calmly and I bet he doesn’t even have to go to all the lengths that I’m going to. To appear this way.
Because suddenly it hits me.
He’s acting like the old Arrow. The one who used to be unruffled and determined.
Like the snow and the bite of his love that disappeared the next day, the new Arrow – my Arrow – is gone. In his place is the Arrow that I fell in love with but had no clue about who he was.
It leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.
A sour taste.
Like I’m drinking my own tears.
“Is it because of me?”
At this, I see a flinch.
I see the bare muscles of his stomach tightening and standing up in stark relief like I’ve punched him.
But his face shows no effect.
“What makes you think it’s because of you?” he asks in a rough tone.
“Because I love you.”
I suck in a breath at my declaration.
At my stupid, stupid declaration.
God.
No wonder he’s leaving. I just can’t stop saying it.
I just can’t stop telling him how much I love him.
When I came here I thought that I’d simply imply it. But turns out it’s super easy to say it now that the secret is out, and it’s super hard for him to hear.
Because his abs tighten up again.
So I clear my throat and amend the statement. “I mean, because I told you that I love you.”
“And?”
“And you’re leaving two days later,” I almost snap out at him, my hands fisted and my legs wide.
He notices it.
He notices my battle stance and something about that makes him sigh again.
This time though, the sigh works and he loosens up a little.
Making me wonder if this is what he wanted.
To provoke me so I’d lose my calm and become the crazy, dramatic Salem that he knows.
“Again, what difference does it make? I was going to leave anyway,” he says.
It makes a difference because I don’t want you to go, you asshole.
I wish I could say it to him.
I really, really wish that I could say it, scream it at his face and shake him.
But I can’t.
“If you think,” I begin, licking my lips, “that I’m going to throw myself at you again or declare my love to you randomly walking down the hallway or something then you’re wrong. I got the message. I got it, okay? You don’t want my love. You don’t need it. You don’t know what to do with it. So you don’t have to leave town, the whole freaking state, just because I told you my feelings.”
Okay, I didn’t mean to go off there at the end. I shouldn’t have raised my voice and bent my neck and clenched my teeth.
But I did.
Because how can he just stand there and be all unaffected when I’m going to pieces over here. When I’m shattering and there’s this epic pain in my chest and I don’t know if it will ever go away.
I don’t know if it will ever stop hurting.
He swallows then and runs his fingers through his damp hair. “Look Salem, what happened that night –”
“Can’t we just forget about it? Can’t we just forget about that night? About what I said?”
“No.”
“I –”
“I can’t forget it.” His voice rises up then. “I can’t forget… what you said.”
His jaw moves back and forth as if he’s crushing my words – those three words that I said to him – between his teeth.
“So this is for the best,” he continues. “This clean break. You go your way and I go mine. Besides, as I said, I was going to leave anyway. All of this was temporary.”
Before I can say anything else, he moves.
I watch him walk across his dull gray room and retrieve an envelope that was sitting on his desk. He brings it back to me and my hand automatically reaches out to grab it.
Like I have to take everything he gives me.
Like I’m incapable of refusing him anything.
I’m pathetic, aren’t I?
Shaking my head, I look at it. A nondescript beige envelope.
“I was going to leave it with Coach TJ, but since you’re here, you can have it,” he explains.
I frown. “What is it?”
“Application for the Galaxy’s youth program next summer. I filled it out for you. And my recommendation letter.”
My fingers spasm and I look down at it again.
My new dream, my ambition that he gave me a couple of weeks ago. Something that I never thought I could have: a goal.
A chance to play some real soccer because I never thought I was good