Page 104 of Okay, Cupid

“I don’t want you to be anything,” he says.

“If things were different …” I start to say.

But he stops me.

“Please, Jude,” he interrupts. “Just leave me here for a bit.”

I nod, but he doesn’t see me. I start walking back toward the road, almost stumbling as I climb the hill, the sand burning my eyes. I cry on my walk to the bus line, avoiding the festival and any lingering faces, avoiding Neve’s and Alice’s texts wondering where I’ve gone.

I want to go home. I want my bed. I want my blanket, my pillows.

But instead of getting on the California, I walk down to the 7, and ride for a while until I reach the 37 and take that to Twin Peaks Boulevard.

I climb the hill, to that familiar brown house where the lights shine from the inside.

I ring the doorbell at the gate, and a voice chimes in.

“Hello?”

“Cal? It’s Jude.” I can’t say anything at all without crying.

“Jude? What’s going on?”

“I need you,” I tell him. “Please.”

There’s the quiet sound as the gate at the front of Cal and Richard’s yard opens, and by the time I climb the steps, Cal is standing there waiting for me, dressed in a worn T-shirt and pajama pants.

“Jude? Baby, what happened?”

When I see the look on Cal’s face, I can’t keep it back any longer. The sobs begin, and I manage to say, “He’s in love with me.” I fall forward, Cal catching me on his shoulder. I feel the weight of his hands, one on my back, the other in my hair.

“Come on,” he whispers, pulling me away so he can look me in the eye. “Let’s go inside, yeah?”

I nod pathetically and follow him into the house.

I don’t explain what happened, not at first.

And he’s kind enough to give me the space that I need.

He leads me up to his bedroom and lets me lie there on his comforter, conscious of the sand I’m probably leaving behind before Cal comes back from downstairs a minute later with hot chocolate that I don’t want to drink.

God, I feel so pathetic.

Every time I close my eyes, I can see Huy, sitting there in the dark.

Cal climbs into bed next to me, setting our beverages on the nightstand before he curls up next to me, letting me put my head in his lap.

He doesn’t say a word; his hand just finds my hair and begins to play with the curls.

I want to lie here and not have to think about the world outside this bedroom. The world where Huy likes me.

He found the courage to admit his feelings to me and, like the coward I am, I told him that it’s impossible. Because it is. Because the responsible thing would’ve been to tell Leah and Richard a long time ago, to have gotten out early, before all this had a chance to get out of my hands.

Now it’s too late.

Because what do I do now? What do I do with myself?

Why am I like this?