There’s a beat where I have a choice. I could run again. I could lie. I could redirect the subject. She’s out of it enough that she probably wouldn’t even call me out, but there’s something inside of me screaming, don’t you dare run from her this time.
“I’m scared of how much I’ve fallen in love with you.”
A tiny “oh” passes over Maddie’s lips. She lifts her head, and when I meet her stare, she’s searching my face for what I don’t know—I’d give her the answer to whatever it is if I did.
“What’s up?” I ask.
“Nothing, it’s just, can you remind me you said that tomorrow? My memory is terrible on these meds.”
I brush a piece of hair out of her head and lean forward to press a kiss to her temple. “I’ll remind you every day if you let me.”
“Yes, Seth Aarons. You can confess your undying love for me daily if you must.” She giggles, readjusting her head on my lap. “I love you too, you know.” She hums with a yawn, turning back on her side.
“Maddie? Can I ask you something too?”
“Of course, you can.”
“What happened to you and Jenny? Why did you?” I stutter, trying to find the right words.
“Become a heinous bitch?”
“I probably would have gone with softer words there.” I snort.
“It’s not a good reason.” She shifts on the couch. The blanket on her shoulder drops, and I pull it back up. “Now that I’ve had time where I’m not constantly drowning in my bad decision, I know that.”
“It’s still a reason.”
“Right, well, if you really want to know.”
“I do. I want to know all of you if you’ll let me.”
Hypocrite, why don’t you share your past?
“So, for the end of my First-Year, beginning of my sophomore, I dated this guy named Brady. I was head-over-heels, picking out a wedding dress, in love—even if now I couldn’t tell you why. He was my first. Penetrative sex hurt, but it always does when you’re just starting out, right? So we kept pushing through, but it never got better, and I required a lot of foreplay to get anywhere—you maybe have noticed that last part already.”
“Noticed, adored, whatever you want to call it.”
“Right.” She snorts.
“I’m serious, Buttercup. Any man that wouldn’t love making you make those sounds is a complete fool.”
Her cheeks flush, but she keeps her stare trained on the plate of cookies on the coffee table like she needs a spot to focus that isn’t me while she’s being this vulnerable. “Well, Brady didn’t see things that way but thank you. So one day right before Thanksgiving break, while we were in bed, he got frustrated with all the work, and while I was legs up, underpants down, he looked at me and said, ‘Look, you’re cute and all, Maddie, but you’re not worth the hassle.’ And then he left.
That’s how the asshole broke up with me.
I was devastated and probably could and should have just stayed broken, but a week later, Jenny took me out for milkshakes. She said she wanted me to meet someone, but whoever it was never showed up—that information’s not important, so ignore the drug-induced tangent, but anyway—Brady walked in with his new girlfriend, Lacey Cane, and hell, she was gorgeous. Brady knew it, too. He treated her so differently from me. And I just knew if I ever wanted someone to follow me around and look at me like Brady did with Lacey, then I’d have to become someone like her, you know?”
“You know what he was doing wasn’t love, right?” I swallow down a ball of guilt threatening to lodge itself permanently in my throat. Maddie wasn’t the only one scared of never being loved again that week. Her timeline matches those first few moments I saw her. The one where I was studying with Jenny, and she was broken in the kitchen, and then, of course, the diner, when I chickened out and never went to the table to meet them.
I was the person who never came that day.
What would have happened if I had found the courage to approach her?
Would we have become friends?
Would she still have gone down the Mean Girl road?
Timing is a fickle thing.
