I know how dangerous those ‘what-if’ thoughts are, having lived through two solid weeks of them myself. “We all make mistakes.”
He scoffs. “Except mine nearly killed you.” Regret sits heavily on his slumped shoulders.
“You didn’t make me jump.”
“No, I just stacked the logs and lit the match.” He sighs. “And, Paxton hates me.”
“He’ll ease up. A lot has happened lately. He just needs a little time.”
Derek licks his lips. “I don’t know. He’s asked the coach to bench me and start Matthews.”
Awkwardness makes the air stagnant as my guilt mixes with his, creating a tonic that makes this entire situation taste even more bitter. “I’m sorry. I can talk to him.”
He shakes his head. “It’s not your job to clean up my messes. I don’t want you to compromise your relationship with him. I probably deserve to be benched anyways.”
Lincoln and Pax have often accused Derek of showboating and disregarding the team as a whole, blaming him for not working harder to make peace with the guys. At times like this, it’s difficult for me to imagine that when his humbleness seems greater than Lincoln and Paxton’s combined. “It won’t,” I assure him.
Derek wipes his hand across his chest covered in a sweatshirt that the puffy jacket he’s wearing reveals. “I didn’t want to catch up with you to talk about Paxton. I just wanted to see how you’re doing and see if maybe when you’re feeling a little better, we could hang out again. I’d like to spend an evening groveling and begging while taking you up to the Space Needle.”
My stomach feels like I’ve eaten an entire packet of the pop rocks my mom used to fill our Easter baskets with and chased it with a can of soda. Aside from prom, I haven’t been on a formal date, and I’ve painted the picture in my head so many times in the past couple of months. Except on those dreams, my date had dark hair and darker eyes, and a mask he only removes for me.
“I know you have classes and stuff you’ve got to catch up with, but maybe in a couple of weeks?”
I nod, the gesture more of a reaction than a response.
His smile is kind, easy. “By the way, I need you to tell me which flowers have been your favorite.”
“You have to stop sending me flowers. You’ve spent a fortune on them.”
He shrugs, like kids who I went to high school sometimes did when the cost of something would come up. He’s never known life without lavish nonessentials.
“After what you went through, you deserve to be spoiled.” He takes a measured step back. “I’ll see you later.”
My thoughts spin as I watch him walk in the opposite direction of where I’m headed, wondering if there’s a reason he keeps appearing in my life when I’m hurting.
I lean back on Poppy’s bed, flipping through the textbook I’m supposed to be reading. She’s dialed up the hovering since Maggie left, inviting me over and making plans to hang out nearly daily, switching her schedule around with hours she picks up from her mom to align with my more chaotic schedule.
“Are you hungry?”
I shake my head.
“Want something to drink?”
I glance up from the black and white print. “Do you want to get something to drink?”
Poppy leans forward in her desk chair, her elbows propped on her knees. “You haven’t volunteered to go out on the Sound.”
I stare at her, waiting for her to ask the question she’s been hinting at for a week now.
“Are you afraid?”
I shake my head. “No. I’ve just been busy. Plus, I’m trying to give my mom a little break. I know she’ll be a wreck when I go out again.”
Poppy nods, accepting my answer. “You know, I was talking to Michelle, that girl in my English Lit class, and she rents an apartment over on Fifth. She said the apartments are huge and quiet, and they have a gym and an indoor pool. I know we talked about waiting until next year, but what do you think about looking at them? Maybe we do it this year.”
All along, we’d planned to move out during the summer. It was our plan since freshman year of high school. We knew we would go to Brighton together, knew we’d live together off-campus. We knew Poppy would grocery shop because I hate it, and I’d cook because she burns everything. But, then her mom started talking to us about how our schedules would change and, there would be new pressures and expectations we wouldn’t be prepared for and how we both had the advantage of living at home where we had zero expenses, food, and enough independence that much of the time it feels like we do live alone, specifically in my case, less so for Poppy who’s little brother, Dylan, is often around.
“I think they were more worried about us staying out and partying and having boys over than they were about our feeling overwhelmed.”
I chuckle. “You just now realized that?”
“You have to admit, they made the idea of living at home make sense.”
My laughter settles as I shrug. Most of the time, it feels like I live alone, anyways. Maggie being home had changed that, and my accident propelled it, but things have quickly slipped back into their normal ways, my parents working too much, and Dad escaping to the gym. “I’m game if you are.”
“What do I say about Dylan?” she asks.
I know it’s not her job to babysit Dylan or please her mom, Poppy knows it as well, but disappointing our parents is something we both work to avoid. “Maybe it would encourage her to work less?”
“Maybe.” She looks wistful, and for a moment, I remember us when we were both eleven. By that age, Poppy made her own breakfast, caught the bus, and returned home, where she proactively did her homework and did a slew of chores including laundry, vacuuming, starting dinner, and a dozen other tasks, all of which Dylan has been shielded from. It’s a subject we don’t discuss because when broached, Poppy turns defensive.
“Are we going to talk about Lincoln?” Poppy asks, her eyes turning sharp as she looks at me.
“Only if we have to.”
“He went to the marina because he knew you’d be there.”
“He also confirmed we’re friends.”
“Friends don’t make out with friends.”
“I saw Derek today,” I tell her, switching chapters in this book I’d prefer to shelve for now.
“What? What did he say? When? Where?” She shoots off the questions, leaning closer to me.
“At school. He asked me out.”
Poppy blinks in long, exaggerated movements. “He did not!”
I shrug. “He was nice about it.”
“You aren’t seriously considering it, are you?”
My shoulders bob again. “I don’t know.”
“Raegan, he nearly killed you.”
“I nearly killed myself. He saved me.”
“Paxton will lose his shit.”
I sigh, knowing she’s right. “But, don’t you think it would make everything easier if I just tried to like someone else?”
“You’ve been there. Done that. You left the date with Derek with Lincoln and then proceeded to make out with him. Twice.”
I flinch. “That was before.”