My hands pressed against the smooth paper, heart punching against my ribs. “Why’d she send you?”
“She wanted to make sure you wouldn’t back out of whatever she has planned.”
“She didn’t tell you?”
I guess things hadn’t changed much.
“About you two dating? And boning constantly? And then her screwing things up? Of course she did.”
Spit lodged in my throat at Quinn’s bubbly reply.
“Kidding. I’m kidding. She didn’t mention anything about sex.” She shuddered. “But she said you two had been secretly dating and she’d messed up and wanted to talk to you.” Rocking back on her heels, she chewed on the inside of her cheek. “And I totally wasn’t supposed to say any of that to you. All I was supposed to say was please read the note and come with me if you wanted to talk to her. Don’t tell her I threw in the stuff about boning.” She cringed, her cheeks flushing. “That was more of a punishment to myself than I anticipated.”
I stared down at the paper in my hands.
“You are coming, aren’t you?” Quinn’s voice wobbled in panic.
The smooth paper glided under my fingertips. I unfolded it and looked up at Quinn trying to read over the top of the paper.
I closed the door in her face and rested my back against it, staring at the ink and lines, focusing enough to read her note.
L,
I know I have no right to ask for this after what happened at the museum, but I’d really like to speak with you. I need to talk to you. After that, well, we’ll see, but I need to finally tell you everything. You deserve to know everything. Please meet me at the treehouse.
Marisa
My fingers gripped either side of the paper, reading and re-reading it.
Furious pounding rattled the door.
I jerked it open.
Quinn’s hands were anchored to her hips. “Serious—”
“I’ll be there, but I need to get ready.”
“I can wait.” She stepped into the doorway.
“No, I’ll be there. I just need some time, okay?”
Chewing on her cheek, she stepped back and nodded. “Don’t make me drive back over the bridge, or I’m charging you for the toll.”
“Bye, Quinn.” I closed the door and stared down at the paper, now crumbled in my hand.
The first thing I needed was coffee. I made myself a gallon and went back upstairs.
In my room, I picked up my clothes off the floor and dumped them into the hamper. Sitting on the edge of my bed, I ran my fingers through my hair and downed the coffee as quickly as I could without scalding myself. Black with no sugar—it was punishment for being such a colossal idiot last night.
Going through the motions, I pulled myself together. I took a scouring shower set as hot as it would go, and then shaved properly. I spent way too long finding clothes to wear, finally settling on a t-shirt and jeans after the fifth change.
Long shadows stretched across the street by the time I pulled myself together enough to get into my car. The sun hung low in the horizon when I pulled into my parent’s driveway, parking beside their car.
The curtains at the front of the house ruffled.
I walked up the path to the front door, trying to keep my mind blank. There was a hurricane of emotions roiling inside me, and I didn’t know which way this was going. I wasn’t sure which were safe to even explore until I spoke to her, which made me want to run the other way and head back into the city.
The front door flew open before I could get out my key.
“The backyard.” Quinn whisper-shouted. “Go around the side. That way.” She pointed to the left of the house. The well-worn path around the back of the house had recovered over the years.
We used to ditch our bikes right beside the fence and take off toward the back of the house without even stopping inside.
Rounding the corner of the house, I spotted us. Our picture was stuck to a stake driven into the grass. String lights twinkled, wrapped around the stakes and guiding my path lined with even more pictures.
Me and Marisa in the third grade, our arms linked around each other’s necks as we sported big, gap-toothed smiles. My mom had been the chaperone on our class trip to the Philly Zoo, and I’d told her to make sure Marisa was in our group. She’d shared one of her chocolate iced TastyKakes with me.
That might’ve been when I’d fallen in love with her.
There were more stakes—one for each year we’d known each other.
There was the summer after sixth grade, when she’d tagged along with my family to the shore while her mom had been out of town. We’d binged on funnel cake and puked under the boardwalk, so my parents didn’t find out and ban us from eating any more.
There we were standing on the stairs with our dates for the eighth-grade dance. She’d been beautiful. I’d gotten jealous—the first time I realized what that felt like—when she’d agreed to go to the dance with Sean McCormack. She’d said it was only because he’d asked her and no one else had. But I’d kissed her beside the bleachers in the gym.
More memories appeared with each step, every one banging into my chest. We had so much history between us. So much of our pasts was intertwined and connected.
The whole family playing board games in the hospital room while my dad recovered after a surgery.
Another stake. Us at high school graduation. My mortar board had poked her in the eye after someone called my name when we’d tried to take a selfie. I laughed, the sound catching in my throat.
I made it to the back of the house.
And there she stood in her museum outfit, like she hadn’t changed since that day, but so much had changed. It was hard to catch my breath with the whirlwind in my chest stealing away every inhalation.
The overly-long grass covered the sides of her shoes. Flowers my mom would plant when they came back were lined up along the flowerbeds surrounding the ten feet of paved stone patio outside the back door.
“You came.” Her voice wavered, and her lips twitched into an almost-smile, but her eyes were watery.
“I told Quinn I would.” I shoved my keys into my pocket and crossed the patio to where she stood in the grass. “She gave me your note.” Keeping the restraint on, I kept my hands in my pockets. “What did you want to tell me?”
She fidgeted with her hands in front of her. “I was an idiot. An asshole and an idiot. Everything you said in the museum was true. I was scared and ready to run at the slightest hint that you might leave me first.” A deep, shuddering breath. “It’s one thing that’s been inevitable in my life. But that wasn’t fair, because you’ve never been that person.” Her voice cracked. “You’ve been the one person who I’ve always been able to be myself with, who’s always been there for me, and that made it the hardest to think of you leaving me.
“I don’t want to lie to you anymore. And no matter what, whether you can forgive me or not, I need you to know the truth about how I feel. The only thing that comes from people not saying their true feelings is hurt and pain, and I don’t want that for you. I’d never want that for you. I don’t want to hide any part of myself from you anymore. You leaving…it would’ve broken me, but—shocker of the century—that happened anyway. Only I did it to myself because I was terrified of what would happen when you moved on.”