by Ella Fields
Ugh. I reached up, feeling around my messy bun until I found it dangling from one of the curled ends. “Thanks.”
“No worries,” she said, still eyeing me. “Late night?”
“Something like that.” I turned back to my notes, or lack thereof. I needed to get my shit together. Art history was one of the classes I couldn’t breeze through with minimal effort.
I was tempted to ask the girl if she’d mind sharing her notes, but then thought better of it.
It was my own fault for not paying attention.
When the lecture was over, laughter and chatter filled the cavernous room as students moved up the stairs and out the doors, one after another. I only went to get up when the girl beside me had left, slowly shoving my notepad and pen into my backpack.
“Miss Daniels, a word if you don’t mind.” My eyes bulged at hearing the professor’s voice once again.
I’d never been one to get in trouble at school, though it probably would’ve done my popularity rating a little good. Right then, though, having it happen in college was downright humiliating.
Relieved that most everyone had left, I sulked down the steps, shifting my gaze anywhere except for the professor’s stony expression.
“Here,” he said, holding out a sheet of paper. “First and last time I’m offering. You snooze, and you’ll well and truly lose, Miss Daniels.”
Bewildered, I reached out, taking today’s class notes from him. “Thank you. I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.”
He looked at me for a moment, his whiskered jawline shifting with his twitching lips. “Pardon me for saying so, but you look like someone’s tossed you into the clothes dryer and forgotten about you.” He peered at the nest of hair on top of my head, shaking his own. “Get some sleep. This isn’t high school. You don’t keep up, you might just fail.”
I nodded, thanking him again. My cheeks were crimson, and my gait hunched as I walked back up the stairs and out the doors into the early fall sunlight.
Football season had definitely begun, the university bedecked with the Tomahawks colors.
Flags of burnt orange with a crest of two steel tomahawks crossing over in the center hung from every building, shopfront, and even street signs. Orange and gray streamers were interwoven throughout the gardens and swinging from the trees.
My throat tightened, the cool breeze hitting my wet eyes. I lifted my backpack higher over my shoulder, keeping my head down as I made the short walk back to my dorm.
Idly, I wondered how long I might feel like this. Like some giant boulder had taken up residence in my chest, nudging its way into my throat whenever it pleased and making it hard to breathe.
Take care.
A laugh spewed out of me as I walked upstairs, dry and foreign as it departed my cracked lips. Take care. Who says that?
Quinn. He said that.
I closed the door, falling back against it and trying to curse him out with every creative name that filtered through my mind.
But I couldn’t. It was like my stupid body refused to poison the sound of his name with anything vulgar.
I just didn’t understand. Why? After all our years together, the friendship, the laughter, the love, the memories … why would he do this to me?
You left.
I did leave, but it wasn’t what I wanted. It killed me to leave, but I had no choice. Unlike him. He made a choice I never saw coming. Did he seriously think I wouldn’t care if he moved on? With her?
And the fact they’d clearly survived being apart his first year of college? Why her and not me?
Confusion and anger swept through me as I dumped my backpack on my bed, a few pens and my phone falling out. Tears burned my nose, my eyes, and my throat as I picked up my phone, dialing the one person who might be able to help me get some answers.
“Honey?” my mom answered. “Hey, I thought I’d have to be the one chasing you down after you dodged my last call.” She laughed a little, but stopped when I remained silent. “Daisy?”
“Yeah, I’m here.”
Her voice grew wary. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“He’s here, too.” Flopping down on my bed, I gazed out the sheer curtain covering my window, watching the shadows of students below, walking to and fro from behind it.
She didn’t say anything for a long while, and my mind started whirring, my head spinning. Oh, hell. “You knew he’d be here, didn’t you?”
“I didn’t, not for sure,” she said quickly. I knew she spoke with Quinn’s mom, Amy, sometimes, just not as much as they used to. I also knew that Quinn had tried to call the house a few times after I’d changed my number, and that he eventually stopped.
My breath hitched, eyes closing. She’d never said anything. Unless … “You’ve known, all along, that he’s moved on?”
“Daisy, honey.”
“No. What the hell, Mom?” I sniffed, brushing a hand under my nose. “With Alexis?”
“Shit.” She breathed the word out, and I could almost picture her pacing the floor of our kitchen. “You saw them?”
“Of course. You had to know I would eventually.”
“I’m sorry.” She paused. “I didn’t know how to tell you when I found out.”
“When? When did you find out?”
She blew out a loud breath. “Almost a year ago.” Her voice was quiet. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know if it would last and neither did Amy. And she’s never spoken about it again. The last time she even mentioned them was months ago.”
My brow scrunched, tears tracing salty, silent lines down my cheeks as I tried to think back to all the times I’d heard her on the phone to Amy. But she’d always made a point to talk to her when I wasn’t around. Questions raced through my head. I wanted to know so much yet didn’t know if I could handle the answers or if she’d even know them.
As if knowing where my thoughts were, she murmured, “She wouldn’t say much, sweetheart. I don’t think …”
“What?”
“I don’t think she liked it, never sounded too enthusiastic about it. More, um, apologetic, I guess.” She sighed heavily, and my head fell against the window frame. “She mentioned Quinn was in a bad way after we left.”
My head jerked up. “What do you mean?”
“The reason we took your cell from you was to try to help you let go a little, move on enough to be happy again. But, well, it was also because Amy said whenever Quinn got off the phone with you, he’d either sleep or go out drinking.”
“Drinking?” I asked. He used to hang out with his friends, sure, but he’d rarely drink.
“Yeah, that’s all I know. You weren’t the only one struggling, honey. We thought it best to give you guys a break.”
A humorless laugh left me. “And now look what’s happened.”
“I’m sorry. We didn’t think you’d still feel this way, not after so much time had passed.”
But I did. And it only made it worse that everyone else seemed to know.
The door to our room opened, and Pippa smiled briefly before closing it and dumping her backpack on the floor.
“I’d better go.”
“Daisy, please don’t—”
“It’s okay, I …” I stopped, and swallowed. “I just need some time to process it all.”
“Okay, I’m sorry. Make sure you call if you need me.”
“I will.” I hung up with a sigh, tossing my phone on the bed.
Pippa sat down at the end of my bed, undoing her long braid. “Feeling any better?”
I wasn’t, but I tried to offer her a smile. She cringed. “Yeah, no. Don’t force it, woman. I’m capable of handling the truth.”
She snapped her elastic band around her wrist and grabbed my sketchpad from my bag, flicking through it. She pointed at the last picture I’d drawn, which was last week, staring out this exact window. “You haven’t drawn anything since this?”
I shook my head. “Only in class.”
She made a disapproving sound, then
closed it and tucked it back into my bag.
“Have you ever had your heart broken?” I didn’t know what made me ask. Maybe I didn’t want to feel like I was so alone. And I knew she had. When her dad left.
But she knew I wasn’t referring to him. “No. Not in the way I think you’re suffering.”
Nodding, I sniffed and looked back out the window. People were drifting in and out of buildings, slowly scattering as the afternoon leeched some of the vibrancy from the sky.
“Hey, the parlor is looking for someone to work a few nights a week. I asked if they’d hold off on hiring until I checked with you.”
I looked at her, observing her clear, porcelain skin and the pity in her green eyes. “Why?”
I wasn’t exactly rolling in money, but I had some left in my college fund.
She shrugged, standing up and walking to her dresser by the end of the bed. “Just thought it’d do you some good. Being in a bright place with a happy vibe. Because hey, who doesn’t like getting paid to look at ice cream all day?”
“You just started working there. You might hate it in a week.”
“True,” she said, opening and closing her drawers. “But I like it enough.”
Something sour filled my taste buds, creeping into my mouth at the thought of working at the same place where I’d had my heart returned to me in itty bitty pieces. “I don’t think so, but thanks.”
Lifting a shoulder, she stuffed her pajamas under her arm and grabbed her toiletry bag before opening the door. “Suit yourself. But I think you should at least think about it. This will eventually pass. One day, you won’t feel so bad, and you don’t want to find yourself in a mess when that happens.”
With those words, she left.
Yeah, so I didn’t think she’d been in love before, but still, her words held some merit. Enough to have me dissecting them, twisting and turning them over and over in my mind until they lay flat and empty. Useless.
Groaning, I scrubbed my hands over my face. I was letting this suck me into a whirlwind of nothing good, and I needed out.
Resolved, I got up, then promptly sat right back down as my gaze landed on the paintings I’d managed to hang above my bed. I stared at Spud. A ball of happy yellow fur that I missed so much. Almost as much as his owner, who sat beside him, smiling at something in the distance of the fields on his parents’ farm.
As we grew, I’d memorized every inch of his face while every week and month passed, noting the changes and the way his eyes started to see the world differently. To see me differently. And just as I’d done many times before, I’d painted this picture of him. Knowing I’d never capture the essence of all he was and all he made me feel, but I was desperate to try.
The result had my breath trapped in my lungs as I continued to stare at the painting. The fine golden brushstrokes in his unruly hair, the emerald green specks in his hazel eyes, the soft pink that edged his lips.
Sadness encompassed me, washing over my head like a bucket of ice water as it dawned on me that he wasn’t mine to stare at anymore. I shouldn’t even be looking at him like this. Shouldn’t have this picture on my wall, let alone above my bed.
Ignoring that newfound, bruising knowledge, I crawled across the bed and hesitantly reached up to touch it. Reverently, I stroked my finger over his lips, remembering how warm and gentle they could be when pressed against mine.
Holding my breath, I reached for the edge of the paper, but paused.
I couldn’t do it. Couldn’t tear it down. I should. But I was desperate not to let go.
Not yet, not again. I’m not ready.
The moon and the stars.
It didn’t seem right for one to exist without the other. Yet here I was, being forced to do so anyway.
My hand fell, and I slumped onto the bed, a sob leaving my chest and echoing out of my mouth, filling the small room.
I should’ve known he’d move on—that something might happen—instead of foolishly believing we’d end up together again.
My heart, even now, refused to listen. It was failing to comprehend what my brain kept repeating to it. That access to its counterpart was now suddenly forbidden.
Or maybe, it simply felt too betrayed to care.
Sixteen years old
Quinn flipped me over on my back, covering me with his body. Which was sweet, except I feared I was soon going to resemble a pancake. “Who’disit?” I mumbled, my face and lips melded to his pec.
“Alexis?” he asked, shock raising his voice.
Well, that answered that.
Alexis sounded more shocked. “Uh, sorry. I’ll just …”
I pushed at Quinn until my head could peek out from under his arm. Alexis stood in the doorway, looking anywhere and everywhere around the room with wide eyes, her gaze repeatedly swinging back to Quinn’s butt. I couldn’t really blame her. He had a great one.
“I’ll wait outside. Let me know when, um, the coast is clear.”
The door closed, and Quinn relaxed over me, stuffing his head into my neck and laughing quietly.
“Busted Custard,” I said through a few laughs of my own.
“So awkward,” he muttered, then lifted his head. “Suppose we’d better get dressed.”
“Yeah,” I breathed, lost in the eyes staring back at me.
Lowering his lips to mine, he kissed me thoroughly before hopping up and getting rid of the condom.
“What are you going to do with it?” I eyed the small trash can beside his bed while tugging my panties, bra and dress on, then slipped my feet into my Chucks.
He stared at the trash for a moment, pulling his briefs over that fantastic butt with his free hand. My shoulders deflated as I watched it disappear behind the fabric. I quickly tried to tame my hair as Quinn tossed it into the trash can, pulled his jeans and shirt on, then grabbed the bag of garbage.
I couldn’t help but laugh. “You? Taking the trash out? They’ll know something is up immediately.” His mama did everything for him, much to his dad’s annoyance.
He bopped me on the nose. “Hush, you. I’ve got an idea.”
He tied the bag then disappeared, his footsteps sounding on the steps. Intrigued, I quickly cleaned up in the upstairs bathroom, wincing at the sting between my legs and the blood I saw on the toilet paper. After washing my hands, I took a seat on his bed and waited for him to return.
He walked in with a new bag in hand, a bag of chips, and an apple, which he placed on his dresser. “You’re going to eat the food and toss the garbage into it? So smart.” I forced out a dreamy sigh. “How did I ever get so lucky?”
He replaced the bag, opened the chips and stuffed a few in his mouth, mumbling around them. “Right?” He waggled his brows, and my heart panged with how much I felt for this giant dork in front of me.
I got up to steal some chips from the bag. “You haven’t even washed your hands.”
He shrugged, chewing loudly then swallowing. “Not gonna. I like smelling you on my fingers.”
My nose wrinkled. “You’re a bit dirty, Quinton.”
He kissed me, his lips tasting like potato chips, which made me stick my tongue out to lick them. He huffed out a laugh, pulling back and adjusting my glasses. “You secretly love it.”
“No secret about it,” I said, chucking my handful of chips into my mouth and crunching down. “Better put Alexis out of her misery. Guess she changed her mind about hanging out.”
He looked thoughtful for a moment, then said, “Yeah, she didn’t say anything when I went downstairs. She’s sitting at the dining table, though. Want me to drive you guys home?”
“Nah, it’s okay. I’ll see you tomorrow?”
He nodded and grabbed my hand, tugging me to him and laying a firm kiss on my lips. “I love you, Daisy June.”
My brain turned to mush at his sweet, deep voice saying those words. “I love you.”
Walking downstairs, I found Alexis exactly where Quinn said I would. She was fiddling with her phone but looked up when
I approached, her eyes roaming over me. “Looks kind of obvious, Daisy.”
I glanced down at myself in dismay. “Really?”
She sighed and got up. “Not overly.” Walking over to me, she tried to fix my hair and adjusted my dress. “There. Want me to walk you home? I don’t really want to hang around now.” She laughed.
“Sure,” I said, my cheeks heating a bit. This definitely was a little awkward. “Looking forward to summer break?” I asked, trying to defuse the tension as I retrieved my bag from Quinn’s truck on the way out.
“I guess.”
Slinging it over my shoulder, I followed Alexis out of the dusty driveway to the even dustier dirt road that led to my house.
“So …” she said after a few minutes of stale silence. “You guys did it?”
The sun was starting to make me sweat, but it wasn’t the sole reason my cheeks and neck grew hot. “Yeah, we did.”
“Wow.” She kicked a rock with her sneaker. “How was it?”
“You really want to know?” I chewed on my lip, sneaking a glance at her and finding her curious eyes on me.
“Of course. This is huge … I was just shocked. I mean, you’ve always seemed like—”
“Like I’d hold onto my virginity until I got married?”
She gave me a small grin. “Maybe not that long, but yeah.”
We walked in silence for a while before I finally admitted, “It hurt.”
“Yeah?” She sounded intrigued. “How much?”
“Not too much, but it kind of steals your breath for a while, you know? It’s more of a burning sensation.”
She let out a nervous laugh. “God, I think when I give it up, I should make sure I’m wasted then.”
“Don’t,” I said, grabbing her hand with mine as we neared the front gates to my house. “Give it to someone who deserves it. That’s the only reason I did it now.”
“Do you think it’d make it hurt any less?”
That made me smile. “Yeah, probably not. But …” I took a steadying breath, missing Quinn already. “It makes everything feel way better.”
“You’ve got no one to compare that to, though.” She arched a dark brow at me, adjusting her bag over her shoulder. “It’s always just been Quinn.”