chapter twenty-eight It Was You, the Whole Time #2
on it, so I can be the best version of myself for you—if you’ll still have me after what I’m about to tell you.”
Lex leans forward on her seat, rapt.
“You assumed I was trying to break the curse with true love because that’s how it is in all the movies we grew up watching, but that’s not right. I knew the curse could be broken by true love because . . .” I take a steadying breath, steeling my resolve. “Because I helped write it.”
I click to the first slide, which has the curse written, word for word, in all its cringey high school glory—sans sparkly
gel pen. Lex reads the words, her face turning pale, but says nothing.
“I’d so desperately wanted to be cool and popular in high school that I’d have done anything to fit in,” I explain. “Even
if it meant throwing my best friend under the bus, spreading gross rumours about her, and then trying to curse her so her
boyfriend would break up with her and ask me to the school dance, instead. I thought I got what I wanted, but the curse backfired.
Instant karma. And I’ve been dealing with it ever since.”
Lex closes her eyes as she processes this new information. “So, this whole time when you were talking about a high school
bully . . . it was you.”
My muscles tense as she draws the inevitable conclusion. “Yes.” I wait for Lex to say something, anything, but she stays quiet.
My cheeks burn with shame, but I press on. Clicking to the next slide, an image of the graph Lex had shown me weeks ago appears.
“You suggested I sneak past the curse by starting off a relationship as friends—not jumping ahead to anything spicy, growing
a relationship and getting comfortable with a person before knowing them intimately. As we’ve already established, that person
was not any of the individuals I’d dated. Nor was it your brother, as I’d suggested. It was you, the whole time, which is
made evident by the addition of this other factor.”
I click again and a new element is added: Lex’s involvement in the date. Lex had gone over P values and outliers and so many
other science terms that I barely understood, but you don’t have to have a degree in statistics to see the clear linear trajectory
with this new data.
Turning back to Lex, I squeeze the controller in my hand.
“But none of that matters if I can’t be honest with you.
I was scared that if you knew the truth about the curse then you wouldn’t love me anymore.
So I hid it. I lied by omission. I ran from my past, like I always do, and you got hurt in the process. And I’m so, so sorry.”
Lex stays still and quiet, giving me time to sort through my thoughts.
“I’m not a perfect person,” I say, struggling to keep my voice level. “I’ve made mistakes. I’ve learned hard lessons. I haven’t
always been proud of the person I’ve been. But I truly believe that I’m trying to be better. I’m still going to make mistakes,
and I can’t promise I’ll never do or say something that might hurt you or someone else I care about. But I can promise I’ll always try to make it right. After everything I’ve been through, all the growth I’ve undergone, partially due
to this goddamn curse, I’ve learned a lot about myself. And, even though I’ve been cursed for a reason, I . . .” My voice
breaks as the pressure of tears forms behind my eyes. “I believe that after everything, I’m still worthy of love.”
I drop my gaze to the floor and click through the next several slides, each one showing a picture of Lex and me on our various
adventures together. Lex and me riding horseback on the trail at Fort Langley, at Hayward Lake before getting stuck in a McLaren,
sharing an ice cream at the park, and clinking glasses together at various locations all over the lower mainland. The images
go by and we watch how we fell in love without even realizing it.
I stop on a selfie of us together, looking happy and radiant with a sun setting in the background.
I could leave it here, on this high note, on everything being sunshine and rainbows and good feelings—but that’s not real.
If Lex and I have any hope of being together, it can’t all be good.
It can’t all be bright and bubbly and happy all the time.
So, I take a breath, and I click to the next slide.
It’s a picture Olsen sent me of Lex from when she was a teenager.
She looks shy and forlorn and lost, slouching in a baggy sweater, her long hair a limp curtain shielding her face, haunted by an uncertain future and a present she so desperately wanted to escape.
“If you and I went to the same high school, I can’t say I would have been kind to you,” I say, my heart aching with the admission.
“I was the kind of kid you’d have worried about attending school with Gabe. At that point in my life, I’d have done and said
anything to feel like I fit in.”
Lex is staring down at her hands, squeezed together so tightly her knuckles have turned white.
Stepping closer, I kneel on the floor in front of her and wrap my hands around hers, soothing her tightly clenched muscles
with gentle strokes of the pads of my fingers. After a moment her grip relaxes, her shoulders lower from her ears, and those
stunning blue eyes of hers—shimmering with unwept tears—find mine. My voice cracks as I continue, a tear slipping down my
own cheek. “What I can do is promise I’ll continue working on myself, to make sure that I’m building a world that is kinder and gentler and more
accepting than it was before. I can’t promise I’ll be perfect, and I can’t promise I’ll never hurt you, because I’m a human
being and sometimes we fuck up and make mistakes, even with those we love . . . but I can promise I’ll always be there for you, I’ll always be honest, and I’ll always try to make it right.”
“And have you?” Lex asks quietly. “Have you made it right?”
I nod, solemn. “I spoke to my ex–best friend after almost ten years of no contact and apologized to her. I talked with Olsen,
told him everything, and apologized to him, too. Oh, and I lost my job.”
Lex’s brows shoot up. “What!”
I shrug. “Long story. But, again, me being an asshole and getting what was coming to me.”
“Damn, your life is a mess,” Lex comments, the hint of her dimples appearing.
I huff a laugh through my nose. “Tell me about it.”
Lex unfurls her clenched fists and takes my hands in hers. “Listen. Everyone has shit in their past, and sometimes in their
present, that they’re ashamed of. Like you said, we’re all human beings. Nobody’s perfect. It takes immense strength to take
a hard look at yourself, to understand the ways you’ve caused harm, and to work to do better in the future. That’s all we
can ever do. And . . . I’m proud of you.”
My heart swells with hope. All I want is to reach out and kiss her. “So, you’re saying you still like me?”
Lex shakes her head slowly, her blue eyes soft and round. “No.”
All the hope blossoming in my chest freezes, threatening to crack and shatter into a thousand tiny shards. Lex releases my
hands and I go cold as my world begins to crumple around me, as part of me knew it would. You can admit you’re wrong. You
can apologize for past mistakes. But that doesn’t free you of the consequences of your actions. I knew this going in, and
I told myself I’d accept what happens no matter the outcome, but I didn’t expect it to feel like I was fucking dying.
I lower my head and begin to pull away, but Lex reaches out at the last moment, cupping my cheek in her hand. She brings my
gaze back to hers, her eyes sparkling with hope. “I don’t like you,” she repeats. “I love you.”
Then, she kisses me. Her lips are soft and vulnerable and greedy and just fucking everything. I kiss her back like I thought I’d lost her, like I thought I’d never feel them again, like I’d have to live the entirety
of my life without knowing something so perfect. I wrap my arms around Lex, pulling her in so tightly, wishing I could draw
her right into my own body and we could cease to be two separate souls.
“I’ve only just started loving you,” I say, breaking from our kiss to hold her face in my hands. “I haven’t had near enough time. I want to spoil you, and take you on fancy dates, and surprise you at work with your favourite takeout, and treat you the way you deserve, and—”
Lex shuts me up by kissing me. With her seated and me kneeling we’re at perfect heights for our lips to taste, our hands to
touch, for our bodies to reunite. I run my fingers through her short hair and draw my chest firmly against hers. Lex’s hands
slip down my shoulders, over my waist, grip my hips, and tug me closer.
“I need you,” I whimper against her mouth.
“I need you, too.” Lex stands, pulling me up while keeping our lips locked, and begins backing toward the stairs. We don’t
part for a moment—not when we reach the stairs and I trip over the first step, not when we get to the top of the landing and
she presses me against the wall to grind her hips against mine and we knock a picture off the wall, and not when she opens
the door to her bedroom and we stumble inside.
But I do part from her once we’re in her room. I’ve never seen it before. Turning away, I take in the decor while Lex pulls
my hair aside to kiss my neck. There’s a double bed on the right with a simple mauve comforter and an overfull dresser tucked
against the foot of it. Above the bed is a kaleidoscope of children’s artwork and photographs, each one carefully chosen and
placed with bursts of colour and texture—I could stare at it all day. On the left is a single bed with space-themed blankets,
glowing stars and planets stuck to the wall, yet another overflowing dresser, and a calamity of toys, stuffed animals and
Lego bricks on every surface. The room is full and busy, yet somehow clean and homey. I feel surrounded by Lex, surrounded
by love, and reminded of the sacrifices she’s had to make to live her life openly, honestly, without regrets.
And I get to be part of it.
Lex sheepishly looks about the room. “If I’d known this was going to happen I’d have tidied a bit more.”