“I knew he was going to come back…” He begins shuffling back through the rack in an attempt to distract his hands.
My eyes pinch and I stare up at him puzzled. He must sense my confusion because he finally looks at me. “I mean, I didn't know,know. I just assumed.” He pushes a few more of the dresses to the side farthest from him before resolution crosses his features, like he is up for talking after all. “You know what’s fucked up, though? I was planning on just forgiving him.”
“Forgiving him?” My breath hitches, because honestly to me, what Ben did after Lily died was unforgivable. The way he saw a grenade blow up in his brother's hands and didn’t even pause to give it a second glance, to see where the pieces shattered. His only brother’s first love died completely out of nowhere and the same night he disappears, can’t even pick up the phone to check in.
“Yeah—part of me thought he was coming back to make things right. Apologize for just leaving like that…” He shrugs it off but I can tell he’s upset; his entire posture changes, his shoulders turning inward just slightly, eyebrows pinched and I feel that familiar need to comfort him. “I think he might have a thing for Olivia.”
I wrinkle my nose subconsciously at the idea of Olivia sneaking around with Will’s brother. “He wouldn’t do that to you, Will.” He looks at me hard, and for a second I can see a wish flicker in his eyes, one that begs for me to be right, for his brother to not be the kind of person who would be that selfish. But it’s just that, a flicker.
“Nutcracker season’s coming up.” He clears his throat and the need to change the subject pulses off of him so Inod, beginning to pick through the rack in front of me. “You're gonna get sugarplum this year—I canfeelit.”
I roll my lips together in an attempt to hide my grin at his blind faith in me, the one he’s had since we were young. It became sort of a tradition for us—him waiting by the stage door with flowers, whispering,“You would’ve done it better,”in reference to whoever got the highly coveted role. But this yearisdifferent. The past two years at the Boston Conservatory have been like a never-ending ballet boot camp and I’ve gotten better—much better. I’ve noticed my posture move from good, great even, to impeccable. Plus, my choreographers may have let it slip that I’m a shoe in for a principal role this year. Landing the Sugar Plum Fairy would be a dream.
“Don’t jinx it,” I quip, but do nothing this time to hide my smile. Will stares at me for a second too long, a look I’m familiar with because I’ve caught it before, sliding across his face. Like he’s seeing me for the first time. I blush and look back down at the rack.
A text from Grant comes through again and I welcome the distraction.
Grant
hope you’re sitting
I click the link beneath the warning, gasping when I read that my favorite cast-mate on the best reality television currently on air is leaving the show. I’ve ranted more than a few times over text while I watch at night , and I’m partially shocked to read the news and shocked that he paid enough attention to know I would care about this.
“What?” Will’s voice cuts in, somewhat impatiently.
I consider explaining, but decide it’s not worth watching his eyes glaze over.
“Nothing, just TV gossip.” I give him a brisk smile, slipping my phone into my back pocket.
“From who?” He reaches over in an attempt to grab my phone and I yank my arm out of his reach before he can see. Frustrated confusion flares in his eyes the way it did at the bonfire, after I lied about losing my virginity. I can’t tell if Will just hates being left out, hates feeling like he’s in the dark, or if he hates that there’s yet another part ofmylife he isn’t privy too.
I scrunch my brows, like the question is intrusive. Because it is. “A friend?”
“A guy?” He crosses his arms, almost paternally, his chastisement imminent and I say nothing.
“So I guess we are just not telling each other shit now? Thought we didn’t do that Gen.”
“We don’t.” Frustration laces my tone.
“Then tell me who’s texting you.” His jaw hardens as he reaches for my phone again and I push past him, moving to the other side of the rack, the hangers of clothes like an ocean between us.
“Why are you hiding this?” His jaw is clenched and he’s clearly pissed, maybe even jealous. My eyes flare, the sentiment incensing me more than I would’ve expected.
“I’ve always kept secrets Will, they’ve just beenforyou—notfromyou.”
There's an unmistakable shift between us, a small crack in our friendship that we both just felt at the mention of the secret. The one we’ve both been hiding the past few years. Echoes of that long ago sadness now shadow Will’s features. Thinking about Lily makes me sad, too, but it also makes me angry. It reminds me that he’s been doing what he wants with whomever he wants long before I started to. “I am talking to a guy. And it’s none of your business.”
His jaw grinds before his face softens, he runs a hand through his hair almost in defeat. “That’s fine, Gen. I was just wondering.”
The nonchalance of it pulls a huff out of me, but what did I expect from him? I sure as hell didn’t expect honesty or vulnerability, for him to tell me why it clearly bothers him so much. There was a time when we were honest with each other. A time when I felt like he could tell me things and he knew I would listen and vice versa. When we met Lily Newhouse the summer before freshman year, that changed a little bit. Which made sense—he was inlove, or whatever. But I accepted it: we stopped cuddling in bed until we fell asleep, stopped holding hands when we walked through a crowd, stopped brushing invisible hairs out of each other's faces. I understood that, even if it hurt. He waswithsomeone.
But then they broke up, we all got to Astor, and she wanted us to act like we didn’t all spend the summer together. Everything was awkward, and he wanted to win her back. When she died so unexpectedly, it was like the air was permanently ripped from his lungs. I was so ready to be there for him, ready for us to grieve our friendtogether.
Instead, he closed up. Met Olivia and draped himself in his ex-girlfriend’s grief, like it would drown his own. Shoved that summer into a grave right alongside Lily. And now, it’s like I can’t get a foothold with him. He treats me the way he did before Lily, but now there’s Liv.
He’s always had a thing about people leaving him; he has deep rooted issues with his mom, his dad, especially with Ben; and then Lily left him, in a way. That’s why I can’t leave him but waiting for him to come back to life is a lot.
He rounds the rack we’re at, pulling an especially slutty dress off and holds it toward me.
