I do my quick light makeup routine: soft foundation, a little pinkish blush, the black mascara that makes my eyes pop, andmy signature bubblegum pink lip gloss. I glance at my phone and see a text from Ansel.
Ansel: “Good luck with Theater Daddy and Football Daddy today”.
I can’t help but laugh. This girl is always saying perverted shit.
The time on my phone catches my attention, and I realize it is now 7:15, and I am about to be late. I toss on the first outfit I can grab out of my opened suitcase and quickly dash down the stairs and grab my bags off the counter where I left them last night.
I drive as quickly as I can to the school, and park in the only open spot. To my luck, it is the farthest away from the building, and it has zero shade.
Cursing at myself as I walk into the front doors, I nearly collide with Principal Davenport.
“Ms. Carrington. Running late as usual. I see art school hasn’t changed that.” Principal Davenport holds the door open as I look at him like a child being scolded.
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Davenport. The time difference is a real bitch. Er—I mean it’s been difficult with the jet lag.” He looks at me with disappointment in his eyes.
“I guess it’s a good thing you are not a student nor faculty here. You'd best hurry up. Lightheart will report to Professor Lowen if you are late. Being allowed to complete an out-of-state project is a privilege. Ms. Carrington,” he turns and heads for the front office as I turn and head towards the theater, not paying any attention as I walk through the deserted hallways. The first period has started, so there are no obstacles for me to trip over.
I send texts to Ansel, asking her about the date she has coming up with Mr. Art History Major. She is dumping what feels like never-ending photos into our text thread, asking me to pick out one of my outfits for her to wear.
I take my time walking, scrolling through each picture, hating every single thing she grabs from my closet. I don’t really dislike my own clothes, but she doesn't pair them together well. I writeout a text with a new pairing that will make the golden flecks in her hazel eyes stand out, and her tits look stunning. Hitting send, the message is on its way, but my body jolts to a stop as I slam right into a muscular giant.
My phone nearly flies from my hand, the air rushing from my lungs. Out of everyone in this school, it had to be him. Of course. The universe is petty like that. I wasn’t ready for this to happen so early in the morning, especially after that run-in with the principal.
Donovan grabs me by the arms to make sure I don’t fall over, but just as quickly, his hands fall to his sides.
“Hey, Stella. It’s uh been a while. How have you been?” Donovan, the once very confident boy, seems to stumble over his words.
“Hey, D. I’ve been okay,” I say with a smile on my face. “Um, look, I apologize for the way I just ran out yesterday. I should have said, Thank you for helping me.”
I can see a small grimace cross his face. “It’s okay, I understand. You don’t want to talk to me after everything.” I grab his arm and cut off his sentence before he can say anything else.
“Donovan, please. Let's not talk about that right now. Not here, not in these haunting hallways.” I look around, as if I will be caught doing something I am not supposed to. “I was going to find you at lunch and ask if you are available after school.” I push the strap of my slipping bag up my arm. “Maybe we can go get coffee or a bite to eat. There are some things I really need to talk to you about.”
The impassive look on his face makes me wonder if he is about to tell me no. Instead, he says, “Just text me when and where to meet you, and I will be there.” He turns to leave before finishing.
“And Stell… my number never changed.”
He walks into the gym, and I stand there until the door closes. I am not sure what will happen when we talk later. All I know is it’s going to feel good to get everything off my chest. To apologize for the pain I caused him.
Whether we can start over or whether this is closure, I don’t know. But either way, I need to stop carrying the version of him I’ve held in my head for too long. Maybe today is the day I finally let him go... or find my way back.
I head into the theater classroom and spend the day planning out Sweeney Todd, nervously counting down the minutes until I see Donovan again.
Donovan
What have I done in life lately to have Stella thrown into my path two days in a row like this?
The first period is my daily prep period. I don’t hate it. It actually allows me a little extra time to let the coffee hit deep in my soul. I hit print on my computer, sending the basketball vocabulary worksheets to the front office printer. Mrs. Kershaw, or Debbie, as she reminds me, just called to say they’re ready. I’m halfway out of the gym when it feels like I’ve taken a hit on the football field again.
Stella.
Her phone’s seconds from fatality, and she’s about to hit the floor, so I grab her arms to steady her. I let go just as fast, dropping my hands to my sides, one heartbeat away from shoving them into my pockets so I don’t touch her again.
My heart pounds so loud that I hear it in my ears. “Um, look. I apologize for the way I ran out yesterday. I should’ve said, Thank you for helping me.” I almost don’t hear her.
I smile, a flicker of hope crawling back in. Maybe… maybe I have a shot at earning her back after all.
“It’s okay, I understand,” I say. “You don’t want to talk to me after everything.”
