by Ellie Hall
Follow-up show? This just keeps getting worse. This is why I should have had someone read over the dumb contract.
“Now for the final scenario: If you have chosen something different—meaning one chose one, and the other chose two— you’ll open your door to find a second door before you. Picture a hotel room with a joining door, if you will. The second door will be closed. The flexible guy or gal may, if they choose, push beyond that second door to indicate that they’re still willing to see this through. After all, by stepping up to that door, they’re essentially giving the other person what he or she wants.
“If both parties are willing, you may enjoy your final luxury date here before saying farewell to this place forever.” Colt lets out a wistful sigh.
I shoot a longing glance at door number two, inwardly praying with all my might that Kai stands on the opposite side of it. It’s our only chance. And as irritated as I am about Kai’s stipulation, I desperately want that chance.
The distinct click of metal on metal sounds. They’ve either locked or unlocked the pertinent doors.
My heart is a ticking, tocking timebomb.
Please, Kai. Just let me have this one.
“Kai, Nikki,” comes Colt. “Reach out to open the door before you.”
I smear a palm down the side of my dress. I reach out, cup the cool brass knob, and give it a delicate, testing twist.
Nothing.
I tighten my grip, try to twist it again, and meet the resistance I dreaded. It’s locked.
“Now is the moment I announce that you have both chosen door number one,” Colt says.
My jaw clenches. Kai picked the same stubborn door I did. As if he’d been the one to go through all that pain.
“Well, as you can see,” Colt adds over the speakers, “we won’t be reaching a resolution tonight. Nikki, please head back through the revolving bookcase and make your way onto the porch where your pink suitcase awaits you. A driver will take you home.
“Kai, please stay put. I’ll let you know when you can make your exit.”
A mean blend of anger and embarrassment urges me on as I bolt toward the exit, through the stupid bookcase, and breeze my way down the hall. Seconds later, I’m flinging the front door open and hurrying onto the porch where my suitcase stands beside Kai’s. I barely resist the urge to kick it over.
I hook my fingers around the handle and rush down the stairs, causing the good and broken wheel to crash recklessly against the cement steps. A driver—not the one I had on the way here—hurries from the car to help me.
“I’ll grab your bag, Miss,” the man says with a nod.
I stop walking and release the case. “Thank you.” I can’t get into the town car quickly enough. Hopefully, there are no cameras inside. I’ve been ogled like a preschool-class ant farm for days now, and I need to be alone with my thoughts.
“Are there cameras in there?” I ask as the driver opens the door for me.
He shakes his head, a soft smile on his lips.
“Thank you,” I say as I hunch down and climb inside. “And thanks for getting my case for me. I probably broke both wheels now.”
“Oh, I’m sure it’s not beyond repair,” he says with a nod.
The case might not be beyond repair, but my relationship with Kai is.
The partition between the driver and me is closed. I can finally give in to the tears.
Yet as I sit in the back seat, arms folded tight over my chest, not a tear comes. I know I’ll be sad about this later. Devastated, in fact, but I do not feel sad right now. I feel furious! Kai has some nerve to insist that I admit that I did the wrong thing. Me—the one who was trying to rescue what was left of her family while it went up in flames.
My jaw clenches tight as I replay it all again. We have to meet again one week later, do we? Part of me is glad. I can’t wait to give Kai a piece of my mind.
8
Day-saster
Okay, so I had known the sorrow would come, but I had no idea how hard it would strike. Wrecking balls were gentler than the days that followed. I had ruined my life.
In all fairness, Kai ruined it too. Twice now. But I can’t keep from dwelling on the fact that at least half of the power had been in my hands both times. It had. If only I’d have been willing to relinquish…what, my self-esteem entirely?
“I still think you should go,” Nate says through the phone line. I can barely hear his voice through the fluff of the pillow my face is buried in.
I yank my head up and look at the phone resting on the armchair. Crumpled cupcake wrappers and wadded tissues litter my couch and the surrounding hardwood floors since I’ve been camping out in my living room since I got back.
I sniff. “You think I should go to the finale?” I ask. “Why?”
“Because you’re miserable,” Nate says like it’s obvious. “I know it’s optional, per your contract, anyway, but all of America will expect you to show up, and I’m sure Kai will too.”
“I can’t. I’ve made a total fool of myself.” The words are like swords sinking into my soul. “First, Kai dismisses my ultimatum and takes off. Next, when we finally start getting back together, he leaves me again because I refuse to pretend it’s all my fault.”
Nate sighs. “What if it’s both of your faults?”
My jaw drops open. “It’s not.”
“It might be.”
“That’s not what you’ve been saying all of these years,” I remind. “You said I was justified in standing my ground.”
“Yeah, well, I was younger then. And now that I’ve seen for myself how good you two are together…”
I clench my eyes shut and groan. Our episodes of Time Warp aired back-to-back this week, night after night—something Marsha calls binge style. Tonight, the horrible ending will air, though Nate already knows what happened since, after swearing him to privacy, I told him about it.
Tomorrow they’ll film the live finale from Tucson High’s football stadium.
Alumni and fans are invited. Colt Findley will be hosting the show. Yet, as Nate stated, our appearance is optional.
I imagine showing up, bright and fresh and ready to take Kai back. Next, I picture Kai kicked back in his California home with a cold beer in his hands, watching me flounder on live TV.
I groan. “Do you think souls bleed? Because I’m pretty sure mine is.”
Tears well in the corners of my eyes, then fall down my cheeks as I stifle a sob. “I have to go,” I say, wanting to cry in peace.
“I love ya, Sis,” Nate says. “And I’m here for you.”
I fight the quiver of my chin and manage a jagged exhale. “I love you too. Thank you.”
“I hope you show up tomorrow,” he adds. “I’ll be watching.”
Yes, Nate will be watching. My mom and friends will be watching. The fans will tune in for it as well. But the one thing I want to know is this: If I go to the live finale with hopes of getting Kai back, will he be there too? Or will I find that he’s tuned in from the comfort of his own home, watching as I make a fool of myself one last time?
9
Day-vouring the pie
Tucson High’s stadium glows bright against the night. From a distance, it looks as if thousands of fans are aiming high-powered beams into the dark sky from the deep pit.
I’m not in a town car this time, though Marsha offered to send one. I don’t want the station to have any inside scoop on my whereabouts. I know it’s very chicken of me, but I want to know if Kai will show up or not before I do.
Blasts of cool air blow at leaf-blower force from my car vents, keeping my face and pits from sweating up a storm while I wait in the Arizona heat. Propped beside those air vents sits my phone.
I’m already streaming the live footage. I’ve witnessed the stuffed bleachers, loud cheering, and the tangible thrill of anticipation. After a very short intro by the snarky host, Colt Findley shot to commercial, promising he’d be back in five minutes flat.
I splay my hands be
fore the vents and notice, with a glance at my phone, that those five minutes are up. The show is back on, live.
The camera circles around the stadium, catching broad smiles and waving hands before settling back on Colt Findley. Tonight, he’s dressed in full football gear with black smears under his eyes and massive pads on his shoulders.
“In a mere fifteen minutes,” he says, “we’ll find out whether Nikki and Kai are willing to talk about their experience on our Arizona Finale of Time Warp, High School Reunion.
“We may not know if Kai’s here. We may not know if Nikki’s here. But what we do know is that half of their alumni are present to cheer on their favorite high school sweethearts.”
The crowd cheers loud enough to hear it in duplicate—from my phone and the distant field.
“Come on,” I blurt. “Just tell me if Kai’s here so I can make a decision.”
“In a matter of minutes,” Colt continues, “we’ll open the gates on the home side to see if Nikki is here to represent.”
“Crap! I’m first?”
“Then, we’ll bust open the opposing gates to see if the current California resident Kai has chosen to join us.”
The hope inside of me withers. How am I supposed to save face if they expect me to show my face first?
“Whether one, both, or neither show up to tonight’s live event, it’s sure to be packed with unseen clips, funny bloopers, and entertainment from their alumni too.”
My phone buzzes with a text.
I gave it a quick tap.
This is Marsha Langston. If you’re at the high school and plan to make an appearance, now is the time to head to the home-team gate. The area’s been blocked off for security purposes, but the guard will be watching for you.
I stare at the screen as a deep ache plunges into the center of my chest. Because I already know the answer. I already know that I can’t go. I won’t show. Yes, I drove out here, and yes, I’ve done everything in my power to look possibly the best I’ve looked in my entire life, but I just don’t have what it takes to burst through that gate all by myself while inwardly knowing that Kai may not come.
Suddenly a massive thump pounds at the car’s window.
I jump in the seat and press a hand to my heart since it feels as if it’s trying to escape me. For a moment, I worry that I’ll see a security guard standing there, telling me that I’m not able to park in this area. It’s a restricted stretch of road next to the school where Kai and I used to park to avoid getting stuck in the big school crowd.
But it’s not a security guard at all. It’s a gorgeous guy with buff shoulders and brown eyes that makes me melt every time I see him.
“Kai?” I roll the window down. The air conditioning tosses strands of hair into my face.
“Can I come in?” he asks.
“Sure.” I reach for the lever and unlock it.
Kai hurries into the passenger seat, and all I can do is stare and blink and wonder what on earth is going through his mind. I’m thrilled and terrified all at once.
He reaches up, catches a flying strand of hair, and tucks it behind my ear. “I’m sorry,” he says softly.
He is? I watch, stunned as he proceeds to turn down the AC and then tap down the volume of the live show on my phone.
“I’ve been thinking about how scary that time must have been for you, and I can only imagine what was going through your mind.”
I stare at him some more, waiting for the other shoe to drop. This is what I wanted from him last week. Why couldn’t he have given it to me then and saved us all this trouble?
Probably because he doesn’t want a future with me. Sure, he’s sorry, and he wants to be on good terms, but that doesn’t mean he wants me back.
“Thank you,” I say, allowing his words, his sincere acknowledgment to pour healing over the old wounds. Wounds that are fresh once again.
Kai squares a look at me, his expression shifting to one of…anticipation? Yes, he expects me to return the sentiment.
“I’m sorry too,” I blurt, hoping that’ll be enough. It should be. After all, Kai hasn’t said he shouldn’t have left me, only that he’s sorry for what I went through.
I leave it there, wondering if it’s enough. Wondering where he wants things to go from here. Wondering even more as, in the low light, his eyes turn pleading.
“I need you to acknowledge that we could have made things work,” he says. “I need you to fess up to your part in this or…or we can’t move on.”
What does move on even look like—being cordial to one another? Is that why he wants to do this in private rather than make a scene on live TV where everyone expects us to get back together?
I replay his words in my mind. “You want me to acknowledge that things could have worked out, despite the fact that you chose to leave when you could have stayed until law school.”
“Yes.”
I’m not sure what this was all about. Is he baiting me in some way? Will he use this to run onto the field and tell all of America that I admitted it was my fault? All so he can become one of Marsha’s hottest new bachelors for the next reality TV show.
“Could have is very different from would have,” I point out.
“Why are you splitting hairs?” Kai’s voice is louder now. “There was no guarantee that it would have worked if I stayed, either. But instead of giving us a chance, you put the kibosh on the whole thing.”
My lips tighten into a hard line.
“Admit it,” he presses. “Please.”
My heart thunders so heavy and hard I think Kai might be able to hear it too. Why is this such a difficult thing? Surely it’d be worth admitting if it meant I could have Kai back. But I’m not sure that’s what it would mean at all.
“You told me something back on our first day in the house,” he says. “You told me how much it meant to you that Nate could leave and have that experience to go to another college. You’d sacrificed for him to have that chance.”
His brow furrows. His jaw goes hard. “Why wouldn’t you want me to have that type of experience too? You knew how hard my dad was on me. You knew how much I’d been dying to get out of there and have some space to breathe. And you knew how important it was for me to go to Stanford if I had the chance. I planned to support you in what you did, whatever that was. You should have been able to support me too. Instead, you chose to just end it.”
My mind whirrs and sways.
Because for the first time since he left me that day, Kai’s plea has merit.
I might be planted to my spot behind the steering wheel, but suddenly it feels as if I’ve moved into an entirely different space. A different point of view, I should say.
I blink, realizing that I’ve been staring at this from camera one all these years. And now, I just got my first glimpse from camera two—the angle Kai saw all along.
A chill rushes through me. I have been wrong. I really have.
Suddenly Kai reaches for the door, tugs the latch, and pushes it open. Before I can summon even one word, he’s climbing out of the car.
“Forget it,” I hear him say as the door slams shut. And suddenly, he takes off down the road.
I stare at him in horror as all sorts of chaos crash through me.
My moment has come. There’s no more escaping it. I can’t wimp out. It’s my turn to eat the humble pie I have coming to me, and I need to do it whether Kai wants me back or not. Whether he wants a second shot at love or to only be my friend.
I love Kai, and what he said is true. I should have wanted those things for him like I did for Nate. But I was too focused on myself.
At once, I’m pushing open my door and stepping into the night.
“Kai!” I run after him as he hurries toward his Jeep down the way. “Kai, wait!” I cry out again.
The noise from the stadium bounces off the nearby building and buries the sound of my voice. Unless he’s ignoring me altogether. Refusing to hear me out after I’ve been so stubborn and blind.
&
nbsp; Kai’s close to his Jeep. What if he climbs in and drives away before I can catch him? Before I can tell him that he’s right.
But then I think of something. A sure way for him to hear me. A trick Kai taught me himself back in the house.
With movements fast and shaky, I make two closed peace signs with my hands, lift them to my mouth, and curl the tip of my tongue back, just as he showed me.
A shrieking whistle pipes out as I blow with all my might, echoing off the pavement, the building and ringing in the dumpster beside me too. Whoa.
Kai stops in his tracks, lifts his head, and spins to face me. His chest swells, collapses, and swells again.
I hurry in to close the distance. Kai starts toward me too, stopping once we’re face to face.
His brown eyes brim with emotion.
“You’re right,” I say, panting to catch my breath. “I think I’ve known you were right for so long that…that it made it even harder to accept. But I was wrong to give you that ultimatum, and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for trying to force you to stay.”
I recall something Kai shared with me on day three. A struggle his parents went through. His mother quit her job so they could move for his father’s law school. It built such a resentment in her that it nearly destroyed their marriage.
“You would have resented me,” I realize.
A fresh fire sparks behind his teary eyes.
“Is that true?” I ask.
Kai nods, his shoulders dropping two full inches. “You know I would have done anything for you, Nikki. But I didn’t want to do something that would make me resent you later.”
A burst of confirmation pushes through me, solid and warm.
“I’m glad you went then,” I say, meaning it this time. “I couldn’t have you hating me.”
Kai gives me a sideways glance. “I don’t think that would be possible.” He steps closer, closing the gap between us. A smile pulls at his lips.