24
‘Bloodstream’
—Alyssa Grace
Lara
I walk down the stairs, wearing my pink princess prom dress. I lift the skirt so I don’t trip on it. My heels hit the floor, echoing through the house.
As I make my way down the stairs, I look at Scotty wearing his grey suit and pink tie, matching my dress perfectly.
“Oh my god, you look beautiful, Butterfly.” His mouth parts open slightly, he takes my hand and spins me in a circle.
“Thank you, Scotty.”
“Let me take a picture of you two,” Sabrina says. I look over at my dad, tears welling up in his eyes. Scotty puts his arm around my waist, pulling me in close for the photo.
Sabrina taps her phone button, the flash going off.
“My baby girl is all grown up.” My dad wipes away a tear, then hugs me tight.
“She's been grown up.” My mom shakes her head.
“Okay, now let’s talk about safe sex."
I cover my ears. “Nope! We are leaving!” I grab Scotty’s hand and walk out the door with him.
**
Ever since we started dating, we’ve been inseparable. Jenna never beat me up; she just started ignoring me. Same with Emma, but it’s okay because I don’t need their toxicity in my life.
I just need my boyfriend. I’m so glad to be calling Scotty my boyfriend.
His birthday is in a month, he will be 19, he started kindergarten late, so he’s always been the oldest in his class.
He got accepted into a university under a sports scholarship to study business.
He is also working on graduating early so he can leave for college sooner.
He just needs a few more teacher signatures, but other than that, he has all A’s.
I helped him with math. He got his grade up.
We pull up into the club parking lot where they are holding prom, he opens the door for me like always, and I hop out of the car. I wrap my arms around his arm, holding him tight as we walk inside. Prom tickets were expensive, and so were dresses. I’m so glad Sabrina and my mom took me.
“What about your bet with Ashton? Who is he going with?” I ask.
“He has a date,” Scotty replies as we walk inside. The smell of mocktails and the sound of music fill the room.
We walk over to where Danny, Ashton, and Axel sit. Ashton is holding the arm of a guy.
“Who’s this?” I ask, looking at the brown-haired guy, who has a middle part, he looks nice in a suit. I’ve never seen him before in my life.
“My date, he goes to an alternative school. Same school district, so he could still come.” I nearly choke on my spit.
“You’re gay?” I blink. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that, I just had no idea,” I say quickly, trying to make it sound less wrong.
“Yeah, I am.” Ashton laughs softly. I look over at Axel, who is intensely glaring at Ashton's date. I see what’s going on here. Axel obviously likes Ashton. It’s so clear now. The way they are always together, and how Axel protects Ashton when he’s sad. The look in his eyes is pure jealousy.
Scotty squeezes my arm three times. I squeeze back.
“Where’s your date, Danny?” Scotty asks.
“She went to the bathroom,” Danny replies.
“Want to go dance, Butterfly?” I nod.
He pulls me to the dance floor right as a slow song comes on. All the couples gather around the dance floor. Scotty wraps his arms around my waist, and I put mine over his shoulders. We sway back and forth.
“I didn’t know Ashton was gay.”
“He’s been out of the closet for like two years. I thought it was obvious.”
“Well, fruity straight guys exist.”
“Not that fruity.” I laugh at Scotty’s words.
“Axel has a crush on him,” I say.
“How do you know? Axel isn’t gay, I’m pretty sure he’s asexual.”
“He looks at Ashton like he’s in love with him, he stares at his date like he wants to kill him. It’s like how you were when you were in love with me.”
“You may be onto something.” Scotty plants a kiss on my lips. The song switches up, so we pull away from each other.
“I love you, baby. “ His phone begins ringing. “One second.” He walks to the side of the room to answer it.
“Fuck!” I hear him shout over the phone.
He hangs up, shoving his phone into his pocket.
“What’s wrong?” He doesn’t answer. He just walks past me. “Scotty!” I call out after him, trying to catch up. Now we're in the parking lot. I’m still walking after him. Why won’t he tell me what’s wrong? Why is he ignoring me? What is going on?
Scotty turns around to look at me.
He looks down at his car keys, then runs a hand through his hair. He looks like he’s trying to gain the courage to say something—something heartbreaking. The look on his face is unreadable. I’ve never seen this expression before.
“We can’t be together, that's what’s wrong.” No no no no. Please don’t say that, please, I need you, please, Scotty.
“Why?” My voice is shaky, my hands are shaking. I think my whole body is shaking. I’m going to throw up. I am going to throw up.
“My college is too far away. You're still in high school. It’s not a good mix.” It doesn’t matter! I want to scream at the top of my lungs. Scream “stay with me” over and over again.
“We said we could do long distance.” I stare at him, tears welling up in my eyes. Please. please. please. I chant over and over in my head. My knees threaten to give out.
“No, not anymore.” My heart drops, and every single feeling of hope leaves my body. I want to collapse.
“Yes, we can.” I stare into his eyes. He looks angry, very angry, but also kind of sad.
“No.” His one-word reply makes me want to crawl into a hole and die. I think my hands are sweating.
“What are you trying to say?”
He stares at me for a long moment before speaking. “You know what I’m trying to say. We… this…our relationship.” he motions around us. “It’s over.”
“What about us? What about everything you’ve ever told me? Our late-night calls, you coming over when I’m sad. We can do long distance! I can fly to you when I get a job! You can’t just throw all this away for nothing!” I’m crying now, full-blown sobbing. “I love you…” My voice trails off.
“There is no us.”
5 years later
‘I Know It Won’t Work - Live’
— Gracie Abrams
Lara
My phone begins vibrating in my pocket while I’m just finishing up at a book signing event.
I pull away from the store clerks to answer the phone.
I look down at the caller ID, and it’s my mom.
She’s probably just calling to congratulate me on my new book.
She hasn’t sent me any texts, so I assume she’s just been busy.
“Hello?” I answer, balancing my phone between my shoulder and ear while I thank one of the bookstore employees.
All I hear is breathing.
Ragged.
Uneven.
My stomach twists into a sharp knot.
“Mom?”
“Lara…” Her voice cracks. “Your grandpa…”
“What about him?” I ask silently, praying nothing's wrong and this is just some sick joke.
“He had a heart attack.”
The bookstore fades into muffled noise. The laughter. The cameras. Congratulations. None of it matters anymore.
My hands shake so badly that I hit the wrong buttons twice trying to unlock my phone.
Every flight is sold out. It’s Christmas Eve.
Of course they are. My heart pounds harder with every screen I refresh until one ticket appears.
Business class. More money than I’d ever willingly spend, but I don’t hesitate. I buy the ticket in an instance.
Scott
I walk past a bookstore, I know Lara was just signing at. A display with a brand-new book I’ve never heard of sits in the middle of the store. I’ve been so absorbed in basketball that I didn’t know she released a new one.
I slowly walk over to the stand, overhearing the sad comments from other people in the store. One person said, “This book's going to make me cry.”
I grab a copy, and I flip to a random page. My heart immediately clenching at the line I read.
“Loving him didn’t just break my heart, it rewired it.”
“Eyeing Lara Mae’s new book, I see.” A voice says from behind me. “It’s horribly tragic.”
I turn around to see a woman dressed in fancy clothes. Way too fancy to work here.
“I love her writing.”
“We all do.” She smiles at me. “You’re Scott Delgado?”
“The one and only,” I say casually.
“I’m Maya. I’m a reporter. If you have time, I have some questions.”
“What kind of questions?”
“About Lara.” My grip tightens around the book.
“I don’t usually do interviews.”
“We can keep this one private until you want to share.”
She gives me a reassuring smile. “No cameras. No microphones. Just a conversation.”
I glance down at the copy of Lara’s book in my hands before looking back at Maya.
“Why me?”
“Because every page feels like it’s about someone she lost.” She pauses. “And judging by the way you reacted to that line, I think I just found him.”
“Five minutes,” I finally say.
Maya smiles. “Five minutes. Let’s start easy. How long have you known Lara?”
“Since we were kids,” I answer smoothly.
“Childhood friends?”
I let out a quiet laugh. “More like childhood enemies.”
“Enemies?” Her eyebrows lift.
“We argued over everything. She drove me insane.”
“And somewhere along the way…”
“...I fell in love with her.”
Maya smiles softly. “I was hoping you’d say something like that.” She scribbles something in her notebook before looking back up.
“Did you know this newest book was coming out?”
I shake my head. “No. Basketball’s taken over my life lately.”
“Have you read much of it?”
I hold up the copy in my hands. “Not enough.”
“Do you think Dylan is based on you?” My eyes drift to the page I opened moments ago. Loving him didn’t just break my heart; it rewired it.
“I don’t think,” I say quietly. “I know.”
“What’s it like reading your own mistakes?”
I swallow hard.
“It’s…” I look down at the cover. “It’s like reliving every moment you wish you could take back.” She doesn’t interrupt.
“Every chapter reminds me of something I should’ve done differently.”
“Do you regret leaving?”
The question lands harder than I expect. “Every single day.”
“One last question.”
I nod.
“If Lara were sitting across from you instead of me… and you knew she’d listen without interrupting… what would you tell her?”
My chest tightens.
“I’d tell her…” My voice catches. “I’m sorry for every day she spent wondering why I left.”
I stare down at the book resting in my lap. “I’d tell her choosing basketball never meant I stopped choosing her.”
Silence settles between us.
“And I’d tell her I still love her.”
**
I bought the book the second the interview was over. I left Maya speechless. I spent all the time I could’ve been practicing reading Lara’s book. It’s not smart of me, but I do it anyway. My phone buzzes. My grandpa’s in the hospital.
My heart drops. My thumb hovers over the screen as I type. “Are you okay?” I stare at the words for a few seconds before deleting them. I try again. “Do you need me?” I delete it.
Maybe she only texted me because she didn’t know who else to tell. Maybe she texted me by accident… or maybe she’s asking me to come. I don’t know, and that’s the problem. We aren’t on speaking terms. After everything that’s happened between us, showing up uninvited would only make things worse.
I’m on page 152 of the book when I show up at the stadium I’m playing at.
I close the book when I get out of the cab, going through the back door where all the athletes come in through.
I spent all night reading the book, since I’m a slow reader.
I went as fast as I could. I think of it as a good luck charm before my game.
I clench my fists around the book. I have 100 pages left to go.
This book isn’t as long as her last one, which is good, but it just means we haven’t made enough memories for her to write down.
This book is very obviously about me.
I open up Instagram, immediately seeing an interview of Lara at her release party.
They ask her questions about her characters and her book, but one question catches me off guard.
The one about our relationship—how she knows me.
I watch her shake her head and ask for the next question, making my heart clench.
I want her to tell the world we're together, but we aren’t.
I shut the app after her answer to the question, keeping my focus on basketball and basketball only.
Life without Lara feels empty, like basketball without the ball, pointless.
**
The game has been going smoothly. I have been pushing myself past the limits, so I don’t think about Lara.
My legs burn, my whole body actually. I keep pushing, though, I don’t care if I get hurt.
My teammate passes me the ball, I feel the rough texture of the ball collide into my hands, I bounce the ball on the ground twice before I bend my knees, in a fluid motion.
The ball shifts from my knees to above my head, my wrist flicking.
The ball arcs over the defender's hand and splashes into the basket.
The arena erupts into applause and cheers.
The buzzer goes off signaling the end of the game, and we won.
I don’t celebrate, I don’t go out for drinks with the rest of the team, instead I lock myself in my room, lying against the cool white sheets, reading her book.
My eyes fly by the words, my heart absorbing each one.
I don’t want this to be our ending; it can’t end like this.
I want her to know I mean what I say when I tell her I love her.