by McLean, Jay
Trevor’s sitting on our porch when Karen pulls up to the curb. I say goodbye to Rhys and Karen in the front seat and wait for Connor to get out first. “I’ll see you later, okay?” I ask him.
He nods. “Whenever you need me.”
I hug him quickly, then start up my driveway. Trevor stands when I get close. “Jesus, Ava, I’ve been so worried.”
I fall into his open arms, his wide chest rising against me as if it’s the first time he’s been able to breathe. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m so sorry.”
“I know,” I tell him. “Me, too.”
I release him and sit on the porch steps, waiting for him to join me before saying, “Trevor, I’m not going to college. At least not yet.”
“Okay,” he breathes out.
“I feel like all we do lately is fight. You against me. Me against Mom.” I push down the knot in my throat. “I don’t want you to ever feel like I don’t appreciate everything you’ve done for us. Believe me, I carry so much guilt—”
“Ava,” he cuts in, but I don’t let him speak, because I need to say what’s on my mind.
“I know you miss your old life and your independence, and I don’t blame you.” I blow out a breath. “I just need to get through the rest of the school year, and I’m going to find a way to fix everything. I promise. But first, I need to fix myself. Because I’ve been miserable, Trevor, and I just… I want to be happy again.”
Trevor smiles, but it’s sad.
“And hopefully I can find strength in that happiness so that I can be the person I want to be. Not just for me but for everyone else around me.”
With his arm around my neck, he pulls me closer to him. “I want that for you, too, Ava.”
“I miss who I used to be,” I tell him honestly. “And I miss my old friends.”
“Yeah?”
“I miss Karen and Rhys and…”
“Connor?” he asks.
I nod. “I know you’re not his biggest fan right now, and it’s not like I want to be with him like that, but he made me happy, Trevor. Even when we were just friends.”
“Okay,” he breathes out.
“I just… I need to find a balance, and I need to start taking care of myself, because I can’t keep going on like this, Trevor. I just can’t.”
Chapter 8
Ava
I had to practically shove Trevor out the door and into a cab so he wouldn’t miss his flight to Colorado. He was adamant on staying, worried about how I’d do without him. I had to promise to call three times a day and answer every one of his text messages within five minutes. Peter’s come by to check on me every night Trevor’s been gone, but things with us haven’t been the same since Thanksgiving break… when I told him he needed to stop pressuring me about certain choices I refuse to make.
As for me, I’ve been trying more to take care of me. Of my happiness. And with Krystal around during the day, I’ve been able to have a little more freedom than what I’m used to. So far, I’ve taken the first steps to get a learner’s permit, walked through the local park, ridden on random buses people-watching, and sat through an entire movie at the theater on my own. I’ve also been keeping in touch with Karen. Just a few messages here and there. We’re definitely not going to have the same level of friendship from years ago, not because neither of us doesn’t want that, it’s just… we grew up and became different people. And then there’s Rhys. Rhys will always be Rhys.
Now, I’m trying to do the one thing I’ve been putting off the entire break.
I walk up Connor’s porch steps for the fifth time in the past fifteen minutes. I get to his door, raise my fist to knock, then chicken out at the last second. I walk down the steps, give myself a pep talk, and then walk right back up.
It should be easy: knock, ask if he wants to hang out and see where things go from there. But it’s not easy, because…
Because what if he says no?
I run down the steps and make it all the way down his driveway before releasing the breath I’d been holding. I look over at my house, remember what’s in there. Who is in there. And remember my reason.
I can’t be who she needs me to be if I’m miserable. And Connor—he helps take away the misery.
“Come on, Ava,” I whisper, shaking out my hands. I practically run up to his door and knock without letting my thoughts overtake me. Only a few seconds pass before the door opens. Connor’s in a loose, long-sleeve tee and basketball shorts, and somehow it all still manages to showcase his perfect body. I drop my gaze, try to calm my breathing. He’s barefoot, and I’ve never really paid attention to his feet but, Jesus, even they’re hot.
“Hey,” he says, all cool and calm, as if it didn’t take all the courage in the world for me to be standing in front of him. “What’s up?”
When I look up, he’s biting into an apple, his eyebrows raised.
“I uh…” I was wondering if you’d want to hang out. The words are right there, on the tip of my tongue, and I should just say it, just blurt it out, but my insecurities get the best of me, so I point behind me to the truck in his driveway. “Is that yours?” Oh, my God. What if it isn’t his? It’s been in his driveway for days, so I assumed he got a new car, but what if… what if he has a girl—
“Uh huh,” he says, looking over my shoulder at it.
“It’s pretty.” I roll my eyes, internally slap myself. “You know… for a truck.”
He stands taller, looks down at me, his brow knitted. “Did you need a ride somewhere?”
I nod. A lie. But he won’t say no to a ride if he’s offering… right? “Just to the store real quick? We’re out of… fruit.”
“Fruit?” he asks, smirking as he bites into his apple again. “I can spare you some fruit.”
“And um… bread. And milk. You know…” I shrug. “The necessities.”
He steps into his house, slips on his sneakers, no socks. Grabbing a set of keys off the hook by his door, he asks, “You ready to go now?”
“Uh huh.”
He closes the door behind him. “Let’s go.”
The second I’m in his car, my nostrils are inundated with all things Connor, and my mind… my mind floods with all the memories of us sitting in his old car, every conversation, every moment of laughter, every touch of his hand on my leg.
Apple caught in his mouth, he brings his hand to the back of my seat as he looks behind him to reverse onto the road.
“When did you get it?” I ask.
He straightens the car, takes the apple out, and says, “Birthday present from Daddy. I know, I’m spoiled.”
My heart skips a beat, and I pout up at him. “It was your birthday?”
He glances over at me, his eyes zoned in on my lips. He licks his own before focusing on the road again. “A few days ago, yeah.”
“Sorry. I didn’t know.”
Connor shrugs. “How could you have?”
True. “Did you do anything for it?”
Another shrug.
“Well, it’s a nice truck.”
He leans against his door and murmurs, “Yeah, you’ve said that.” There’s no humor in his tone, and now that I think about it, he really didn’t seem all that happy to see me. And that realization creates a dull ache in my chest. “Did I interrupt something? Were you busy?”
He keeps his gaze forward. “Nope.”
“Because if you were, I could catch the—”
“I said no, Ava. It’s fine.”
“You just seem like… like you’re mad at me?”
The heaviness of his sigh has me wanting out. Out of this car and out of this entire situation. This was clearly a mistake, and I don’t even know why. He stops at a red, and I’m so tempted to open the door and run. Anywhere but here.
I swallow the knot in my throat and force myself to try again. “Are you ready for school?”
His gaze flicks to mine, his jaw ticking. Then he reaches over, turns on the radio. And my heartache becomes too strong. “Actuall
y, I forgot my wallet,” I tell him, looking out my window. I struggle to speak through the giant lump in my throat. “Can you just take me back home?” He waits for the green and takes off again, but he doesn’t turn around. “Or just drop me off wherever. I can walk.”
“I can afford what you need, Ava.”
But I don’t need anything besides him, and he’s clearly not willing to give me that. “Honestly, it’s fine.”
“We’re almost there.”
“We can just—”
He turns the volume up, shutting me out completely.
I turn my back to him, wipe at my eyes before the first tear falls. I don’t want him to see them. To claim them.
We get to the store, and I grab what I faked coming here for: bread, milk, fruit. He walks with me, but we don’t speak, don’t look at each other. At the checkout, he grabs a bunch of flowers before paying for everything. I don’t ask who the flowers are for because any answer would just ruin me more. “I’ll pay you back,” I tell him, and he shakes his head, looking everywhere but at me.
When we get to his truck, I sit with my back turned to him, my face practically pressed against the window. We don’t say a word to each other until we’re sitting in his driveway, and the engine’s off, and we’re surrounded by silence. He asks, “Hey, do you remember that day at the lake?”
I don’t know why of all the things he could possibly say, he chooses to say that.
I nod without turning to him. “Of course.”
He clears his throat. “That was one of the best days of my life, Ava.” He opens his door, and I do the same, but neither of us gets out of the car. After a sigh, he says, “I just wanted you to know that. For whatever stupid reason.”
I finally face him, see the anguish in his eyes, and say, my heartbreak forming my words, “It was the best day of my life.”
His head drops forward, and he rubs the back of his neck, then pinches the bridge of his nose. “Fuck,” he spits, hitting the steering wheel.
I cower, grab the groceries, and get out of the car, needing the air, the space. “Thanks for the ride,” I call out, closing the door.
I make it to the sidewalk before he grasps my arm. “Ava, just wait.”
I suck in a breath, hold it, and reluctantly turn to him.
He’s holding the flowers at his side, his jaw tense, nostrils flared.
I stand tall, look up at him.
After a sharp inhale, he lets it all out: “I wish I knew what you wanted from me, Ava, because it’s doing my fucking head in. One minute you’re telling me you want no contact, and the next you’re knocking on my door asking for a ride. Why not call Rhys or Karen? Or Peter? Because I know he’s in town checking in on you. And you know how I know? Because Rhys told me. Not you. And I know that Krystal’s been with your mom all break, which means you’ve had every chance to come over and hang out with me. And honestly, I’ve waited. For days, I’ve waited for you to show. And now it’s the last day of break, and when you do come, it’s because you need something from me. And that’s fine. If you or your mom need anything, I’m here. I made that promise to you, and I’m keeping it. I just…” He pinches the bridge of his nose again, then heaves out a breath. “You know, Rhys threw me a birthday party, and he asked if I wanted to invite you and I didn’t even know what to say. Like, are we friends or…” He shakes his head, his eyes on mine. “What do you want, Ava?”
I listen to his entire speech, agony clenching at my life source. I stare up at him, breathless when I finally find my voice. “I was hoping we could be friends.”
He nods, his eyes dimming. “Ava, I…”
“What?” My gaze drops, so does my heart. “Just say it, Connor.”
“I don’t think I can be just friends with you. Not now. Not when I know what it’s like to have all of you.”
I fight to hold it together. “That’s fine.”
He sniffs once. “Can you give these to your mom?” he mumbles, handing me the flowers. “I forgot the last time I was over.”
* * *
Mom’s resting in her room when I get in, and so I unpack the few items I have, then place the flowers in a large plastic cup. Her gaze moves to me when I open her door, her eyes brightening when she sees the flowers. I settle them on her nightstand while I wait for her to sit up. She stares at the flowers, confused at first, and then a hint of a smile plays on her lips. She looks at them closer, entranced, her fingers stroking the petals. “So much color,” she mumbles.
“You like the colors?”
“Pretty,” she states, not once taking her eyes off them.
I tell her, my voice quiet as I struggle to hold in my heartbreak, “Connor got them for you.”
She nods. “Connor, six-five, but is hoping for a growth spurt.”
And even through my pain, I can’t help but smile. “That’s him.”
“He’s a good boy.”
“Yeah,” I say, wiping at the tears she doesn’t notice. “He is.”
Chapter 9
Connor
“You look like ass,” Oscar says, slumping down in the seat next to me.
It’s first period, new semester, new year, same shit.
I chose the table at the back corner of the room because I don’t even know what this class entails and the less attention I get, the better. “I didn’t sleep well,” I tell him, and it’s true. I spent most of the night staring at my phone, at the blinking cursor of the empty message addressed to Ava. I couldn’t think of anything to say. In my mind, I knew that I’d said everything I needed to. But it didn’t stop the hurt. And every time I closed my eyes to try to sleep, all I saw was the pain in hers when I told her how I felt.
But I don’t regret it.
I can’t.
Because everything I said was fact.
Oscar says, breaking through my thoughts, “You better shake that shit off by lunch. We got that pep rally in the gym, remember?”
I groan, slam my head on the desk.
“Welcome to multimedia,” Miss Salas announces, standing at the front of the class. “I hope you guys are ready to work this semester because there’s a lot to get through!”
The classroom door opens, and it’s just like the first time I saw her: a baby bird leaving the nest for the first time, a discombobulation of limbs. “Sorry,” Ava mumbles. Her hair’s down today, wild curls bouncing around. She hands the teacher a piece of paper, her eyes downcast. “I have a note from Miss Turner.”
Miss Salas looks at the note, her nose scrunched. “Will you be late after every session with the school psychologist?”
The class erupts in quiet giggles, and I ball my fists, my jaw ticking. The kid in front of me, Roy, calls out, “At least it’s not Alcoholics Anonymous like her mom.”
I kick the back of his chair. Hard. He rag-dolls against the edge of the table and screeches out in pain. Then he turns to me. “What the fuck, Ledger?”
I seethe, “How about you watch your fucking mouth?”
“How about you both watch your mouths!” Miss Salas shouts. Like she can talk. Who the fuck is she to throw Ava’s business out like that?
Okay.
So clearly, I’m still in love with the girl. That’s not going to change. I just need to find a way to shut out those feelings so I can move on with my life. And not with or for someone else, but for me. Because I’m drowning in those feelings, slowly, and it’s killing me.
“Go on and find an empty seat,” the teacher tells Ava.
Ava starts for a seat in the front row.
Good.
Distance.
That’s exactly what I need.
Next to me, Oscar stands, shouts, “I forgot my contacts today, so I need to move… to the front.” It takes me a moment to realize what he’s doing, but by the time I do, it’s too late. He’s already there, and Ava’s making her way toward me.
She sits down next to me, gripping her bag to her chest.
The teacher starts going through the class cur
riculum for the rest of the year, and Ava lowers her bag to the floor and kicks the back of Roy’s seat to get his attention. “Psst. Roy!” she whispers-yells.
He turns to her, a glare in place.
She says, her voice calm and filled with clarity, “Just FYI, my mom’s not an alcoholic. She doesn’t even drink. She went to war, to fight for your country, and she was hit with a grenade. It blew off half her arm and half her face, and because of that, she has fucking brain damage. And that brain damage is the reason why she slurs her words. Not alcohol.” She takes a breath, her nostrils flaring. “So, the next time you want to say something about her because you think it’ll get you a few cheap laughs, just… take a moment and imagine if that happened to your mom.”
Roy blinks and blinks, and he stares at Ava as if it’s the first time he’s seeing her.
Meanwhile, I stare at Ava in awe.
“Hey,” Roy says, “you’re kind of hot when you’re feisty.”
I kick his chair again. Harder this time.
Ava scoffs. “Fuck you.”
We spend the rest of the class listening to Miss Salas talk and talk and talk without ever really saying anything. When the period’s over, I turn to Ava, motion to Roy. “That was impressive.”
Ava shrugs. “I’m sick of the world dictating how I feel or how I act or what I do,” she says, her brow furrowed. “I’m over it, you know?”
“Why do I feel personally attacked right now,” I say, half-joking as I pick up my bag and ball.
“Don’t feel like that,” she assures, walking out of the room with me. “It’s not about you, Connor. You just gave me a hell of a lot of perspective.”
We stop just outside the room and turn to each other. “How so?”
“I don’t know,” she murmurs. “I feel like… like my mind is a mess right now, but I’m seventeen, and I’m going to have that same mind for a long time. And that mind is going to make a lot of bad decisions before I learn from them and start making the right ones.”
My eyebrows lift.
