Forty-Six
Reece
It takes all of my might to get out of bed for our first practice back after winter break.
But Nationals are in a few weeks and I really don’t have time to lose.
It’s been a week since New Year’s Day and I’ve never felt so many emotions before.
I’m confused, I’m lonely, I’m so goddamn angry at Stacy, at Tashia, at Evan, at myself.
I’m frustrated and heartbroken. I’ve put so many words in my journal that I’m surprised my pen hasn’t run out of ink.
There have been a couple of drunken nights with Miles and Drew when I’ve felt okay for a blip in time.
Then the alcohol leaves my system and I’m left with the bitter taste of regret in my mouth.
I’ve turned my phone off and showered for hours and slept way too much or way too little as I let all of my feelings course through my veins.
I’ve found solace in long drives, in loud music and letting tears fall freely.
I’ve felt dejected, defeated, hopeful, and then devastated again.
Most of all, though, I just miss Stacy.
I really fucking miss her.
Stacy came into my life and completely wrecked it.
I told myself I wouldn’t fall in love again after Tashia, that I couldn’t survive another heartbreak.
At the time, I meant it, but then Stacy waltzed into the picture and I blew it.
I laid myself bare for her, she was a gorgeous, untamed risk that I was willing to take, she was inevitable heartache wrapped up in a beautiful bow.
I knew better because part of me always knew she’d bolt.
I simply loved her too much to care.
Now I have to figure out who I am without her.
I shuffle out the front door of my apartment with puffy eyes, dark under eye circles, and an aching heart to meet Drew in the hall so we can walk to practice together.
He gives me a commiserating glance before slapping a hand on my shoulder. “Ready?”
No. No, not at all.
?
“What the hell is going on with you two?” Propst demands with her arms tucked snugly over her chest. She’s eyeing Stacy and me after our bow and arrow falls, one dark eyebrow raised with her lips pursed.
“Sorry,” I huff, not daring to glance in Stacy’s direction. “Guess I’m out of practice from the holiday.”
“There’s no time to be out of practice, Taylor. Figure it out,” she snaps before turning to Mae and Collin to critique their sloppy dismount.
Practice has been something of a mess for us this morning.
Our stunts have mostly been sticking, but they’re not strong and assured like they were before break.
To make matters worse, we can barely even look at each other to communicate.
I walked in, saw Stacy stretching with Christina, and my legs almost gave out.
There’s a harrow, jagged hole in my chest and seeing Stacy is like pouring salt into an open wound.
I steel myself and turn to Stace, my heart aching as I take in her rigid body, her cold eyes, her thinned lips. “Sorry. That one was me.”
“You think?” she growls, pivoting to glare at me.
I’m immediately catapulted back to last summer, to finding out Stacy was my partner and learning to navigate her prickly attitude.
Everything’s changed but somehow it’s all the same.
“Let’s throw it again,” I tell her without looking directly at her.
“Nationals are in seventeen days. We don’t have time to mess things up.”
I want to tell her we’ve already messed things up. We’ve already damaged everything between us beyond repair and I just want to know if her chest is aching like mine. I want to cry and scream that everything is wrong, wrong, wrong.
Instead, I say, “I know.”
It isn’t until now that I realize how tired I sound. Whether it’s physical exhaustion from fitful sleep or emotional drainage from the past week, I don’t know.
Stacy gives me a curt nod while avoiding eye contact, turning around to get back into our starting position.
The stunt falls again.
“Fuck,” I groan as I set Stacy on the ground, her skin like an electric current against my fingertips. “Sorry, I’m just… not in a good headspace.”
“And you think I am?” she snaps, whirling around to face me with her eyebrows bunched together .
Jesus, I’m getting déjà vu.
I hold up my hands in defense as Stacy forges on. “Being in a weird headspace isn’t an excuse , Reece. We’ve been over this.”
I gnaw on my lip as Stacy glares at me, the crack in my chest widening as I feel the truth tumble from my lips. “I’m sorry, Stace, but… being around you hurts. Touching you hurts . Even looking at you—” I cut myself off as my throat starts to thicken.
Stace meets my stare, her icy mask slipping as tears start to rim her eyes. “Maybe you should find a fake girlfriend so you can win me back, then.”
I let out a humorless chuckle, watching Stacy’s lips tremble. “You’re being cruel to make this easier,” I tell her.
She shrugs and averts her misty eyes. “Whatever you need to tell yourself to get over me, Reece.”
I stare at this version of Stacy, the cold, ruthless version I used to know, and I feel my heart shatter all over again. The girl I fell in love with is under this icy exterior. I’ve seen her before, I’ve broken through this top, frigid, defensive layer of Stacy Dunn’s personality.
But I’m suddenly afraid that girl isn’t under there anymore.
Not for me.