Chapter 36
Thirty-Six
This video is hilarious! Repost.
I sigh into the bubble bath. The water is just on the side of too hot, right where I like it, and lavender scented bubbles are foamy on my skin. My wrapped foot is propped up on the edge of the tub, out of the water.
I’ve been cleared to be home with instructions to ice and elevate my foot and keep my weight off of it as best as I can. I’ve got a crutch propped on my bed, and hobbling around is not going to be fun. Healing should take two weeks, so with any luck I’ll be dancing by Homecoming.
When I finally get out and awkwardly pull on a pair of cheer sweats and a Monte Ville High t-shirt, a knock sounds on my door.
“Come in.”
Mom opens the door and pokes her head in the room. “How are you feeling?”
“Pretty good after the bath.” My foot aches, and I hop over to my bed and do a single-leg squat so I can sit down. Butter barks and waddles over from her bed to hop up onto mine. Mom gives her a side-eye but doesn’t say anything.
“I made you breakfast,” Mom says, holding up the tray she’s carrying.
“You cooked?” I ask, laying back onto propped pillows. Butter rests her head on my leg, and I stroke her soft fur.
“Hey, I can cook when I want to.” Mom sets the tray on my lap, and I open the lid. Turkey bacon, an egg white omelet, and a protein shake greet me. She even sliced up an orange and arranged the slices into swirls.
“Thanks, Mom.” I dig in, and if the omelet is a bit rubbery and the bacon soggy, I don’t mind. I take a sip of protein shake. Salted caramel, my favorite flavor. She even blended it up with a frozen banana how I like. I know because there are still chunks of frozen banana.
Mom sits on the edge of my bed and watches me eat.
I set down the shake. “Have you eaten already?” I hate how things feel awkward between us.
“Yes. Do you need anything else?” She stands.
“A few Ibuprofen, maybe?” My ankle is throbbing.
Mom nods. “Be right back.”
I lay back and close my eyes. It’s Saturday, and I’m looking forward to a day of doing nothing. When Mom comes back with the Ibuprofen, I take it.
“I’m going to take this chunky girl for a walk,” Mom says, hauling Butter off the bed. “Call me if you need me, okay?”
I will. Mom lugs Butter from the room, and I can’t help but laugh. She closes the door on her way out.
I grab my phone off the end table by my bed, open Instagram, and the first thing that pops up is the video of me falling. It’s going viral. I close my eyes again, feeling a headache pound my temples. Hopefully the Ibuprofen will help with that, too.
How can people be so cruel? I was hurt, and it’s somehow becoming a big joke.
I’m almost asleep when there’s a knock on the door. “I’m fine, Mom,” I say, but the door opens, and Zeke enters the room. He’s wearing a Lord of the Rings hoodie and a sheepish expression, his large brown eyes uncertain.
I sit up straighter, suddenly keenly aware that my hair is in a messy topknot, and I’m lying in bed wearing sweats and a t-shirt. Not my best look. My nail polish is from yesterday, and it’s already chipping. I don’t even have on any perfume.
I clear my throat. “Hi.”
“Hi,” Zeke says. He’s holding something behind his back, and his face is adorably nervous. He enters the room and closes the door behind him.
I give him a half-smile. “I never got to thank you for being my rescuer.”
Zeke’s eyes meet mine, warm and brown. “I—it was nothing.”
I shake my head. “Not to me. What do you have there?”
Zeke steps forward. My headache begins to dissipate. Even my throbbing foot seems to feel better, but it could just be the Ibuprofen taking effect.
Zeke finally reveals what he has brought in one hand, the other hand still behind his back. He’s holding a venti pumpkin spice latte, complete with whipped cream, cinnamon, and sprinkles.
I gasp with delight, and Zeke places the drink into my hands. “I had to sneak it past your mom.”
“Thank you! This is exactly what I need today.” I go to take a sip, but then I see something written in chocolate swirls on top of the whipped cream.
Dance with me?
The writing is sloppy, and the cream is melting into the hot coffee, but the letters are still legible.
I look up at Zeke. “What’s this?” I say, even though my heart is pounding harder.
“Callie.” Zeke sits on the bed and starts fiddling with a loose blanket thread. “Why is this so hard?” He brings his other hand from behind his back, and he’s holding a small brown package. He hands it to me. “Here.”
I take the package, a lump forming in my throat. I open the small box, and there they are—the gorgeous blue earrings I was eyeing at Pike Place what feels like forever ago. I’d almost forgotten about them. “How did—what—?”
“I saw you looking at these, and I went back for them. They’re for you,” Zeke says, all of it coming out in a rush.
I’m speechless. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.” My heart pounds hard in my chest. What is happening? I look up, not daring to hope that Zeke could be saying what I think he’s saying.
Zeke turns to me with an earnest expression. “Callie, will you go to Homecoming with me?”
I gasp, and my heart leaps with hope. “But—but I thought you didn’t want to get close to anyone.
You’ll be moving at the end of the semester.
” I don’t know why I’m bringing up his doubts.
This is what I wanted, dreamed of, and longed for ever since he held me at the top of the world.
I should be thrilled, but there’s a pit of uncertainty growing in my stomach, too.
Zeke smiles. “Shall I explain it to you like you’re an inebriated toddler?”
I smile weakly and take a sip of the coffee. I nod.
Zeke takes a deep breath. “I like you, Callie. I want you to be mine.”
I set the coffee down on my bedside table.
Zeke continues. “I know we’re different. I know I’m leaving at the end of the semester, and long distance sucks. If anyone knows how bad long distance sucks, it’s me. I know that this is a huge risk for us both, and it’s going to be miserable, and you’re probably going to break my heart—"
“Zeke—”
He holds up a hand. “And I know I said in the contract that we were only going to be fake friends, that I didn’t want to make any attachments.
But, Callie, this—us—it’s real. I can’t deny my feelings for you any longer.
And I’m willing to overlook all my fears if it means I get to be with you, for as long as we have. ”
I gulp. Tears fill my eyes. “Zeke, I—” Yes. Callie, just say yes.
Zeke looks at me with enormous brown eyes framed by dark lashes. They’re eyes I want to get lost in. They’re eyes that could fill my heart and then shatter it.
A roaring noise seems to fill my ears, and I can almost hear the whispers that would be said behind my back, the vicious rumors that would spread.
What people would think. I’m already being targeted, and it’s only going to get worse if I date a nerd.
I just want people’s approval. I want it so badly it’s eating me alive.
“I can’t.” I choke on the words. They’re poison in my mouth. My voice is tiny, barely above a whisper. “I thought I could, but . . .”
Zeke’s eyes go wide, and his cheeks darken in embarrassment. He quickly stands and looks everywhere but at me. “I’m so sorry, I—”
“It’s not you,” I say. “You’re wonderful. You’re—”
“You don’t have to soften the blow.” Zeke hurries to leave, but he pauses in the doorway and looks back at me.
He’s so beautiful I could cry. What am I thinking?
I already want to take the words back. I already want to say yes to him, to us.
Maybe I could. Maybe I could change. Maybe I could say yes to myself just this one time . . .
I open my mouth, but then Zeke plows ahead.
“I get it. I was stupid to even ask.” He lets out a bitter chuckle that sounds nothing like the soft, sweet, kind-hearted Zeke I know.
My chest feels heavy, like someone is stepping on my heart.
“It was never real, right? I should’ve known better.
None of this is your fault. It’s all on me.
I knew that we were never even friends to begin with.
” Zeke leaves before I can say another word.
My heart sinks straight into the ground, and a sharp pain presses into my stomach. What have I done? I put my head in my hands, and the tears start to pour.
I have one foot out of the bed before I realize that it’s futile to go after him. I’ve already ruined everything. I’ve hurt Zeke. I’ve shown him that people will hurt him, will break him, that friends can’t be trusted. There’s nothing I could say now that would change his mind, even if I wanted to.
This feels a hundred times worse than when Noah broke up with me. It feels like someone is reaching into my chest and crushing my heart, the pain is that physical.
I cry and cry, letting the tears fall harder than they have since before I can remember. When Noah dumped me, I thought that was the worst pain I could feel, but this . . . this pain feels so visceral, so real. And it’s my own stupid fault.
“I take it back, Zeke . . .” I say between sobs. “I take it back.”