by Holly Ryan
I roll my eyes.
“What’s this?” he says, inching closer. I can smell the alcohol on his breath. “Is Avery mad at me?”
I inch my shoulder away. “Did you just talk to me like I’m not here? And like I’m not Avery?” I know I’m being rude right now, but I am still upset about what he did, how he left me like that in the hallway. If he’d just apologize we could get through this conversation a lot smoother.
I collapse deeper into my seat. This bench is digging into my back.
Brendan is close to me. My apparent relaxation seems to have invited him to move over, even closer. I shift my weight away again and cross my legs in the opposite direction.
“What’s the matter, Avie?” he says.
“Don’t call me that,” I shoot back. Only certain people can call me that, certain friends, and he’s not one of them. Not after what he did. A friend wouldn’t have done that.
He puts on a fake grumpy voice. “Well, you’re gonna have to tell me what’s wrong. What if I need some help with my homework again?”
Yeah, that just about sums it up right there. He’s probably kidding – at least, I hope he is – but he doesn’t realize the complete truth that that statement rings to me.
“Brendan,” I say, turning to him. “I’d really like to be left alone right now. If you don’t mind.” I look boldly right into those beady little eyes.
He looks around. “What the hell? Why? I don’t see anything else going on.”
“Hi, Avery.”
Ethan is standing in front of us, his presence as tall and formidable as ever. I breathe a sigh of relief. Will this kid ever stop saving me? I smile. I stand, smooth my dress, and then tuck my body close to his. Ethan slings his arm across my shoulder. His now-familiar scent of sandalwood washes over me with the movement.
Brendan frowns. “Whatever,” he says. He gets up and disappears behind a group of partygoers.
As long as I can avoid him the rest of tonight, I hope to never have to see him again.
I look up at Ethan. “I guess you’re not so bad, after all.”
He pretends to be shocked. “That’s good to know.”
Now that Brendan’s safely gone, Ethan reads my mind. He releases his hold on my shoulder, his arm falling to his side. He takes a sip of his drink, and I hold mine with two hands so I can feel like I’m doing something. My eyes scan the deck and I lightly shake my leg.
A brief pause in the music takes place; the song changes from a mildly tolerable beating bass to a blaring hard rock song.
Ethan and I cringe.
“Want to go for a walk with me?” he says, gesturing to nowhere in particular.
I nod.
We move away from the speakers to walk around a bit, side by side on the deck, passing the time in each other’s company. It’s past midnight, and most everyone has had several drinks by now. Everyone, that is, except for me, and by the looks of things, Ethan, too. I catch glimpses of the fizz in his cup, and I’m impressed with his choice of beverage.
Brendan, meanwhile, is creeping me out; he keeps glancing at us from the other side of the deck.
“Yo, Ethan!”
The voice that rings out over the noise is painfully familiar. It’s deep, and loud, and bold without shame.
It … it can’t be.
Ethan leaves my side and approaches Cole.
I freeze.
It is Cole. It thought my mind was playing tricks on me. He looks the same as he did the last time I saw him – even his hair and the way he’s dressed (which isn’t a bit done up for the occasion) reminds me of that night. Everything, that is, except the biggest differences: the fact that we’re no longer together, and the fact that he’s now patting Ethan on the back.
Wait. What’s going on? I feel dizzy.
Why is Ethan talking to Cole like they know each other? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say they’re acting like they’re friends.
“How’s it going?” says Ethan to Cole, a smirk on his lips. “Julia said you weren’t gonna show.”
“Yeah, I wasn’t, but I was able to slip out. You know those family dinners … they get so old. I had to get away. I told them I had other stuff to do, and here I am.”
“Here you are,” repeats Ethan.
I need to sit down.
Why is Cole even here? He’s not supposed to be here. He’s not supposed to be anywhere near me, at least according to me. I knew I’d eventually have to face him again, but I wasn’t expecting eventually to be this soon. This, right here, isn’t how my eventually is supposed to work.
When they reach a break in the conversation, Cole looks in my direction. His eyes search for only a second, then they land on me.
I want to cower away. I want to take this cardigan and pull it over my head so I can pretend I’m in a safe, makeshift cocoon, in my own little world, just like I do when I’m in bed and the memories are the worst. If I did that, I wouldn’t have to see him, I wouldn’t have to even know he’s there. And I wouldn’t have to face these feelings that are rising up in me. Then, after that, I’d run away, right over there across that field of overgrown grass that James Connor calls his backyard.
But I don’t do those things. I don’t even look away. I’m looking straight at him, just like he’s looking straight at me. Straight through me, it feels like.
My knees feel weak.
Why is my body reacting this way? It’s not like Cole is the one who caused my attack, like everyone seems to think.
Or is he?
Ethan furrows his brow. He must be sensing something’s wrong, but I doubt he’ll be able to put two and two together.
The word finally leaves Cole’s mouth, and I shudder inside. “Avery,” he says, the surprise audible in his voice.
Avery.
In my memories, he’s spoken that precious word over and over. My stomach clenches. My legs want to run away, just like I dream of doing. But most of all, I don’t ever want him to say my name again. Avery.
“Avery?” he says again.
That breaks me out of my fog. My eyes de-glaze.
He cocks his head and grins at me as though no time has passed between us. Before, that stupid grin of his would have caused me to foolishly run into his arms, calling him cute. The pull of him was just so strong. Now it makes me want to puke.
Ethan is still watching me, too, but this time with a look of concern. I can see his mind working frantically to determine what’s wrong. One hand is stuck casually in his pocket, how he seems to like to keep it, and he’s still standing close to Cole.
I cross my arms, gripping my biceps. Maybe if I can make myself appear smaller, I’ll eventually disappear.
“Hi, Cole,” I manage to say. The words come out shaken and weak.
Cole walks over to me. I take one step back.
“Where have you been?” he says gently. “I haven’t seen you around.”
Wait, I know that tone. This is his way of faking being a good person.
He stops in front of me, looking down. “How are you?” he says, quieter this time, obviously trying to keep the conversation between the two of us. Ethan can no longer hear us. Through the beat of the music, even I can’t so much hear him as read his lips.
I forgot how big he was. He’s tall as ever, but a little more muscular, it seems. And the way my head tips up at just the same angle to meet his eyes brings back too much.
My throat tightens when I try to respond. I peek around him and see Ethan. He’s no longer watching us; he’s pretending to mind his own business, looking off in the other direction.
“I’m fine,” I lie to Cole.
“I heard about what happened,” he says. He frowns. “Life’s a bitch sometimes.”
“I guess it is.” And my apology is where, Cole? What is it with guys and apologies when it comes to me? Why can I never get one? It’s simple – all I want is a Sorry I kicked you out of the car and left you to the wolves that night. You know, literally. Sorry about that.
Cole’s face softens. “Come over here.”
He tries to take the side of my arm to lead me somewhere private, but I pull away from him. The fabric of my sleeve slips through his hand.
“Come on. I just want to talk to you.”
I take a seat in the closest available chair. This is too much. I thought I could take this, I thought I was ready … but I can’t, and I’m not.
He places a hand on the chair opposite me and pulls it out. “Okay, I guess we can sit here. That works.”
Ethan’s left by now. My eyes search for him in the crowd, but he’s nowhere to be seen.
Cole laughs. “Jesus, you’re quiet now, Avery. This isn’t how I remember you.”
I don’t answer.
He considers me more. “You’re walking good. I was worried about that.”
Why can’t I tell him off like I told off Brendan? I want to. I want to tell him, You were worried about that? Of all things, you were worried about my leg, and how I walk? Not my soul?
“It’s just a leg,” I say.
He laughs again. “You’re right. I guess it is just a leg.”
“Is there something you want to say to me?”
Cole leans back in his chair. He taps the glass tabletop with his arm that’s slung across the table. “Well, I missed you, is all. And–” he leans forward, “I’m sorry that happened to you. And I hope we can still be friends. Because I do miss you, Avery. Come on. You know that.”
Humph. That was as close as I’m going to get to an apology, I’m sure. And isn’t that just like him? To infer that I know where his affection stands without ever actually having told me?
I catch a glimpse of Ethan. He’s wandered back to the opposite side of the deck and is talking to Julia Crane. She’s got her fake, lilting smile on and she’s giggling at whatever he’s saying.
I wish I still had the sense of clarity to be that carefree.
“I know everything’s too fucked up now.” Cole goes on, causing me to turn my attention back. He leans even further forward, closing the space between us. “But I want you to know you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
Somehow, I gather the strength to stand. My knees are still wobbly, so I hoist myself up with the help of the table.
“You’re right,” I say. Now that I know what he wanted to say, I’m calmer, and it shows in my steady voice. “I was the best thing that’s ever happened to you.”
His back hits the back of the chair again, I think in a state of shock.
“But things are too fucked up now,” I go on. “You were right about that, too.” I take a deep breath. “And this is the last time you’ll talk to me. I never want to speak to you again, Cole. I mean that.”
I turn on my heel as fast as I can without risking losing my balance. I leave my drink on the table, but I don’t even care. I’m proud of myself right now.
I don’t know where I’m going – this stomping away is just for show – but I’m cherishing the beauty in this moment. There were so many times that I wanted to stand up to him like this but didn’t have the courage to do it. I have that courage here. He can’t hurt me here, in the midst of all these people, and there’s nothing he can do about what I just said. And if he tries–
Someone grabs my elbow from behind.
I jump.
“Woah, easy there,” says Ethan. “Sorry I grabbed you. You were moving so fast.” He lets go. “I thought I saw a blur of Avery pass by.”
I take a quick look back; Cole’s no longer at the table. I don’t care where he went. I just hope he knows I meant what I said.
I never want to speak to you again. My mom will be one happy camper.
I sigh. It’s a relief to see Ethan. “That’s okay,” I say.
He nods in Cole’s former direction. “What was that about?”
“Nothing.” I gather my clutch closer to my body. I hope Ethan doesn’t notice that I left so fast that I forgot to take my drink with me.
“Nothing.” Ethan shrugs. “Well, want to do nothing with me?”
And for the first time all night, I smile.
We walk together out into the grass of James Connor’s back yard. Ethan doesn’t care that I no longer have my drink, and I don’t care that I can still tell he’s drinking soda.
“You seemed pretty upset back there,” he says as we walk.
“I was.”
He tips his head in front of my path. “Want to vent?”
I sigh. “Not really.” Please, Ethan. Please just understand it would make everything worse right now.
“I get it,” he says carefully.
“You do?” I’m somewhat surprised. Does he really get it, or is he just saying that to be nice?
“I do. Let’s not talk about it then.” He swipes the air. “It’s off limits.”
I smile to myself.
“But what are you still doing at this lame party, then, if you’re feeling sad?”
I shrug. I catch some of the tall grass, rip it off and play with it. “I guess it’s better than being alone.”
Ethan nods. “I get that, too.”
“You do?” I say again, jokingly this time, because I sensed a hint of a joke in him. We look at each other and smile. His eyes light up by their own free will; in the moonlight they appear so soulful that if I tried real hard, I could see my reflection in them.
I look away. “You don’t even know my last name,” I say. That fact hadn’t occurred to me until now, and I should probably tell him. I mean, it is the proper way of doing things, and we’ve never been given the chance to do things properly before. “Dylan,” I say. “Avery Dylan.”
“I like it. I guess I should tell you mine.”
“I already know it.”
He looks at me, surprised. “You already know it?”
I nod but don’t respond. I want to keep him guessing a moment longer. “We are the same class, you know.”
“Well, Avery Dylan, I guess we know more about each other than we thought. And by the way, you didn’t have to tell me. I’ve known it all along.”
I wait, not wanting to give in to the invitation to nudge him for more.
He says, “From class. Duh.”
I smile.
I slip the piece of thick grass between my fingers over and over. The rhythm calms me even more than Ethan’s presence, which is saying a lot: the waves of his scent are washing under my nose in the breeze. Walking with him, I can forget everything. The fact that Cole is here, and that he could still be closer than I’d like. The fact that my leg is feeling a bit stiff now after that little escape show I just put on. The fact that I have no idea what’s going to happen in the future; and the best thing is, Ethan makes me not only forget about all that, but he makes me not even care.
We’ve walked the entire border of the back yard and we’re now at the other side. He grabs my hand.
“Come with me,” he says.
We hurry up to the gazebo that’s now free. Inside, he sits me down. It’s nice here. The atmosphere is still loud, of course, but in here it’s dim, some dull lights shimmering here and there, and we have the luxury of the semi-privacy of a screen. The bench is small, so there’s no room for Ethan to take a seat next to me. He appears fine with standing, though, but soon he begins to pace.
“What are you doing with that jerk?” he says out of nowhere.
I let out a laugh. “Good question. The story of my life…” Then I look at him, realizing he might have meant someone else. “Which jerk were you talking about?”
He furrows his brow. “Brendan.”
Oh, right. That jerk. Because God knows there have been a few.
“I guess he didn’t used to be a jerk. He used to be just a friend from class. But that’s the way all guys in my life are turning out lately.” I huff. “I’m starting to think it’s just part of their nature.”
“Part of the nature of guys, you mean? So you it’s mean part of my nature.”
I blush. “Well, n
ot yet, I guess. I don’t know. I mean, don’t you ever feel like that? Like everything with everyone around you is going wrong?”
He shakes his head. “No. And you’re wrong,” he says, and then he kneels down.
What’s going on? I sit up straight. I approach my next question carefully. “Wrong about what?”
He doesn’t move, and he doesn’t answer, either.
Why is he kneeling?
And why isn’t he answering me, for crying out loud?
“About all guys being jerks,” he finally says. He rests one elbow on his knee. “I know what you’ve been through, Avery, so I don’t blame you for thinking those things.”
Oh, no.
Not this. Not from you. Not more attack shit. Don’t bring this up now, when I’ve being doing so well moving on ... well, aside from that whole Cole thing that just went down. And that time in the movie theater.
Just … not you. Not when sometimes I think you’re the only reason I’ve been able to move on at all.
I grip the side of the bench with both hands.
“And it kills me to see you put up with that,” he says. “I don’t know how these bad guys keep finding you, Avery, but now a good one has found you, too, and that’s something to be thankful for. Do you know that?”
I can do nothing more than stare at him as I choke back the tears. No matter how much time has passed, or how many times someone brings it up, they always come. And his words … his words go straight and deep, down into my soul.
He’s waiting for me to say something; I know it.
But I can’t answer. All I can do is put my face in my hands. “You’re just saying that.”
He tips my chin up and holds it there. My eyes shoot around, but then come back to him. That privacy I thought we had isn’t so private after all; there are clusters of people just feet from us, drinking and laughing; couples sitting on the very edge of the outer gazebo, a boy’s arm slung around a girl. I push my shoulders back. I don’t care who sees us.
“I’m not bad,” he continues. “I promise I’m not. And Avery, I want to be the first guy in your life who’s not just saying that.” He forces a deep gaze. I see that reflection in his eyes. “Do you understand?”
