Chapter 38
CHAPTER 38
N othing makes sense.
What Taylor is suggesting is impossible. It’s reprehensible. I would never be so irresponsible and stupid.
Except…I was.
I’m blinking again and again, eyes prickling as Taylor continues. His words are cold, but I deserve far worse.
“One of my teammates got sent to the hospital, you know that? He’s allergic to marijuana. Thank god one of the guys figured out why he was having a reaction, or more people could’ve gotten sick. Too bad I never got to try one, huh? Lucky for me, I hate chocolate.”
“I made you blondies,” I manage to whisper. “I was supposed to give you blondies . It was a mistake, Taylor—”
He laughs, incredulous. “What mistake? You handed me a tray of weed brownies. How could I forget? That pretty checkered lid will live rent-free in my head until the day I die.”
The lid . The set of checkered lids I use for all of my homemade treats. The ones I used to cover both mine and Rose’s confections. She must have grabbed the wrong tin, and I was too excited, too nervous and distracted to remember to double-check. This whole thing is one massive mistake.
I’m breathing unevenly, unable to catch my breath. My hands are shaking at my sides and to Taylor, I must appear like I’m overwhelmed from being caught in a lie. I am overwhelmed. But it’s out of guilt.
“You know I still have issues with food I haven’t seen prepared? Doesn’t matter if it’s from a friend or a girlfriend, I second-guess everything I don’t make myself. That shit sticks with you, Ayla. Do you have any idea…”
His voice trails off as I double over, one of my hands clutching at my chest. My breath is coming too fast, my heart racing like I’m stuck in an endless race. My vision is beginning to swim. I can’t speak—I can barely think.
“I-I’m sorry,” I gasp out. “S-sorry, so s-sorry.”
Taylor is immediately crouching before me, one of his hands going up to cradle my cheek. “Ayla, baby, it’s okay…just breathe, okay? Breathe with me.” He inhales, counting three seconds aloud before blowing out a breath. I follow his lead, wheezing through each inhalation until the haze begins to clear from my eyes.
“You’re all right,” Taylor whispers.
But I shake my head. “It was an accident. Rose made them…” I start to choke out. Taylor brushes my hair out of my face and I take another breath before continuing. “Rose made the weed brownies for herself. Our tins must’ve gotten switched. This whole thing…god, Taylor, this entire thing is an awful mistake.”
He looks between my eyes, expression unreadable. I’m sure he’s wondering whether he can trust me. I don’t blame him. In his shoes, I probably wouldn’t believe me, either.
I limp toward the nearest bench, feeling sick to my stomach. I liked Taylor so damn much. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine I could have hurt him. For a decade, he’s believed I intentionally tried to drug him. It’s no wonder he hated me. He must hate me still.
“You’re saying you really didn’t know?” he asks me, voice quiet.
“I really didn’t know,” I whisper through ragged breaths. “I spent days researching the perfect blondie recipe. It took three hours to finish the batch. And Rose…” I laugh helplessly. As much as I’d like to, I can’t even blame her. It’s my own fault for putting on those lids, for not making one fucking hundred percent sure I was giving my crush the right dish. “She was high as a kite. She probably didn’t even realize she was eating the wrong dessert.”
Taylor’s brows crease. “You spent hours making me blondies?”
“Yeah.” Somehow, it sounds even stupider out loud.
“Why?”
I look away. I’ve already said too much. But Taylor turns my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze.
“Why would you do that, Ayla? You didn’t even go to my school. Why would you make blondies for your boyfriend’s rival?”
“Rob wasn’t my boyfriend.” My gaze falls to my feet, breaking Taylor’s hold. “I didn’t even know he existed until college. Apparently, he knew me, though. I guess dating me was one of his jokes. He just admitted it.”
Taylor straightens and his hands go back behind his head. He presses his lips together, turning in a half circle before facing me once more. He’s keeping his face carefully blank, but I can read the alarm in his eyes.
“I don’t understand,” he says slowly. “Ayla, help me understand. Why? Why did you do all that for me?”
I try to swallow but my throat is too dry. It occurs to me that Taylor hasn’t changed so much after all. The boy who helped me pick up newspapers all those years ago is still in there. Despite his anger and his confusion, he’s still watching me intently, making sure I have enough time to catch my breath.
An ache spreads through my chest as I think of the words I’ve been holding back. I like him. I like Taylor. As much as I had a decade ago. More, now that I know who he truly is. I like him enough to know how he’ll view me once he knows the truth. That I’ll be forever changed in his eyes.
“Help me out here, Montes,” Taylor says again, nearly pleading now. He’s searching my face, looking for a reason to believe me. And I have one. I have a reason that will absolve me of all suspicion. But the moment I speak it, nothing will ever be the same.
I know what I have to do when I lift my chin, meeting Taylor’s eyes. I take a moment to memorize his face. Those wide eyes and full lips. The faded freckles over the bridge of his nose, and those hollowed cheeks that so often fill with pink.
I like Taylor Hedlund. So much that it hurts.
Enough to tell him the truth. Even if it means he’ll never want to see me again.
“Because I went to enough of your games to learn blondies were your favorite,” I say. My voice is soft, but it’s clear. I keep my head held high as I reveal the secret I have carried with me for ten years. “Because we met once, by chance, and I needed to find a way to talk to you again. I went through all that trouble because I was madly, ridiculously in love with a boy who didn’t even know my name.”
I stay seated long enough to watch awareness enter Taylor’s gaze. For him to blink the confusion from his eyes, and for the start of something new to fill their hazel depths.
I’m up before the change becomes permanent.
I ripped out my heart and laid it in Taylor’s hands. It’s his now, to do with as he pleases.
But if I run, I never have to see whether he’ll choose to rip it in two.
So, that’s what I do. I run. I run, and I don’t look back.