We’re all sitting at the kitchen table for my mom’s Sunday dinner, and this is the first time that all my friends have been over that I’ve been completely silent the entire time. Sabrina accompanied Brody for the very first time, and I’ve been watching with a lump in my throat every time they exchange glances and hold hands under the table. Michie’s sitting with Emmy, cutting her steak for her while Nikkolas steals a kiss from Sarah the minute my mom looks away from them. And don’t even get me started on Nathan and Hanna. They’re just staring at each other like they’re the only people in the room, even though their kids are arguing with each other over who gets the spare dinosaur chicken nugget because Mom made an odd number. The sight of all of these happy couples makes me sick. And I never thought I’d say or think something like that.
“Nic, what are you and Nikkolas gonna do for your birthday?” Brody asks, looking at me from across the table.
I shrug, averting my gaze.
I know that’s a normal question to ask, considering my birthday is in a week, but I hate that he’s asked it.
Colin was the one who made the plans for my birthday. He took over completely. I don’t even know what he had planned, and now that I know things are over between us, I don’t want to. I want to be by myself on my birthday, because that’s the day he felt like he had to make me feel like I was the center of the universe.
“We’re going to take her to dinner the night before her birthday, B,” Mom says, giving Brody a smile.
I raise my eyebrows as my head jerks in her direction. What the fuck?
“I never agreed to dinner,” I argue.
“You didn’t have to. It’s your eighteenth birthday, sweetheart.”
I gape at my parents with my mouth wide open. My father’s gaze meets mine, and he gives an almost imperceptible shake of his head, like he’s trying to keep me from arguing. But I’m going to argue. I don’t want any plans made without my say so. I don’t want any big deal being made over my birthday.
“I’m hardly in the mood to celebrate, Daddy.” I direct my words directly to my dad, because I know he’ll do exactly what I ask, regardless of what my brother wants. I hate to have to play this card, but they’ve put me in the position to where I feel like I have to. “I don’t want to go to dinner. Whatever it is you guys have planned, you need to count me out.”
Nikky glares at me for a second before Sarah’s hand comes up to smack him on the back of the head. He gives me an apologetic glare, and bows his head, reaching behind his head to rub the spot that his girlfriend just hit.
“It’s not just your birthday,” Daddy says, and I shoot him a look. Unfortunately, he doesn’t back out. “Nikkolas deserves the chance to celebrate, too.”
“Well you guys can celebrate with Nikkolas. But I refuse to go. You can cancel the reservations or count me out.”
My mother looks upset, and she smacks her hand on the table. “Just because you and Colin broke up—”
“You really don’t want to finish that sentence.” My teeth are gritted as I speak to her. I’m trying to keep all my emotions at bay.
She stares at me like I’ve grown a second head before her eyes narrow. She shoves away from the table, and for a second I think she’s about to march over and slap the shit out of me, but my dad places a hand over hers and squeezes. He gives me The Look, and then turns to my mother.
“You both need to stop. Honey, don’t antagonize her. She’s…going through a lot,” he tells my mom. “And you, Nickayla Alicia.” I gulp at his use of my middle name. “You watch how you speak to your mother. I don’t care what you’re going through. You will not disrespect your elders in this house.”
I nod. “Yes, Daddy.”
I stare down at my plate, not bothering to cast another glance in anyone’s direction. I stare at my food as I push it across the plate, not really wanting to take a bite. Suddenly, my appetite has completely vanished. Even when I hear someone clear their throat, I don’t look up. I can’t bear it. Can’t bear to see the looks on their faces.
“Jude, I’m not antagonizing her. I’m telling the truth. She can’t start acting like a stranger again just because she’s ‘going through a lot. And besides, her birthday isn’t her decision. The reservations are already made. We made them back when Colin made his—” my mom immediately stops talking the minute that I lift my head and my fork drops from my hand, clanking against my dinner plate. I jerk back from the table and stand up. “Nickayla, sweetheart.”
I shove my chair into the table. “Don’t!”
I feel like my air supply is cut off completely by the lump that’s lodged itself in my throat. Without another thought, I turn on my heels and try not to look at my friends and family as I walk past them and up the stairs to Naomi’s bedroom. I wrench the door to her room open and plop myself down on her bed. I reach in my purse for a book, and I open up Slammed by Colleen Hoover. I sit back against the wall, setting the book in my lap as I try to read and get my mind off of Colin, my parents, my stupid birthday.
I’m alone for an hour, book in my lap, when my cell phone rings once, indicating that I’ve gotten a text message.
28777: Delivered 01/15/2014 6:37 pm HARLOW, CA 01845 Reply HELP 4 info-STOP to cancel
I blink in confusion, then stare at the text message again. I didn’t order anything. I’m in such a funk that even retail therapy can’t help me right now. So what the Hell is going on?
I put my book to the side, then slip my feet into a pair of sandals as I head to out of Nomi’s room. Once downstairs, I try my damnedest to avoid the kitchen. I wrench the door open, and sure enough, there’s a package waiting on the front porch step. I pick it up and stare down at the label that’s affixed atop the box. My name’s on it. My address is on it.
What the Hell?
Turning it over in my arms, I take a deep breath before I scurry inside and back upstairs. Once I’m back in Nomi’s room, I set the box on her bed and start pacing back and forth.
Without opening it, I already know what it is.
It’s a birthday gift from Colin.
I’m unsure whether I should be excited or upset. I haven’t heard from him since last week, when he walked away from me. He avoids me like the plague at school, keeps his distance from Mich and Brody when I’m around, and he even dropped my laptop and a journal off with my sister while I was at work a couple days ago.
I’m confused as to why my gift showed up here instead of at the apartment.
After a few moments, I decide that I don’t care how or why it’s here. It just is.
I grab a pair of Nomi’s scissors off her dresser and open them up. I slice through the tape on the box and beneath an overabundance of tissue paper I find the most beautiful white sheath dress with black lace paneling the sides. I feel all the wind knocked out of me when I set the dress down and realize there’s something else that came with the dress. There’s a note inside the box.
This time, I don’t hesitate. I snatch it up and open the note.
Nickayla,
Because this dress is almost as beautiful as you are.
And because no one in the world wears a dress better than the girl I love.
Happy Birthday,
Colin
I reread it a few more times before a smile creeps up on my face. I clutch the dress and the note to my chest as I make my way over to the mirror.
I examine every aspect of the dress in my reflection and try to imagine what it will look like when I put it on.
I start to think that perhaps Colin is still in this. Perhaps he hasn’t given up yet. Perhaps it’s not the end yet.
He had to have ordered this gift for me recently. I know this because it was delivered here instead of the apartment. His note is simple, short, and incredibly sweet. It says so much about how he feels about me without really saying much of anything.
And it says just enough to give me just a little piece of hope to hold on to through my heartbreak.
…
I lie in bed, my head in my sister’s lap as she runs her fingers through my hair. My eyes are closed, and I’m trying to fight the sleep that threatens to pull me under.
She came into the room not long after I finally put my dress away, saying that she needed to talk to me. But she’s been in the room with me for almost forty five minutes, and she still hasn’t said a word.
Finally, she clears her throat and I can feel her gaze upon mine.
“Daddy says you don’t have to go to dinner with us if you’re not up for it,” she tells me. “He would like you to, but he understands if you don’t, because he knows you’ve got shit going on. He just wants you and Mom to apologize to each other.”
I give my sister a look, and I’m sure she knows that I’m not going to apologize.
I sigh, but I don’t respond to her. Instead, I give a curt nod.
I love my mother, I really do. But she knows exactly which buttons to push to piss me off.
However, my mom is the last person on my mind. The only thing I’m thinking about right now is Colin, and debating whether or not I should call him.
It’s actually amazing what love and vulnerability can do to me. Right now, lying here with my sister, cell phone in hand, I feel exactly the same as I did last year when I was afraid to call him and ask for help. Something about that boy turns me into a moon-eyed little girl who’s afraid to talk to her crush.
“Why don’t you just call him?” my sister asks, her voice cutting through my thoughts.
I wonder idly how she knew what was going on in my head. But then I let the thought pass, because Naomi has always been way too perceptive for her own good.
I shrug. “I’m scared, I guess?”
Laughing, Naomi pushes me off her lap and into a sitting position.
“You both are going to drive the three of us fucking insane. He texts me at least three times every day asking how you’re doing. He texts Michie at least twice that. He’s afraid. You’re afraid. And honestly, I don’t even know why. You both love each other. All of this that’s going on is ridiculous. Call him.”
At her words, I can’t help but be surprised. I didn’t know he’d been calling or texting my friends and my sister.
I shake my head.
“If he can call and text you guys, why can’t he do the same for me? Why hasn’t he contacted me? Why can he send me presents but can’t text me?”
Shrugging, Nomi takes a deep breath. “He loves you, Nickayla. And he misses you like crazy. But he hates himself. He hates how he treated you, how he made you feel. He hates that shit got so far with Madilyn that she felt comfortable enough to kiss him. That you no longer felt secure in your relationship toward the end. That you don’t trust him anymore. And he feels like he deserves that. He feels like he’s not good enough for you, and that you’d be better off if he just stayed away from you.” She pauses. “But I think he’s starting to realize that’s not possible.”
My head is spinning. I had no idea Colin felt this way, no idea he felt so guilty over what happened between us. But how could I? He hasn’t talked to me at all.
I don’t want to give up on him. I don’t want to give up on us, even though I’m beginning to think he already has.
I still have hope. I do.
But every day I go without a phone call or text message, every night I cry myself to sleep while wearing his sweatshirt, every morning I wake up to an empty bed, every time I have my morning coffee with no one by my side, every time he looks the other way when I walk past him in the hallway at school, my hope depletes.
“I don’t get why he can’t tell me any of this himself,” I say. “He can call me just as easily as he can call you and Michie and Brody.”
“And you can just as easily grow some balls and call him. A phone works both ways,” she retorts. “You have this issue where you want him to do all the work. You want him to call you. You want him to come to you. You want him to fight for you. But did you fight for him? Or did you withdraw as soon as shit got rough, not tell him what was bothering you, and then expect him to fix it?”
I shake my head.
I don’t want to admit that although I didn’t do it at first, I did eventually give up on fighting for us.
But I don’t want to admit to that. I can’t admit to that. I know it’s not all Colin’s fault what happened to us, but I can’t accept that I pushed him away just as much he did it to me.
My sister wrestles my cell phone out of my hand while I’m lost in thought, and before I know it, she’s pressing a ringing phone to my ear. I yank it away and stare at Colin’s face as it continues to ring. I try to pass the phone back to Nomi, but she slaps my hand away. Shakily, I lift it back to my ear just as the ringing stops. I almost exhale a sigh of relief when suddenly, I hear a throat clearing on the other end.
“Hello, Nickayla,” Colin says, his voice a strange mixture of confusion and relief.
I close my eyes and inhale a deep breath. “I miss you so much,” I say in a quiet voice, a second before I slap a hand over my mouth.
The line goes completely silent, and I wonder whether he’s hung up on me. I pull the phone away from my ear and stare down at the picture of Colin that’s still on display.
I’m almost tempted to apologize for calling him, and then hanging up the phone out of pure embarrassment. But then, when I think I can’t wait any longer, when I start to feel incredibly foolish for falling for him in the first place and pining over him when things seem to be clearly over, he speaks.
“I miss you, too.”
Twenty Six.
Over the course of the last week, I’ve received a new gift from Colin every day.
On Monday, I received a pair of hot pink Mary Jane pumps—I assume they’re meant to accompany my dress.
On Tuesday, I received a scrapbook filled with tickets to movies and concerts we’ve seen together, pictures we’ve taken, souvenirs we’ve bought, and love notes that we’ve exchanged over the course of our relationship.
On Wednesday, I received a mason jar filled with tiny scraps of paper, exactly like the one I gave him for his eighteenth birthday, each one containing a quote, a song lyric, or a reason he loves me.
On Thursday, I received the Naked2 eyeshadow palette I’ve been wanting, a Divergent phone case for the iPhone my dad gave me on Sunday evening as an early birthday present, and a gift card to Ulta.
On Friday, I received my iPod, the one he gave me for my birthday last year, and when I unlocked it, there was a new playlist on it, titled, Just Listen. I haven’t had it in me to play any of that music just yet.
And today, well…today’s my eighteenth birthday. And I’m having the worst day ever.
It’s 12:02 a.m. I stayed up until midnight just in case Colin decided to show up like he did last year, just so he could be the first person to wish me a happy birthday.
But nothing. It’s 12:03 a.m. and nothing.
No small birthday cake for just the two of us. No guitar slung over his sculpted back as he plucked the strings as he sang yet another song he picked for me. No moonlight serenade. No midnight kiss. No bashful Colin with his tail tucked between his legs as he ponders whether or not he should get in bed with me.
No Colin, period.
Nothing.
And my heart is completely broken.
I’m standing here, staring out my window and hoping his Malibu will pull up, while wearing his hooded Fiske High School sweatshirt from his school in Big Springs and a pair of plaid boxers.
As much as I want to hope, I know he’s not coming. I should have known before I even got my hopes up.
I grab my cell phone and dial Michele’s number. Her phone rings a few times before it goes to voicemail. That doesn’t stop me, though; I just keep dialing her number until she decides to answer my call.
“What in God’s name do you want, Nickayla?” Michele yells into the phone, but her voice is thick with exhaustion, I can tell.
I know I’ve upset her by calling at such an
ungodly hour, but I couldn’t help myself. I needed to talk to her about all of this.
“Did Colin tell you he was coming over to my house tonight?” I ask.
I hear my best friend groan on the other end. “He didn’t tell me anything actually, because it’s fucking midnight and only fucking crazy people like you call fucking irritable people like me at this time of night.”
Now it’s my turn to groan. “Michele! Focus!”
“I’m focused! I’m focused! I’m not awake is the only problem.”
I’m trying with all of my might not to cry, but it’s nearly impossible. My heart is in my throat as I wait for her to finally answer my question. She’s silent for a long time, but I know not to hang up because I can hear her breathing—and she’s not snoring—on the other end.
“No, he didn’t tell me whether he was coming over to your house or not. Why?” she asks.
“Because. Because he sent me a gift every day this week, and he was supposed to be here at midnight. I expected him to be here at midnight. And he’s not here. And I figured if anyone knew whether he was coming or not, it would be you,” I explain.
“Well, maybe he wasn’t trying to come at midnight? Maybe he figured that you would expect that already? I don’t know.”
I don’t know either. I honestly don’t. And I don’t know how much more of this silence and shit I can take. The other day when he told me that he missed me, I thought that was the beginning of something. Of us getting back together. Of that small spark of hope I once had of us being together for the rest of our lives.
But now, I’m not sure. I’m not sure about any of it.
“Tell him he needs to come and pick up his presents. And tell him that I don’t want to hear from him ever again. I can’t—” my voice breaks a little bit. “I can’t keep doing this. I can’t wait for him to come to his senses. I’m done.”
Michele’s heavy breathing on the other end is the only thing keeping me from completely breaking down right now.
“I’m gonna tell him something alright. I’ll see you later, okay?”
Almost Everything (Nickayla Quinn Trilogy Book 2) Page 22