I go to bed Monday night feeling the frustrated-and-horny combo that has been a constant since Luca got here, even after getting myself off in the shower again.
But I wake up Tuesday with a dark cloud surrounding me. The weight of the trauma, the scars, the guilt, it’s all just too heavy today.
I don’t start some goofy banter with Lil when I crawl out of bed. I pull on random clothes and socks before shoving my feet in the first pair of shoes I find and forgo my usual mascara and lip gloss. Instead of putting my hair in a messy bun, braid, or high pony, I barely run a brush through it and leave it loose.
Recognizing what’s happening, Lil wraps her arms around me, rubbing her hands up and down my back. She watches me with sad eyes as I drag a hoodie over my head. I pull the hood up before leaving the bedroom and hope this one doesn’t last long.
Chapter 21
I was wrong before—this fucking blows
Luca
Ariana slinks into the kitchen as I’m drinking my second cup of coffee. The hood of the hoodie she’s wearing is pulled up over her hair, covering her face in shadows. She doesn’t look at me as she goes for her own cup of coffee.
She always looks at me. Those glances and shy grins are the things I look forward to the most. The best parts of my day.
Lil shows up a minute or so after Ariana. “Good morning, my good people. And Luca.” She sticks her tongue out at me, but the cheekiness doesn’t reflect in her eyes. I give her a look that says, ‘What the fuck is going on?’ And she responds with one of her own that says, ‘Not now.’
Everything feels wrong. Ariana is silent, and without her to bounce off of, Lil and I don’t talk much. I watch as she drinks coffee and some kind of liquid breakfast thing, my heart twisting at how lost in despair she seems to be. When Lil runs upstairs for something, I follow so I can grill her.
“It’s going to be like a hundred out today. Why is she wearing a hoodie?”
Lil shrugs. “It’s a hoodie day. She’s hiding.”
“Why?”
“Because she feels like she needs to. All the stuff she carries, sometimes it’s too much.” She takes a deep breath and continues on. “We have hoodies stashed everywhere for days like this because when they hit, they hit fast. All over the house, in all the cars, even Dad’s Mas… McLaren… She’ll hardly talk, won’t eat solid food, and will sleep more than usual. A lot more. But in a couple of days, she’ll be back to her normal self. She always is.”
I’m not convinced, and it must show on my face.
“Look, she went to therapy for years for her shit. Still goes from time to time. But occasionally, things overflow, and this is how she resets. I promise you, Luca, she’ll be okay soon.” Lil pats my arm a couple of times, trying to reassure me. I don’t even care if I’ve given away too much about my feelings for Ariana at this point.
Commence the longest two days of my fucking life.
Usually, Ariana floats and bounces when she walks. On hoodie days, she sort of shuffles, her feet barely lifting off of the floor. Normally, her face is lit up with laughter, but now it’s hidden and staring at the floor. At lunch, she only eats a pudding cup, even though Lil and their friends fill the table with options. She doesn’t sing along to the music in the car, and when we get back to the house, she immediately curls up in a corner on the couch and falls asleep.
I hate this. I want to take this darkness away for her, but I don’t know how. I feel helpless as fuck.
At dinner, Becca hands her a yogurt and hugs her. She eats it silently, and the whole table is much more subdued than normal. Instead of the random conversations and laughter I’ve come to expect, quiet small talk takes place. Mia and Marco give both girls hugs, then Mia gives me a hug that I awkwardly return. Lil and I follow Ariana upstairs. I figure maybe she’ll rest on the couchagain, maybe read or watch a show, but she walks past the living room and into Lil’s room. I hear the shower turn on. A few minutes later, I see her climb into the bed wearing a different hoodie and curl up on her side. I wait outside the room for half an hour, but she doesn’t move.
“You’re sure she’s going to be okay?” I ask Lil as I drop onto the couch, emotionally exhausted.
She pauses the show she’s watching. “Scout’s honor.” Before I can voice my displeasure at how cavalier everyone is about this whole thing, she says, “We all hate this, Luca. Don’t think we’re blowing it off or something. We’ve spent years narrowing down what we can do to help her. We make sure there’s pudding, yogurt, and smoothies around because she has a hard time with anything more solid. We talk to and around her because keeping silent makes things worse. When she takes the hoodie off, we don’t ask her about why she put it on in the first place but we’ll listen if she wants to talk about it. We let her sleep as much as she needs to because if we try and keep her awake, she eventually starts crying. And if she starts crying on a hoodie day, it’s… well, it’s bad. It’s the only time I really worry about her.”
A tear rolls down her cheek. Without processing it first, I reach out and pull her in for a hug. She hugs me back and cries all over my shirt for a minute before letting go.
“You might not realize it, but we’re good for you. And you’re good for us, too. All of us. Who knows, maybe some fresh eyes will see something we haven’t tried for hoodie days.” She sniffles and wipes her eyes with the backs of her hands, then looks at me. “You’re good for each other, I think.”
“Maybe.”
She rolls her eyes and nods at the TV. “Want to watch something? I just put on a comfort show, but I can change it.”
“I was thinking of going down to the gym, blowing off some steam.”
Lil snorts. “That sounds horrible to me, but you do you, boo.”
I smirk and change into some workout clothes, then try to exhaust myself so I can sleep.
