Chapter Nineteen
Chapter
nineteen
I WAS STILL SEETHING WHEN I got home, ready to find old notes to light up in flames. I must’ve been so in my head that I didn’t notice an extra car out front because it wasn’t until I walked into my house and saw Jensen sitting on the couch with my grandma that I knew he was there. Had I seen his car I could’ve prepared myself. But instead, I let out the loudest and crudest cuss word in my catalog.
My grandma gasped. “Finley!” She was holding one of the potted flowers from school that no doubt Jensen had brought for her.
“What are you doing here?” I asked. “Get out of my house.”
“Finley,” Grandma said. “What’s gotten into you?”
Jensen didn’t move. Didn’t even pretend like he was going to stand and leave. “She texted me, Finley. I’m here for her, not you.”
Grandma patted Jensen’s arm like that was the sweetest thing he’d ever said. “You’re here for both of us, dear.”
“Grandma, we broke up. I don’t want him here.”
“When did you break up?”
“Jensen, I’m serious.”
“You seem to be,” he said. “Can we just talk?”
I wasn’t sure if he meant him and my grandma or him and me, but either way, my answer was the same. “No.”
“Finley,” Grandma said, her voice shakier than before. “That’s enough. Let’s sit down and have a nice afternoon.”
“You’re upsetting her, Jensen. You need to leave.”
“Only one of us is upsetting her,” he said.
Mom came in at that moment from wherever she’d been at the back of the house. She took in the scene. I waited for her to tell Jensen to leave, but instead she nodded toward the kitchen, indicating I should follow her. I did.
“Grandma’s having an off day” was how she started.
“So you let my ex-boyfriend in the house?”
“I thought maybe he told you he was coming?”
“He didn’t.”
“That maybe you guys made up,” she said.
“We didn’t. Not at all.”
She clasped her hands together. “Can we just…Can you just…I don’t know…play along for now? He seems to be helping her.”
“Play along?” I asked.
Mom sighed. I saw the exhaustion behind her eyes.
“I’m just going to leave,” I said. “Maybe that will be better for everyone.”
“Maybe,” she said, surprising me.
I clenched my teeth, keeping the bad words inside this time.
“I’ll text you when he leaves,” Mom said.
“Great plan,” I said sarcastically, whirled around, and left. As I passed Jensen, my grandma’s arm hooked in his, a memory flashed through my mind of this very scene from months ago. Only that time we were all together and laughing. Those happy feelings rushed through my body followed by a surge of sadness. I’d been so busy being angry at Jensen that the sadness shocked me. I pushed it down and left through the front door, pulling it shut behind me, trying to find my anger again.
In my car, I texted the group chat: Jensen showed up at my house pretending to be concerned about my grandma.
Deja responded first: I shouldn’t have sent you that flower today. My bad.
Lee was next: I almost sent you a flower too. Glad I didn’t.
And finally, Maxwell chimed in with I did not almost send you a flower. I was hoping one of you losers would’ve sent me one. But noooo.
I sent you one, Lee responded.
You’re required. I meant my best friends.
I used my last ten bucks to make Jensen jealous, Deja said.
“Gah!” I threw my phone on the passenger seat. They were supposed to rage with me, not get in a fight over flowers. I pressed the ignition button in my car and drove to the only place that might help me right now.
I DIDN’T KNOCK ON THEO’S door. I didn’t want to ruin his day, but I didn’t think he’d mind if I let myself in through the side gate to use the equipment. I hoped his parents weren’t having some Spring Day dinner party or something.
The yard was full of its normal things, no decorated tables awaiting guests or party planners scurrying about setting up. The sun was heading toward the ocean, but it was still very much lighting the day as I stomped toward the shed. I pulled out some footballs and a plastic stand and got to work. I was obviously still in my school clothes—jeans and a sweater—having discovered Jensen immediately upon entering my house. The jeans were constricting and the sweater was hot and floppy, but neither of those things stopped me from kicking ball after ball, drawing on every ounce of anger.
Some hit the net, but most flew above it, off to far corners of the yard. I’d kicked through the pile, collected the balls, and started again when a voice behind me said, “I hope you’re not imagining my face on those footballs, because I’d be very insulted.”
“Jensen. It’s his face,” I said, kicking another ball. “His stupid, ugly, entitled face.”
“What happened?” Theo asked.
“I’m just going to murder him, that’s all.” I kicked another ball.
“Finley, come on, you’re going to hurt yourself.”
“How exactly? By kicking the ball too hard? Is that a thing?” I drove my foot into another ball. Despite my snarky response, the top of my foot was actually starting to sting. I wasn’t wearing the right shoes, just an old pair of Converse, but I didn’t care. “Is this how you got hurt?”
“No,” he said evenly. “It isn’t.”
I kicked the next ball, the last one in my second-round pile. I began to collect them again.
Theo followed me, gathering some as well. We both dropped our armload back at the starting point, and then I placed one on the plastic stand.
“Finley,” he said.
I kicked. “You said we could work out today, right? I’m working out.”
“Let me at least loan you the right clothes for this.”
The next ball I kicked went off the side of my foot and careened to the left, landing in a patch of wildflowers. I stomped my foot in a fit of frustration. “You lied to me. You said I was doing well, wasn’t wasting your time, but I’m not and I am. Why am I still doing this? I’m not going to be able to beat him, am I? He’s going to win it all. The place on the podcast, the football spot. He even got a stupid flower today.”
“Didn’t everyone?”
I picked up a ball, then paused. “Who is giving him a flower after what he did to me? They think he’s a catch? He’s already moved on?”
“Would that bother you?” Theo asked.
“No…I don’t know. I told someone you gave me a flower when you didn’t. I don’t think she believed me, but I told myself I was never going to do that.”
“Do what?”
“Use someone to get back at someone else.”
“Are you using me?”
“No…” I looked at the net and nodded toward it. “Maybe I have been all along. I didn’t mean to. I…I’m sorry.”
“You’re not. I knew what I was getting into and why. You know I’m not his fan either. I volunteered.” His eyes traveled to the ground, then back up to me. “You got a gift today?”
I nodded, and repeated what he’d said. “Didn’t everyone?”
“From who?”
“Deja. She did it to make Jensen mad.”
“And did it?”
“He showed up at my house when he knew I didn’t want him there. So maybe.”
“He showed up at your house?”
“Yes, and instead of kicking him out, my mom told me I was upsetting everyone and that I should leave.”
“That’s messed up.”
“Thank you!”
He stared at the ball I held. “I wish I could kick Jensen’s facetoo.”
“You can,” I said, extending it toward him. “I’ve seen you working out. You’re strong.”
He looked down at his knee and shook his head. “I need more time.” He let out a sigh. “I should’ve gotten you a gift today. Candy or something.”
My heart stuttered in my chest. “What?”
“I wanted to.”
“You did?”
“I thought about how it would make Jensen mad too.”
“Right.” I placed another ball and kicked it hard. That one was Theo’s face.
When I turned around to get another, Theo was there, right in front of me. Close.
“No more,” he said. “Not like this, in the wrong clothes and the wrong shoes with the wrong mindset.”
“Oh, please, just turn off your coach mode for a minute and let me vent,” I said, trying to step around him.
He stepped in front of me.
“Stop, Theo. I need to do this. I need to practice.”
“You don’t need to do this today. We’ll practice tomorrow.”
“No, I need to today.”
“Why?”
“Because I do.”
“Why?” he pressed.
“Because I’m running out of time,” I said. “We only have three weeks.”
He shook his head, not buying that excuse. “Why?”
“Because he’s in my house, with my grandma to make me sad or something, and it’s working. I don’t want to be sad! I’m angry! I was with him for an entire year. I listened when he complained; I helped him with homework and sat through all his comic book explanations. I brought him breakfast burritos to school once a week! I woke up early to make those. And all he did was take my future from me. I’m mad at myself for feeling even an ounce of sadness.”
It wasn’t until Theo pulled me into a hug that I realized I was crying. I thought about pushing away to get myself under control and wipe my face, but he held me tight. It felt good in his arms, so I melted against him.
He didn’t say anything for a long time, just rubbed my back and breathed in when I breathed out, his heartbeat steady against mine. His mouth rested ever so lightly against my forehead.
After what felt like an eternity and my tears had dried and the only feeling left was exhaustion, Theo said against my head, “You’re allowed to be sad over the loss, Finley.”
“I’m not anymore. I’m over it.” I mean, really, I was. Not over what he’d done but definitely over him. That’s why the feeling surprised me so much. Maybe Theo was right, I had been holding on to so much anger that I hadn’t quite processed the loss yet. I had now. This was all I was giving myself.
He hummed thoughtfully, the noise vibrating through my chest. “You made that jerk weekly breakfast burritos?”
I let out a breathy laugh. “I know, right? I was more pathetic than I realized.”
He held on to my upper arms and created some space between us, studying my face. For what, I wasn’t sure. “He didn’t take your future.” He met my eyes with the statement, making it even more sincere.
I shrugged. Between the hosting spot and the internship that went with it, he pretty much had.
“You have more talent than he’ll ever have. He didn’t deserveyou.”
My heart raced with his words but also with the intensity in his eyes as he stared at me. “You don’t know that,” I said.
“I do.”
I pushed his chest, finally breaking our connection. “Thanks…friend.” The word tasted wrong in my mouth, and I hated that. I wanted to be his friend and forget that my body was suddenly trying to tell me it wanted more. I couldn’t have more. Not with him. Not when I didn’t fully trust him. I didn’t even fully trust myself.
And yet, I didn’t stop him when he pulled me back into his arms again. In fact, I leaned in. And when he whispered, “You’re not wasting my time,” I let myself believe it.