his house like a stalker felt worse than any embarrassment that might come from what I was about to do.
After all, he’d already turned me down once.
I fingered the Saint Christopher medal in the pocket of my jean shorts as I made my way down the driveway. My toenails were painted fuchsia, and I stared at them as they passed over the gravel, letting the splash of color against the muted stones act as a temporary distraction. If I thought of anything else, the odds that I’d vomit would be exponentially worse. Or better, depending on how you looked at it.
My stomach contracted when I glanced up and saw David on the back porch, already watching me from the swing. Looking at him felt like taking one of his fastballs to the gut. I had no idea how I’d ever managed to convince myself I wasn’t in love with him. I loved him so much it hurt.
“Hey,” he said, standing up. “What brings you here?”
“Um, hey.” I climbed the steps, realizing the minimal exertion it required couldn’t be the reason for my heart pounding. I’d never been afraid to talk to David in my life, and yet there I was, at serious risk of passing out at his feet. “I didn’t come to bother you. And I won’t stay long because I know you’re—” I meant to say “leaving,” but the word refused to come to out. “Packing. I just wanted to give you something.”
“You don’t have to give me anything.” He leaned against the railing and shuffled his feet against the floorboards.
“It’s yours, anyway.”
I produced the medal from my pocket and placed it in his outstretched palm, but at the moment when I should have pulled back, something happened. I couldn’t do it. Instead I folded his fingers over the medal and held his hand in both of mine.
“Remember the first time I saw this?” The breathless words tumbled out on top of each other, and that was it. After all the time they’d been bottled up, there was no stopping them now. “It was next to the card that Amy Heffernan made you, and I think—I think even then, though maybe I didn’t know it, or I guess didn’t want to know it—I was jealous. I hated that you were interested in girls like her. I couldn’t stand having to share you. Not that I blame them. Not that I blame you.” I shook my head, wishing I could at least filter the things spilling out of me, even as the relief of saying them propelled still more from my mouth. “I hated that you could have anyone you wanted, and most of all, I hate myself for not figuring out sooner that all I wanted was you.”
I pulled his arm around me, flinging my own arms around his neck and burying my face in his shoulder.
“David,” I whimpered as he put his hand on my back in an infuriatingly benign way. “I’m sorry.” I buried my face in his shirt. “I know you don’t want me, and I know I ruined everything. But I love you. And I can’t take this anymore.”
David’s hand stilled against my back. He stayed quiet and motionless long enough to make me wish I could hurdle the railing and pretend I’d never been there.
“Say something.” I sighed.
A pause. “Your timing sucks.”
“It’s no worse than yours.”
“Guess I’ll give you that.”
We both laughed awkwardly and I pulled myself away from him. “Listen. I know we’ve been through this already, but I had to say it. You know how that goes.” I managed a half smile, but David dropped his eyes to the medal rotating between his fingers.
Defeat. Again.
My stomach twisted and I knew I had to take the high road while I still could. “I get that you want to treat Violet better than I treated you. So as long as you’re happy—”
“I’m not with Violet.”
I must’ve misheard him. “You—what?”
“I’m not with Violet,” he repeated. “We broke up. No drama or anything; we just didn’t see it working long distance.”
I tugged at the frayed edge of my shorts, swallowing hard. “Oh. I, um, didn’t know.” So he wasn’t with Violet anymore, but he still didn’t want me. Talk about hitting rock bottom.
David placed the medal on top of the porch railing and pushed it away with one finger before flattening his palms against the wood on either side of him. He didn’t look at me.
“I should go,” I said. “Moving sucks and you probably