That’s part of the reason I’m grateful the memory of him I can recall was the time we drove up to the Pines together. It was just us. We blasted Halloween music and even got worried we’d get stuck in the snow. But we made it, and it was the joy I saw on his face that made my heart swell. He was truly lively in that moment, and it reminded me of the Deck I knew before he started to go downhill. Before his internal demons took over; whatever they might have been. I guess I’ll never know.
Because he’s gone.
I don’t even want to know what my last real moments with him were. What if they were anything other than how I remember them now?
I wipe the tears that unknowingly shed down my cheeks, letting myself have this one last cry because he deserves it. He deserves to know how much I love him and how much my heart aches; a hole in my chest where he used to be.
I take a deep breath as I open the door to the car and throw my bag in the backseat.
I hop in, close the door and stick the keys in the ignition. The car, surprisingly, starts right up—with a questionable grumble—and a little sigh of relief escapes me. I adjust the rearview mirror, feeling my nerves start to expand with the truth that I don’t really know what I’m doing or where I’m going to go. But I don’t waste another second before I decide to back up out of the garage.
I reverse slowly down the driveway but suddenly, I'm forced to slam on the brakes when something popsout right behind the car; a shadowed figure obscuring my view.
"Shit!" I yelp, feeling my heart drop to my stomach. I look back up to see Jensen with his hands stuffed in his pockets and a mischievous little grin curled wide on his face.
"What the hell, Jensen?" I yell as I throw the car in park and turn it off before climbing out and stomping toward him. "I could have hit you!" I shout in anger, but when I approach him and see the smirk he wears along with the way his dark curls brush against his face in the wind, I feel that anger dissipate. Just slightly.
It still isn't enough to prevent me from smacking my hand against his chest. "Idiot," I berate him, and he just pulls me into his arms with his handsomely dumb smile plastered on his face.
"Where do you think you're going, babe?" He kisses the top of my head, guilt settling in my core as I let him take me in his arms, my cheek pressing against his chest right where I had slapped him. "You were really going to take off and not even tell me?" he asks, and I can sense that he's slightly disappointed in me, but he doesn't let it show in the tone of his voice. I can see it in his eyes, though.
I don’t answer him. I don’t want to have to admit to him that I might have been trying to flee. But really, I don’t owe him any answers anymore. Not that I ever did in the first place either, but my obligation to him has ended.
"Olivia." He reaches out to hold my face in his palms as he leans in, pressing his nose against mine but I take a step back.
“You can’t call me babe or kiss me anymore, Jen,” I state, pulling from his embrace entirely.
I’ll admit, I’ll miss having him as the distraction I needed all this time. But it’s not fair to either of us. And more and more he’s been a reminder of what I lost that night, even though he was there for me when I needed someone most.
"You’re right. I’m sorry.” He takes a step back. “But I can’t lie, Liv. I fucking miss you. It’s been weeks and I thought by now-”
“Jensen…” I warn him. I know where he’s going with this. I know he wants me back. But I can’t do that.
He sighs and changes his demeanor, shifting on his feet and looking between the yellow car and me.
“I know what you're going through. I do. But running away and not telling me is definitely not cool. You should be able to talk to me about anything. Whether we’re together or not." I hear the disappointment bleed through his tone, and I hate that I start to feel as if I'm letting everyone down right now.
"I know, you're right." I decide not to argue and instead grab his hands in a gesture of sincerity. "I guess I just didn't even think about it, really. I’m not sure what to do but I feel like I might just need to get away for a little bit. I hope you understand."
"I do, Sunshine." He smiles at me as he brushes loose strands of my hair out of my face, something I flinch at but not enough to make it awkward. But I do cringe at his nickname for me. It was cute at first, but after a while I just got tired of it. And now, I don't even know why he's still so keen to call me it. Most people think of me as fucking stormcloud.
Part of me feels relieved that he's going to let me go. It’s one of the reasons why Jensen has always seemed like a safe space for me. He mostly understands and usually doesn’t ask me to explain more than I’m willing. The other part of me hates that I actually didn't care to let him know that I was leaving in the first place. My connection to him was fairly forged because he was there when I needed someone.
I care about Jen, I truly do. But he needs to move on from this . . . from us. I know he has hopes that we’ll get back together. That’s partially my fault because I basically led him on for three years. But I won’t feel bad for taking what I needed. Not when everything else has been taken from me.
Jensen pulls out his phone and sends a quick text. I get anxious feeling the air turn colder knowing that if I’m going to make a move, I should probably do it soon.
He stuffs his phone back in his pocket and walks toward the door of the Beetle. I follow, assuming he's going to open the door for me. Instead, I watch as he leans into the back of the car and he grabs my backpack out then closes the door.
"Wha- what are you doing?" I ask and simultaneously, an SUV pulls up at the end of my dad's driveway, blocking us in.
Suddenly, a strange feeling of chaotic avidity stretches in my chest. I’m unsure whether or not it’s due to the realization that he is actually going to refuse me to leave town or if it’s because I’m exhilarated by the idea that I don’t have to make the decision to go to the Pines, because it’s being made for me.
"No, Jensen. You said you were going to let me go," I state sternly, grabbing at his arm as he tries to walk away. Despite the conflicting feelings buzzing in my brain, I still want to stand my ground because not even Jensen gets the privilege of telling me what I can or can’t do.
"No. I said Iunderstandthat you wanted to get away. And youcanget away . . . with me. With us." I look over to see Alli is sitting in the passenger seat, eagerly staring at me, and one of Jensen's friends, Banks, is in the driver seat next to her.
Twenty dollars says she’s the one who told Jensen I wasn’t going.
