My eyes can’t help but land on Taya when Amelie says I’m leaving, and with the way she’s biting her lip, she looks like she’s trying not to cry.
I want to talk to her so badly. But what else can we say? There is no one reason why we’re falling apart, why it’s already done. Maybe for as much as we have in common, we were always too different from the start.
“Can’t we just give it the summer?” Bevan sounds meek, which is so unlike her that it freaks me out.
She’s looking at Callum, and I know this has nothing to do with the house. Sure, one could interpret that she’s asking the group to wait it out, to see if they can all come back into the house junior year and live together like they always have except for me, whose room will be taken back over by Gannon.
But in reality, she’s asking Callum himself. To give their relationship space, maybe for the summer, but not to give up on it.
“Yeah. We’ll shelf it for now,” Amelie interrupts, knowing that we all do not need to be here for this.
Taya is refusing to even look at me, and I’m growing more irrationally annoyed by the second. I know I’m the one responsible for this, but it was a freaking mistake. Part of me wants to take it all back right now, get on my hands and knees and beg.
We’ve been back and forth so many times, and I never want us to end up like Bevan and Callum.
Before I can even form a coherent thought about what I could do to get her to talk to me, I’m interrupted.
“HEYO!”
Gannon comes walking up the lawn, and I do a double take. The guy and I have never been close, but I know of him having grown up in the same town. I’ve lived in his room for about five months, and he told no one he was showing up here today. Amelie has her back to him, and she’s smiling down into her phone. When Taya and I were on speaking terms, she let slip that Amelie finally found a guy who piques her interest. Well, maybe that’s about to go up in smoke.
“No fucking way,” Bevan deadpans and rolls her eyes.
Bevan is clearly so over the apple of Amelie’s eye. And I can’t say I blame her. From the stories Taya has told me, it’s been a bad situation.
“What’s up, party people?” Gannon opens his impressively cut arms wide as he throws the door open, that signature movie star smile beaming at us.
I swear, I think I just saw Amelie’s stomach drop through the floorboards of the living room. As if in slow motion, she turns, her expression one of horror.
“Ams! I missed you.” He marches up the steps, towering over her, and scoops her up into a hug.
“Oh shit,” Callum coughs into his fist, watching the train wreck we all can’t take our eyes off of.
Unlike the rest of our roommates, Gannon has no idea what’s going on. First of all, the guy is clearly completely oblivious when it comes to Amelie’s feelings. Not only does he not realize she’s in love with him, but I’ve heard, from Taya, that he hooks up with other girls right in front of her. I’ve only lived here a couple of months, and even I know how mad about him she is.
So, of course, he’s not going to think what he did on the reality TV dating show is a big deal at all. But there are five other people sitting on the porch, fully aware of how hurt and pissed off Amelie has been the whole time he’s been gone.
“Get. The. Fuck. Off. Of. Me,” Amelie grits out between her teeth.
And then …
She punches him in the stomach.
Gannon barely even flinches, since Amelie is one hundred pounds soaking wet, but his face falls so hard that I think the guy is about to hit the pavement.
“What the fuck?” He wonders as she runs up the stairs, covering her mouth.
We all sit here, stunned by what happened but very much aware of all he’s missed. I don’t envy the guy for coming back now.
This semester, the couple of months it’s been, has felt like an eternity. One I haven’t wanted to end. But now that the party’s over and the lights have come up, there is nothing left here.
I’m standing in a group of strangers; I’m no longer a part of this family I thought I was being adopted into.
A person knows when it’s their time to leave, to exit stage left. And my cue just came.
38
Taya
The afternoon of graduation, I can’t stop swiping tears away.
This morning, I heard the front door close as Austin left in his cap and gown. He probably walked across that stage with no one in the audience. Though I’m irate and miserable when it comes to him, that just does something to my heart. No one should go through one of the happiest moments of their life, something they worked so hard for, alone.
It’s been extremely awkward in the house, and not just because everyone knows Austin and I broke up. Things with Callum and Bevan are depressing and strange, as is the fact that Gannon showed up. Amelie has been sullen and angry since he took off after she punched him.
We’re all in our own heartbreak comas, trying to support each other, and huddled on the couch under blankets even though school is over and it’s almost eighty outside. I think each of us has tears streaking our faces, and we should be packing but can’t manage to pull ourselves from our grief. I also can’t stop thinking about Austin and how lonely he must feel at graduation.
As if the universe conjured him, the front door opens, and in walks the guy whose name is still tattooed all over my heart.
He walks past the living room in his gown, his cap in his hand, and gazes at me. He opens that mouth, the one I miss so much, and looks like he’s about to say something. And then he closes it and walks up the stairs.
My head whips to Amelie, who just shrugs, and I can feel the fury going from a simmer to a boil in my veins. So now he can’t even talk to me? I’m doing that thing, the thing where girls spiral. But the dejection is taken to a whole other level, and we’re leaving in two days, and I just …
What the hell are we doing? Him and me? We can’t make this work … why exactly? And he never even gave me a reason. He never fought for me.
I’m so sick of people not fighting for me.
Throwing off the blankets and straightening my Talcott T-shirt, I march up the stairs on a mission.
When I reach the attic, I don’t even bother knocking and throw open the door. Austin’s head turns in surprise as he stands in the middle of the room shirtless with just the khaki shorts he must have been wearing under his graduation attire. On his bed are two large, half-filled suitcases, and those only serve to add fuel to my fire.
Pointing at the suitcases, I go off.
“Isn’t that just fucking great? You berate me about not committing, about being scared to go for anything I want. When all I’ve wanted was you, and I thought this whole time it was me putting myself out there. It’s so typical that you look right past me, Austin. That you’d leave me behind, just like that.”
His face transforms from resigned defeat to anger to confusion and back to sadness all in the same second. I snap my fingers to emphasize my point, getting right up in his face.
“I’m so fucking tired. So fucking tired of being overlooked. Just because I don’t make a fuss about myself or the things I want doesn’t mean I don’t want to be special too. I want to be admired by the few people I let close enough. I want to be cared for like I’m fragile and incredible and no one wants me to break. Do you know how often I feel like no one notices anything I do? Every single day. I shouldn’t have to shout from the rooftops to be given the respect and love I desire. But apparently, unless I do that, I’m not worth it to you.”