him to drop his walls and give me a chance.

  The stirrings of an idea began in the back of my head. I drew in several slow breaths to sooth my tattered heart. I could do this. I’d give it everything I had . . . and pray like hell that it would be enough.

  My phone buzzed. With shaky fingers I dug it out, hoping it was Daniel. But I didn’t recognize the number.

  Hey, it’s Amanda. Study today? Pleeeeease? I’ll buy coffee. ;-)

  I bit my lip. My impulse was to run back to my apartment and curl up in bed with my headphones on, to nurse my aching heart for a while. But old patterns weren’t going to help me in my quest to change. Besides, it wouldn’t hurt to study now so I could focus later on my plan for Daniel.

  Free now? I texted back.

  Her reply was quick. OMG YES. Coffee Baby? 10 mins??

  See you there.

  I wrapped my scarf tighter around my neck and headed outside. Students dashed by in a mad rush to make it to class. Couples held hands as they crunched along dead leaves on the sidewalk. My breath puffed out around my face. I tried to not think about walking with Daniel on this very path when we first went to the coffee shop.

  God, I missed him so much.

  When I got inside the warm café, packed with students, I found Amanda already sitting at a nearby table, two cups of coffee waiting and a pile of sugar packets in the middle.

  “I got here early,” she said in
an apologetic tone. “And I didn’t know how you’d like your coffee, so I got black, but if this doesn’t work, I can get you something else.”

  My smile was genuine. “I appreciate it. And you didn’t need to buy me coffee. That was really nice of you.”

  “It was the least I could do. I’m petrified of flunking this class.”

  I took off my coat and settled into the chair across from her. I grabbed two of the packets on the table and dumped them in the cup, stirred, then sipped the coffee. “I’m not an expert in philosophy,” I warned her.

  “Are you passing the course?”

  “So far, yes.”

  “Then you’re probably doing better in it than I am.” She laughed. “But I’m gonna try as hard as I can to at least pull a C.”

  “Then let’s get started.” I dug my book and notebook out of my bag, and we spent the next half hour comparing notes. Despite Amanda’s flakiness around guys and her protests about how badly she was doing in class, she wasn’t dumb. Which made me feel bad for judging her so harshly all semester. Her questions showed she was internalizing the material.

  I couldn’t help but think about studying with Daniel in this very place, discussing Nietzsche. My heart gave a sad lurch.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, brow furrowed.

  My throat was too tight to talk for a moment, so I silently waved off her concern and offered a small, brittle smile. “Oh. Just . . . personal problems.”

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.” She turned her attention back to her notes.

  Guilt flared up. Stop pushing people away. Amanda just wanted to make sure I was all right because that was what people did. “No, I’m sorry. I’m . . .” I swallowed. “I’m really awkward at this. Getting to know people, having casual conversation. You know, being normal. It’s not you, it’s me.”

  She gave a small laugh at the clichéd line. “Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve heard that one,” she replied in a droll tone.

  I laughed, too, and the knot of tension in my chest lightened.

  Amanda leaned forward, and her face turned serious again. “I don’t want to put my nose in where it doesn’t belong. But . . . you’ve seemed off lately. Even quieter than usual. Is everything okay? Did you and Daniel break up? Is that why he changed seats?”

  I blinked. “You knew about us?”

  She quirked a brow, and a dimple popped out. “Seriously, I’m a girl, and he’s hot. Of course I noticed who he was hanging out with.”

  I rubbed my neck. “I messed up,” I confessed, eyes glued on my notebook as I talked. “And now I’m scared I’ve lost him for good. I pushed him away for so long that he’s afraid to be around me, afraid I’m going to hurt him.”

  “So what are you going to do about it?” Her voice held a hint of a challenge. “You’re not going to just let him walk away without a fight, are you?”

  I jerked my head up. “Um, I think I have an idea. But . . . if it doesn’t work—”

  “No, don’t do that.” She shook her head, and her eyes filled with passion. “Don’t defeat yourself before you’ve even tried. Daniel’s a great guy. He’ll listen to you because he cares about you. Real love doesn’t just fade away after a few weeks. Trust me. He’ll listen.” She sipped her coffee, and in that moment my heart swelled with appreciation for her strength, her confidence.

  “I hope you’re right,” I murmured.

  “I am. If there’s anything I know, it’s men.” She winked as she put her cup down to reach over and squeeze my forearm. “Something about you drew him to you in the first place. You have to trust in it. Trust in him too.”

  My eyes stung. “It’s so hard to trust,” I admitted. “My past kind of . . . screwed me up, and I’m still struggling with this.”

  “You’re trusting me right now,” she pointed out.

  That was true. I couldn’t believe I was having such a deep, personal conversation with a girl I barely knew. Before I knew it, I found myself telling her a bit about what happened when I was thirteen, how I lived with my grandparents. I skimmed on some of the more painful details, though I found it didn’t hurt as much as I thought it would to admit what had happened to me.

  Amanda’s face showed every emotion she felt. As I talked, she sipped coffee, commiserated with me. Then she shared that her mom was an abusive drunk who went on weeklong benders. She and her older brother had moved out as soon as he’d turned eighteen, and they hadn’t seen her since.

  My heart lurched in sympathy. It was so easy for me to get swallowed up by my own pain. But others out there hurt, too, yet they got up out of bed every day and lived past the pain. Despite the pain. Amanda kept smiling, kept flirting and laughing and having fun.

  “How do you do it?” I asked her. “How do you keep going?”

  She nibbled on her thumb and thought for a moment. “I keep going because that’s what you do. That’s life. And I’m not going to let her issues hold me back. I want more for myself.” She paused. “People are stronger than they realize. And you’re gonna get through this, Casey. I believe it. You’re a good person with a good heart.”

  Despite the lingering sting from Daniel’s dismissal, the day hadn’t been bad. In fact, opening myself up to others hadn’t been too painful at all. And it was getting a little easier every time I did it.

  “I’m really glad we decided to get together. Thank you,” I told her, pouring every ounce of sincerity into my voice.

  She sipped her coffee, then gave me a wide smile. “Please. It’s the least I can do for all the help you’re giving me. Now let’s get back to studying so we’ll both pass this stupid quiz. That’ll give the old hag a shock. Though with my luck, she’ll probably think I cheated.” Amanda winked.

  We spent the next hour studying and talking. When it was over, I invited Amanda to come to the club this weekend while I deejayed. Her responding smile and quick acceptance filled me with warmth. I knew my mom would be proud of me—for reaching out, for trying.

  For living.

  Chapter 24

  This was going to take everything out of me. I just hoped it would be enough to work.

  It was after three on Friday morning, and I’d been working since after dinner. In a little less than six hours, I’d be handing my song over to Daniel. The piece I’d been working on almost nonstop for the last several days. The one that would show him who I was and how I felt in no uncertain terms. My heart on a platter, his for the taking. No other guy had made me want to bare my soul so fully.

  I hunched over my computer and propped my elbows on my desk. My eyes were gritty with fatigue, but I was almost done. Another hour or two of work, and it should be ready.

  I chugged the dregs of my coffee. The drink had gone cold hours ago, but I needed the caffeine to help me stay awake so I could finish. My lower back throbbed in agony from sitting like this for such long periods over the last several days. But none of that mattered right now.

  I was in that zone, and I was determined.

  I pulled a memorable harmony from the song Daniel and I had composed together. With a click of my mouse, I pasted it into my piece and fiddled with the key so it blended in to my song.

  Would he recognize it? Did he remember that day as vividly as I did?

  I stood and stretched my back. Snuck out of my room and poured another cup of lukewarm coffee. Memories of Daniel were everywhere—on my couch, peeking through the fridge, sitting at my kitchen table.

  Haunting my lonely bed. God, how many weeks had it been since I’d gotten a good night’s sleep? Too long.

  I took a long draw from the mug, then headed back to my room. I grabbed the mic and flicked it on. Time for the last element of the song.

  I drew a long breath and spoke.

  The walk to class that morning was equal parts anticipation and trepidation, mixed with a dash of utter exhaustion. All of my free time this week had been spent on classwork and my project. I’d barely eaten or slept.

  The hand clutching the iPod beg
an to sweat from clenching it so hard. I made my fingers relax a touch, since they ached from being locked so tightly. Cold autumn breezes floated in and out of building breezeways, scattered crackly, brown leaves along sidewalks and stretches of frost-covered grass.

  My pulse pounded in my throat as I walked into the building, made my way to philosophy class. I’d purposely come early to ensure I was there before him. Sure enough, the room was empty and the light off. I flicked it on and headed to his desk.

  After putting down the iPod and the earbuds that had been wadded up in my coat pocket, I dug the note I’d written asking him to listen to the song and placed it on the desk, covering the equipment. I didn’t want everyone else to walk in and see it or think they could just take it. My hand wouldn’t stop shaking, and my breath was coming out in ragged huffs.

  Then I darted to my seat, whipped out my pencil and a notebook and tried my best to not faint.

  Students began to filter in. I didn’t dare look up—if my eyes connected with his, there was no way I’d be able to get through this. It was so unbelievably scary, knowing he would either listen or just toss it all away. If it was the latter, I couldn’t bear to witness it.

  The seats filled up around me, though there might as well have been no one else in the room at all. When Daniel entered, my skin practically crackled with awareness. Still I kept my gaze on my paper, digging my nail into the wooden surface of the pencil. Keep it together, I ordered myself.

  “Hey,” a soft, feminine voice said from in front of me, making me jerk my head up. “Thanks again for the study session. It was a huge help.”

  I gave Amanda a tremulous smile. “Sure, no problem.”

  Her eyes narrowed, and she gave me a concerned look. “Everything okay? You look like you haven’t slept in days.”