54. Addy
Chapter fifty-four
Addy
I 'm picking at a deli sandwich, the computer lab's hum of electronics mixing with the laughter and chatter around me. The scent of Gen's citrus perfume wafts over as she plops down beside me, her presence like a burst of sunshine in the dimly lit room.
"Okay, I've been thinking," Gen announces, sweeping her gaze over the group. "Addy here has been missing out on the quintessential high school experiences."
I roll my eyes but can't help the small smile that tugs at my lips. Gen's enthusiasm is infectious, even if I don't quite share her sentiments about high school milestones.
"Like what?" one of the boys asks, his voice laced with curiosity rather than mockery. It's comforting, in a way I hadn't expected it to be.
"Prom, football games under the lights, sneaking out past curfew for midnight shenanigans." Gen ticks them off on her fingers, each suggestion more teenage cliché than the last.
"Those sound... interesting, I guess," I murmur, not entirely convinced. My life never had room for those frivolities – survival was the only goal.
"Interesting? They're rites of passage!" Gen insists, her determination sparking something warm inside me. "You need a high school bucket list, Addy. And we're going to make sure you check off every single thing by graduation."
“Is that really necessary?”
"You said that was your first party, the one I took you to. It was your first sleepover. That's...that's really sad, Addy. I mean, what else have you been deprived of?"
"If you recall, that party did not end on a high note for me."
"Come on, Addy! You can't tell me that didn't stir something in you," Gen prods, her eyes alight with the fire of determination.
"Fine, it was... new," I admit, tucking a strand of blond hair behind my ear.
"New? It was epic!" Her grin is contagious, and despite myself, I can't help but let the corners of my mouth twitch upward. "Your first party, your first sleepover. What else haven't you done?"
I shrug, my green eyes scanning the sea of lockers. "Lots. But what's the point?"
"The point?" Gen freezes, turning to face me with hands planted firmly on her hips. "The point is, high school isn't just about surviving. It's about living, making memories. So, bucket list."
"A bucket list?" I repeat, incredulous.
"Before the end of the year, you're going to experience everything you've missed out on," she vows, and there's something in her voice that makes me want to believe her.
"So, what's on the list?" Saint asks, taking his normal chair to my right.
“Skydiving, obviously,” Dre chimes in.
“Yeah, that’s a definitely not.”
"Come on, Addy, where's your sense of adventure?" Gen teases, nudging me gently.
"Let's start with something easy," Chess suggests. "What about a road trip?"
I offer a half-smile, picking at the corner of my sandwich, trying to seem interested. But internally, I'm miles away from the excitement. My trust in promises is threadbare, worn by too many disappointments. Even if they did manage to pull off this list, it'd be like putting a colorful Band-Aid on a wound too deep to heal.
"Guys," I interject, my voice steadier than I feel, "even if we do all these things... it's not going to change anything for me."
"Of course, it will," Dre says confidently, his smirk softening into something more akin to understanding. "It's about making memories, right? You should have happy memories, Snowflake."
As they continue to toss around ideas like confetti, I can't help but feel like an outsider looking in. They speak of normal teenage rites of passage as though they're the most natural thing in the world.
"Addy, you have to let us do this," Gen insists, her gaze locking onto mine. "We want to make your high school experience memorable."
"Sure," I murmur, though my voice sounds distant, even to my own ears.
"Okay then," she says, determination lacing her words. "What about carving pumpkins? Or a beach bonfire?"
"Sure, why not?" I find myself saying, the weight of my past momentarily forgotten. There's warmth here, in this circle of friends, that starts to seep through the cracks in my armor.
"Alright then, we've got ourselves a bucket list." Gen claps her hands together, pleased with our progress. "This is going to be epic."
“And, since fall is well underway, I say we start there. Pumpkin picking. Saturday morning. All of you. No excuses.”
??????
"Gen, do we have to get up this early?" I grumble, sweeping a loose strand of blond hair from my face as I squint against the morning light filtering through the car window.
"Absolutely," Gen insists with that commanding tone I've grown accustomed to. "Pumpkin picking waits for no one, especially not on the perfect crisp Saturday we've been gifted."
I stifle a yawn, nodding half-heartedly. It’s hard to argue with Gen when she gets like this—her excitement is infectious, and despite my initial resistance, there's a part of me that's eager for a taste of normal teenage life.
She even managed to smush all three boys into the back seat so we could have a "dance party" in the front, just us girls.
The chill of the morning is a sharp contrast to the warmth that bubbles inside me as we arrive at the Kelly farm.
The air smells of earth and ripening pumpkins with hints of cider and fresh popcorn, a fragrance that's foreign yet comforting, and it mingles with the laughter of children darting through the rows of the pumpkin patch. My boots crunch on the gravel path as we make our way towards the sprawling field, dotted with orange.
"First things first," Gen declares, pointing towards the sprawling pumpkin patch that stretches out like a sea of orange. "We conquer every single other thing this place has to offer. Then, find the perfect pumpkins."
I laugh, the sound surprising even to myself. "Lead the way, General."
Gen takes off running, her laughter trailing behind her. I follow closely behind, my own laughter bubbling up from deep within me. We weave through families and couples, dodging playful children and love-struck teenagers. The farm seems to buzz with life.
Gen suddenly freezes and grabs my arm, her face pale. "What's wrong?" I ask, concern flooding my voice.
"Cider!"
I laugh at the urgency in her voice, really laugh. My head is thrown back, my whole body vibrating with joy. When I reel it back in I see Saint watching me with some unidentified emotion in his eye. It sobers me quickly.
His dark eyes are fixed on me, the corners of his mouth quirking up ever so slightly. He grabs my hand and pulls me into his body. My heart skips a beat as Saint's lips touch mine, and I'm momentarily lost in the sensation. I melt into his embrace, my entire body tingling with anticipation. It's a gentle, fleeting kiss that leaves me craving more. Gen lets out a giggle from beside us, reminding us that we're not alone.
Reluctantly, Saint pulls away, his fingers still tightly intertwined with mine. "Cider."
"Cider."
He follows Gen's lead toward the concession stand, never letting go of my hand. It feels so...normal. Just a normal couple thing to do.
We take our treats and continue exploring everything the farm has to offer. Including an adorable petting zoo where they let me hold a baby chick. Then, we head through the corn maze.
After a hayride and another round of treats, we finally head over to the pumpkin patch.
"Look at this one!" Gen exclaims, rushing over to a pumpkin that's round and perfectly plump. "It's like it was waiting just for you, Addy."
I can't help but smile at her enthusiasm. "It does seem rather... destined," I reply, bending down to examine the pumpkin she's chosen for me. It's my first time pumpkin picking, something so ordinary yet until now, completely out of reach. I'm determined to savor each moment, despite the lingering tension that hangs in the air.
"What do you think?" I look up at the others. Dre looks like he’s both ready to get out of her immediately and happy to indulge me.
“If that’s the one you want,” Saint offers.
“Chess?” He hasn’t participated much today and as unhappy as I am with him, I don’t want to leave him out. He's trailing behind us, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket, his dark hair tousled by the wind. There's an uncharacteristic distance in his hazel eyes when he looks up, and it stirs an ache deep within my chest.
"Looks great," he says simply, his voice lacking its usual warmth. He forces a smile, but it doesn't reach his eyes.
"Are you going to pick one or just brood all day?" I tease lightly, though the hurt lingers like a stubborn shadow.
"Maybe I'll just brood," Chess replies, a flicker of his old self sparking in his tone. But just as quickly, it's extinguished, and he turns away, his gaze scanning the sea of pumpkins.
I sigh inwardly, wishing we could bridge the gap that's formed between us, but for now, I focus on the task at hand. We wander through the rows, everyone offering their opinions on the perfect pumpkin, the banter light and easy—except for the space where Chess stands, silent and withdrawn.
"Chess," I call out, my voice echoing slightly in the vastness of the pumpkin-strewn field. He barely glances up from where he's lagging behind, a shadow detaching itself from the sunlit laughter of our friends.
"Listen, you don't need to hang back on my account." I shuffle my feet, suddenly awkward on the crunchy leaves beneath us. “They're your friends too."
He hesitates, then trudges over, his hands buried deep in his pockets, hazel eyes unreadable. "Can we talk?" His tone is low, meant only for my ears.
"Sure." Curiosity nips at me; I nod towards a quieter corner by the hay bales.
We walk side by side but not together, the distance between us more than just physical. Once secluded, Chess turns to face me, and I'm struck by the intensity in his gaze.
"Do you regret it?" he asks abruptly, his voice threading through the crisp air.
"Regret what?" I know exactly what he means, but I need him to say it.
He stuffs his hands into the pockets of his jeans, his gaze fixed on the ground. "Us. That night. "You've been...distant.”
I cross my arms, trying to keep myself together under his scrutiny. "I don't regret anything we did. It was a choice I made, and I stand by it.”
His eyes meet mine, searching for an answer I'm not sure I have. "Then why does it feel like you're pushing me away? I thought we were good, Addy. I really did."
“I know it didn't mean much to you."
I say, forcing the words out against the lump in my throat. "I wanted that moment to be mine, to be something I chose freely, and it was. I was never going to be something special to you, I get that."
He freezes. His hazel eyes drill into me with an intensity that sets my pulse racing.
"Addy," he breathes out, a hint of frustration lacing his words. "What are you talking about? You think you're not special? To me?"
My heart stumbles over a beat. "You didn't have to pretend it meant anything. We both knew what it was." There’s a sharpness to my voice, a defense against the hurt that flares up.
"That night... it meant everything to me. You are so fucking special, can't you see that?" His hands come up as if to reach for me but drop back to his sides.
"Then why?" The question is a splinter, working its way deeper. "Why were you with those girls?"
He's taken aback, his mouth opening and closing before he finds his words. "What girls? I swear, I don't want anyone else. I haven't been with anyone else since I first kissed you."
"Chess, I saw you." The accusation hangs between us, heavy and undeniable. "With them, laughing, touching... It looked like you were having the time of your life."
"Flirting?" He runs a hand through his hair, a gesture of frustration that tugs at my resolve. "I wasn't—it wasn't like that. It never is with anyone else."
"Isn't it?" Skepticism laces my tone, even as I want to believe him. Desperately. But the image of him surrounded by those girls is seared into my memory, a stark contrast to the intimacy we shared.
"Never," he insists, stepping close enough that I can feel his breath on my skin. "Addy, look at me. Please."
I lift my gaze to his, caught in the earnest plea I find there. Something in me wants to relent, to accept his words and let the walls come down, but fear is a formidable adversary.
"Chess, I—"
Chess's eyes drill into mine, a storm of emotions swirling in their hazel depths. "Addy, you need to understand," he begins, the urgency in his voice pulling me back from my spiral of doubt. “I don’t give a shit about them. The flirting is a means to an end. I was getting information from them. And that is much easier to do when they’re relaxed.”
It sounds so simple, reasonable. But, I don’t believe him.
"But you slept with them," I push, unable to keep the accusation from my voice.
"I mean, yes,” he hedges. “But, that was before you. It was all before you. I haven’t been with anyone else–hell I haven’t really even looked at anyone else since I first kissed you." He looks earnest, desperate even, but his past actions cast long shadows of doubt.
We rejoin the group, the laughter and chatter of our friends a stark contrast to the tension that clings to Chess and me like a second skin. I fold my arms over my chest, trying to keep my thoughts from spiraling. Trust isn't something given easily in my world, yet Chess's words linger, tempting me with the possibility of something more than hurt.
I want to believe him. I do. I’m just too scared to.
"Addy, come on, you have to see this one!" Gen's voice breaks through my reverie, her enthusiasm infectious as she points to a particularly lopsided pumpkin sitting among its plumper companions.
I manage a smile, letting the simple joy of the moment seep into the cracks of my doubt. "That one looks like it has character," I say, crouching down to inspect it.
"Exactly!" Gen beams. "It's perfect for you."
"Hey, it's got nothing on this behemoth," calls out one of the boys, hoisting up a massive pumpkin. Its weight is evident even in his steady grip. The air around us is filled with the earthy scent of autumn, the sound of dry leaves rustling in the breeze acting as a backdrop to our laughter.
"Found the one!" I declare, wrapping my arms around a large, lopsided pumpkin that's full of character. Its imperfections make it endearing, much like the people I've somehow come to consider friends.
"Nice choice, Addy," Gen approves, and the others echo her praise, lifting my spirits.
We make our way back to the farm's entrance, our arms laden with pumpkins of all shapes and sizes, the cool breeze nipping at our cheeks. As we load up the car, I chance a glance back at Chess. He meets my gaze, the unspoken words hanging heavy between us. For a fleeting moment, I see a vulnerability in his expression that mirrors my own. Then he looks away, focusing on securing the pumpkins in the trunk, and the moment passes.