All my teammates have been great, especially my roomies. Finally, she smiles, and I can see a glimpse of the old Cleo.
I stop and face her. What about me? Can I support you too?
She blinks, not fully understanding. You already are. Thank you for everything tonight. And if we get to practise together, that would be great.
I put my hands on her shoulders. The familiar, solid feel of her body comforts me. I’d like to do more. I want to be there whenever you need me, Cleo.
What do you mean? Like… get back together? Her suspicious frown is a bad sign.
I nod.
She backs away from my touch. I don’t get you. Just a couple of days ago, I was begging for us to get back together, and now—when my life is totally fucked—you’re here. That makes no sense.
I shove my hands into my jacket pockets. I’ve been thinking about us. You know, people think I’m a pretty chill guy, and I am. But the two of us together can be explosive. You say things, or do things, that make me overreact—I get upset and emotional. And I seem to do the same to you, right?
Cleo nods, so I go on. When you confessed that you’d lied to me about your brother, I overreacted. And when you came back to apologize, I was still angry. I acted like a total dick.
I’ve been a hypocrite. I was so upset when Lana wouldn’t do any work to salvage our relationship, and then I did exactly the same thing to Cleo. Sure, we were still in the early stages, but what we had was so good, and worth any effort to repair.
Cleo watches me warily. And why shouldn’t she doubt me?
“Look, I really believe that if none of this drug shit had happened, we would have gotten back together naturally. I’ll admit I’m slow. It took me too long to get over being upset with you, and then I kept rationalizing why we wouldn’t work.
But I’ve learned my lesson. When you were struggling and I couldn’t help, I felt so terrible. I should have been there to support you. But I promise, I won’t ever do that again. You’ll never get rid of me. Then I worry that sounds too creepy and stalkerish.
Her mouth opens, but nothing comes out.
Please, Cleo. Give me another chance. Give us another chance.
She frowns. She’s considering my arguments, but then shakes her head. Mats, of course I want to get back with you, but we can’t. I’ve already messed up so many things that are important to you.
Like what?
You got kicked off the Athletic Council. Knudy told me.
It’s probably temporary. But that doesn’t matter.
Come on. What about your life plan? Do you want to be associated with a drug-using cheater?
I reach out and pull her close. When I inhale, her clean scent floods my senses. But you’re not. I never believed that for one second.
Her voice breaks. Everyone’s going to think that I am though. Any records I’ve set will have this invisible fucking asterisk beside them.
It doesn’t matter what people think. You don’t care about all that bullshit, I protest.
I care when it comes to you. I don’t want to fuck up your future, she chokes out.
She trembles beneath my hands, this fragile version of Cleo who is so different from her normal self. But I don’t care, because it’s her inner self that I care the most about. The pure soul of Cleo.
You wouldn’t fuck it up. We’ll be stronger together. We complete each other. That is our truth.
I can see the longing in her eyes. She wants this, wants us. But because I let her down when she was vulnerable, our trust is broken.
Please, Mats. I’m so fucked up right now. Everything you like about me is gone—my confidence, my optimism, my sense of humour.
I like the entirety of you, Cleo. Sure, you’re usually happy and optimistic, but you get to feel sad or stressed too. And I can help you through those bad times. I don’t expect perfection, because I’m far from perfect myself.
She shakes her head. I’m probably going to kick myself by the time I get home, but I’ve got too many things on my mind. I’m sorry, Mats, but I can’t make this decision right now.
