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What does ‘hating everything’ mean? And why did I not see it? I am wondering suddenly about the reality that I think I remember. What was she going through back then that I was completely oblivious to?
“By the way, this is my real hair,” she says quietly. “I used to dye it.”
Which is a weird thing to say—let alone do when you’re fifteen—but who the hell cares right now? She’s talking to me. She’stalking. I need to keep her talking.
“I’m sorry,” I say, reaching out to grab her elbow. She is shaking, but I’m not letting go. “Your hair is beautiful. Did you say this is your real…?”
“What are you even sorry for?” she interrupts me, still crying. I can’t take this anymore. I cup her face in my hands, trying to stop the pain from leaking out of her eyes. “I’m the one who…”
She’s the one who broke up with me, yes. And I know why; she told me back then. The reason isn’t likely to have changed, or to ever change, so there’s nothing more to say, but I’ll be damned if I stop her talking.
“I’ve been sorry every day for the last…” She visibly makes an effort to stop herself. She shakes her head and droplets fly out of her hair. “I’ve missed you.”
The words, trembling, linger in the air between us.
Our breaths cloud; we’re both panting, even though we’ve been standing still for ages. We gaze at each other, almost like we’re sizing each other up.How much have you changed? How much of my best friend is still in you? How much do you remember? How much do you want?
“I want,” she says—she’s always been able to read my mind, from the first day—“to be friends.”
I open my mouth, close it.
“I know I don’t deserve it,” she adds quickly, as if she wants to say it before I do.Oh, baby.
“Listen to me,” I say, biting the word out, “and listen close, ok? Cause what I’m about to say is important. The last thing I want to be is your friend. I was… You were everything to me and then you were nothing. You don’t go from everything to nothing just like that. You don’t go to friends after that. Or I don’t. I can’t; don’t ask this from me.”
Seeing her face drop, her eyes go back to lifeless sends a searing pain through my gut, but I won’t lie to her.
“I can’t be your friend, Eden.” I step closer, my nose almost brushing her forehead. I can feel her holding her breath. Mine is coming hot and hard, hissing through my teeth. Before I know what I’m doing, I’m dipping my head down, down, reaching her lips.
I brush them with mine, and I feel her body go stiff against mine. Immediately, I come to my senses.
What am I doing?
I close my eyes, fighting sudden vertigo, and I just barely resist the urge—theneed—to rest my head against her forehead just so that I don’t drop on the road.
“No friends, you understand?” My voice is hoarse, struggling to form the words. “We can be strangers, enemies, exes… We can be literally two random people standing on the street. But I’d sooner die than be your friend.”
She lifts her eyes to mine, and there’s something feral in them. Fear? Desire? They are so fierce, I lose my mind.
“So, no. I will not be your friend. I need to…” It takes all of my strength to step away from her, to not feel her choppy breath on my cheek anymore, to not smell the strawberry shampoo on her hair, to not feel her supple body tremble next to my chest… But I do it somehow. “There is no way we can be anything right now. If we’re not enemies, then we’re strangers. But we’re not that either, are we? They will have to invent a whole new word for what we are to each other now. And that word would be ‘nothing’.”
She just stands there, mute, looking at me expectantly, as if she’s waiting for something. How can she not see how close I am to losing all control? My body is so tense it hurts to just stand. What is it she’s waiting for? She wants me to say something more. Something different.
But what?
“I need to protect myself.” The words hurt as they come out, they are literally scratching my throat like razors, but I have to say them. For both our sakes. I don’t want her to keep waiting for something that’s not coming. “I need to stay safe. I nearly did not survive you the first time. I won’t go through that again.”
I almost wish I could take the words back as I see the sadness spread across her beautiful face. But I don’t. Somehow, for the first time, I feel lighter: I said what I meant to say. The idea of being Eden’s friend is nauseating. I want to be her everything. Ans if I can’t be that, I want to be nothing. Just like I am now.
“Is that clear?” I add.
Say no. Say no. Ask me again, a part of me begs silently screaming in my head.
The stupid part of me.
“Crystal,” Eden says in a clipped voice.
“Good.”
