And I had thought that was it. I had decided from that point on that I needed to put Clay and our destructive relationship behind me. I felt firm in my resolve.
And then it all crumbled around me.
chapter
twenty
my days all started to blur together. The pre-Clay boredom came back with a numbing quickness. My old routines started all over again and the excitement at beginning my day every morning had dwindled into nonexistence.
I tried not to think about him. But it was hard. Everything seemed to carry with it a memory of our time together. We hadn’t been a couple for long. The time from when I had met Clay Reed until the moment of our separation had been a blip in the grand scheme of my life. Or at least I tried to tell myself so.
But the truth was, he had bulldozed his way into my life and there was no going back. Although I had worked hard to convince myself that ending things with him (okay, so I didn’t have much say in any of that, but it’s amazing how you can warp things in your mind to make them palatable) was the right thing to do, I couldn’t erase how incomplete I felt without him.
I thought I had done a semi-decent job of pretending I was okay until I opened my locker after school on the third Monday after the breakup, and a piece of paper fluttered to my feet. My heart seized up, my stomach dropped to the floor. I was hit by a wave of déjà vu.
With trembling hands, I lifted the paper from the floor and unfolded it. Butterflies. Of course. What else would it be? And, along the bottom, in Clay’s frantic scrawl, were the wordsI have learned that sometimes “sorry” is not enough.Sometimes you actually have to change.
I recognized the quotation, although I couldn’t place where I had read it before.
Gah. What was I supposed to do with this? My eyes darted around the empty hallway, looking for him. But he was nowhere to be seen. Should I call him? Should I crumple up the drawing and forget about it? I was stuck with uncertainty.
Instead, I folded it carefully and put it in my book bag. When I got home, I couldn’t resist taking out the picture and tacking it to my mirror. I stared at it for a long time. The ice around my heart melted a bit. But I didn’t call him. I just couldn’t.
The next day, I found another picture in my locker. This one was of my face. I had no idea when he had drawn it. It wasn’t one I recognized. My hair was swept over one shoulder and I was staring off into the distance with a dreamy look on my face. The beauty of it took my breath away. There was nothing written on this one. I felt sad and torn.
Each day that week brought a different drawing. Some had sayings on the bottom, some did not. But each one conveyed Clay’s longing in a heart-stopping way. On Friday I found a picture of what could only be the swimming hole, where we had gone the second week of school.
Clay had written,The most perfect memories are the ones too painful to forget.
I didn’t hear Rachel come up behind me. She grabbed the paper from my hand before I could hide it. I swallowed thickly as she looked at it, her brows furrowed.
“Is this from him?” she asked, before handing it back.
I nodded. “Yeah,” I answered, shoving it into my book bag.
“What’s that all about?” she asked me as we left the school. I shrugged, not bothering with a verbal response. “Mags, it looks like he’s trying to win you back. You aren’t going there, are you?” she asked me angrily.
I stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and faced my best friend. “I don’t know, Rachel! All I do know is I feel like I can’t breathe! I’m miserable without him!” I said, trying to get her to see what he meant to me.
Rachel sighed. “I know. But you can’t forget how miserable you werewithhim, either,” she said. I knew she was right. But that didn’t stop my heart from swelling up at the thought of him wanting me again.
Yeah, I was an idiot.
I was about to suggest to Rachel that we go see a movie, anything to get my mind off my drama, when my cell phone chirped in my pocket. I pulled it out. Even though I had erased his number, I recognized it instantly.
The text read,Will you meet me at the swimming hole? I need to see you.
Fuck. What do I do?
“Who was that?” Rachel asked suspiciously. I tucked my phone back into my pocket and gave her the fakest smile I could muster.
“My mom. She just wanted to know what I’d like for dinner,” I lied.
Rachel gave me a look that saidyou are a liar. “Then why didn’t you text her back?” she asked me.
I gave the most insincere laugh possible. “Oh, yeah. Duh!” I pulled out my phone and pretended to send a reply.
“Mmm. Chinese,” I said lamely. Rachel frowned but didn’t push the issue.
