“Oh,” I answer, because it’s all I can say.
Sensing my discomfort—as if it was hard to—he walks toward me, closing the gap that has stood between us ever since he left.
As he comes close, my stomach clenches and instinctively I put my hand up. An image of the letter he sent me—the one I promptly ripped up and burned—flashes in my mind and I can’t go back to that moment. I can’t be the Ella that was innocent and vulnerable and easily fell for him after a crazy night. That Ella is gone.
“It was nice seeing you,” I say, quickly, eyes searching for an out.
“Oh,” he says, head down again. “Yeah, okay, you too.”
“I’ll see you around,” I add, but my words hold no real meaning, and he probably knows that.
“Yeah? Okay, cool,” he says, nodding, and still not looking at me.
“Bye,” I mumble as I turn to leave. I know he’s still behind me, I can feel him there, staring at me. But I have no clue what it all means. I have no clue why he’s even trying to start a conversation with me after all this time. We are over; we are in the past. We should have stayed there.
I find Meg by the door once I get inside. She’s leaning against the counter but she looks too comfortable, too posed. She was spying, of course.
“How’d it go?” she asks as soon as I shut the door.
“Uggghhh,” I answer, knowing she’ll understand the sound better than any other assortment of words. I lean back against the wall and close my eyes as I wait for my hands to stop shaking and the lump in my chest to dissipate. I can’t erase the memory of him glancing down, looking almost pained. I won’t cry. Not here, not now.
“That good?”
“Why is he here?” I whine, frustrated with him, myself, everything.
“Did you ask him?”
“Yeah. He’s going to UCF now. Like, he’s back. For good.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.” I open my eyes.
“You’d think he would’ve let one of us know,” Meg answers, going back into her angry self. I know she’s thinking of me, but I know she’s also thinking of Jake, and the friendship he lost when Matt left. “I mean, coming to my brother’s party like this? What the hell? He had to have known we’d be here. It’s ridiculous, and it pisses me off that he thinks he can just worm his way back in.”
“Right?” I continue where she left off, feeling myself getting heated up. “And what does he want, anyway? Him here, acting all shy, does he want to be friends again or something? Because, no.”
“Where is he now?”
“He’s still outside,” I answer, joining her by the counter and leaning my head on her shoulder. “Why does this suck so much?”
“Because he sucks,” she answers, and I laugh a little. I can always count on her to make me feel better. “And because he’s important to you,” she sighs.
“Yeah, he was, like, a year ago,” I answer, shaking my head, but she eyes me and I stop.
“When you and Nick broke up, how long did it take you to get over him?”
“Like a day.” Which isn’t exactly true, but close enough.
“And after Matt?”
I want to say a day, too, but that’s a lie. It took longer, much longer. And seeing him now—I guess the feelings never fully went away. So I don’t answer, but Meg is already eyeing me again.
“Exactly,” she says. “It sucks that it hurts so much. But it hurts because he’s still important to you.”
She’s right, of course, no matter how much I don’t want to admit it.
“I guess,” I mumble. I stare across the room at the wall I was previously leaning against. I can’t meet her eyes, not yet, because despite myself, I know what I should do, but I’m not ready for it. I know that if I look at Meg, she’ll agree with my right and logical conclusion, despite oftentimes not being right or logical about her own life. For the moment, though, I just want to bask in the melancholy of the situation because it’s easier than dealing with it. I want the feeling to wash over my body and take me hostage.
“You should go back out.”
“Why?” I still won’t look at her.
“As much as I hate the fact that he’s doing this to you—and as much as I want to kill him right now—you need answers. You spent half a year wondering what happened. This is your chance to find out. It’s why I left you out there alone in the first place.”
“Yeah, about that.” I sigh and shut my eyes. “And what about Jake?”
“Oh, I’ve already texted him. There were a lot of expletives in his response.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “I can imagine.”
“Plus, despite Evan’s best efforts, this party kinda sucks.”
I finally look at her. She’s turned to face me, leaning her right side on the counter. Her perfectly colored lips have a slight smirk, as if she’s daring me to go back out. It’s always a game with her, and right now I’m not sure whether to love or hate her for making me play.
Especially because she’s reminding me of all the little dares Matt and I used to have, ones where we pushed each other to do something different or scary or necessary. How he dared me to submit an article to the school newspaper, despite my fear that it would be rejected. (I did; it wasn’t.) How I dared him to play a song he wrote for the rest of the band, despite his conviction that Jake would hate it. (He did; Jake didn’t.)
As I hear the song drifting in my mind, the melancholy ebbs, sliding away like a current. It’s still there, mucking around and ready to be called back, but the waves are calm, and I want answers. So I dare myself to go back to him.
“Fine,” I sigh. She grabs me in a hug. “But first I need some air,” I say to her, feeling claustrophobic. I give her a look and walk toward the front of the house. The party is still going on, oblivious to the reunion that just happened. Oblivious to the fact that my world is completely changing, all due to a single “Hey.”
I walk outside to the front yard, past people talking and making out, and breathe in and out until my eyes don’t feel watery and my mind feels light. The air feels good, soft against my skin, and I find solace in the mere action of walking away. In the grass is a crumpled-up piece of sheet music that I pick up instinctively, and curse myself for doing it. Matt might have left, but our game of collecting found objects, much to my dismay, stayed. Some habits are hard to break. I smooth the paper out to reveal the lyrics.
Deep in December, our hearts should remember
Well, that’s annoyingly appropriate. The line seems to cut off abruptly and though I haven’t heard the song before, I know there has to be more. I turn the sheet over, but there’s nothing.
“What’d you find?”
I spin around at the voice and it’s him, of course, standing behind me. My heart leaps again, but this time I’m ready for him. I’ve had my pep talk, and I no longer have a force field around me, protecting him from getting too close. It’s just me. So I hand him the paper and he has a pained look on his face, like he’s almost sad he’s passed this habit on to me.
“It’s The Fantasticks.”
“Huh?” I ask, walking next to him so I can look at it, too.
“The musical. My mom loves it—she plays the soundtrack a lot.”
“How does it end?” I ask, needing to know.
“The musical?”
“No, the song.”
He looks over at me, finally meeting my eyes, and I suppress the urge to sigh, because that can’t be me. I can be strong. I can do this. I need to know.
“Can we go somewhere and talk?” he answers instead.
“What?”
“It’s been a while and . . .” He lowers the paper to his side. “. . . I don’t know. I’d just like to talk.”
“I don’t know,” I answer, because talking is one thing, but going somewhere to do it is another.
“Come on. The party is loud and I’d like to, you know, see how you’re doing.”
I raise an eyebrow in resp
onse. He should know. He should really know.
“Scratch that last part,” he says, looking down as a flush comes to his face. “I have the song in my car. I can play it for you.”
“Are you trying to kidnap me?” I ask dryly.
“Only a little.” He grins shyly and I can’t help but wonder Was he just flirting? “I’m parked over there.” He points, and the sight of his car makes me pause. It’s exactly as I remember it, parked along the side of the road as if it has been waiting for me this entire year. The right side is still scratched from when the band tried to stuff Barker’s drum set in the backseat. Of course it didn’t work, but they weren’t ones to turn down a challenge.
“I don’t know,” I say again, weighing the options in my mind. Go with him and get answers. Stay here and avoid everything. I’ve done a really good job at avoiding lately. Is it even worth it?
He turns around and starts walking backward to his car, still facing me, and in his own way challenging me. The light from the lamppost reflects off his glasses, making his eyes almost look illuminated. He keeps walking until his shoe hits a rock and he stumbles.
“Whoops,” he says nervously, and stops walking. He straightens out and runs his fingers through his hair again. With that small imperfection I realize for the first time that he’s uncomfortable too. He’s just as nervous and unsure as I am. The realization calms me; we’re in this weird, awkward situation together.
“I have an idea, but feel free to say no,” he says from where he is, across the yard, allowing me space to breathe and decide.
“That good of an idea?” I ask, raising my eyebrow.
“Want to get food? I haven’t eaten.”
And again he’s trying to get me to leave. Again he’s making a weird effort. I could easily just say no, go back to the party—or better yet, go home—and call it a night. Not let him get under my skin, even though he’s already started slipping in. Not go down the road we’ve already traveled. Not let it dead-end again.
But even though my mind is saying that it’s smart to stay, my heart is racing for me to go. Because last year with him and my friends I felt stronger and invincible. I was able to live out fears, wake myself up, and be in the spotlight only Meg previously occupied. And since he left, I’ve simply been living in a cocoon, afraid to put myself out there again. Afraid to be let down again.
I miss that feeling of being alive.
I look over to him and his eyes hold me. I can never say no to those eyes.
Before I answer, he calls out, “And follow.”
“Huh?” I answer, confused.
“The end of the lyric. It’s ‘and follow.’”
A piece clicks in place as he waves the sheet music in his hand, and without realizing it, I nod. I follow.
“Where to?” I ask.
“Wing King?”
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers
..................................................................
THEN
8:50 P.M.
“So you’re the new bassist I’ve been hearing about?” I yelled to Matt over the noise at the house party.
“It depends, what have you heard?” he asked with a smile.
“That you’re going to save the dying Pepperpots.”
“I resent that,” Barker interjected.
“Heh, they’re pretty good. I don’t know if they need me to save them. But, yes, I am that superhero.” He nodded, striking a Superman pose.
I smiled at him, in awe of how comfortable I felt. I never felt this comfortable in front of Nick; I never was able to make jokes or make him laugh. He didn’t care about my retorts, something I realized much too late.
“I’m going to grab a drink, do you want one?” he asked. Meg still hadn’t returned with my drink, so I shook my head.
“I’m good, thanks.”
“Okay, cool,” he answered, combing his fingers through his hair, and letting it fall back into place. I watched as he turned away and walked toward the keg.
“Hey,” Barker whispered—well, loudly whispered. “She’s here.”
“Who’s here?”
“Jake’s new girl. Does Meg know about her?” he asked cautiously, glancing at Meg to make sure she didn’t hear.
I looked over at Meg. She was laughing with a girl from her math class, her head tilted far back, full-on reckless. She looked so happy, and it made me scared to think of how quickly Jake and his new girl could sink it all. “Yeah, she mentioned her on the way over. Thus the, er, outfits.”
“I noticed that,” he said. “I was wondering who it was for.”
“Well you know I’d never buy a shirt like this for myself,” I said, playing with the sleeve.
“Eh, it suits you. You look nice.” Barker and I had only been friends for a few years, but he knew me better than any other guy. We got along well, and there was never an attraction to ruin it. He could call my bluffs; I could call his. Anyway, he was so ridiculously happy with his girlfriend, Gabby, that it didn’t matter. They were like a married couple. They cooked dinners together.
“So what do you think of Matt?” Meg asked, sneaking back over and handing me a cup of foamy beer.
“Is this the goal for the night? Hook me up with him?” I asked the question jokingly, but at the same time my heart expectantly flipped. I didn’t feel ready for a relationship, I didn’t feel ready to be interested in a new guy, but it didn’t hurt to meet someone new. I looked over and saw him coming back. My face heated right up.
“Pretty much.” Meg nodded.
“Yeah,” Barker agreed. I rolled my eyes, smiling at my very persuasive friends.
The kitchen started to fill up more, bodies pressed against bodies. A last chord rang out as the first band ended their set, so we were finally able to properly hear each other.
“I’m gonna go look for Gabby. She should be here by now.” Barker turned to go.
“Um, want me to come?” Matt asked, a crease forming on his forehead. He was obviously unsure where to go, considering he didn’t know anyone else here. Well, except for Jake, who, if I knew Jake, was probably off with his new girl doing something Matt didn’t want to see. I hoped Barker would tell him to stay with us.
“Nah, stick with the girls. In about twenty minutes, meet me by the stage. I’d say earlier, but it might take this band two hours to take down their gear. Let’s just say they’re not the best.” He gave Matt a small salute and walked away.
“I . . . guess you’re stuck with me?” he asked. I looked back at him, knowing I was okay with that.
“So how do you like Orlando?” I asked. There were tons of things I wanted to know, but it was the first question that popped in my head.
“It’s okay. I’ve only been here for about a month. I don’t know much about it yet, really.”
“We’ll have to take you out, then,” I answered, carefully using the plural so it would seem casual.
“That would be cool,” he agreed. “You know, I’m really glad Jake offered me the spot. It sounds like fun, playing again.”
“Did you play a lot before?”
“A bit. I’m not a pro or anything,” he said with a shrug.
“Don’t worry, neither are they.” I smiled back, still feeling at ease. He had little dimples that popped when he smiled; they were adorable. “So, where did you go to school before you—”
“Mingle?” Meg interrupted, cocking her head to one side. I was slightly irritated by her sudden desire to join us, but it was Meg. As I looked at her, a small part of me questioned—what if he liked her better? She was taller, blonder, prettier . . . why wouldn’t he? But as I looked back, he was still gazing at me—not Meg—still waiting for my answer. So I shrugged, silently agreeing and knowing we had a full night of conversation ahead of us. It didn’t end there. Matt nodded in response as well. I put my cup on the table, trading my drink for Meg’s hand, grabbing hold so I didn’t lose her in the crowd. It looked like
our entire high school and the neighboring high school were there. Rivals in football, best friends in parties. Some were there for the bands, still surrounding the stage and pumping their fists; some for the beer, chugging drinks faster than the drummer hit his drums; and some for the company. I was there for friends.
We pushed past a few people I vaguely recognized, to whom I offered a nod or wave. I looked back, hoping to make eye contact with Matt, but realized he hadn’t kept up with us. Stuck a couple of people behind, he was vigorously trying to catch up. To help, I reached back through the throng of bodies until I felt a hand grasp mine. A shiver spread through my body.
We made it to the living room, where, as predicted, the band was unsuccessfully packing up their equipment. Wires were crisscrossed, cymbals were tossed about. The bodies milling around in the hot, small space were clammy and packed in close. I held on tight to both Meg and Matt, not wanting to lose them in the crowd.
“Oh god.” Meg stopped dead in her tracks, forcing me to halt behind her. Matt, unaware of our pause, crashed into me.
“Oh, sorry, I didn’t—”
But I ignored him because through the mess of people I saw what caused Meg to stop. And my heart dropped. Jake had his back to us, but we knew it was him. The black T-shirt was his staple. His dyed-orange hair, curly and usually gelled, was disheveled. And that was because two hands were raking through it, pulling his face toward hers. While I couldn’t see who was currently ruining Meg’s life, I assumed it was Jake’s new girl. I hated her instantly.
“I . . .” Meg started, turning back to me. Her normally composed face was ashen, her eyes huge.
“Drink? Kitchen?” I asked, looking for something to distract her. I knew drowning her sorrows in alcohol wasn’t the best idea, but it was the only thing I had.
The Night We Said Yes Page 3