Thirty Seven #3
I nod. “I thought it was. But then it wasn’t anymore.
I mean, have you seen their roster? It’s full of people like me.
Kids with pro parents, kids from legacy programs who got scouted at eighteen.
I don’t want to be another second-gen athlete coasting off a name.
I just want to be me.” I pause. “They said it themselves. They only want me because of my name.”
Darcy gives me a soft, sympathetic look. “Peyton, I’m sorry. They—”
“Wait.” I cut her off, breathing hard. Her emerald eyes lock with mine, and I blow out a shaky breath, trying to remember the script I practiced in my head.
I think I might throw up.
“I’m not done. You don’t have to say anything,” I say, holding her gaze. “Just listen. Okay?”
Still slightly puzzled, she nods. “Okay.”
I clear my throat and inhale again, letting my lungs take in as much air as possible.
Just say it, I think.
“The first time you opened your mouth, I wanted to stab myself in the eardrums.”
What? That wasn’t in the script!
Darcy looks at me, her brows drawing together. “… Okay?” she says hesitantly. Frantically, I shake my head.
“Hold on, hold on,” I falter, sticking my hands up. “I’m not done.”
She tilts her head, quirking a brow, but waits for me to continue. I suck in a breath.
I guess we’re freestyling.
“I wanted to stab myself in the eardrums because I was angry, and defensive, and insecure, and I didn’t want to listen to anything you had to say. I thought you were just another voice in the noise, tipping me over the edge.”
My throat constricts, but I swallow back the lump forming in the base of it.
“I’ve spent my entire life drowning in voices.
In magazines, and gossip, and my own damn head, telling me who I should be and what I should want.
I got so tired of listening to them. Tired of believing them, but I couldn’t help myself. And then—”
I pause, flicking my gaze from one of her eyes to the other, wondering if it’s just the light—or if one of them is a slightly lighter shade of green than the other.
“And then you showed up. And even when I fought you on it, even when I made an absolute fool of myself, you helped me anyway. You showed me what a waste it is to be stuck in my head when there’s a whole world out there.
And sure, I still have my doubts. Anyone would.
But the difference is, I don’t listen for them anymore.
Not the magazines. Not myself. I just listen for you. ”
A thick, glossy coat forms over Darcy’s eyes, the light reflecting a golden ring in the puddle.
She sniffs, bottom lip trembling. I don’t know if this is my cue to stop, or to keep going.
If she’s crying because being with me sounds like the worst possible ending of M.A.S.H.
, or if it’s because, this whole time, she’s felt it too.
So I don’t stop. In fact, I think I get louder.
“I love you, Darcy,” I announce. “Like, complete, total, Caspian-Susan in love and I know that wasn’t supposed to happen, but it did, and frankly I’m not sorry. Because even if I didn’t fall in love with you, I would love you anyway. For everything that you are.”
I take a breath, and when Darcy blinks, the tears trickle down her perfect, porcelain cheeks.
“And you’ve been hurt, and I get that. But I’m not asking you to do anything you aren’t ready for.
You just deserve to know that you’re loved.
And, god—” I laugh. “I kept telling myself I didn’t have time to love you, but the truth is, I’ve loved you in every minute we’ve ever had.
And even if I didn’t have time,” I breathe, “I’d invent time for you.
I’d go minor, or even beer league. I’d build a quantum machine—whatever it takes.
I’d rather have nothing with you, than have everything without you. ”
Darcy’s a puddle now, or maybe a river. Tears are steaming down both sides of her cheeks, but her lips are pulled into a bright, quivering smile. She lets out a stuffy laugh, swiping at her eyes, the salty drops absorbing into her gloves.
“You know they’re only in love in the movie, right?” she chokes out in a chuckling sob. I grin, shaking my head.
“No,” I admit, a short laughing slipping out. “I didn’t know that.”
Her hand reaches out, caressing my cheek. Those soft, teary eyes search mine, freckled lips parting to speak. But just as she opens her mouth, her chest collapses.
It’s an agonizing, wet sound caught in the back of her throat, and dragged down, down, down. Her jade-toned eyes go wide, an unfocused glaze pooling over them. She blinks once, then again, then faster and faster like she’s trying to get them to work while she sucks in ragged, shaky breaths.
I barely react in time when her knees suddenly buckle. I lunge, wrapping my arms around her just as she crumples into me, all of her weight pressing against my body.
“Darcy?” My voice comes out high and desperate. “Darcy, hey—look at me.”
She doesn’t move. Her head lolls forward, breath ragged, eyes shut.
“Help!” My voice rips from my throat, louder than I’ve ever heard myself scream. “Somebody help!”