I want to grab his shoulders and demand an explanation. I want to know why he kissed Paige. The question burns on my tongue but stays trapped behind my teeth with our parents watching our every move.
Instead, I extend my hand in a gesture so formal it would be comical if it weren’t so heart-rending. “Goodbye, Theo.”
His fingers wrap around my small hand, and my skin pebbles as he gives me a gentle squeeze, betraying the indifference I’m trying so hard to project.
“See you around,” he murmurs, meeting my eyes for just a heartbeat before looking away.
We call it a day, this pathetic handshake standing in for all the words we’ll never say. Blood rushes in my ears as I step back, my chest hollow yet somehow unbearably heavy.
My heart fists as I watch them drive away. If there was any hope of reconciliation between us, it’s now turning a corner, never to return.
Things can finally go back to how they were.
Sunday morning breakfast is strangely quiet. I miss the lively chaos of our two families sharing breakfast. Even miss the awkwardness I sometimes felt when Theo glanced at me from across the table.
How pathetic. He’s not coming back, and I’m content to let things be as they were at the beginning of the school year.
Life post Theo consists of me slipping back into my old routine: dancing, studying, hanging out with Stephanie, being ignored in school, occasionally poked fun at and, above all else,observing the stars and wishing I was on the moon to escape the anguish of pining after Theo.
Though the pain of heartbreak subsides a bit each day, my longing for him intensifies. My mind tells me it’s better this way—that I’m better off without the complications he brought into my life—but my heart yearns for him. It’s so frustrating.
It’s been a week and a half since the Pearsons moved out. I come home from school on Wednesday and find mom waiting for me in the kitchen. She holds something in her hand, and as I get closer, I see it’s a white envelope with my name on it.
“This just came in mail,” she says, handing it to me.
It’s from Theo. My hands tremble as I clutch the envelope and race upstairs to my room. I tear it open and pull out the neatly folded letter inside. Sitting on my bed, I take a deep breath and start reading.
Dear Chrissy,
I don’t know how to start this letter. I’ve written and rewritten this so many times, and no matter how I try to say it, nothing sounds good enough. So, I guess I’ll just start with the truth: I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry for everything. I know I hurt you, and I know that the last thing you want to hear is excuses.
But please, hear me out. What you saw at the concert . . . that wasn’t what it looked like. I didn’t kiss Paige. She threw herself at me at the worst possible moment. It was so unexpected I froze, and before I couldeven push her away, you were standing there, watching, and the look on your face . . .
I’ll never forget it. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so awful in my life.
Chrissy, you’re the one I like. Not her. Never her. And I let her know that already.
I don’t know when it happened, but somewhere between all those bathroom conversations and our walks to school and every laugh we’ve shared, you became the person I wanted to be around more than anyone else. I know I messed up, but I need you to know that this—us—was never a game to me. You’re important to me in a way I can’t even put into words.
I get it if you don’t believe me. But if you give me a chance, I want to prove to you I’m not what you must surely think of me, that I’m not the guy you think you saw at the concert. I’m just a guy who cares about you more than I can explain. I’m willing to wait as long as it takes for a second chance.
One more thing. The talent show. I know you weren’t planning on going—I know crowds aren’t exactly your thing—but I’m asking you to come. There’s something I need you to see.
I just hope, more than anything, that you’ll find it in your heart to forgive me. And even if you don’t, just come to the talent show. Please.
Theo
The words blur on the page as I reread them, my heart feeling like it’s simultaneously breaking and mending all at once. I trace my finger over his handwriting, the ink a little smudged in places, like he’d pressed the pen down harder than he meant to. That he wrote a letter in an age of smart phones and instant messengers—I like it.
Paige had been scheming to shove me aside since the school year began, and it’s just the thing she would do to accomplish her goal.
The memory of that night pains me every time I recall it, but doesn’t that just mean I don’t want Theo to kiss anyone else but me? I never pegged myself as selfish, but in this regard, I’m not ashamed to admit that I am.
I bite my lip, folding the letter back. The talent show is next week. Part of me wants to hide from everything and stay in this familiar place of how I’ve always been, but there’s another part I can’t shake—the one that wants Theo back in my life.
I spend the next few days in a cloud of indecision, questioning whether I should go and possibly risk getting hurt again. After all, anything can happen in high school.
The plan is to stay home until the show ends, so no one can force me onto the stage the way Paige and her posse did at her party. I’m not some clown to be paraded for their amusement.
