Chapter 15
Gavin texts me again. I know it’s him before I look at my phone, because the only person who talks to me most of the time is Livi, and she uses Snapchat instead of texts.
Gavin has texted me every day, but only once per day. It’s kind of weird how he’s so persistent. If he thinks he’ll get forgiveness, he’s dead wrong.
I pick up my phone. The last few days have been a one sided conversation.
Gavin:Clarissa, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have lied.
Gavin:I know I can’t explain in a way that will make it up to you, but please talk to me.
Gavin:If I had any idea that was your greenhouse, I wouldn’t have touched it. Will you talk to me?
And now, one more text today. There are no words, just a picture of a pile of greenhouse supplies on the ground. From first glance, it looks like he did buy everything I told him to. Good. I hope it was expensive.
I gnaw on the inside of my lip. Although I do plan to avoid him for the rest of my life, this is something that needs to be done. I text him back.
Me:When can we get started?
At first, I’d writtenyou, as in when canyouget started. Then I realized I have to be there. I have to supervise and help and lead the entire project if I want it to turn out right. This is the part I don’t think I can handle—being around him for hours, days on end, rebuilding something my grandfather had helped me build the first time.
When my grandpa had given me that tulip bulb, Livi had suggested that I treat Gavin as if he were an anonymous contractor who had been hired to help me. If I spend the whole time pretending he’s just a stranger, then maybe I can get through it.
I had fully planned on cancelling the entire thing and just lying to my grandpa forever until he brought me that tulip. I can’t do that to him. I can’t do it to my grandma’s memory. This greenhouse needs to rise again.
So I send the stupid text and I tell myself Gavin is just a contractor, just hired help, a total stranger. To make myself believe the lie even more, I delete our chain of texts and then rename him in my contacts list. Now, instead of Gavin, he is Contractor.
It doesn’t make me feel much better seeing his name like that.
Contractor:Soon, I promise.
Me:You can’t give me a date?
Contractor:I’m scheduled to work several days in a row, but as soon as I’m off, I’ll be there.
Me:Okay.
Contractor:Could we meet? Have coffee? Talk?
I ignore it. A contractor worth his salt would only care about the job, not taking his clients out to coffee. And from now on, that’s all Gavin is to me.
I throw the phone back on my bed and I go back to reading a book I’d checked out from the library this morning. It’s a teen fantasy novel with dragons and princesses and a handsome vigilante guy with a sword and a penchant for danger. There’s magic and beautiful landscapes and castles. I’d hoped I could slip into this fantasy world and forget all about the real world at home. It works for a just a little bit, and then my phone rings.
Seriously? It’s after nine on a school night. Gavin is getting really annoying if he’s switched from texting to calling me.
But the number on the screen isn’t the “contractor”. It’s Shawn.
My freaking ex.
The last time I spoke to him was when he was breaking up with me. I cried, and he apologized. He …apologized. He said he felt bad and that I was a really nice person. He also said he just couldn’t date someone as tall as me.
I think we might have even agreed to the pathetically impossible notion of “staying friends”. Of course, I knew we wouldn’t. No one stays friends with their ex, especially after the ex in question starts dating a much more beautiful and shorter girl immediately after dumping you.
Still, it’s kind of weird.
“Hello?” I say timidly, wondering if I should even bother talking to him.
“Hey, Rissa.” His voice is easy going, laid back. Same ol’ Shawn. Although I feel like telling him my name isClarissaand only good friends get to shorten it like that. He dumped me, therefore we are not good friends anymore.
