The longer he looked into my eyes, the more exposed I felt. He used to do that all the time—trace my eyes, find the true feelings there. He’d always tell me my words could be fantastic at weaving a lie, but my eyes would give me away. And he looked in them now, trying to decipher the truth, and I couldn’t let him.
Don’t feel guilty, don’t feel guilty.
So I squeezed my eyes shut, heart thumping painfully in my chest.
The night before I’d broken up with Lucas had been the best night of my life.
Lucas’s parents and little sister had been out of the house for the night, and I’d gone over to watch movies with him, like we always had when no one was home. But there was something about the fact that we were alone that night, in that big house, that made me bold, braver than before.
That night, everything had been charged ten times higher than ever.
I could still remember how it felt to have his lips on my neck as my fingers fumbled for the buttons on his shirt, the warmth of his breath as he’d chuckled against my skin.
Could still remember the near-crushing feeling in my chest of loving him so much.
Could still remember the moment when my cell phone rang, startling us apart.
Could still remember the happy look on his face the next day as he’d sat beside me in the car, moments before I’d broken his heart.
I saw stars from how tightly I pinched my eyes shut, and I dragged in a breath to apologize. But when I finally got the courage to look, Lucas no longer stood in front of me.
No, he and his stiff shoulders already headed down the hall.
A strangled sort of compression worked its way up my throat, crawling along the sides, scraping it raw. Desperation made my voice sharp. “Are you going to run away with hurt feelings? What, you can’t take it? I thought you missed me yelling at you?” Please stop, please stop, I thought to him, my breath shaking. If he didn’t turn, it might’ve been the final straw.
That razor-sharp panic ebbed a little as Lucas pulled to a halt, pivoting on his heel. A distance of seven lockers separated us, as well as two students who tried to seem like they weren’t eavesdropping.
“You told me to walk away,” he said to me, voice level.
But I didn’t mean it.
The letter in my hand weighed me to the ground, as if made of lead. And the trash bin was right there, right in front of me, but I couldn’t even think about dropping it.
I reached around and tucked it back into my backpack, tugging on the zipper as I crossed the distance between us. “I…I shouldn’t have said that. Any of that.”
“I do know we broke up, Blaire,” Lucas said quietly, so quietly that the two students listening wouldn’t have been able to hear. “I remember I can’t walk up to you like I used to. I can’t hold you like I used to. I’m not sure why you think it slipped my mind.”
“It’s this stupid month,” I told him, folding my arms, trying to shrug on a coat of nonchalance, one ten sizes too small. But I fought so hard to wipe away the sharpness of the moment. “I—I just hate October. I hate Halloween. It puts me in a…bad mood.”
“Those are fighting words in these parts. Hallow takes Halloween very seriously.” He attempted at humor, but the emotion didn’t settle in his eyes, his voice too flat. “But I get what you mean.”
He would know what I meant. He’d been there this time last Halloween, the first anniversary of Dad leaving. He’d been there to witness everything.
“I don’t want to pretend you don’t exist,” I told him honestly, looking up into his eyes even though it was a bad idea. I tended to get lost in them. “I’m not used to being around you this way.”
Lucas had said he missed being able to walk up to me, being able to hold me the way he used to, and I missed the same things. I missed being able to call him at night, listen to his breathing on the other end of the phone when he fell asleep. I missed playing games with him and Delia in their backyard.
So much history lay between us that the thought of it all going down the drain made me ache. Then again, the thought of holding on to a dead-end hurt even more.
He offered me a smile, making my breath catch. “We could be friends.”
I so badly wanted to agree. “That never works, and you know it.”
“We could make it work.”
“No, we couldn’t.” Not when my insides tore apart each time I saw him.
Lucas took a step forward so only an arm’s reach of distance separated us. I kept my arms close to my chest, forbidding them from reaching out. “You said so yourself—you’re struggling through this month. You need friends to get you through it.”
I took a step back. Distance. Distance was good. “I’ve got Donnie.”
“Got me for what?” Donnie asked as he walked up to the two of us, two cups of coffee in hand. He’d worn his dark hair loose today, no gel to spike it up. He eyed Lucas. “Hey, man. I didn’t realize you rejoined the ranks or else I’d have brought you a coffee too.”
“He’s not rejoining the ranks,” I told Donnie as I took my espresso, shaking the mere idea from my head and continuing my trek to my locker. “He’s merely being a nuisance.”
Donnie’s and Lucas’s footfalls on the linoleum were harmonious behind me, as well as their following voices. “Don’t listen to her—Blaire and I are friends now. Or, should I say, again.”
“Friends?” Donnie’s voice pitched high.
I couldn’t blame him. Donnie had been there through the trenches of our breakup, unsure which side to settle on. He was family, sure, but I was the one who’d broken up with Lucas, his friends, with no explanation. I hadn’t told Donnie about why, so he knew nothing.
And with how I’d been lately, if I were him, I’d be nervous about the idea of Lucas and me being friends too.
I took a sip of my espresso and almost immediately spit it out. “Gah, did you put sugar in this?”
“Do you not normally get sugar?” Donnie asked, brow squished.
“You’ve never put sugar in it before.”
He blinked. “Oh. Well, you know, I thought you could use some sweetening,” Donnie returned quickly, but he didn’t stick to the subject long. “But really. Friends? Why?”
“Because I hate myself, apparently,” I muttered, and as I approached my locker, I saw a paper had been taped to the front of it—an orange-colored poster with small decorations on the front. Once I realized what it was, I sighed. “No, the universe hates me.”
The annual Halloween festival was coming up next Saturday, and of course someone had taped a poster for it on the front of my locker. Out of all the other lockers, they’d chosen mine.
HALLOWEEN BOO-BASH: EAT, DRINK, AND BE SCARY.
Ha. So clever.
I grabbed it, crumpling it up into a ball before dropping it to the ground.
“She hates Halloween,” Lucas whispered to Donnie.
I ripped my locker open, my newspaper clippings fluttering in the breeze. Why advertise a community event at school, anyway? They didn’t have to advertise on my locker, either.
“How can someone not like Halloween?” Donnie demanded, and I looked over my shoulder. He sipped at his coffee, looking cheery. “It’s the best holiday. Well, second to Christmas.”