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“They’re just friends,” Rhys tries to convince me. But the way they turn to Connor’s dad, the way she holds his waist, the way he settles his hand on the small of her back… a lot can change in a few weeks.
Tears blur my vision.
Trevor says, “Ava, let’s go inside.”
“I’m okay,” I repeat. But I’m not. I’m so far from okay that okay is a fantasy. And I know I wanted this. For Connor to move on. For him to let his love live in someone else, but it doesn’t stop the ache.
“Rhys, let’s go!” Karen shouts, and I know that they’ll see me: this pathetic, lonely girl standing in sweats, hands tied up in false magic. And so I turn to Trevor and look into his eyes. Try to find the strength I need to keep from losing it. He stares down at me, pity laced in his expression. A frown tugs at his lips. Rhys kisses the top of my head. “I’ll see you later, A.”
I hear him leave, but I don’t respond. I keep looking at my big brother, searching for courage. Searching for hope. But there’s nothing there. “Ava…” he whispers.
And I release the first sob. “I’m not okay.”
“I know.”
I run into the house, discarding the lights by the front door, and go into my mother’s room. She’s fast asleep, but I crawl into her bed anyway.
I need her.
I need her so much. “I need you, Mama. Wake up.”
She doesn’t stir.
“Wake up!” I cry out. “I need to talk to you.” I shake her, my tears falling fast and free, my heartbreak flowing out in the sound of sobs. “Why can’t you just be my mom! I need my mom!”
“Ava!” Trevor’s standing beside the bed, trying to pull me away. “Let her sleep. You can’t be like this. Not with her.”
He grabs me by my waist and carries me to her door, dropping me back on my feet once we’re out of her room. I fall to the floor and cry into my hands. And I don’t stop. I can’t. I’ve worked myself up to the point of hysterics, and I’m breathless, the ache in my chest unbearable. “I want everything they have, and I can’t have it!” I break down. Fall apart. Release the emotions I’ve held on to for too long. My shoulders shake from the force of my cries.
Trevor leaves and returns with a paper bag. He squats down beside me and holds the bag out in front of my mouth, his hand forming the perfect O. “Come on, Ava. Breathe,” he whispers, bringing it to my lips. I take over his hand and do as he asks and cry harder when he holds me to him, stroking my hair. “I don’t know what to do here,” he says, his voice cracking. I try to settle my breathing, look up at him through liquid lashes. His eyes are red from holding back his own tears, his breaths short, harsh. His lips quiver when he adds, “I’m out of my depth here, Ava. And I don’t know what to do.” He exhales a long, shaky breath, his gaze darting to the side. “And I don’t know how much more I can take.”
CONNOR
We’re in the same gym the practices are held, and I’d rather be running suicides for an hour straight. The music is too loud, and the lights are too bright, and I don’t want to be here. “Do you want to dance?” Karen asks, sitting next to me.
“I don’t really dance,” I tell her. I’m a sucky date; I know this. And I should really make more of an effort. “I mean, I don’t really know how.”
“I can teach you,” she offers, and the smile she gives me only makes me feel worse.
“Maybe another time? I don’t really feel like embarrassing myself in front of everyone.”
“A private lesson.” She smirks. “I’m down.”
We sit in silence for another five minutes before I hear her loud sigh over the music.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her.
“It’s okay.” She shrugs, and I can see the disappointment fleet across her features, see the genuine frown pull on her lips. She slumps in her chair, her hair curtaining her face, and I feel like the biggest dick in the history of the world.
“Hey,” I say, dragging the legs of her chair until she’s facing me. I lift her chin, finger a strand of hair away from her eyes. She looks up, sad, sad eyes on mine. And it’s not her fault that I am the way I am. Not even a little bit. “I’m sorry,” I repeat. “It’s just… dances aren’t really my thing.”
She nods as if she knows me. And even though we’ve been spending more time together in the past few weeks since Ava crushed my soul, she doesn’t know me. Not the real me. Not like Ava knows me.
“Let’s get out of here,” she says, standing and taking my hand. I don’t know where we’re going, but anywhere is better than here, and so I follow blindly behind her as she leads me out of the gym and through the empty hallways.
We end up at the larger gym where the games are played. “Comfortable now?” Karen asks, slipping off her heels.
I nod. “Much.”
