by Hazel Kelly
“I’m still short a few guys on the football team.”
“Oh?” I asked, my hope rekindled. “Who are you missing?”
“I think just Troy and Austin.”
My face fell.
“And Luke.”
“Oh, I totally forgot about Luke,” I said, my tone of voice sounding fake as hell. “Don’t think I’ve run into him yet. Or Troy,” I added, trying to cover my ass.
“Do you see them?” she asked. “Maybe we could call them over here.”
“Would be a shame to lose this sick spot,” I said, drumming my fingers on the picnic table. “I wish everyone we missed would just line up here so we could do a rapid-fire book signing.”
“Not too rapid-fire, though,” she said, combing her pages for blank space. “Otherwise they’ll funnel us into the gym and put a movie on, and I’d much rather keep working on my highlights.”
“Nikki, your hair couldn’t be any blonder than it already is.”
“We don’t know that,” she said. “I just started using this special shampoo. Apparently it has purple specks in it that can boost my blonde.”
I rolled my eyes. “Trust me. It’s plenty boosted.”
“Oh, there’s one,” she said, curving her hand next to her mouth. “Luke! Luke!”
Luke stopped mid-step in the short grass and looked around, his handsome face registering Nikki when she started to wave.
I felt my cheeks go red, dropped my eyes to my yearbook, and pretended to look for some space. As if I hadn’t saved a whole half a page just for him.
“Hey ladies,” he said, laying his yearbook on the picnic table and straddling the bench opposite us.
I forced a smile and tried not to maintain eye contact for too long.
“Nice people-watching spot you have here.”
“We certainly think so,” Nikki said. “You’re welcome to stay if you like.”
“For the measly price of a signature,” I added.
“Of course,” he said, sliding his book across the table towards Nikki.
She acted fast, pushing hers over to him and tapping a spot on the page. “Do you care where I sign?”
“Anywhere is fine,” he said, pulling a pen out of his back pocket.
I watched him twist his mouth in concentration as he wrote “Have a great summer” in Nikki’s yearbook.
“Here,” she said, sliding his over to me when she was done.
I’d been holding yearbooks all day, but his felt different. Heavier. More important.
Luke closed Nikki’s yearbook and reached for mine.
“Umm. There’s some room here,” I said, pointing to the empty space.
“I see that,” he said as his smiling eyes found mine.
I looked down and flipped through his yearbook, but it was impossible to ignore the fact that he was touching mine. And while I desperately wanted to read what other people had written in his, I felt like my wandering eyes were too obvious. At least they felt that way behind my bug-eyed lenses.
Finally, I found an empty strip along the top of one page and took a deep breath.
I hadn’t even started writing when he slammed my book closed and slid it back over to me. I raised my eyes. “That was fast.”
He stuck his pen behind his ear. “I’ve been practicing all day.”
I swallowed and looked back down, hoping with everything I had that I wouldn’t start visibly sweating.
“So I guess we can do this again in four years,” Nikki said. “Since we’re all headed to the same place.”
I bit the inside of my lip, but my mind was blank. I was the freaking editor of the school newspaper, and I couldn’t think of a single goddamned word. Jesus. Fuck. Oh sure. Those words came. Why don’t I just write a string of curse words in his yearbook? That would be lovely and memorable. What the fuck was wrong with me?
I knew I had to write something quick so they didn’t notice that I was having a full-blown anxiety attack. “Have a great summer,” I wrote. “Can’t wait to see you on campus.” Fucking pen. It was too late now. Can’t wait?! Can’t wait?! He was totally going to see through that. I signed my name and then, to make matters worse, I made the dot over the i into a little heart.
Fortunately, I stopped myself there, closed the book abruptly, and slid it across the table.
And as much as I liked having Luke so close to me, as much as I enjoyed imagining that I could talk to him as easily as Nikki could, I wanted him to leave already.
So I could open my yearbook and see what he wrote.
And drag my fingers across it.
T H I R T Y S E V E N
- Rosie -
My professor wasn’t kidding.
My report had gone viral, and you couldn’t tell by watching it that I was cross-eyed with blindness and anxiety. Best of all, most of the comments were supportive. People generally liked my extreme layman’s style description of the game’s events and the creative jabs I took at the other team, none of which I even remembered until I watched it back.
Of course, there were some people who said mean things, things that made me wish I had thicker skin. But I tried to remind myself that it wasn’t the trolls and the critics that counted. It was the people who enjoyed it or who had something constructive to say.
It was their feedback that I should focus on, their feedback that could actually make me better.
Then again, there was only one person whose feedback I actually cared about, and I’d lost the right to hear it. Because he trusted me, and I betrayed that trust. Frankly, I felt sick every time I thought about it.
Why couldn’t I just grow up already and know better? Why did I have to make such deplorable mistakes, mistakes that hurt people, mistakes that made me ashamed of myself? It was an awful feeling.
In fact, it was the most awful feeling I could imagine…besides the feeling I got when I thought about how I would feel if I never told him how sorry I was.
After all, while seeing the video was a confidence boost, the joy I felt seemed shallow and meaningless without having him to share it with. It was so weird. A few weeks ago, I thought my ambition was the only thing that mattered, but despite the progress I’d made towards my goals, they no longer seemed important.
At least, not in comparison to him.
But I couldn’t keep listening to “Purple Rain” and “Nothing Compares 2 U” on loop forever. I had to face him. I had to apologize once and for all, and if he seemed receptive, I had to beg him to give me another chance. Because as fucked up as it was, hurting him had shown me how much I really cared about him.
And even though I didn’t deserve his forgiveness, he deserved to know that I didn’t mean what I said and that I’d said it for despicable, insecure, asinine reasons that had nothing—nothing—to do with him.
I knocked on his door and took a deep breath, crossing my fingers that he would answer and that his roommate would be out so we could talk.
But Anders opened the door in a pair of grotty shorts with a hand towel over his shoulder.
“Hi.” I forced a smile.
“Hey.”
“Is Luke here?”
“Naw,” he said. “Just his brother.”
“What?”
“Luke had a meeting with some scouts,” he said. “Denver or Florida. Can’t remember.”
“Did you say his brother was here?” I looked past Anders, but Luke’s bedroom door was closed.
“Last I checked.”
I pointed past him. “Do you mind if I—?”
He shrugged, swung the door open, and disappeared into the bathroom.
I shut the door behind me, followed the wheel marks in the carpet up to Luke’s door, and knocked gently.
“Luke?”
“No,” I said. “It’s Rosie.”
“Rosie Bennet?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Okay.”
I pushed the door open and smiled. Patrick was sitting at his brother’s desk in front of his open laptop,
his hair the same dirty blonde as Luke’s. “Hi.”
“You can come in,” he said.
I stepped inside.
“Will you close the door?” he asked, lowering his voice. “Luke doesn’t want me to let Anders’s smell in here.”
“Of course,” I said, shutting it and stepping up to his outstretched hand. “Nice to meet you. Patrick, I presume?”
“You too,” he said, his handshake surprisingly firm.
“How did you know my name?” I asked, sitting on the edge of the futon.
“I saw your article about Luke,” he said. “And your post-game breakdown.”
“You did?”
“Yeah,” he said. “I liked how you called the players by their nicknames. That was funny.”
“I wasn’t supposed to do that,” I said. “I only did it because I was nervous.”
“Oh.”
“So are you down for a visit with your family or—?”
“Not exactly.”
I leaned back, hoping for more.
“I’m actually supposed to be at home—or at least in school—but Luke kidnapped me for a few days.”
“He kidnapped you?”
“Don’t worry,” Patrick said. “My mom knows where I am.”
“Have you been staying here?”
He nodded. “Only temporarily.”
“I see.”
“Do you want something to drink?” he asked, checking the clock on Luke’s laptop. “I don’t think Luke will be back for a while, so you might have to wait a few hours.”
“A few hours?”
“Could be five minutes,” he said. “I just don’t want to get your hopes up.”
“Maybe you could just tell him I came by?”
“What about?” He reached for a sticky note.
“I owe him an apology.”
He blinked at me. “For what?”
“I said something mean to him for no good reason.”
He waved my concern away. “I’m sure it’s fine. Luke’s the toughest guy I know. He probably already forgave you.”
“I’d like to be sure.”
“I’ll tell him.”
“Thanks.” I stood up and walked to the door, but as soon as I grabbed the knob, something stopped me. “Hey Patrick?”
“Yeah?”
“Have you had dinner?”
He raised his eyebrows.
“Because if you haven’t, we could go for some pancakes or something?”
He cocked his head. “For dinner?”
“Don’t you ever eat breakfast for dinner?”
“Yeah,” he said. “But usually only cereal. Not, like, waffles and bacon.”
“In college, you can eat waffles and bacon 24/7.”
The spark of excitement in his face evaporated. “I told Luke I wouldn’t go anywhere.”
“We’ll leave him a note,” I said. “And I’ll show you around campus for a while since he’s busy.”
He sized me up as he considered my offer.
“He can come meet up with us later.”
“Off the record?”
I laughed. “Of course. Just as friends.”
“Friends who eat waffles together?”
“And bacon,” I said. “Extra crispy.”
He twisted his mouth in a way that reminded me of Luke.
“I promise the pancake house smells better than Anders.”
“Okay. One second.” He reached for a piece of printer paper on the top shelf over Luke’s desk.
I leaned against the door while he wrote his note, watching as he scribbled one careful word at a time. “What did you write?” I asked once he’d finished.
His eyes scanned the page as he read it out loud. “Went to breakfast with Rosie Bennet, the reporter. Off the record. Come quick when you can. PS—She’s sorry for what she said.”
I smiled. “Perfect.”
“He knows where we’re going, right?” Patrick asked, rolling one of his wheels back in order to turn towards the door.
“Absolutely,” I said. “Though they’re usually afraid to see him coming because he eats so much.”
“You’re telling me,” he said, nodding with big eyes like I didn’t know the half of it.
I pulled the door open, but when I noticed how difficult it was for him to roll through the carpet, I asked if he needed help.
“I don’t need it,” he said. “But if you’re hungry, we’ll get there sooner if you help me as far as the hall.”
“No problem,” I said, grabbing the handles on his chair. “It would be my pleasure.”
T H I R T Y E I G H T
- Luke -
Rosie was pushing Patrick on a swing when I finally met up with them.
“Slower,” he said. “Or my waffles are going to come up.”
“Waffles?” I asked as Rosie slowed him down.
“Luke!” Patrick said, his eyes lighting up. “We had breakfast for dinner.”
“I heard,” I said, nodding at Rosie. “Thanks for the text.”
She smiled, but I could sense some hesitation in her expression.
“I think it’s about time to call it a night, buddy,” I said, shoving my hands in my pockets. “Even though it’s obvious that college life suits you.”
“Yeah, it does,” he said. “We had breakfast for dinner. I tried all the syrups, and we went to the Natural History Building and Rosie showed me a dinosaur kneecap. And we’ve had the park all to ourselves for a whole hour.”
“That’s because all the other kids your age are already in bed,” I said, lifting under his armpits and setting him in his chair. “But I’m glad you had such an eventful night.”
It was so full, in fact, that neither Rosie nor I could get a word in edgewise the whole way back to my apartment. On the plus side, I knew that the more amped Patrick got over telling me about his day, the more likely he was to crash as soon as we got back.
“Can you stick around a while longer?” I asked Rosie as I unlocked my front door. “His bedtime routine only takes a few minutes.”
“Sure,” she said, following us in and collapsing on one side of the couch. “Are you sure you don’t need help with anything?”
“I think you’ve done enough,” I said, offering her a grateful smile.
“Where’s Smelly Anders?” Patrick asked as I pushed him into the bathroom.
“Probably out having breakfast somewhere,” I said, grabbing his toothbrush from the medicine cabinet.
“Impossible,” he said. “Rosie and I ate all the breakfast on campus.”
“No stalling,” I said, pointing at him in the mirror. “If there’s one thing college guys take seriously, it’s getting enough sleep.”
Patrick nodded and reached for the toothpaste on the counter.
“Call me when you’re done,” I said, closing the bathroom door before walking over to take a seat beside Rosie. “You look exhausted.”
“He has a lot of energy for someone half my size.”
I rested my elbow on the arm of the couch. “Thanks for showing him such a good time.”
“Thanks for not flipping out that I kidnapped him.”
“I’m not really in a position to scold people for kidnapping right now.”
“So I heard,” she said.
“He told you?”
She nodded. “But he can’t stay here. You know that, right? He already misses school, and it’s only been a few days.”
I leaned forward and dragged my hands down my face. “I know.”
“What happened to your eye?”
“Nothing.”
“Luke.”
I lowered my voice. “My dad got a little overexcited to see me.”
“Jesus. Does it hurt?”
“No. He hasn’t been able to hurt me for a long time now.”
She touched my shoulder, scooted closer, and lowered her voice. “I owe you an apology.”
I turned to look at her.
“What I said the other day
was completely out of line. I had no right to say it, and I didn’t even mean it.”
“You were just upset. You had every right to be.”
She shook her head. “No I didn’t. And there’s no excuse for the way I treated you.”
I sighed.
“You deserve better,” she said. “And you were right about everything.”
I raised my eyebrows.
“The glasses, the report, the fact that it went okay. You were right about all of it, and I can’t even begin to tell you how ashamed I am of the way I behaved.”
I fixed my eyes on her. “It was a pretty fucked up thing to say.”
“I know.” Her glassy eyes searched mine. “But if you can find it in yourself to forgive me, I promise I will never hurt you like that again.”
“Is that on the condition that I don’t sabotage any more of your reports?”
“You didn’t sabotage anything, and even if you did, it wouldn’t matter. All that matters to me is that I didn’t sabotage what we have, what we almost had before I—”
“Rosie.” I angled my body towards her.
“What?”
“I forgive you.”
Her shoulders relaxed.
“On the condition that you really didn’t mean it, because if you did—”
“I didn’t,” she said. “I was being a selfish brat, and I wanted you to hurt because I was hurting.”
I clenched my jaw.
“It was stupid and immature, and I let myself down. I let you down.”
I ran a hand through my hair.
“And that’s not what I want,” she said. “I want to pick you up and support you. Like you deserve. I want to make you proud.”
“You don’t have to do anything to make me proud.”
“I know that now,” she said. “So what do you say? Will you give me another chance to be the woman you think I can be?”
“Just be the woman you are,” I said. “That’s always been more than enough for me.”
She glanced at my lips, and I leaned in to kiss h—
“Done!” Patrick said, throwing the bathroom door open.
She laughed, and I went to scoop Patrick up. One quick pajama change later, and I’d managed to get him in bed and turn the lights out.
“Is he sleeping in your bed with you?” Rosie whispered as I stepped back into the sitting room.
