“Do what?” I ask, even though I know exactly what she’s talking about.
She scowls at me. “You know what. Make that bottle purposefully land on me.”
“You know me better than I thought,” I respond, searching her eyes for an indication that I haven’t fucked up our friendship. But she’s indecipherable. “Was it really that bad, though?”
“Depends on why you did it.” Her voice wobbles the slightest bit.
I shrug, stretching my legs out as I stare up at the stars. “Out of curiosity, I guess.”
“Curiosity of what?” She lifts her head. “We’ve already done the whole curious kissing thing. Why do we need to do it again?”
I rub my chilled arms. “Maybe I just wanted to see if things had changed.” If my feelings had changed. My feelings for you. And they have. They really, really have. More than I realized.
“Micha, I …” Her breath puffs out in a cloud in front of her face as she begins to panic. “Please, just say you did it for fun, and it didn’t mean anything,” she whispers, pleads, begs. “Because I can’t handle anything else.”
My heart breaks.
Shatters.
Scatters across the ground.
Like fragments of ice.
“Well, you know me.” My voice is dry, humorless as I stare at the ground. “I’m all about the joking and random kisses.” When I’m finally able to look at her again, I come to an excruciating realization. Even though the kiss happened, it can’t ever really happen. Ella and I can’t really become anything more than what we are, not right now, anyway. Ella is relying on me to say so; otherwise, she’s going to break apart. And, if I really do love her, I’ll do everything in my power to keep her together like I’ve been doing for the last twelve years.
“I didn’t want it to land on Tammy.” I swallow hard, aware that this might be the first lie I’ve ever told Ella. “And Ethan has a thing for Mara. Plus, there was no fucking way I was going to kiss Renee.” I causally shrug, even though my insides are wound tight. “You were my safest option.”
She relaxes a little.
And I die a bit inside.
“I’m so glad to hear you say that. For a minute there, I thought …” She quickly shakes her head. “It was weird, right? The kiss.”
All I can do is nod.
“You know what we should do.” She spits on her hand and my heart withers inside my chest even more. “We should make a pact to never, ever kiss again.”
I can’t make that pact.
I grind my teeth as I stare at her hand. “I have a better idea. How about we make a pact never to speak of this kiss again.” It’s the only way I can think of to get around this.
She considers what I’ve said then nods. “Okay, that sounds good to me.”
I spit in my hand, then we shake on it. Part of me is saddened that I’ll never get to speak of this night again because that kiss was the kind of kiss I want to relive over and over again, even if it’s through words. But the other part of me is relieved because I don’t want to relive the pain I’m feeling right now, over and over again.
The pain of heart break.
The only thing that keeps me from breaking down is the fact that I tell myself things could change. Ella and I have years to spend together, and in time, her fear of commitment could change.
It has to change.
Chapter 3
Seventeen years old…
Ella
I can sense trouble coming from a mile away. Why? Because I’m exhausted, and that usually leads to trouble. It’s been a long week. Summer is nearing an end. My dad’s working less, so there’s hardly any money to pay bills and buy food. Dean is gone and that leaves me to take care of the household. And my mom’s having one of her rough days today. It’s Saturday, and I spent the entire afternoon searching for a photo of when our family took a trip to the sandy beaches of California, even though the photo doesn’t exist. But I have to look for it until my mom is satisfied that it’s lost; otherwise, she’ll continue to have a panic attack until she has a meltdown.
“Ella, please find it,” she begs as she follows me into the small, disordered living room, tugging at the roots of her reddish-brown hair. Her eyes are enlarged, her pupils dilated. I’m starting to worry she might have snuck an extra dose of her medication again.
“I’m trying to find it, Mom.” I lift up the couch cushions and check underneath them before I rummage around inside a few boxes stacked by the front door. “I think it might be gone, though.”
“I have to find it, Ella.” Her voice trembles as she starts to pace the length of the room, maneuvering around the ashtrays, beer bottles, and my dad who’s passed out drunk on the floor in front of the television. “Please, I need to remember what happened that day. It was a good day. I know it was. I know they exist.”
“They do exist,” I play along, unsure if it’s the right thing to do or not, but I’ve spent enough time with her that I know she’ll calm down eventually. “And that day was a really, really good day. I promise.”
“How do you know for sure?” She stops in the middle of the room and crosses her arms, her eyes skimming the boxes, walls, and windows.
“Because …” Sighing heavily, I wind around the coffee table and move in front of her to keep her focused on me. “Because I remember going, and I remember Dad, Dean, and I saying that we had a great time with you.”
She rocks back and forth, hugging her arms tighter around herself. “Good, but … I can’t remember it. Please, help me remember, Ella.”
“Well, it was a really sunny and warm day. The air smelled like salt and water and all the scents of the ocean … We spent all afternoon collecting seashells and building sand castles.” As I create a story for her, I find myself wishing it was real. My family hasn’t taken many trips, but it would have been nice to, if only once, go somewhere for fun, like an amusement park, or hell, I’ll take just a park at this point. The only place I can recollect going for a vacation was to the zoo back when I was six and money and life wasn’t as bad as they are now. It was a time when there was less yelling, and my mother’s delusions and manic depressive episodes hadn’t manifested.
A minute later, my mother starts to settle down, her arms relaxing at her sides while her posture slackens. “Did we have a picnic near the shore? Because I remember having one.”