He had moved on with this girl. I tortured myself with the thought, rewinding and replaying it the second it ended. She was stunning. Exactly who you’d picture standing next to a man like him. I’d wept pathetically over the photo, deleting my search history over and over again, just to repeat my actions the next day. Like a dog returning to its own vomit.
Did you ever check up on me? I wonder as I stare at him from behind the marshmallow latte.
You know that look movie characters get on their face when they realize it’s the beginning of the end? That they’re the idiot hurtling toward some inevitable conclusion?
“How is it?” he asks, eyes bright with expectation.
“Yeah,” I nod. “Good. Really good.”
That was me. Hurtling toward an immovable end. I was going to get answers from him this summer. Perhaps by osmosis alone. And I was already bracing for impact.
Five Years Ago: End of Junior Year
I’m almost to the school’s exit when a perturbed-looking Declan darts in front of me without warning.
“Oh my gosh!” I jump back and clutch my collarbone. “What were you doing in the janitor’s closet?” I whisper-yell.
“Shhhhhh.” Declan scurries beside me and grabs my elbow as he drags me through the double doors. “You’re gonna think I’m horrible,” he says in a conspiratorial voice. His eyes ping-ponging around the parking lot.
“I already think you’re horrible.”
“Rude.”
“Kidding. Tell me.”
“The school is exploding with promposals right now.Threeof my teammates just got asked. All with one of those elaborate posters with some unoriginal pun, like, “Will you TACKLE prom with me and be my number #1 fan?” Declan mimes gagging. “I think a group of girls banded together and decided they’d be the ones to ask the guys this year. So, we need to leave.Now.”
My head yanks backward with raucous laughter. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Blair.Keep your voice down.” Declan ducks his head at the sound of my cackling like it will draw everyone’s attention, throwing his letterman over my shoulders to hide me. “Not funny!”
“I’msorry,” I say in exasperation through his huge jacket sleeves covering my face. “It’s just too classic.”
“What’s too classic?” he demands, still preoccupied with scanning the huge lot like we’re inThe Walking Deadand will have to dodge rabid zombies soon.
“You and the trail of drooling girls you need to run away from,” I screech, throwing my hands up.
I’ve somehow become so trained at acting like I’m separate, when in reality I am a part of that crowd, and the thought of being just another girl at the back of the line makes my chest feel too tight for my heart and lungs.
Without realizing it, I had envisioned us going to prom together. More so for the simple fact that we did everything together. But if this was how he was reacting to the most beautiful girls at our school chasing him down, what made me think he’d want to go with me? And yet, I still felt a morsel of hope that he would.
“Oh crap,” Declan exclaims, pushing me forward with half his jacket draped over my shoulder. “They’re coming.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know! Squealing and giggling girls with poster board!”
My legs try to match his pace but I’m holding him back. We’re only halfway through the parking lot and the group of three girls are gaining on us.
“Well,” I start, voice tight. “Which one would you rather go with?”
“What?” he sputters.
“Out of all of them, which would you rather go with?” I demand.
“The question itself is faulty, how am I supposed to answer that?”
“What do you mean?”
