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And I know it’s her before she even turns around because my body memorized hers in relation to mine so long ago.
She doesn’t even say anything; she just steps forward, right into me, her head tucking perfectly under my chin as it always did.
But then I’m around her and I remember almost immediately that for all her darkness, she can be just as bright, too.
She throws her hands up. “This is just classic us all over again, isn’t it?” Classic us. I hate that I love the way that sounds.
He sets his phone facedown on the table now and looks at me with those eyes that have held me captive since I fell into them in a stupid study hall on my first day of tenth grade and have never quite managed to climb my way out.
“Well, they know, right?” he asks. “Your friends know what happened to you?” That lump in my throat is instantly there again. I swallow hard. “They do; it’s just I’m not sure they get why I’m still not…” Jesus, I can’t complete a goddamn sentence. “Okay?” he finishes for me. I nod, and now there’s no hiding it.
In this tiny, delicate space between us, I realize the wild rattling of my heart isn’t because it’s shattering. It’s because this is the best, the strongest, my heart has felt in months.
I won’t stop myself and I don’t think he will, either, and God, why does it always come to this, why is it never the right time for us?
And I want to believe so badly that there’s some deeper meaning in her words, some secret message that I’m not the only one looking for secret messages. As I watch the two of them walking away, there’s too much happening, and it’s like we’re being separated from each other by these opposing currents, carrying us away, losing each other in some kind of devastating natural disaster.
Because it wouldn’t be someone like Josh—there’s no one like Josh—it would be Josh.
“I’m not him,” he says softly, smoothing my hair back. “You know that, right?” If I speak, I might cry, so I just nod. Because I know what he’s talking about. He’s not Kevin. Of course he’s not. But he’s not Josh, either.
“I think you love the person you knew back then, the person you believe I can become again one day. But that’s not the same as loving me the way I am now.”
“How can you be sure? I’m not. There were times I got really mad at her, lost my patience. But only because I didn’t understand what was going on. Now that I do, I’ve questioned a lot of what happened between us. Sometimes I wish I could do our whole relationship over. If I could do it differently, I would.”
“Every superhero has a fatal flaw,” he continues. “The thing about Josh is… he’s always been one of those people who cleans up well, if you know what I mean. Always so together on the outside, it’s easy to forget it doesn’t mean that’s how he really is inside. I’ve always thought that was sort of his fatal flaw.”
Because of course there was something going on with us, there always had been. We never ended. We barely began.
“Tucker Hill,” Caelin says. “Isn’t that where Josh Miller goes?” I nod slowly.
She spent so much of our relationship hiding her emotions because this is how she feels things—deeply, completely. That and this: she really has always cared.
“I do care about your heart, you know.” She reaches out and lets her hand hover over the center of my chest, her fingers barely touching my shirt. “A lot, actually.”
“Well, what would you think if I applied to your school? Would that be weird for you or—” “To Tucker?” he interrupts. “Are you kidding? No, that would be…” He pauses, searching for a word. “Perfect.”
All through high school, I literally slept on my floor in a sleeping bag. I—I’ve never told anyone that.”
“Did I ever do anything that wasn’t okay with you or that made you feel…? I mean, did I ever not listen or pressure you to—” I see where he’s going with this, so I cut him off. “Josh, no.” “No, don’t—” he says, and the way his voice is trembling, I have to look at him. “Don’t just say what you think I want to hear. I really need to know the truth. It’s killing me,” he adds, his words punching me in the heart. “I am telling you the truth.”
“Miller?” he says, as I take one step off the porch. “Did you know?” I don’t need to ask him what he’s talking about. “No, I didn’t know. I wish I had, honestly.” “Is she okay, do you think?” I’m not sure what to say, but I try to answer anyway. “I think she’s… doing her best. You should ask her yourself,” I add.
“Well, what do you want it to be?” I shrug, wishing I could say with certainty that friendship would be enough. “I mean, I’ll take whatever she gives me.” “Great, that sounds healthy. No drama there at all.” “Okay, obviously, I want more.”
“Eden, would you please go on a date with me tomorrow night?” “A date?” she asks. “Uh-huh. A date. With me. Tomorrow. Please.”
Her eyes search mine for my answer. I don’t think I could speak if I tried, but I nod because whatever the question, whatever she wants, my answer is always going to be yes.
And when we get outside onto the sidewalk, he takes my hand, except it’s so tender and unexpected and honest that it makes me almost want to cry.
“So?” neatly pulling back the towel from the bread, like he’s trying not to rip wrapping paper on a gift. “How’s the date going for you so far? And don’t let the fact that I’ve been trying to plan this basically as long as we’ve known each other influence your answer in any way at all.”
I see: Josh. I feel: Josh. I hear: Josh. I smell: Josh. I taste: Josh.
“My favorite person in the world is a little edgy and weird, herself.”
“Because I want this with you,” he says, eyes fastened to mine. “I really do.” “I do too,” I tell him. “More than anything.” He smiles now, and I can see his whole body relax, his grip on my hands loosening. “So, then… we’re doing this for real this time?”
I look up at her, and her eyes are so bright, even in the dark, and I don’t think I have ever wanted anything or anyone, even her, more than I do right now.
I should probably be medicated too.
There was a time when I was afraid to look at him too closely. Afraid of how beautiful his body was, afraid of the things he could do, the ways he could hurt me with it. But not now, not anymore. Right now I’m not afraid of anything.
“I know how hard that was for you to say.” I shake my head. “No, it wasn’t.”
I look over at her and think, I have nothing left to wish for.
“You’re having trouble sleeping again?” “Not again,” she corrects me. “Still.” How did I not know that? “Oh. I’m sorry,” I whisper. “What can I do?”
“My mom didn’t know. But she saw something. Something that she thought was something else.” “What does that mean?” I ask. “What did she see?” “The next morning, she saw blood on my nightgown and legs, the sheets.”
Blood. The word echoes in my head. My heart starts racing—no, it races, then stops abruptly, stuttering.
I hold her while she falls asleep and I try not to think about her blood or nightgown or legs or sheets. Try not to think about her waiting for someone to see, to guess, what had happened. And finally, I try not to imagine what I’d do if I ever found myself in a room with him again.
wanted to believe that he somehow must not have realized or it was some kind of, like, mental break or… but it just turned out that I—” She stops abruptly, taking another sip of her latte. “I just didn’t know him. At all.”
don’t think I’ve ever wondered why. Because deep down, in that place beyond logical thinking, I thought I knew. He did what he did because I had done something to make it happen. I could never quite put my finger on what it was, whether it was just one thing or a combination of things. My head could disagree all day, tell me it wasn’t my fault, but my heart knew, always, it was me.
realize there is a version of this where Gen never says anything. She lets it go and just keeps wondering why. Where Amanda stays scared and angry and hurt and continues to blame me for everything. It’s the version where I lose myself forever and never find my way back. And for the first time, I think I understand—in my head and my heart—why we’re really doing this. For us. We’re doing this for us. Somehow that makes this all so much more real, more frightening.
“I had just turned fourteen in November.” “And Kevin was a few weeks away from turning twenty years old?” I look her in the eye. Was that true? Was he that old then? I don’t know.
“One last question, Eden. Did you ever say no?” “Say no?” “Did you ever verbally say no at any point that night?” “I couldn’t speak. He covered my mouth immediately, and then he—” “Did you say no?” “I fought him, I hit him, I kicked him, I—” “But did you ever say the word no?” I look at Mara, then Lane, then the DA. “I—I already said I couldn’t speak.”
I nod. I know he’s right. But I don’t know how to explain that when we’re together it doesn’t feel hard. When we’re together it feels like we can handle it—could handle anything.
“Thank you.” “For what, loving you?” he asks, a small laugh in his voice. I smile—it hurts my face. “Yes.”
“No, not a pumpkin, but like a jack-o’-lantern. You know?” “Okay,” he says, nodding. “Like someone drew a face on me and carved it into my skin. Scooped out my insides. Just hollowed out, everything scraped clean. And then lit a fire in me and left me out in the cold. And I just…”
“And you what?” he asks, giving my good hand a tiny squeeze. “And I just, I don’t know, want to feel human again,” I finish. “As soon as possible.”
“His lawyer asked me if I ever said no.” I raise my head. “What do you mean?” “Like he assumed I was given a choice. Like I could choose to say yes or no. And I couldn’t explain that there was nothing to say yes or no to—there wasn’t a chance to say it—but he just kept interrupting me.”
“But just because I couldn’t say no doesn’t mean I said yes, either.” “I know that.”
