CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
LIAM
I sharpen my pencil once again as I draw another tattoo idea on the very last page of a notebook.
I’ve been a fountain of ideas right now, all due to a certain blonde.
I smudge the shadows a bit, moving to create contrasting lines, a white pencil between my lips.
My leg starts to bounce up and down as more ideas pop in my head to try to keep me from thinking about anything else.
I begin the freckle pattern, noticing it looks severely similar to hers, and I crumble up the piece of paper, not wanting to even look at my past designs, knowing I’m probably going to make the same connections.
I’m conflicted. I’m unsure. I . . . I don’t even know what to call it anymore, and I’m this close to losing my mind.
I’m sad, and hurt, because Bianca now just brings back horrible feelings.
But then, she’s also part of almost every single childhood memory I have.
From ice cream trips with my parents to having picnics segueing into stargazing later at night.
Memories where I have the biggest smiles on my face, ones where I thought we would be in each other’s lives forever.
Pushing off my chair, I head to my bed and run a hand through my hair. A knock comes at the door and I mutter, “Come in.”
Mom enters the room and takes a deep breath.
“Amor mio, you really are your father’s boy.
” I look at her in confusion. “Your hotheadedness. That’s how your father used to be before we started dating.
” She comes to sit next to me, squeezing my hand reassuringly.
“How are you, bud?” I shrug noncommittally.
“The only way I can help is if you tell me what’s up.
You know, I thought Bianca coming back was like fate for you. ” She sighs. “Aren’t you happy?”
“I don’t know. I wanna be, but I also don’t. She blocked me, she didn’t even want to give me a chance to explain, to be better for her since she felt like I didn’t—” I sigh. “I mean, she doesn’t even wanna be around me.”
“And you believe that?” She rolls her eyes.
“That girl, no matter what she says or does, looks at you as she always has. With affection and everything in between. It looks like she misses you more than anything,” she says, and I scoff.
“You miss her. You wish you were best friends again, right?” I nod at that, and then catch myself.
“You’re twenty years old, yet when it comes to her—” I look down in embarrassment.
“You’re both hurting each other because you’re both the most stubborn people I’ve ever met. ”
“You’re right,” I say, sighing while running a hand down my face. “But I can’t risk telling her anything. You didn’t really hear her, Mom. I’m not gonna get hurt again. I can’t.”
She looks at me with sympathy. “Well, I’ll respect that. You’re an adult, and you can make your own decisions.” She gets up to walk away. I put my face in my hands.
How can I run back when she’s hurt me so badly? How can we fix what we have when we’re so broken, when the pieces aren’t even visible anymore? I tried at Mella Colta, and she shut me down. Why is it that I want to keep trying for our friendship till I can get through to her?
A couple of hours later, I rush to the animal shelter for my shift. The bell rings above the door, the coldness wrapping around me instantly. A couple of waves are sent my way and an upturn of my chin is sent theirs. I clock in on the volunteer laptop when someone walks into the break room.
“Liam! Back from college already?” I’d recognize that voice from miles away. I turn to see Rachel, the one who’s let me volunteer here since I was sixteen years old. She comes over to hug me, and I pat her shoulder awkwardly as she pulls back, chuckling.
“I see your social skills have improved.”
That elicits a laugh from me and I shake my head. Crossing my arms, I say, “It’s summer break, Rachel. Besides, I had to volunteer, had to keep my record as volunteer with the most hours intact.”
She rolls her eyes, propping a hand on her hip.
“My boys are all grown up, so pardon me if I don’t remember college breaks.
” She saunters out and I follow behind her.
I swivel around the dog food tray as we get ready to begin evening feeding.
She’s blabbering about something, and I nod, trying to piece certain words together.
“Besides, you’re practically a veteran of this place.
So, you’ll be perfect for her to shadow.
” I nod before she waves someone over. “Oh, here she is. Bianca, here’s the person you’ll be shadowing tonight.
” I close my eyes in subdued pain, taking a deep breath before turning around. Maybe it’s a different Bianca.
Nope. It’s most definitely her.
A frown forms on my face, as does one on hers. She rubs her arms up and down before crossing them.
Old habits die hard, I guess.
No. I don’t remember her nervous tics.
Rachel looks between us. “I’m sorry, have y’all met before?”
“Yes,” she answers.
“No,” I counter at the same time, not knowing if she wanted me to lie at all.
For a split second, there’s hurt in her eyes, but it’s gone before I can prove that’s what it was.
A closed-off expression grows across her face as she instantly becomes on guard.
It’s as if I can physically envision her building her wall that much higher, and that tugs at my heartstrings.
She said she wanted me to leave her alone.
I mean, she definitely meant it all these years, yet she’s got me feeling things that she probably doesn’t think about.
Rachel looks between the two of us, confused. “I—well. Liam’s been volunteering with us since he was younger. He’s our top volunteer with more than three thousand hours. He probably knows this place better than I do.” Bianca looks at me, but I refuse to meet her eyes.
She finally speaks up. “In the vet lab as well?”
Rachel moves to answer, but I beat her to it. “I’ve volunteered extensively in every position.” Bianca blinks at me, almost in slow motion.
Static from Rachel’s radio cuts through the tension, and I look away from Bianca’s eyes. She speaks a mile a minute—the Rachel norm—before I hear the words, “Kenny” and “escaped.” She sighs and I chuckle as she shoots me a slight glare.
“On it,” she mumbles back as she facepalms. “The smallest dog, yet he gives the biggest headaches.” She looks back at Bianca as if she almost forgot about the conversation we were having before the Kenny fiasco derailed her train of thought.
I put a hand on her shoulder. “I got it, Rachel.” She looks up at me, doubt clouding her eyes as she squints. “I’ll take care of her, you go find Kenny. He could be trying to free the others,” I whisper, and she rolls her eyes before scurrying off, barking orders at the staff through the radio.
“So . . .”
My head snaps toward the sound of her voice. Last night . . . What I said, I dug too deep. I opened something I’m sure she doesn’t want to revisit—that’s on me.
I just have to be professional.
Polite.
She’s like a regular intern . . . who I also know inside and out.
“Um, so what exactly should we start with?” I ask. She probably realizes the route I’m taking and quickly gets on board.
“I know morning feedings, I’ve never done an evening shift before, though.
” At that, I walk her through our whole schedule.
I rattle off everything she’s supposed to do, pointing to things at lightning speed.
I hurry her along, wanting to get through things as fast as I can, pushing back and burying every single emotion she makes me feel.
Professional, nothing personal. Yeah, I got this.
I take the route that’ll have us pass the vet’s office, for what reason I’ll never admit, even though it’s the longest way to get to the kennel.
Putting my hand under the sanitizer dispenser, I slow as I know she probably stopped in front of the window, looking into the clinic.
And, I know I shouldn’t. I really shouldn’t.
I look back, and true to what I assumed, she’s standing in front of the window, a hand pressed against the glass.
I take these few seconds to look at her.
Even in a T-shirt and jeans, she still wins the prize for being the girl who takes my breath away.
Even after five years, you would think these feelings had diminished, positively dulled.
I walk back, rubbing my hands, as one of the nurses holds a cute little golden dachshund.
“Bruno,” I state. She flinches slightly as I appear next to her, looking through the window too. “Found him while I was jogging around my neighborhood.” I barely glance at her and clear my throat. “He has a fractured leg and was limping for who knows how long. So, I brought him here.”
I keep looking ahead, not wanting to fall into old habits. Though, as always, I cave. Turning around to face her, she flicks her eyes toward mine, and I’m drowning in the different saturations of blue. I probably sound like a broken record, but she’s changed more than I ever thought.
She’s different, and I’m a fool to think that maybe after all these years, everything would be what it once was. It would be so much easier if I hung on to the sadness I’ve had this whole time. Yet, when her eyes connect with mine, it simply fades away. But I need to stop.
What we had is gone, we’re basically strangers now.
“I always thought if I had a dog, I’d name him Bruno,” she whispers.
“From your favorite movie, Cinderella,” I finish. Something stirs in me, before I clear my throat, avoiding it. The chipped paint on the wall becomes more interesting.
She whispers, shock evident in her tone, “I haven’t watched that in so long. How do you even—”
I shake my head, a noncommittal shrug. “You seem to forget that we watched the movie almost every time we hung out.”
So much for being professional.