A true friend will go to the end of the earth, just to find what you need. Mads does that and so much more. Our friendship is worth fighting for no matter the cost.
I find a big oak tree away from all of the children and students at the park and lean against the trunk. My fingers quickly press Mads number into the phone. Even though I expect it, it still stings when I get sent to voicemail. I take a deep calming, breath before the little beep sounds indicating I should record my message.
“Hey, Mads. It’s me. You can stay mad at me if you want, just know that I’m not giving up on you. You’re my best friend, Mads and I don’t want to lose you.”
Later that evening, I decide to work ahead in my classes and get my homework done for the weekend. Mads hasn’t called me back yet and even though the silent treatment she’s giving me is driving me insane, I’m trying not to let it get to me. She’ll come around and talk to me when she’s ready.
I hope.
Homework isn’t my first option, but since Mads hasn’t called me back I need something to keep my mind occupied and all of my other friends seem to be out for the evening. Well, maybe not all of them, but it doesn’t feel right stopping by Ian’s dorm . . . so I’m leaning over my geology textbook trying to figure out the difference between shale, trona and schist rocks.
After thirty minutes, my eyes feel like they’re going to explode from comparing my textbook, notes and the rock kit Mr. Miller allowed each student to borrow for the weekend. I push myself off of my bed and pull a Dr. Pepper from my mini-fridge in the corner.
The amount of calls I’ve made to Mads today is probably considered stalkerish. It embarrasses me to admit how much I’ve called her, but I reached double digits a while ago, so I guess there’s no point in stopping now. She has to answer at some point, right?
I don’t care if she answers the phone screaming and shouting for me to leave her alone, anything will be better than the silence she’s giving me. My fingers dance across the screen of my phone as I type in her number. I lean my head back to allow the last few drops of Dr. Pepper to enter my mouth, as the phone begins to ring.
It surprises me when the phone continues to ring and I don’t get sent straight to voicemail. The phone rings for the fifth time and then stops, before sending me through to voicemail. My throat feels tight and my breathing comes in quick gasps. I hang up the phone and slide to my floor.
What am I going to do without my best friend?
Chapter Sixteen
It’s the last Monday in September. My phone ring and a fierce happiness spreads all the way from my toes to the tip of my head. Seven long days have passed since Ian spoke to me last. I’ve tried keeping my calm this past week, but whenever someone knocked on my door or my phone buzzed with an incoming message, I’d lose all sense of control and turn into a twitterpated lunatic.
I take a deep breath as I attempt to keep the madwoman within from resurfacing. The words form on my lips like a prayer. Please let it be Ian. Please let it be Ian. I squeeze my eyes shut, hastily flip my phone over and then peek through my fingers, hoping to find his name flashing across the screen.
My stomach twists in knots. I know the number flashing across the screen by heart, but the truth is answering the call fills me with just as much anxiety and dread as Ian’s avoidance. I debate sending Mads to voicemail, but guilt weighs heavily on my shoulders.
“Hello?” I ask timidly, answering the phone on the third ring.
“Emily?” She says, quickly the rest of her words rushing out. “I am so sorry! I was such an ass. Please, please, pretty please forgive me.”
“Slow down, Mads,” I say, pulling my jacket on. Then I grab Batman: Year One off of my desk and then I shove it into my book bag. A vibrating sensation tingles up my arm as the alarm on my watch goes off, warning me I have five minutes until class starts and reminding me I am way behind schedule. I fling my book bag over my shoulder, grab my bike chain and lock the door behind me.
Mads has always been there for me and maybe it’s a little naive to trust her, but . . . she's my best friend and I know I'd be lost without her.
I take a deep breath and say, “Yeah, of course. I forgive you. You're my person.”
“You’re my person,” Mads says. I can hear the smile in her voice. “So, um, how are your classes going?”
“Okay, I guess.”
After a moment of silence, Mads clears her throat. “Are you sure everything is okay?”
“Sorry.” My fingers run across the smooth surface of the Blarney Stone necklace Mason sent me at the beginning of the school year.
A shiver runs down my spine. Not talking to Ian has slowly been driving me mad, but the last time I brought Ian up, Mads and I stopped talking. I sigh.
Do I want to risk silencing our friendship again?
The sky is overcast, a cold wind rustles through the trees making me shiver. It looks like it’s going to rain. I’m tempted to go back to the dorms so I can grab my jacket, but then I glance at my watch again and see I’m already two minutes late.
I hate being late.
This past week my isolation from Ian has become such a normal routine, and I hate it. Every morning, I lounge around in my dorm room, witting for Danielle to give me the heads up that the coast is clear and she's leaving for school, meaning he is too, then I scramble to make it to class on time. So far I've been able to avoid any confrontations with my teachers, but I'm worried my constant tardiness will result in a lecture and a call home to my father.
“Things have just been a little complicated lately . . .”
Doubt gnaws on the inside of my stomach as I weigh my options. Opening up and telling Mads everything might salvage our friendship or it could tear the fragile relationship we now have into shreds.
Would she even listen if I told her everything that's been going on with Mason? Would she understand why my heart is so torn?
On the other hand, admitting I don't like Ian to her—even if it is a downright lie—could save everything and finally get her off my back.
“Complicated?” She asks as I'm climbing onto my bike.
I push the pedals hard, trying to make my way through Adam's Park in record time. My stomach feels hollow like a gaping wound has left me open.
The clouds give in, small drops of rain start to pelt my skin as I tell Mads everything that has happened since our fight a week ago. She interjects every now and again with threats to set Sarah’s house on fire or put orange dye in her spray tan so she comes out looking like an Oompa Loompa.
The line goes quiet after I tell Mads how Sarah accused me of liking Ian. I grit my teeth together and pedal faster. After a few seconds pass, she asks, “So do you like him?”I flinch, the edge in her voice is as sharp as a razor.
“No.” This isn’t completely true, and I don't want to lie to her, but . . . my stomach turns. I slowly exhale. “At least, not more than a friend.”
“Oh, good.” She says, and then eagerly starts filling me in on news about the Royal Family, any doubt she had about our friendship vanishing.
She tells me tabloids claim things got a little too risque between Prince Harry and a bunch of spring breakers at Myrtle Beach last year. I ride past a group of kids dressed as medieval characters sword fighting.
“Can you believe what Harry did?” Mads says her voice rising. “AND it was right before Kate’s Debutante Ball.”
I try being a good friend and respond at the appropriate times with enthusiastic “yeahs” and “uh-huhs,” but the gaping hole in the pit of my stomach widens. My mind wanders to everything that has happened since I last talked to Mason. The phone call with my mom, Danielle's intervention and . . . the day Ian took me to the park. He told me there would be a big change in my life.
Does that big change deal with Mason?
He sent that picture of him with another girl. Does that mean he doesn't want to see me anymore?
I chew on my lip, pedaling faster, ducking to avoid the rain as much as possible.
My thoughts gnaw at the gaping hole in my chest, shredding me to pieces.
My breathing comes quickly. Sharp breaths in. Sharp breaths out. It feels as if my heart has been ripped from my chest, thrown to the ground and stomped on a thousand times. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying my best to drown out these miserable thoughts, but I can't.
“Emily?” Mads voice sounds distant like she's in another world. “Hello?” She yells this time pulling me from my thoughts.
“I-I uh. I'm sorry, what?”
Her voice is suddenly chipper. “Did Mason tell you about the safari he went on last week?”
My stomach drops past my toes and straight to hell.
What?
What did she say?
I slam on my brakes, skidding to a stop. My bike flips over, throwing me off and sending my phone flying through the air. It lands on the sidewalk with a loud thud, little pieces of glass flying through the air. I lie motionless, the reality of my situation sinking in like the rain that's slowly soaking my hoodie. I can't focus on anything, but my dying, broken heart.
Chapter Seventeen
Ouch.
I try pushing myself up, but a searing pain shoots through my body and I fall back to the ground. My back is throbbing almost as if my rejected heart has shattered through my rib cage. The cold rain pelts against my skin and I shiver, not because of the cold—but because I am angry.
Angry for believing everything was okay between Mason and me. Angry that I tried so hard to make things work when he couldn't give a damn. And, most of all, I'm angry at myself because despite all that he's done—how much he's hurt and neglected me—I-I still . . . love him.
What is wrong with me?
Why do I keep running back to him over and over again?
Gravel crunches softly as footsteps approach, the steady tap, tap, tap of sneakers hitting the pavement.
“Emily! Are you okay?”
Of course, it's Ian.
I roll my eyes to the sky. Why can't it be the pimply boy that sits behind me in AP English? Or the kid in Geology that's always picking his nose and eating his boogers? Why can't it be anyone but Wonder Boy coming to my rescue? As if my fickle heart isn't confused enough.
I try pushing myself up again, but my elbow gives way and I crash against the pavement again. Ian rushes to my side. “It's okay, I'm here now.”
He scoops my shattered iPhone up, shoving it into his pocket, before bending down and gathering me up in his arms. Then he starts walking back to the dorms.
Being pressed against his chest, having him hold me like this is not helping. I squirm against him. “It's okay, I can walk.”
Ian nods, gingerly. He sets me down lightly, gently. I take a step forward, a sharp pain shoots through my right ankle. My legs wobble under me and I almost make out with the concrete, but Ian catches me before I fall.
“I think you've twisted your ankle,” he says, softly. FAN-FREAKIN-TASTIC. This day just keeps getting better and better.
“Wait, my bike,” I say, reaching out and putting my hand on his chest when he starts heading towards the dorms again. His heart is racing in his chest, synchronizing with my own.
Ian's whole body shakes, laughter rippling through his chest. “Your bike can wait.”
“But—“
He holds up a finger, wags it at me, and then says in a deep, authoritative voice. “Doctor's orders.”
Every step Ian takes sends a sharp pain through my spine. My head throbs. Blood seeps from a long gash on my arm, staining the sleeve of my shirt and a splitting pain runs through my ankle. Stupid bike. Ian isn’t supposed to be here. He’s not supposed to be cute and take care of me. He’s not supposed to be acting like Prince Freakin’ Charming; it’s only going to make things more complicated.
I sigh.
Ian looks down at me. “Does it hurt?”
I close my eyes, nodding. All I can think about is the smell of Ian's cologne and how tightly he’s hugging me to his chest. His heart thumps softly against my ear like a lullaby, safe and reassuring. It's like whenever I'm around Ian I forget all my fears and escape to a different world. A world that's full of possibility.
He strokes my hair. “I’ll take care of you.”
Instinctively, my arms wrap around Ian's neck, snuggling into him. Why does it feel so good for Ian to hold me in his arms?
His body stiffens. Hells Bells, can I do anything right? He's just being a gentleman and here I am trying to make something out of nothing. I blush and start to pull away.
“You don't have to let go, it's okay.” Ian touches my shoulder lightly, clearing his throat. His cheeks flush bright red and I feel myself blushing too. “It, uh, actually helps—”
I stare at him. His blush depends.
“Uh, not that you're heavy, because you're not . . . it's just good for support and it's been a while and I should probably just shut the bloody hell up before I dig myself into a deeper hole.”
“Good idea,” I smirk against his chest as he opens the door to Cyprus Hall and climbs the stairs to my floor.
“How can I make it up to you?” He asks, gently putting me down. I lean against the wall as he looks for my keys in my backpack. My cheeks flame as his fingers swiftly moves a yellow tampon out of the way. A few mortifying seconds pass, then Ian pulls out my Disney princess lanyard.
A small spark of hope ignites in my chest as I remember the last time he held my lanyard. The smile that spread across his face as he asked about my Minnie Mouse ears and told me about his sister. Ian wraps his arm around my back, I loop my arm around his and then we very awkwardly shuffle into my room, Ian supporting my weight. “Will you tell me about your sister?”
His eyes look heavy as he helps me to my bed and then slowly asks, “What do you want to know?”
“Is she in America too?”
“No, she's back home,” Ian says as he starts cleaning the cut on my arm.
“Oh.” I stare at the hole in my jeans, trying to keep my mind off of Ian's face inches from mine. “Is she going to school in London or is she at a boarding school, too?"
“She's still in London,” Ian says as he finishes cleaning my arm. He looks at me and then clears his throat. “Um . . . I’ll go see if Danielle is in her room.”
When I don’t respond, he shuffles his feet and mutters, “So she can clean up your back.”
Ian leaves the room and I hear him knocking on Danielle’s door, two doors down. Of course, the one day I’m not a neat freak Wonder Boy is in my FREAKIN’ room. Clothes lay sprawled across the floor, my shoes don’t sit neatly in the closet, but instead are all over the floor and my bed is unmade.
Hells Bells! Is that a bra on the bedpost?
I hobble over to the bedpost, try yanking it off, but fall over in the process. I try to lift myself up again, but searing pain shoots through my arm. “Damn it!”
When Ian walks back into the room and sees me lying on the floor, he rushes to my side. “What happened? Are you okay?”
I nod and then quickly shove the bra under my bed before he sees it. He helps me onto my bed. He runs his hand through his hair. “Danielle isn’t in her room.”
“Oh.” Embarrassment makes my cheeks flush and I hate that I have to ask this. “Would you, uh mind—” Ian’s cheeks flush. I quickly avert my gaze. “You know what, it’s okay I can wait until Danielle gets back. It’s probably nothing.”
I push myself off my bed, trying to prove my point, instead, I stumble. I squeeze my eyes shut, bracing myself for my fall, but I never make contact with the hardwood floor. Ian’s arms wrap securely around me. “It’s okay, I don’t mind.”
I can’t see his face, but I’d bet my entire Disney collection he’s smiling.
My heart hammers in my chest as Ian slowly slides my shirt over my head. He grabs some alcohol wipes and starts wiping the grit from my back. I wince as the wipes slide across my skin, cleaning the wound.
“Sorry.” Ian’s breath is warm on my back. It’s funny, Mason has never
given me more than a quick peck on the lips, but here I am practically naked, alone in my room, with this beautiful English boy I can’t get out of my head.
Being alone with Ian in my room isn’t anything like I anticipated. I always imagined if we were alone together it would be under more favorable circumstances. I’m not talking about sex, but sitting next to him, snuggled against his chest as we watch a movie sounds perfect.
His fingers brush against my bra strap. My heart thumps loudly in my chest.
“Sorry. There’s a lot of dried blood.”
I can’t concentrate.
My brain is mush.
“Uh, didn't you say your sister likes Disney and Sleeping Beauty. Is that her favorite Disney movie then?” I manage to ask when my mouth remembers how to work.
He looks at me, shocked. His fingers run through his hair. “You remembered that? It's been at least a month since we—since I told you.”
“Of course, I remember.” My voice is soft. I'd remember the laws of quantum physics if Ian explained them to me.
“Yeah, she likes Sleeping Beauty.” The way he's staring at me makes my skin feel like it's on fire. He turns away and focuses on cleaning my back again. “Although, she doesn't really have much to compare it to. She hasn't seen any of the newer movies.”
“Well, she's not really missing out.” I bit my lip. “The classics are the best.”
“Emily?” His fingers dance across my bra strap again. I’m wearing a baby blue, sheer bra covered in lace. It has little white gold crowns embroidered into the fabric and there is a silver pumpkin carriage like Cinderella’s in the center on the bra.
“Yeah?” I ask. He rests his hands on my shoulders and slowly turns me towards him. When I see the way he’s looking at me—like I’m the only person he’ll ever want—I melt.
His face is inches from mine. I stare at his lips. They look so kissable. Once again, I find myself imagining what it would feel like to have his lip crash against mine. Would he kiss me softly and slowly? Or would his kisses be hard and full of passion? I glance up and notice he’s looking at my lips, too.
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