CHAPTER 6
HOLLY
“If you keep squeezing those balls so hard, there’s going to be nothing left.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
Terra shakes her head at me as I drop the ground beef back into the bowl we’re working from. We’re almost done, and I don’t want to mess everything up, so I let her take over and wash my hands in the sink. Before starting on the dirty dishes, I read over my to-do list for the day.
1. Weekly meal prep w/Terra.
2. Read digital marketing chapters 11–14.
3. Finish microeconomics PowerPoint.
4. Create Habitat for Humanity fundraiser flyer.
5. Go to spin class.
6. Don’t call Ben.
Don’t call him. There’s no reason to call him.
It’s been three weeks since I last saw Ben. The fact that I know that shows just how much it’s nagging at me.
Whenever he texted, I would get silly butterflies in my belly. Then, I smothered those presumptuous bugs with delayed one-worded answers. Apparently, he took the hint because the messages have stopped coming.
Instead of feeling satisfied, I find myself staring at my phone, even when I shouldn’t, like in the middle of class or when I should be looking for my bus stop. Or when I’m cooking with my roommate.
“Where’s your mind?” Terra grabs the last handful of meat, carefully shaping it before lining it up with the others on a baking sheet.
For a moment, I just chew on my lip. Maybe talking about my inappropriate stomach butterflies will help to get rid of them. “Ben and I hung out a few weeks ago.”
She finishes putting the tray of meatballs in the oven and then turns to lean on the closed door. Cats dance across her yellow apron, wearing little chef hats and holding spatulas. “What happened?”
I shrug. “Nothing really. It was friendly and fun. But a couple of times … there were like a few moments …” I struggle to describe what happened.
“Did he do something to you?”
“What?”
The scowl on her face makes it clear that I’m doing a bad job of explaining myself.
“Oh gosh, Terra, no! That’s not what I’m saying.”
“Then, what?”
“I-I think there was attraction. Like just a spark or two. At least, on my end.”
Terra bites her lip as a grin threatens to overtake her face.
“Stop it!”
“Stop what?”
“Looking like I just made your day. This isn’t a good thing!”
“Why not? He seems like a sweet guy. In fact, I think I like him more than any other guy you’ve dated.”
“What’s wrong with the guys I’ve dated?” I move to the sink and begin washing dishes by hand, scrubbing harder than is necessary.
“We’re using a very loose definition of the word ‘dated.’” She uses her fingers to create quotes before sticking her own hands under the faucet. “And the rare times I met a guy you were hooking up with, I got the feeling you weren’t interested, which made me not interested in getting to know him.”
An image of Roderick pops into my head. He took me cutting things off well. When I texted him that I wasn’t feeling our setup anymore, I thought he might insist on calling me or meeting up. But he let go nice and easy, which was a huge relief.
Except for the fact that this just proves Terra’s point.
“So, I haven’t found someone I want to spend a lot of time around. That’s not a problem. The issue is you thinking it’s okay that Ben might be that guy.” I grab a dish towel and start drying.
“Yeah, I’m still not understanding the issue.”
“Are you kidding me? I’m giving him my kidney! The surgery is stressful enough, but just imagine the added pressure if there’s a new relationship. What if we start something up, but then one of us wants to break it off? Who’s to say he’d still want to do the exchange? Then, Marcus loses out again. Or what if …” I trail off because I don’t want to say it. The fear comes directly from the dark hole in my chest where all my childhood issues swirl and eat away at me.
“What if …” Terra isn’t grinning anymore; she’s just listening.
“So, what if I tell him? And it turns out, he doesn’t feel the same way, but he thinks I’ll back out of the exchange, so he lies. Maybe we date. Maybe I feel differently about him, and I start to really like him. Then, I get the surgery done, and I wake up to find that he’s gotten what he wanted. That everything else was a lie. How can I know if he actually likes me or if he’s just keeping his organ donor happy?” It sounds so pathetic and full of self-loathing. But it doesn’t sound impossible.
“Damn, Holly.” Terra steps forward and wraps her arms around my shoulders. She’s warm from standing near the oven, and I sink into her embrace. “Your mom really did a number on you, didn’t she?”
I sigh and ignore the ache in my chest. “Maybe. But I still don’t think my fears are unfounded.”
She rubs my back in soothing circles. “Why don’t you try getting to know him better? Maybe, one day, you’ll be able to tell if he’s lying or not.”
I’m saved from answering when Terra’s laptop lets out a ring.
“Faith!” That’s Terra’s girlfriend’s name, not some declaration she’s making. The two of them video-chat most days. She skips to her door but stops to glance back at me. “Think on it.”
When she disappears into her room, I frown. My friend is too optimistic. She hasn’t been lied to like me. Doesn’t know how bad the fallout can be.
The food has some time to cook, so I climb up to the platform that acts as my bedroom and start on my homework. Our place is small, and I don’t technically have my own room, but the rent is pretty cheap for how close it is to campus. We make it work.
Terra’s conversation is just background noise as I attempt to focus on microeconomics. Spreading my notes across my mattress, I wait for my shoddy, secondhand laptop to power up. After the screen blinks to life, I actually make some headway before Ben saunters back into my mind.
First, it’s just the thought of his goofy smirk.
I shake my head and force myself to work.
But then I see him pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose with his long fingers. The same fingers that unbuttoned his shirt to reveal those inked images on his skin. The skin that felt hot under my touch.
I never got around to asking him when he’d gotten the tattoos.
Is he going under the needle right now?
That’s risky, and I hope he’s not that stupid. The way he described them, it sounds like a large portion of his skin is covered.
When did he start getting them? And what else does he have? I wonder how many more I might have seen if he had gone down one or two more buttons …
“Ugh!” I flop back on my pillow, arm flung over my eyes, trying unsuccessfully to push the image of Ben disrobing for me out of my mind.
“Got boy on the brain?”
I yelp at the sound of Terra’s voice, so close. Times like this, I regret not insisting on a two-bedroom apartment. I raise my arm and glare at her head, which hovers just at the entryway to my little loft. She must be standing halfway up the ladder needed to climb onto my platform
“Sorry. Should’ve knocked. But I heard your groan and thought you might be in pain.”
My arm falls back in place. “You done chatting with Faith?”
“Yeah, she had to go eat. Stop changing the subject. Back to Ben.”
In an overly dramatic sigh, I let all the air out of my lungs. “It’s been three weeks since I saw him, but he’s still in my head. Why won’t he get out?” I sound like a whining baby.
Terra leans forward, so she can rest her elbows on my floor. “You miss him.”
It isn’t a question, but I answer anyway, “I shouldn’t. We barely know each other.”
“So what? You remember how we became friends.”
Yeah, I do.
It was the first week of classes, and I was eating alone at the dining hall. My weekly planner was open, a green pen poised in my hand to begin transcribing all the assignments I had to keep track of for a semester, when I heard a loud click. Raising my head, I found a gorgeous brunette with torn-up jeans and a T-shirt with Calvin and Hobbes on the front, aiming a fancy camera at me. After snapping another shot, she put her camera on the table next to my notebooks and told me to watch it while she went to grab a plate of food.
“What if I had stolen it?” I asked when she got back to the table.
“Then, I would’ve chased you down and busted your kneecaps. But you didn’t. Good job on passing the decent-human-being test. I’m Terra Donovan.” She offered me her hand.
“Holly Foster.” I took the proffered hand.
“Nice to meet ya, Holly. Wanna have a sleepover this weekend?”
“Yeah, you invited me to a sleepover like we were in seventh grade.”
“And you accepted. That was after knowing me for less than five minutes. Now, we’re permanent fixtures in each other’s lives. So, is it really that strange that you care about a guy even if you’ve known him only for a little bit?”
“It’s just not how I operate.”
“Don’t even get me started on how you operate. I’ll be late for class.”
“You don’t have class today.”
“Exactly.”
I stick my tongue out at her, and she grins in response.
“Okay, then give me the CliffsNotes.”
Terra clutches her chest, eyes wide. “Did I hear that right? Holly Foster wants to use CliffsNotes?”
I fling a pillow at her head, but she dodges it, pretending to fan herself.
“Oh, shush up.”
“Language!” Terra mock scolds me, and I chuckle. Then, the humorous smile she wears fades into a sad one. “It’s just that … I get you don’t trust easily. And I’m not saying that you need to have hordes of friends. But I hate to see you wanting to connect with someone but holding yourself back out of fear. I think you should try hanging out with Ben again.”
“I told you—”
“I’m not saying, date him! Of course, I’m also not saying, don’t date him. But just consider that, sometimes, attraction is temporary. You could find that, in a few weeks, you don’t feel that crush anymore, but maybe you have a new friend. Not a new best friend though. That job is taken.” She rocks both thumbs at herself, emphasizing the gesture with a smirk.
“You’re ridiculous,” I mutter as I consider her point.
I’m not unaware of my distancing tendencies. But the part about attraction fading into friendship is a new concept I haven’t considered. Maybe that could work.
“I see the wheels turning in your head. I’ll leave you to it.”
She disappears, and I lie back down in my pile of notes, staring up at the glow-in-the-dark stars stuck on my ceiling.
Friends with Ben.
That’s what my original plan was. Then, my fluttering chest and heating panties got in the way. But those distractions could be temporary. I can tamp down those responses until they disappear. All it’ll take is a bit of self-control.
Question is, does Ben still want anything to do with me?
“If you keep up this moping bullshit, I’m gonna stick your head in a toilet, so you really have something to be upset about.” Jasper’s exasperated voice drags me out of my self-contemplation.
“Fuck you.” There’s no heat in my words.
“You’ve been staring at that piece of chicken for, like, five minutes. Just put it in your mouth and chew. Don’t tell me this girl has you so bent out of shape that you can’t eat.” He smirks at me before taking an exaggerated bite of his burger.
Normally, it’s the dialysis messing with my appetite. But missing my donor doesn’t seem to be helping.
Weeks. I haven’t seen her in weeks. Since before fall break.
She responds to my texts hours after I send them with one-worded answers or emojis. So, I’ve stopped texting her. Doesn’t mean I’ve stopped thinking about her.
What went wrong? After the bakery, I thought there was something happening between us. Now, I’m getting ghosted.
Just to get Jasper to stop harassing me, I shove the rest of my lunch down my throat, and we head out of the sandwich shop.
“I don’t get it. You hung out a couple of times. I mean sure, Holly is cool and definitely hot, but so are a lot of other girls. So what if she’s busy? Or not interested? It’s not the end of the world. Find someone else. And she’s still giving you her kidney!”
My roommate’s arguments grate on my nerves. Mainly because they’re rational.
Doesn’t change the fact that, when my mind wanders, it goes straight to her pink lips, laughing eyes, and gentle hands. From the way she touched me in the car, I would’ve sworn that I wasn’t the only one interested.
“I know it doesn’t make sense. But Holly’s different. I can’t stop thinking about her.”
“So you need—” He stops talking and walking at the same time, and I have to backtrack to keep from leaving him behind. Jasper stands, relaxed, on the sidewalk with a thoughtful expression.
“What’s up?”
I’m not worried about his weird pause. Jasper is prone to random redirections and topic changes.
“Maybe this’ll do the trick.” Jasper puts on his pleasant but distant face so fast that I know I’ve missed something important.
“What—”
“Hey, Annabelle.”
Oh shit.
Jasper directed his greeting over my shoulder, meaning that I just need to turn around to see her. Funny how, every day, I hope to casually run into a certain person, but the massive campus doesn’t allow that to happen, yet it practically delivers my ex-girlfriend right into my lap.
“Hey, Jasper. Hi, Ben.”
Yep, that’s her voice all right. Soft, sweet, and shy, almost like a child’s.
I’m not a jackass, so I turn around with a polite smile to return her hello. “Hey, Annabelle.”
She hasn’t changed much since the beginning of the summer when I broke things off. Her wavy sunshine hair still falls a few inches above her waist. The legs peeking out of her thickly patterned bohemian dress show off a solid tan. Annabelle is a naturally beautiful girl who looks like she belongs on some California beach, sitting around a bonfire, weaving jewelry out of twine and seashells.
Right now, she’s approaching me like I’m a stray dog who might sprint away if she moves too fast. Perceptive, as I’m contemplating giving a quick wave and jogging off to safety. But that’s the coward’s move. It’s just that the last conversation we had made it clear that we weren’t right for each other, which I said. And then she cried.
I stand firm and embrace the awkward small talk. “How’s it going?”
She beams like I’ve done her a favor. “I’m doing really well. Had a good summer with my family. And I’ve been working on a lot of new pieces.”
“That’s great. I’m glad to hear it.” Not a lie.
Annabelle’s art was the first thing that attracted me to her.
“And you? How are you doing?”
I have no intention of discussing with one of my exes my current unrequited infatuation, so I share the news she might care about.
“Summer was mainly working. You know, temping at my parents’ law firm. And, just a month ago, an organ donor match was found.”
“Oh my gosh, Ben, that’s fantastic!” Annabelle clasps my shoulder and smiles up at me.
The gesture is nice, but my heartbeat doesn’t pick up, and my skin stays the same temperature.
“We should celebrate! My roommates are throwing a party at our house on Friday night. You need to come.” After a pause, she turns her smile to Jasper, probably just remembering he’s there. “And, of course, you’re invited, too, Jasper.”
“I’m not sure—”
Jasper throws his arm around my shoulders, cutting me off, “Of course we’ll stop by.”
The irritated glance I give my friend doesn’t go unnoticed. Annabelle releases her hold to link her hands behind her back and stares up at me through her eyelashes, her mouth turned down in a heartbreaking pout. A pose I’ve come to learn is practiced.
“I know we broke up, but I still care about you, Ben. And it’s just a small party.” She clasps her hands together underneath her chin, her next words coming out breathless and excited. “And, if you come, I can show you some of my new pieces. You know how much I value your opinion.”
By opinion, she really means praise.
I met Annabelle at one of the school’s gallery exhibits last year. She had a couple of pieces on display that were beautiful. That was a remark I made out loud, only to find that she, the artist, was standing just a few feet away. I showered her with compliments, not knowing what it was about her paintings that I liked so much, simply knowing that I thought they were attractive.
Little did I know, that knowledge about art would not necessarily make me more appealing to Annabelle.
But we aren’t dating anymore.
Still, I’m nowhere close to being with the girl I’m actually interested in. Maybe Jasper is right. I’m not planning on getting back together with Annabelle. That would be a disaster. But going out on the weekend instead of holing up with a book or my sketchpad is probably a healthier choice for my psyche.
“Okay, yeah. We’ll stop by. Do you still live in the same place?”
“Yep!” Annabelle grins up at me, almost as if she expects something.
“All right … see you Friday then.” My hand curves in an awkward half-wave, and I make a move to leave as Jasper finally lets me go.
Annabelle’s touch stops me as she grips my arm. “I’m glad you’re coming. This’ll be so fun!” She lifts up on her toes and presses her lips to my cheek. Then, she skips away to a group of friends I only now realize have been waiting for her.
“She’s definitely still into you.” Jasper claps me on the shoulder, smirk back on his face.
I resist the urge to wipe the back of my hand over my cheek. “So what? I ended it for a reason.”
But, now, I’m going to a party she invited me to, probably giving her the wrong idea. We’re not a possibility anymore. Took me some time to realize, but Annabelle isn’t long-term for me.
“That was stupid. I shouldn’t have agreed to go.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. Just because she’s the one who invited you doesn’t mean you’re going there for her. You need to have some fun. Parties are a good place to do that.”
“Doesn’t work so well when you can’t drink.”
Jasper shrugs and then winks. “There are plenty of other fun activities you can participate in.”
I give him a shove before moving forward. “You know I don’t just hook up anymore.”
“Yeah, I still don’t understand it though. Just because your kidneys are out of whack doesn’t mean your dick is.”
There’s a gasp, and we both turn to see a freshman girl staring at Jasper with shock before she shakes her head and power-walks away.
“You just destroyed her innocence!” I grab his upper arms and shake him in mock outrage.
“Shut up.” He’s grinning as he shrugs out of my hold. “But really, man, there’s sure to be plenty of girls there on Friday. Find someone to take your mind off her.”
We walk in silence for a few minutes. It’s a party. I don’t have to go for Annabelle. Holly isn’t interested.
Why not try to meet someone else?
My gut clenches uncomfortably, but the logic makes sense, so I give up.
“Okay, I’ll go. It’ll be fun.”
“Awesome. Now, if you can say that without sounding like you’re on death row, I might actually believe you.”