Chapter 18 – “How Did It End?” - Taylor Swift
ELENA
“HOW DID IT END?” - TAYLOR SWIFT
OCTOBER FIRST
My characters are driving me up a fucking wall right now.
No matter what words filter through my brain, into my fingers, and onto the screen in front of me, they aren’t right. I can’t figure out where I want to go with this story, and the figments of my imagination are being incredibly difficult to work with.
I sigh, fishing a sweet pickle out of the jar on my desk and popping it into my mouth.
I always keep pickles nearby when I’m writing because, well, I love them.
Plus, the crunch and the vinegar taste help me stay awake when I’m working late nights like this.
It’s a quarter past midnight, and I’m only about a third through my word goal for today.
I crack my neck, setting my hands back down on my keyboard—when the rasp of knuckles on my front door distracts me.
I don’t know who the fuck would be showing up at my apartment unannounced at this time of night.
August has an early start tomorrow at the Boardwalk, which is why he isn’t here right now, and I’m fairly certain he fell asleep about an hour ago.
Neither my parents nor my brothers would show up this late without calling first, and I don’t have any other friends. That only leaves two possibilities: a very polite axe-murderer, or Zachary Hayes.
Not sure which I fear more.
I pad to the front of the room, peering through the peephole to find Zach standing outside. I throw the door open, and I can immediately tell he has been drinking. His eyes are glossed over and bloodshot, his clothes crinkled, his hair a mess.
“Please tell me you didn’t drive here.”
He shakes his head. “Ubered from the bar.”
I step aside, letting him through. “Went out with your brothers tonight.” He walks into the center of my kitchen before turning to face me. “You told me you moved on. You’re with someone, right?”
“Yes,” I whisper, shutting the door and leaning against it.
“Why don’t your brothers know anything about it then? I asked them how they felt about your new boyfriend, and they had no fucking clue who I was talking about.”
“Let’s go sit down.” I reach toward him, intending to take his hand and lead him to the couch, but he steps back.
“What secrets are you hiding, Elena?”
I tilt my head. “Why does it matter to you?”
A faraway look casts over Zach’s eyes. “I don’t know.” He shakes his head, beginning to pace. “I don’t know, and I hate it. I fucking hate it.”
“Hate what?” I ask softly.
He stops abruptly, running a hand through his hair as he looks at me, brown eyes burning holes through my soul. “I can’t stop feeling like you’re mine, wondering who the fuck else has been touching you, if they’ve been loving you in all the ways I never could.”
I swallow through the swelling in my throat, tears stinging my eyes. I force my way into Zach’s space. “You’re drunk.” I take his hand, pulling him toward the hallway. “You can sleep in the guest room, and we’ll sort all this out tomorrow when your head is clear.”
He sighs, defeated, dragging his feet as I bring him to Leo’s old bedroom and softly push him onto the bed. He lies back, placing a hand over his eyes as I take off his shoes and throw the comforter over him.
Leo has been living in one of the studios above the surf shop, since they spend so much time there—and I no longer rely on his income to pay my rent. I’ve turned his old bedroom into an office, but I kept a bed for nights my brothers stay over late and need a place to crash.
“Any chance I can get you to lie down with me?” Zach whispers as I shut off the light.
“Not anymore. Goodnight, Zach,” I murmur back, closing the door softly.
“Is it my brother?”
His voice startles me, coming from behind where I stand at the kitchen counter. Dread barrels through me, afraid he’ll see the look on my face and read my every thought, I don’t turn around.
“What do you mean?” I ask, feigning nonchalance as I pour two mugs of coffee, his with a small splash of milk and mine with a heaping dump of oat milk creamer.
“The person loving you in all the right ways—is it my brother?”
“Zach.” I sigh, chest growing tight, sadness rushing through me like a rogue ocean wave.
I turn around, holding his coffee out to him like a peace offering. He doesn’t take it.
“You were wearing his shirt last night. And you smelled like his cologne.”
Rain and pine. The scent has soaked into all his clothes, and it’s the reason I keep them.
I stare at the floor, not bothering to offer a response. There’s nothing to say. I don’t owe him anything, but that doesn’t mean I’m rooting for his pain.
“How long?”
“Since January,” I whisper.
A snide laugh leaves his mouth. “Kind of repulsive, no? His hands. Mouth. His dick. Touching and tasting all the places I’ve already been?”
My skin crawls at his insinuation—that I’m something to be owned, that he marked his territory, that any other touch is a desecration of an object he already claimed.
“We haven’t?—”
“Are you that desperate, Elena? For my attention? For any attention? Whoring yourself out to anyone who will give you the time of day?”
Flames rage through my veins. I lift my head, meeting his stare, unflinching. “Excuse me?”
His jaw clenches. “It could’ve been anyone else. Anyone else .”
“No, Zach. I don’t think it could,” I snap. “Because it doesn’t seem to matter when you’ve already decided I’m a piece of fucking property to you.”
“You never would’ve ended up with him if I hadn’t left.”
I smile, because what I say next will break him—and I can never seem to stop myself from spewing the venom. “Thank God you did then, right? Maybe you should go again. For good this time?”
His face twists in pain. It’s not the anger or the fury I’m used to when we battle like this. No, it's a genuine defeat. I’m witnessing Zach give up right in front of my eyes, and while part of me wants to weep for it, it’s relief that washes through me.
We’re one step closer to putting all this behind us. He’s one step closer to acceptance.
“You called it right,” I whisper. “He loves me in all the ways you never could. For the first time, I realized what being in love actually feels like. I’m just sorry you and I got caught up in our shit for as long as we did.
I should’ve chosen him from the start. I would’ve saved all of us a lot of pain.
So,” I shrug, “I’ll apologize for that much. ”
He nods, disbelief and utter devastation pouring over his features. “You know, I did try. I really did.” He spins on his heel, grasping the door handle before tossing one last sentence in my direction—the one that’ll shatter me. “But you are impossible to love.”
Without another word, Zachary Hayes walks out of my life once again. The door slams as I slide to the floor, finally allowing my tears to spill, because something about the echo of it clamoring through my chest feels final.