I shake my head. “No, I’m too indecisive. You pick.”
He nods.
“Are you glad school’s almost over?” I ask.
“Eh, it depends,” he answers cryptically. He turns the car off of the interstate now and I feel a little pang of anxiety when I realize we’re staying close to town. What if we’re seen out together?
“Depends on what?”
“Well, are you going to be allowed to see me over the summer? Or do I have to hope that we have a class together next year before I see you again?” he has a smirk on his face, but for once, I don’t think it’s real.
“That’s not fair.” I’m suddenly uncomfortable. He narrows his eyes at me.
“Maybe. But it’s a legitimate question.”
“Trevor isn’t a bad guy, Grant. He’s just stressed. He’s got a lot on his plate with lacrosse and college, and the show. He just doesn’t like sharing me, I guess. But, for your information, I plan on telling him that you and I are still friends this weekend,” I inform him smugly. It doesn’t feel nearly as good as I thought it would.
“Maybe you should let me be there when you break the news to him,” Grant says. His expression is serious. Maybe even a little pained.
“Yeah, I don’t think that’s such a good idea.” I crack a smile to lighten the mood. He doesn’t reciprocate. I nudge his right hand that rests on the center console with mine, hoping it’ll make him smile. He clutches my hand in his for a split second, squeezing it tenderly before letting go. Even though his hand is warm, his touch still immediately gives me goose bumps. We pull into a parking space, and, though I know where we are, it takes me a moment to get my bearings. Because I’ve never been anywhere with Grant. Alone.
Marietta Square. But at a far different place than I’d been with Trevor. Grant’s taken me to a laid-back pizza place. I snicker to myself at the difference between Trevor and Grant’s preferences. Except for one thing. Me.
“Is this okay?” Grant asks.
“This is perfect. I haven’t had pizza in…I don’t even remember when the last time was.” It’s not exactly an ‘approved’ food while training.
Grant’s hand rests protectively on the small of my back as we cross the parking lot, and when he opens the door, he pauses to let me pass first.
It’s an old-fashioned pizza joint, with checkered table cloths, and the best white pizza I’ve ever tasted. It’s comfortable. As is the company.
“Are you ready for your Econ final? It looks like it’s going to be killer,” he says.
I stretch my short legs out onto the bench that he’s sitting on and smile at the casualness of it all.
“I think so. I actually really like that class.”
“What do you have planned this weekend?”
“It’s my little sister, Maisy’s birthday. She’s having a slumber party, so guess who is in charge of that?” I grin. I conveniently leave out the part about staying the night with Trevor Friday and I feel like a liar for it. “How about you?”
“Not much. My mom will be back in town.”
His mom. My producer.
“Don’t let it be weird, Syd,” he says. “She’s got a party planned.”
I nod back at him. “What’s the occasion?”
He glances away, which strikes me as odd. He always looks me in the eye. Always.
“I’m not sure.”
I’m certain there’s more to it, but I don’t want to spoil the mood. But with every smile, every wink, every breeze of his fingers on mine, I’m more and more conscious of how much I need to be honest with Trevor. If I tell Trevor about my friendship with Grant, and he still forbids me to spend time with him, I’m not sure if I can do it. The peacefulness and comfort I feel when I’m with Grant is almost addictive.
When we get back to his house, Julie is busy putting up groceries.
“Hi Julie,” I greet her.
“Hey, Sydney. Good to see you around here again. Did you guys go out for a birthday dinner?” She smiles at Grant.
“Birthday?” I take a minute to process what she’s said. “It’s your birthday?”
Grant runs his hand through his hair and laughs. It’s stiff and uncomfortable. The awkwardness in the restaurant makes so much more sense now. Wow. He apparently enjoys attention even less than I do.
“Nice, Jules,” he says.
Julie shrugs, closes the refrigerator, and walks quickly out of the room.
“Why didn’t you tell me it was your birthday?” I ask.
He shrugs. “Because it doesn’t really matter.”
“Of course it does! Argh! I feel like such a jerk! You just bought me dinner on your birthday!”
“Come on upstairs. I’ve got something for you, remember?” he says. He grabs my hand and leads me out of the kitchen. His long fingers intertwine with mine in that perfect way that makes me never want to let go. But I have to.
“Oh yes, presents too. That’s just perfect.”
He stops halfway up the stairs and turns to me. He presses his index finger to my lips.
“Stop it, Sydney. Don’t try to find something else in the world to feel bad about. Just come upstairs. Please.”
I fold my arms across my chest and push out a pouty lip in defeat.
“Just humor me,” he murmurs irresistibly.
“Well, happy birthday, anyway,” I say. I uncross my arms and follow him up the large staircase.
Once inside his room, I plop down onto the comfy sofa. He smiles at me approvingly, pleased by my level of comfort in his space.
“Thanks for going out with me tonight,” Grant says. He pulls open one of his desk drawers.
“Thanks for spending your birthday with me.”
He sits next to me on the sofa. It’s wildly inappropriate how good it feels to be this close to him.
“I spent my birthday exactly how I wanted to.”
I can feel his warm breath on my face. I look at him. At his perfectly, unruly hair, a total contradiction, just like our entire relationship. At the small, brown, braided necklace he always wears. At the collar of his brown t-shirt under his white button-up. I look everywhere but his eyes. I know that if I meet his gaze, I will surely lose what little self control I have. I’ll end up making a fool out of myself.
Without a word, he lightly places a small box on my lap. It’s about the size of a book, wrapped neatly in crisp, navy paper and a dainty silver ribbon. I hope it’s a book. Something simple and impersonal. I can handle a book.
“You really shouldn’t have done this. I don’t deserve it,” I say.
“Yes, you do. Besides, I told you, I wanted to. I hope you like it.”
I untie the thin ribbon and lay it neatly across my lap. I feel uneasy with him sitting right next to me, watching me. I move in slow motion, carefully opening each side of the paper and gently pealing it back. Inside is a dark blue, velvet box that I recognize immediately. It’s the same type of box that Maisy’s snow globe was put in after I bought it from the aquarium. My heart slams in my chest when I realize what must be inside. It’s definitely not a book. Tears already start to brim in my eyes before I can even get the box open.
“Don’t cry, Syd.” He nudges my hands. “I can take them back, if you want.”
Inside is the elegant strand of freshwater pearls. The strand that’s somehow almost identical to Mom’s. The one I’d destroyed in my argument with Trevor.
“No. I just, I just don’t know what to say. Thank you so much.” I dab at the tears in my eyes with the corner of my sleeve before they can fall.
“You’re welcome,” he says.
“I really can’t believe you did this.” My voice cracks with emotion. I finally look up and meet his eyes. His expression is warm. His eyes are full of empathy and affection. My self-control is slipping. Teetering. Breaking. I can’t help it. I reach up and run my hand through his hair. His eyes close and he lets out a barely audible sigh. I jerk my hand back and close it in my lap. What am I doing? I glance at my
watch nervously. I had told Dad that I was going to do some homework with a friend. I didn’t anticipate dinner.
“I should go,” I say. I start for the bedroom door. I know I’m being rude. I don’t really want to leave. I wonder if Grant can sense that. Surely he’ll understand. He’s never had any trouble deciphering my moods.
“Hey, Syd, I hope I didn’t upset you.”
This is by far the most thoughtful, generous thing anyone has ever done for me. So, upset? No. Definitely not.
“I just have to go.” I turn for the door and run down the stairs.
I hope he doesn’t follow me. I don’t want him to walk me to my car. I don’t want to say goodbye to him. I don’t even want to look at him again. I know that if any of those things happen, I will kiss him for sure. Because I want to kiss him.
I bolt out the front door and don’t look back. I’m pretty sure I left him at the top of the staircase questioning my sanity. Once I reach the end of Grant’s street, I roll the windows down and let the cool air fill my car.
Dad is at the kitchen table, rubbing his eyes and looking more than stressed when I get home.
I should have called to let him know I’d be later than I’d planned.
“Hey, Dad.” I set my gym bag and backpack down on the bar. I try to gauge how much trouble I’m about to be in by the tight look on his face.
“Hi, Syd. Sit down. We need to talk.” He points to the wooden chair across from him. My stomach does a flip-flop. I’m never in trouble, but I’m pretty sure that my night with Grant was worth any punishment I’m about to have thrown at me.
“Listen, Dad, I’m really sorry for being late.” I leave it at that. I don’t have a good excuse, so I don’t bother trying to defend myself.
“Late? What time is it?” He glances at the clock above the stove.
Crap, why didn’t I just keep my mouth shut?
“Well, as long as you got your homework done, it’s okay. This time.”
I let out a sigh of relief. But it’s short lived. Because if Dad wasn’t upset about me being late, what is going on?
“Syd, I know you’ve got plans with Trevor and his family this weekend, but I really need your help. I’ve got to fly to Chicago in the morning to put out some fires. I won’t be back until Monday. I really hate to do this to you, darlin’, but I need you to stay with Maisy. I don’t want her to have to cancel her party.”
Me. Supervising my little sister with the super-sized attitude and eight of her friends. Ugh.
“Sure, Dad. No problem.” The dutiful daughter saves the day again.
After Dad and I sort out details, I rush upstairs. I’m thankful I don’t have a lot of homework, since I didn’t even start it. After washing my face and throwing on some pajamas, I flop down on my bed and start to empty my backpack. I guess reading a few chapters in my Econ book isn’t a bad idea. On top of my books is the soft blue box. I run my hand across the thick velvet and then crack it open. I trace the elegant line of pearls with my finger. Grant’s generosity is unbelievable. I totally didn’t deserve this.
I’d rushed out of the house so fast after opening the gift, I hadn’t noticed a small note card tucked into a flap on the inside of the box. I pull out the thick cardstock and read the handwritten note.
I laugh out loud when I read his words. Simple. To the point. Just as he always is.
Yes, you do.
-Grant
I slip the note back into its sleeve. How is it that he knows me so well? He gets me like no one else. Something that Quinn had said about Trevor months ago pops back into my head. “I just don’t think he gets you the way that he should.”
Maybe Quinn was more insightful than I’d given her credit for.
-Twenty-one—
I lay in bed, restless. The nerves twist knots in my stomach before I finally give up on sleeping anymore and get up for the day. I’m so apprehensive about telling Trevor that I can’t go to the lake. I know he’s going to be upset. And really, I’m concerned about how upset he might get.
I could stay home. Dad’s already left for the airport. I could tell him I’m not feeling well. I could leave Trevor a message while he’s in class. But if I stay home, I won’t see Grant. And he’ll think I’m upset about his gift. And that’s just not acceptable.
There’s a note from Dad on the counter for Maisy, explaining that, despite what she thinks, I’m in charge for the weekend. It’s written exactly how he would speak to her in person, and that makes me laugh. He also left our health insurance cards in case of emergency and some cash.
I try to take my time getting ready for school after gym. I flat iron my hair and carefully apply the little makeup that I do wear. Still, I manage to arrive at school earlier than usual.
Since I’m early, there’s really no point in putting off the inevitable. So I trudge across the quad to find Trevor. Seeing him in the morning used to be the highlight of my day. But now, walking to class with him has turned into something I almost dread. I’m just argued out. I’m tired. I don’t want to fight anymore. But with Trevor’s temper lately, I don’t think I can avoid one today.
He’s there. In his usual spot. Surrounded by his large group of friends. Watching him from far away, I’m taken aback by how handsome he is. I remember how it felt in the beginning of our relationship, being seen with him. The way it felt to be his. The way I used to love that he never wanted to share me. Because being Trevor’s girlfriend was always something that I took pride in. Was.
I feel a crushing sadness now when I look at him. He’s still gorgeous. His smile is brilliant. He oozes charm. He’s still the guy that every girl wants. The guy that, somehow, I managed to snag. Still, despite my best efforts, I can’t seem to make him happy. Maybe that’s the point. I truly wasn’t ever good enough for him.
I know now, looking at Trevor, that things with us are not what they used to be. We can’t go back. And maybe I don’t even want to anymore. Not aching for Trevor is a foreign feeling to me. I never imagined a time that I wouldn’t fight to hang on to what we had.
He finally looks up and sees me watching him. He breaks away from his group of friends to catch up to me.
“Morning, baby.” He wraps his familiar arms around my waist and kisses me lightly.
“Good morning,” I say. I will my voice to sound normal. Whatever normal is for Trevor and me anymore.
“We’re taking off right after school, you all packed?” He asks with a level of excitement that makes me cringe.
I stop in the hall and look around. Fortunately, no one is close by. I think carefully about my wording. I try to choose something that won’t upset him. I can’t come up with anything.
“Listen—” I begin.
“Sydney, you aren’t canceling. We’ve had these plans forever. I need to be able to spend some time with you.” His voice is pleading. At least he’s still smiling; that’s a good sign.
“I know, and I want to go. It’s just that my dad is out of town. I need to stay with Maisy for the weekend,” I say. I rest my hand lightly on his firm chest.
“So, you’re staying home to babysit? That’s ridiculous. Can’t she stay with a friend or something?”
“It’s her birthday,” I say.
“Dammit, Sydney. I can’t believe you’re doing this.” His smile is gone. His voice has turned cold. I understand that he’s upset, but the sulking is aggravating.
“Trevor, be reasonable. I’m not breaking plans on purpose. You know I want to go.” I move my hand from his chest to his arm and rub it lightly.
“Do you?” His voice is sharp and he shoves my hand away from him.
“Of course I do. What’s that supposed to mean?” Tears are welling up in my eyes, but I fight them. I’m not going to cry at school like an idiot.
“You’ve been pushing me away for months. And now, this? I just can’t help but think—”
He pauses as if he’s debating whether or not to finish his thought.
“What? You can’t
help but think what?” I ask.
“Is there someone else?”
The air leaves me.
“Are you kidding me? I’m not going to do this right now.” My voice cracks. Don’t you dare cry.
“Fine. We’ll talk about it later.” His voice is low, but still sharp. I assume it’s because the bell is about to ring and the hall is much more crowded than it was just a couple of minutes ago.
He leans in to kiss me goodbye, but I turn my head. I don’t want to kiss him. He grabs the top of my arm. Hard. The pressure of his fingers wrapped tightly around my slight arm is almost unbearable. I try to twist free, but just as in the past, it isn’t working.
He leans in close to me with a fake smile plastered wide on his face. His grip doesn’t loosen. I can feel his breath hot on my face. His eyes swim with red, fiery anger.
“Do. Not. Make. A. Fool. Out. Of. Me.” He hisses each word through the frightening, plastic smile.
He drops my arm and it falls limply to my side.
I stand there. Stunned. And watch him walk away.
I try to stay composed. But I can feel the heat burning under my cheeks and the salty tears forming in my eyes. My throat tightens up as I fight them back. I quickly glance around to see if anyone saw our argument, but it looks like we’ve gone unnoticed. I coolly smooth my shirt and hair and walk into class.
I sit down at the empty lab table and stare straight ahead. My mind is racing. It’s on a loop, replaying the argument. This one. The others. Too many to keep track of now. I try to block out the image of Trevor in my face, so incensed. Instead, I concentrate on slowing my breathing like I do before a meet. Clear your head, Syd.
I just about have it under control when Grant appears and, not surprisingly, it picks right back up. It’s not logical that, even in my stress, his presence thrills me the way it does. He smiles warmly as he sets his books down. I give a weak smile back and his fades. His eyes narrow, questioning me silently.
He sits and positions his chair close to mine.
“What’s the matter?” he whispers. His head is tilted right next to mine.
“Just tired, I guess.” I try to sound nonchalant, but doubt that my mediocre acting skills will be enough to fool him.
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