Griffin
November, Age 17
Whoever said time heals all wounds was lying out of their ass.
Maybe I’m delusional, but I really thought that after her birthday surprise that me and Eleanor would rebuild…whatever it was that we had. Or almost had.
Think again, idiot.
Any attempts I made the rest of last year went unnoticed–or blatantly ignored. I really started losing hope when I didn’t see or hear from her once over summer break.
And now that we’re a few months into junior year, I think I have to force myself to admit that she really meant it when she said she’d never forgive me.
You’d think that would help me move on. Not a chance in hell.
I don’t talk to the guys about it anymore, because I don’t want to be a pathetic broken record.
Even though that’s exactly what I am.
I was so distracted last year that I almost failed Spanish II, so Señor Flores strongly advised me notto take Spanish III. I thought about doing it anyway on the off chance we might be in the same class again, but my GPA has been through enough already.
Now the only hope I have of seeing her is in the halls, and the scheduling Gods must hate me because we never cross paths unless something weird happens with the daily schedule. I’m not exaggerating when I say I’ve only seen her physicallymaybetwice in eight weeks.
Both times nearly sent me into cardiac arrest.
Not that I haven’t checked her Instagram religiously. I don’t care if that walks a thin line between regular old pathetic and stalkerish. I’ll take any crumb of her I can get.
I don’t know how it’s possible, but she’s gotten even more beautiful. Her blonde waves are nearly to her waist, her smile somehow got more radiant when she got her braces off, and Goddamn she’s got some curves on her.
I know I’ve changed too. When Jack and David started getting really sick of my pining, I took up working out as a way to release my angst. The rest of me has finally caught up with my height, and I get a lot more attention from girls now.
Not that I care. There’s only one girl’s attention I want. And I’m starting to think I’ll never have it again.
I know today is her birthday, and I desperately wanted to do something special for her. When she first told mehow much she loves her birthday, I was looking forward to celebrating it with her forever.
I didn’t even get to do it once.
Before I could come up with anything, Jack and David talked me out of it. And they were right–there’s no way I could have done that in a way that seems natural. I don’t want to do anything that might tarnish her day.
I think Eleanor’s birthday is going to be the worst day of the year, every year, for the rest of my life.
Chapter 20
Ellie
November, 18th Birthday
I’ve checked my phone at least a hundred times today. I’ve called between every class period, but it went straight to voicemail every time. I’ve sent at least twenty texts. Nothing.
Ellie: Hi, what are you doing?
Ellie: Did you get my text?
Ellie: Hello?
Ellie: Bennett, please answer me.
Ellie: Are we still doing dinner tonight?
