by Lauren Helms
Whoa.
All sense of mirth is gone. This just took a turn.
"G, I would never walk away from us," I say, and reach for her hands but she moves just out of my reach.
"No, I know that. But this is our place. Why would you want to leave it behind?"
Here we go.
"Without you here this place means nothing. These four old walls and this creaky wood floor becomes just another childhood memory. It's nothing without you."
Her eyes start to gloss over, and she pinches her lips together. I know this look well. She is fighting the tears.
I scoot closer to her and successfully grab her hands and hold them firmly in mine.
"G, I don't think I could manage to come up here, with all the memories knowing you won't be here waiting for me," I tell her softly.
The first tear falls, and my heart starts to fracture.
"I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry," she whispers.
I brush a tear away as I lean in closer to her.
"Gia, I have to tell you something," I say, searching her face.
She bats her tears away but looks at me expectantly.
"I've wanted to tell you for a while, but I think ... I think, well ..." Shit, I'm doing a shit job of this. "Ah, man. I'm screwing this up."
"Simon," she says, more as a statement than a question.
"No, I'll get this right," I mutter.
"Simon. No."
She pulls her hands away from mine. Why the hell does she look freaked out?
"Gia, I love you. I've loved you for a while and not just the love you have for your best friend. But the love you have for someone you can't stop thinking about. The kind of love that creeps in and consumes you."
"Simon," she says more forcefully, but I'm on a roll.
"I know this is horrible timing, but I just can't not tell you, you know?" The weight that has been sitting on my chest is suddenly gone and I know, without a doubt, that I was supposed to tell her how I felt.
"Simon. You need to stop. Stop talking," she nearly yells at me.
I am stunned into silence.
"You cannot tell me that you love me. It's not fair! Do you understand how unfair it is for you to tell me how you feel just days before I leave? Why? Why would you do this?!"
Angry tears fall down her face and I'm trying to register all that she is saying.
I gather my thoughts as she stands to leave.
"Wait," I say.
She shakes her head.
"No. Wait. Why can't I? I love you and you know damn well that it's not something new."
She keeps walking and climbs down the ladder out of the tree house.
"Gia, this is bullshit. Wait."
I catch up to her near the bottom of the ladder.
Grabbing her arm, I spin her around.
"Dang it, Gia. Talk to me.”
Tears stream down her face as she looks at me.
"Gia," I whisper.
"I'm leaving, Simon. You can't tell me you love me right before I leave and expect everything to be OK!"
I open my mouth to reply, but she stops me.
"No. That's a shit thing to do and I kind of hate you for it."
I scoff at this. She could never hate me. She must see the mirth in my eyes because she huffs, lifts her hands, and pushes me in the chest.
"Really. I do."
I grab her hands and hold them in place.
"No, you don't."
Another eye roll, but this time she doesn't try to pull her hands away.
"You love me, G. Admit it. Finally admit it out loud."
Her eyes start to water, and her face begins to soften.
She nods as fresh tears start to fall. I pull her to me, wrapping my arms around the only girl I'll ever love.
I kiss the top of her head and take a deep breath, trying to commit her smell to memory. Two weeks ago, I would have told you I would always know her scent: orange blossoms. But now … now that the day is near that I won't get to see her every day … now I fear I'll forget, and that's the last thing I want.
She pushes away slightly and looks up at me.
I don't know if we've ever been this close. This intimate. We hug. She rests her head on my shoulder as we gently hold hands.
She looks longingly into my eyes and whispers to me.
"Simon, I love you so much it hurts. It's breaking my heart that I have to leave you."
I gulp. Hearing her say it sends a jolt of electricity through my body. Instinctively, I pull her even closer to me.
"I didn't want us to say it because it makes it all more real. And so much harder to leave," she tells me.
She pulls her bottom lip into her mouth and I can't help but break eye contact to look at her lips. I want to taste them so badly.
Without thinking, I lean down and brush my lips against hers.
A small gasp escapes from the very lips I've thought about kissing for years.
I push my luck and kiss her again, this time with more confidence. She whispers my name. Then her arms are around my neck and she is kissing me back with fervor.
I push my hands through her hair and pull her as close to me as possible.
This isn't my first kiss. But the other girls? They were just practice. I've been waiting for this kiss my whole life.
I nudge her lips with my tongue and she opens them willingly. We stand in my backyard, under the old tree house. The moon, still high in the sky, is just now replacing the sun for the day.
We kiss and breathe each other in. I don't know how long we stand there completely wrapped up in teenage love. But I can feel the moment she brings herself back to reality. I can nearly taste it. She leans back and searches my face.
"Simon. We ... we can't ... that shouldn't have happened," she says. But I can tell she is just trying to convince herself.
"No, it absolutely should have happened. Hell, Gia, it should have happened ages ago. And it should happen again. Right now," I reply and lean into her. But her hands are firm on my chest.
"No. Simon." And she takes a big step back putting distance between us.
Shit, it's getting cold out here.
"Simon, we can't."
She's shaking her head like a war is raging on inside it. I take a step toward her as she starts to shake, which I'm sure is due to the dropping temperature. But she throws a hand up, indicating that I should stop. She looks me in the eye, for what feels like the last time.
"Simon. I love you, but we are not meant to be. Move on. Find someone who will stay." And then she turns on her worn pink Chucks and all but runs away.
I stand there, staring at her, trying to process her words.
Not meant to be?
Move on.
Someone who will stay.
No. She's wrong. And I'll make her see this because we still have some time left. I'll give her the night, but tomorrow we will work this out and come up with a plan to get through the next two years of high school.
The next day, she isn't in second period. I shoot her a text after class but no reply.
I skip out of school during lunch because she never ignores my texts. She'll know I'm worried, even if she is pissed and trying to put some space between us.
When I get to her house, my stomach drops like I'm on a roller coaster. Her car isn't in the drive. There’s a big red SOLD sticker slapped on the ugly For Sale sign in the yard.
I hang up my current call to her. It's maybe my fourth or fifth attempt. I head for the front door.
I ring the doorbell, then knock, then pound.
I race down the front porch steps and head around to the side of the house, to her bedroom window. The same window I've crawled through and helped her crawl out of too many times to count.
I tap on the window.
Nothing.
I try to lift it, but it's been locked.
Not only is my stomach in knots, my heart feels like it's about to crack into a million little pieces.
I call her again
as I head to the back to grab the spare key they usually hide under one of those fake rocks.
The phone rings once, then I'm sent to voicemail.
Fuck.
"Gia's phone. Leave me a message and I'll call you back!"
"Gia. What the hell? Where are you? I'm here at your house. Where are you?"
I hit the button to end the message as I realize the fake rock is missing from its usual spot.
No. She wouldn't do this.
I look into the sliding door and can see enough through the blinds that all the boxes from the living room and kitchen that she and her mom had been packing up are gone. Their furniture—the couch, the Lay-Z-Boy—is nowhere in sight.
She wouldn't do this.
She wouldn't leave without saying goodbye.
We still had a few days left.
My heart shatters as I stumble back to the realization that she did precisely that. I lift my phone to my ear again, not at all surprised that I get her voicemail from the start.
"Gia. Why would you do this? You're a fucking coward."
I'm pissed.
And damn it, my heart is broken.
The girl I love just left without saying goodbye and I'm willing to bet I'll never see or hear from her again.
Chapter Nine
Simon
“All I’m saying is that we should be able to raise more than three hundred thousand dollars this year,” Link exclaims as he pulls a Snapple from the fridge.
“Yeah, I know, but I don’t want to set our sights too high. Last year they only raised two hundred fifty thousand dollars and I know they were sweating it toward the end,” Dex counters.
We are in the gaming room, the space we occupy in the building for practice. While we call it the gaming room, it’s not what normal people would think of when they hear the term. It's the size of our three-bedroom apartment on the floor above. But it was gutted when the team bought it and now it’s pretty much a big open space. There is a bathroom, a kitchen area with a bar and a small but relaxing space with two overstuffed couches and a big-screen TV. The floor-to-ceiling windows that cover one full wall have been tinted so we don’t have to battle glare but can still enjoy the view when we’ve been holed up, practicing for hours on end. We have an excellent gaming setup for a team of five. Each of us has a nice-sized desk with two monitors. One monitor is hooked up to the PS4 gaming system and the other to a computer.
We spend eight to ten hours a day in this room. Think of it as our office.
Right now, we are having our first team meeting about the upcoming fundraising event we will be hosting. It’s for the publisher of Call of Battle, VisionWare. The event is called The Endowment, and its purpose is to fund organizations to help unemployed veterans get back to work in quality jobs. It’s sponsored by one or two big name companies in the industry. We work with a stream-for-charity website that will encourage our live-stream viewers to donate as they watch. Essentially, we’ll be playing the new Call of Battle for seven days straight during the fundraising event.
While it’s a lot of fun to interact with the gaming community, it’s going to be very tiring because we are on camera for seven days straight. The team will take shifts, only being all together two or three times during the event. I’m thankful this only happens once a year.
I’m sitting on the couch with Dex, Bernie, Chuck, Ben, our manager John, and Link. Link left our team a while back but since he spends so much time over here, we still consider him to be one of us.
“Why are you here again?” I mock him. “This is a team meeting.”
Dex and Ben just smirk. Bernie gives me a disapproving look. But I’m just yanking his chain. He’s here because he’s a valuable asset to the team. He thinks of himself as our team’s business strategy consultant.
“I’m here, D-bag, because you guys need a strategy. You don’t just need a strategy for playing a video game, you need an effective plan to make the big bucks,” he replies.
“We do make the big bucks,” I point out.
“I’m just saying, you need someone outside the team, who has a great knack for business,” he explains. “A successful entrepreneur.” He’s starting to sound cocky.
“You run a YouTube channel,” I say blandly.
“Yeah, with more than two million subscribers. It’s a business, my friend.” He grins.
I flip him off. But he knows his marketing strategy genius is a valuable benefit for our team. After all, that YouTube channel makes him more than two hundred thousand a year. But, like professional video gaming, people don’t consider being a YouTube personality as having a real career.
“Alright, we’ve already gotten off topic several times, guys. I’ve got stuff to do today.” Bernie speaks over all of the chatter in the room. She seems to be the voice of reason, most of the time.
Dex snags the pencil out from behind his ear and taps the eraser end on the notebook in his lap.
“Back to the agenda.”
Yes, we have to have an agenda, or we won’t accomplish anything.
“We need to come up with the gaming rotation schedule, make sure the kitchen is well-stocked, plan our giveaways—what the swag is and how often we’re running them. We also need to get a final guest count and when they are joining on the stream or stopping by. We’ve already established that we will open up more Q&A with the viewers and I think our goal should be two hundred seventy-five thousand dollars. Anyone disagree?” He looks around at us, seeking our agreement.
“I’m down,” I offer.
In turn, Bernie, Ben, Chuck, and John all agree.
“Selling yourself short, but whatever,” Link mutters.
“Morgan said she’d help you coordinate the food, Bernie. I’ll just give her my team credit card, if that will help you,” Dex says.
Bernie excitedly snags the notebook out of Dex’s hands.
“Oh great, that will help me not stress out about it when the event starts. I’m working on the schedule this week. I know that this has all been on the calendar for a while but let me know if there are any times you cannot be here. I’ll schedule around everyone’s needs. I was thinking that six-hour shifts will work well.”
OK, not only is she the voice of reason, but she is also a walking day planner. She is ridiculously organized.
We continue to make our way through the agenda with little interruption. Once we are done with the meeting—after Chuck, Ben, and John leave—it’s about dinnertime.
Link looks up from his phone and then slides it into his pocket.
“Anyone up for dinner at The Bar tonight?” he asks the room.
“Can’t. I’m already planning on hanging out with the girls tonight,” Bernie answers.
“Yeah, Ruby just texted and asked if we wanted to join,” he says.
“I can’t. I’ve got a date tonight.” I stand up from my spot on the couch and head to where the gaming stations are set up, so I can sit down at my gaming rig. I set up this date a few days ago. We’ve gone out a couple of times, and she’s cool, but I don’t think I’m really that into her.
“Ah, with that Lindsey chick?” Link asks.
“Yeah. We are meeting for dinner in a couple hours,” I say as I fire up the PlayStation and put my headset on. A little CoB before a date never hurt anyone.
“Well, bring her to The Bar after dinner. You’ve been on like, five dates with her. Isn’t it time to meet her?” Dex offers.
Damn.
“Uh, I mean, we haven’t gone on that many … but I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” I slide my headset off one ear as I glance over at Dex.
“Because of Gia?” Bernie perks up from the notebook where she is still working on the schedule.
“Oh, snap!” Link laughs.
“No, not because of Gia,” I mutter. Great. Now I’m thinking about Gia. But, that could be interesting. I wonder what Gia would do if I brought a date.
“That could actually lead to an electrifying evening,” Dex contemplates.
My eyebrow lifts at his words and I hear Link and Bernie agree.
I swear under my breath and put my headset back on to drown out this conversation. But the last thing I can do now is play a decent round. I yank the headset off, stand back up and go grab my phone off the counter by the door.
“I’ll ask Lindsey, but I can’t guarantee we will be there.” I start to head toward the door. “But if we end up at The Bar, I don’t want to hear or see any of you trying to start something. I don’t even know why you guys think this is a thing. It’s not a thing.” I glare at Link and Dex.
I open the front door to head to the apartment that I share with Dex and Link one floor up. I hear Link muttering as I walk through the doorway.
“Oh, it’s definitely a thing.”
Loud enough for him to hear, I say, “Leave it be, asshat.”
I hear snickers from the peanut gallery as the door closes.
While I’d love to hang out with the group tonight, I’m not one to cancel plans when something better comes along. But, I’ll admit that I wouldn’t mind seeing Gia. Ruffling her feathers a bit could be fun. However, I really don’t like the idea of introducing Lindsey to my friends. I really don’t think we’ll be dating for much longer.
Lindsey and I make it about ten minutes into our meal when my phone starts blowing up. I try to ignore it but, after the fifth or sixth text, I have to look. Sure enough, it’s a combo of group chats with Dex and Link pestering me about stopping by The Bar after dinner.
Against my better judgment, I ask Lindsey if she wants to go. I was reluctant because she wants to see a movie and I’m really not in a movie-watching mood tonight. Now she seems thrilled to be meeting my friends and I want to bang my head on the nearest wall.
On the bright side, I’ll get to see Gia’s reaction.
Chapter Ten
Gia
“I’ll have the loaded tater tots, the large portion, thank you,” Ruby says to the server as she gathers our menus and hands them over.
“Really, you’re gonna eat all those tots yourself?” Link scoffs.
“Yup.” She glares at him, daring him to mock her again.
“Our girl here can really put away the tots. Don’t challenge her. It’s a challenge you won't win,” I say, amused.
Link gives her a speculative look. But it’s the truth. If Ruby wanted, she could be a professional competitive eater. Thirty hot dogs? No problem. I often wonder if she was born with a second stomach. She is almost always eating.