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Nodding slowly, I admitted, “You might be right.”
“Listen, you’ve been hung up on the guy since we were freshmen. And then after your dad—” She stopped for a second, and I held my breath as I waited for what she might say next. “Well, he’s the only one you let in after that happened. I mean, aside from me, of course.”
She half smiled and I did the same. “The two of you hooked up our entire senior year. And then all that shit happened with prom and it never got sorted out. You never let him explain his side, and you never asked him to either. You just avoided him. I don’t think you ever talked to him again after that. So see? No closure. At all.” She hopped back up on top of the bathroom counter and shrugged her shoulders, clearly proud of her analysis.
“So you’re telling me that you don’t have closure with Bobby?” I asked, clearly trying to change the subject.
“How could I have any closure with that prick? He broke up with me for no reason! At least give me something I can process, work through, and then get over. Instead, I’m stuck wondering what the hell went wrong, or what I did, but I’m not any closer to an answer. So it just festers. Lingers.”
She blew out an exaggerated breath before continuing. “It just exists here”—she pointed at her heart—“and here”—she pointed at her head—“and I hate it. And it’s not even like I want him back, that’s not the issue. I just want to move past it, but it’s hard to put something behind you when you don’t have all the pieces of the damn puzzle. And you know how much I hate puzzles.”
“Makes sense.” I found myself nodding.
Kristy chuckled. “You think so? ’Cause half the time I think I’m crazy.”
“Oh no, you’re definitely crazy. But really, it’s pretty logical if you think about it. I guess it makes sense for me and Dalton too.”
I had to agree, even if part of me didn’t want to believe it entirely. Somewhere deep down I refused to accept that I’d been haunted by one person for this long simply because we didn’t have closure. But what if Kristy was right and it was as easy as that? What if all I’d needed this entire time was to see him so I could close the book on our relationship once and for all?
Let’s Do This
Cammie
“You finally ready?” Kristy asked from the other room.
“I think so. Come in here and make sure my makeup and hair look okay,” I yelled over the music I had playing in the bathroom. I smoothed the wrinkles from my red dress that hugged my curves in all the right places—if I did say so myself—and slipped into my heels.
Kristy walked in, took one look at me, and whistled. “You look so hot, Cammie.”
I glanced back at the mirror with a smile, noting the soft waves in my brown hair and the smoky eye makeup around my hazel eyes. “Are you sure? It’s not too much?”
“No. Dalton’s going to shit himself when he sees
you.”
“Not if he’s not here, he won’t.”
“He’s going to be here. Why are you so annoyingly stubborn!” she shouted at me before taking a swig of her third cocktail of the night. “And what about me? How do I look?”
I looked her up and down, then tried to whistle, but ended up making a blowing/spitting sound instead. The leopard print dress she wore clung to her perfectly. Kristy always knew how to dress; nothing was ever too tight or too over-the-top. “You look as gorgeous as always.” And she did.
Kristy and I were often mistaken for sisters, but it wasn’t because we truly looked alike. We just had the basics in common—we were both five-foot-seven, both had long dark hair and light brown eyes. Calling us sisters was like calling every set of blond girls you saw twins.
“Let’s not keep the masses waiting any longer. You ready to do this?” she asked, and I reached for her drink before downing it. “Hey!” she yelled at me in mock anger.
“I needed that. Thanks.” I smiled before reapplying my red lipstick and putting the tube in my clutch. Sucking in a deep breath, I moved toward the door. “Here goes nothing.”
“Here goes everything.” She chuckled from behind me.
We made our way downstairs and headed toward the check-in table, where we were greeted by classmates who stood to hug us both before handing us our nametags and pointing us in the direction of the evening’s photographer.
Glancing down at my tag, I realized that it not only said my name, but it had a printed copy of my senior picture next to it. My seventeen-year-old face fake-smiled back at me, and I hurt for the girl I was during that time.
The day my senior pictures had been taken was not a good one. I had been crying all morning, but it was my last chance at being in the yearbook at all. It was either a puffy-eyed, red-faced photo, or none at all. And since it was my senior year, I figured I’d eventually regret it if my picture was one of the stock silhouettes. Looking at my sad face now, I wasn’t so sure I’d made the right choice.
“Did they really have to include our pictures? Ugh, I have bangs. Bangs!” Kristy rolled her eyes before pinning the tag to the bottom of her dress.
“I think it’s a great idea, actually. Not that I like this picture, but what the hell good is someone’s name if you don’t have their teenage face to put with it?” I said before pinning my tag a little above my waist. The top of my dress refused to be covered by anything other than Dalton Thomas’s hands.
