Delicate

by Stephanie Campbell

  “Sydney,” he says softly. “Look, please just know that I’m here. If you need anything. I mean, if anything happened to you…” He stumbles over his words and it’s so unlike him.

  “Okay,” I mumble. It’s a lie. I’ll never be able to do that.

  He seems to accept it, though, and we turn toward the entrance.

  The rest of the class is already well into the tour. We decide against catching up with them, and instead, take our own tour.

  To say that the Atlanta Aquarium is massive is a total understatement. It’s literally the largest aquarium in the world. And I’m here. With Grant. It’s wrong to feel so happy to be able to spend this time with him. Wrong because I know that my being with him is the source of all of the problems that I have with Trevor.

  We walk through the large, acrylic tunnel. It’s dark and peaceful and I can’t help but enjoy it. Apart from my guilt.

  “So, you never finished telling me, what happened with you and your ex?” I try to sound casual rather than nosy.

  “Jealous are we?” he says with a smile. I visibly cringe. “I’m kidding, Syd. There’s no big story, sometimes, things just don’t work out the way that you hope they will.”

  His words are composed, but I can’t help but sense a twinge of regret behind them.

  “I guess you’re right,” I say. I can’t help it. My mind wanders to my relationship with Trevor.

  “All right, now it’s your turn,” he says.

  “My turn for what?”

  “To answer a difficult question.”

  “Shoot,” I say.

  “How do your parents feel about Trevor?” he asks. That’s not the question I was expecting. I decide to keep my answer honest. Simple.

  “My dad actually likes him a lot,” I say. I look down at a lock of my hair as I twirl it around my finger.

  “Hmmm…” he says. “What about your mom?”

  “My mom? Um, my mom passed away a couple of years ago.” The familiar sting in my throat is there when I say the words.

  “Shit, Syd, I’m sorry.”

  Grant takes my hand away from the piece of hair that I’ve been obsessively twirling and holds it in his.

  “It’s okay.” I shrug. I hate this part. When people feel bad for asking a simple question. Like they should have somehow known. But Grant isn’t like most people. He doesn’t ask a bunch of questions, and in turn, I find myself offering up information more than usual.

  “It was a freak thing. A hit and run. She was out jogging, like she did every single morning before work. Some idiot hit her.” I wipe my eyes to make sure they’re still dry. “He just left her there.” Like Trevor left me. Injured. Alone.

  Grant listens intently as I play it all out for him. The cops showing up at the door and me being the one to answer. How they held up her license, and asked if I knew her. How I said no and slammed the door in their faces. Grant squeezes my hand lightly every time he hears my voice crack. I tell him how she’s the reason I do gymnastics. How badly she wanted that for me before she died.

  “Sometimes, when I’m competing, I feel like she’s with me,” I say before I can stop the words from tumbling out of my mouth. I feel the rush of embarrassment and regret immediately.

  Grant notices the change in my demeanor and shakes his head slowly.

  “I bet she’s with you all the time, Sydney,” he says.

  “You think?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “I’m afraid I’m disappointing her,” I say.

  He laughs, like he can’t believe I just said that.

  “Disappointed? Why?”

  “I don’t know, like I’m not doing things well enough. I barely spend time with my sister. My grades are slipping…” I let my voice trail off when I see him shaking his head again.

  “You can’t be everything to everyone, Syd. I’m sure the only thing you could possibly do to let your mom down is to spend your life unhappy.” I know there are several ways I can interpret his statement. That I spend too much time trying to please everyone. That I try to live up to everyone else’s expectations of me— in gym, in school, at home. That I have a sometimes unstable relationship with my boyfriend… I’m sure he meant the latter.

  “I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” I say, jumping up off of the bench. I smile widely and motion for him to get up, too.

  “Let’s go check out some more fish!” I try to lighten the mood.

  He smiles back for a second, but then his forehead creases and his lips curve downward.

  “What is it?” I ask.

  He points behind me. “Cameras.”

  “Crap,” I say. “Dad or Sam must’ve told them we’d be here.”

  “I’m sorry,” he says. Like it’s his fault my life is a total circus.

  “Don’t be, it’s not your fault.”

  “Do you want me to go somewhere else? Out of their shots, I mean.”

  Yes.

  “No.” How can I say yes? After I just bared my soul to him. “I want to stop in the gift shop. I bet they can’t follow us in there.” Grant nods and follows me into the tight space. I stop to inspect the display of snow globes. I’m right; the cameras can’t film inside the gift shop, and it’s too packed in here for them to even attempt a clear shot. Not that I’m that interesting. Geez.

  “You collect these?” he asks, picking up a snow globe full of plastic sea horses and star fish.

  I shake my head. “No, my sister does. This week.”

  I find one that has sharks and mermaids. The combo is ridiculous and makes me laugh, so that’s the one I decide on. Grant stays close to my side as I go to the register to pay. There’s a large glass jewelry case next to the register. My eyes grow wide.

  “What? What’s the matter?” Grant asks. The concern is ever present in his voice.

  “Nothing, it’s just…” I point into the locked case. A strand of fresh water pearls is on display on the top shelf. They’re almost identical to the ones I’d ruined.

  “My mom had some just like that,” I say.

  “The ones you wore to prom?” he asks. I pull my brows together, how could he remember that?

  “I notice everything about you, Sydney,” he adds with a shy shrug of his shoulders, answering the unspoken question in my eyes.

  “Yeah, those are the ones. But they broke.” I frown.

  “Next customer, please.” The elderly woman behind the counter calls to me. I glance up at Grant’s sympathetic eyes and walk to the other side of the counter to make my purchase.

  We walk silently toward the exit. I know the cameras are likely behind us. That I should leave Grant’s side. I just don’t have it in me to fake it right now. I’m here, with him, because I want to be.

  “We need to find the class before we end up stranded in Atlanta,” Grant says, resting his hand on the small of my back. He still looks concerned though, ever since I brought up the necklace. He knows there’s more to that story than I alluded to. We’re walking closer now than we had on the way into the aquarium. This time, I don’t have to imagine the warm, clean smell of his skin; I can breathe it in, real time now.

  “So, you never did tell me, what happened with you and Shayna after prom,” I say. I bump his arm with mine and try to sound blasé, but fail miserably.

  Grant lets out a small laugh.

  “Actually, if you want to get technical about it, you never let me finish telling you,” he qualifies.

  “Right.”

  “Nothing happened, Sydney. If you know me at all, you’ve got to know that.”

  “But I saw you two. I saw you go into the guest room with her. I saw you carry her out the next morning.”

  He pinches the skin in between his eyes.

  “But nothing happened. She was wasted. I couldn’t very well bring her home like that, but I sure as shit wasn’t going to leave her there, drunk, in a house full of guys, either. I stayed the night in the room with her after she passed out, but I slept on the floor. I d
rove her home the next morning. That’s it.”

  “Oh.” Is all I can lamely muster. He grins back at me, seeing the surprise on my face.

  “Why in the world would you honestly think…” he starts. “Never mind.” He throws his head back in a booming laugh that catches me off guard. I can’t help but crack a smile and then join in.

  We board the bus together, taking the same seats we had on the way to the aquarium—Grant sits one seat in front of me, though this time, he doesn’t keep his back turned to me. I’m thankful that the bus is technically school property and the cameras can’t board with us. Pulling away from them, and the aquarium, the relief is palpable.

  “So, what’s on your agenda for the summer?” I ask.

  “I’m going back to New York,” he answers. I feel my face fall at the mention of him leaving town. “Just for a month or so.” He winks.

  “My mom still has work there and I want to catch up with friends. What about you?”

  “I’ll be around. I may actually take a little break from gymnastics. Maybe even relax for a change.”

  “I’d love to see that!” He laughs loudly.

  “Hey, I can relax!” I swat his strong arm playfully, but quickly recoil.

  “I’m sure you can. Maybe I’ll be around to hang out sometime.”

  I cringe involuntarily.

  “Or not…” he says. He sounds a little hurt.

  “It’s not that. It’s just…”

  “Trevor,” he says, flatly.

  I nod meekly. The end of school is quickly approaching. I only have a few weeks left with Trevor before he’s graduated. He’d been accepted into his first choice school, The University of Georgia. He’ll even be playing lacrosse for them. Trevor and I haven’t talked much about what will happen with us when he leaves. Mostly because we’re both so busy, but also, because Athens is less than two hours away, so neither of us has been overly concerned about our relationship changing too drastically. He’ll be home on weekends. And holidays. He’ll make time to see me, right?

  “Sydney,” Grant says in a much quieter, more serious tone than our conversation had been in up to this point. The way he breathes my name, with the tiniest bit of pain behind it makes my heart jump. “I meant what I said earlier. I’m here if you need anything…”

  “I know,” I say. Still, I stare down at my lap, unable to look up and meet his gaze. Finally, I peek out from under the protective cover of my hair. “How do you know when enough is enough?” My question is overly broad, but I know he’ll understand.

  He’s quiet for a while. Carefully crafting his response, as usual.

  “Well, I think everyone has their own limit, their own breaking point. Until someone reaches that limit on their own, no one can tell them what is right or wrong, or, what you asked, when enough is enough. They just have to figure it out for themselves.”

  He shrugs and I mull it over for a minute. I’m not exactly sure what I’m asking Grant, or even why. He senses that his answer isn’t enough for me.

  “You know, when I was a kid, my older brother and I used to wrestle a lot. We only had one rule when we did, and that was that we would stop and let the other go if they yelled mercy. He and I would both hold off saying it as long as we could. Even if the other had gotten out of hand and we were really hurting, we would wait until we absolutely couldn’t stand it anymore before we’d say mercy.” He’s smiling at the memory.

  “If you’re asking what I think you are, I don’t think relationships should be like our wrestling matches. Relationships are supposed to make you happy, and bring something good to your life. When that stops, for me at least, then it’s time to think about moving on. It’s just my opinion, of course, but I think you should get out while you still have some peace of mind. Why stick around until you’re yelling mercy, you know?”

  “But what if you don’t have a breaking point?” I ask.

  “Everyone has a breaking point, Syd. Some people are just better at putting up with other peoples’ crap than most,” he says with a slight laugh, lightening the mood again.

  The rest of the ride back to school is filled with less serious topics. We pull into the school parking lot just as the final bell is ringing for the day. Grant turns to me again. His messy hair is falling in his face a little more than usual.

  “I don’t want to complicate your life, Sydney. But I do want to be your friend. I can keep my distance, if that’ll make things easier for you, but I really don’t want to go back to not even talking.”

  “I don’t want that either,” I admit. I’m not sure what the solution is for Grant and me, but I enjoyed our day together too much to go back to not speaking to him for Trevor’s sake.

  “Friends?” I ask.

  “Absolutely,” he says with his absurdly handsome smile. But just as quickly as it crosses his face, it falls again.

  “What?” I ask. I’m totally lost as to why his demeanor has changed so quickly.

  “Syd, I have to tell you something.”

  “And I take it it’s bad?” I ask. Of course it is. Look at his expression.

  “The documentary. I know more than I let on. I mean, I knew about your mom. I’m so sorry I didn’t say anything sooner.”

  My mind is spinning. My mom? How did he know? Why did he pretend not to? Things make even less sense than usual.

  “What? How could you know? Who told you?”

  The tendons in his neck flex as he swallows deeply.

  I’m shaking. What the hell is going on?

  “My mom is the producer of the show. I should’ve told you sooner, I know. I just didn’t want to weird you out or anything.”

  “I don’t understand why you’re telling me this now then? Because you feel guilty now that I told you all of my secrets?”

  He exhales sharply.

  “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  He reaches to touch me, but I flinch away. He’s left sitting there, staring at me, looking wounded as everyone else filters off of the bus.

  “It’s more than that. I know why they picked you. You said you had no clue why they’d want you for the show, but I know. They chose you because they didn’t think you could handle it. That the girl with the dead mom would crack under the pressure of it all. That you’d give them sweeps-worthy television.”

  I feel like I’m having a panic attack. Like I can’t take in enough breath. Like I’m drowning.

  “And all this time you knew?” I ask.

  He nods.

  “And what? You were in cahoots with them? By causing trouble with Trevor and I? By kissing me weeks ago? By turning my entire life upside down? Was it all just to help their cause?”

  Everything is spinning. Blackness claws at my peripheral vision. Breathe, Syd. Breathe.

  “Of course not. That’s why I’m telling you.”

  Silence. What more can we say. He’s kept this from me for months.

  “Back out of the show, Syd,” Grant finally says.

  “Are you crazy? I can’t do that. I signed a contract. And they’re paying me a lot of money.”

  “I’ll get you the money, Sydney. I’ll ask my dad for it. I’ll figure something out. Just back out. It’s going to be a smear fest.”

  I don’t know how to even begin to digest all of this.

  “Thanks for the warning,” I say coldly.

  Grant walks off the bus and toward his car without looking back.

  -Nineteen—

  The week flies by at a record pace. Grant and I make little more than small talk in class. It should feel better after his confession, knowing that I’m not the only one that’s been keeping a secret. But I can’t help but feel betrayed. It’s easier to pretend that entire conversation never happened. That Grant never confessed that he’s been keeping something so big from me. After all, who the heck am I to judge about keeping secrets? I’ll deal with it after Nationals.

  Trevor and I were back to getting along as normally as we ever had. We had a good, peaceful week, and
I think I’ve almost gotten Dad convinced to let me go to the lake house with Trevor and his family.

  I take Thursday and Friday off of school and spend the entire day in gym. I’m completely exhausted from all the extra training and yet totally exhilarated. Sam and I fly to Nashville late Friday night, and Dad and Maisy will arrive Sunday in time for the afternoon competition. I find myself secretly wishing they weren’t coming at all. I know that makes me a terrible human being, but the added pressure of people in the audience makes everything even more nerve-wracking. I really don’t want to let anyone down.

  Somehow, I manage to keep my nerves in check and do well in preliminaries on Saturday. I’m even ranked third going into finals on Sunday. After an early morning workout, I walk back to the hotel to sneak in a cat nap. I dig my phone out of my gym bag and check my messages. There’s one from Trevor asking how things are going. I smile and send him a quick reply that everything is great and I’ll call him after the competition. I set the alarm on my phone and curl up under the flimsy blanket. The room is pitch black, thanks to the thick, canvas curtains, and I’d turned the air conditioning to its near arctic temperature. Those are all the things that should make it easy to drift off; still, I doubt the nerves will allow it.

  I’m lying on the cream-colored sofa in Grant’s room, covered in that same comfortable quilt I’d been wrapped up in the night I was sick. Except this time, I’m not alone. Grant’s there, lying next to me, with that trademarked messy hair falling in his face. I look at him for a long time, trying to remember why I’m there. My heart is racing at the feeling of his strong arm, pulling me in close at my waist. The warmth and security of it all is intoxicating. His free hand brushes across my face.

  “I have to go,” I say. Knowing that whatever the reason for my being in his house, in his room more precisely, it isn’t a good enough one. I’m not even supposed to be talking to him, let along lying in his arms. Trevor will be furious. I have to leave.

  Still…looking into Grant’s safe eyes, I feel…conflicted.

  “Stay,” he whispers. He tenderly strokes my face and I can feel the goose bumps rise on my arms.

  “I can’t. I’m not supposed to be here,” I say, pulling away from him.