20. The Most Impulsive Thing I’ve Ever Done
20
The Most Impulsive Thing I’ve Ever Done
Carson
Diana is both a silent and fast jogger.
The moment we started on the path around the streets of our neighborhoods, she started running like the devil was at her heels. If this is a light jog for her, then I’ve got my work cut out for me because I usually don’t start this fast.
I’ve been waking up early to jog every Sunday for years. Alone, because none of my roommates particularly enjoy waking up at this hour. This is the first time someone has joined me on a run, even if said person is a couple of feet in front of me.
I quicken my pace to catch up to her; soon enough, we’re jogging in silence. All of her dark hair—except her curtain bangs—is pulled up into a high ponytail and swishing back and forth.
“Starting strong, today?” I ask, desperate to break the silence for the first time. “You’re running like hell is at your feet.”
She scoffs, slowing down slightly. “This is a run, isn’t it?”
“It’s a jog,” I say. “Not a race against your inner demons.”
“What makes you think I have inner demons?” She challenges. This girl could be carrying the whole world on her shoulders and you wouldn’t be able to notice just by the challenging gleam in her beautiful hazel-green eyes.
“Everyone has inner demons,” I say shrugging. “Besides, you seemed a little beaten down after that phone call. Trouble in Miami?”
The sparkle in her eye is gone almost instantly. “Not trouble, exactly,” she huffs as we reach an incline. “It’s my mom’s birthday.”
Judging by the melancholy in her voice, that’s not a great thing. “And you called your mom to wish her a happy birthday? That’s all?”
“I didn’t call my mom, Carson,” she says. “Can we drop it?”
I decide not to prod her for more details and we run in silence for a little longer. Usually, I like the quiet. Today, however, the air between us is almost a little too thick. So much so that I could barely make a dent with the sharpest steak knife in the world.
We reach a cross-section near the campus village and wait for the signal to cross. I’m watching the streets, each car passing by when Diana finally speaks up.
“This is usually just not an easy day for me.”
I turn to face her. She’s not looking in my direction but merely watching each car pass like I was a moment ago. “Terrible relationship with your mom?”
“Far from it.” She plays with the ends of her curtain bangs. “She was my best friend.”
“Was?”
Diana nods. “She died seven years ago. I know that’s a long time to be dead but I can’t help but still miss her, you know?”
The light switches and Diana and I cross the street, resuming our jog. “Of course, it’s not. She was your mom.” I may not have lost anyone close to me in the past twenty years—and I’m thankful for that—so I can’t know exactly what she’s been through.
“Exactly.” She quickens her pace.
“Do you even know what direction we’re going?”
“Just following my gut,” she calls back. Her gut, in question, is right in the village. More specifically, next to Trader Joe’s. Grabbing a snack does sound appealing but I need to pause for a bit.
We make our way over to a small cluster of chairs. Since it’s still early, the village is eerily quiet for a Sunday morning. Most of the tables are empty and it’s just me and Diana. There are many seats at the table we choose but the moment we both sit down, it’s right next to each other.
I try to hide the stupid grin about to stretch my face. “Does it hurt still?” I ask, motioning to her bare wrist.
She shakes her head. “Only a little, but not enough. I don’t need it right now.”
“Has it always been like this?” I mentally curse myself for asking a dumb question. No, Ryder. Who the fuck could have been born with an injury like that?
“No,” she answers, not visibly noticing the stupidity of my question. “I broke my wrist in a car accident a few years back. Couldn’t afford treatment at the time so it never healed properly.”
My eyes widen. “Shit, I shouldn’t have said anything.”
Diana waves a hand to dismiss it. “Nah, you deserve to know some of the details since you helped. Seven years and this is the least amount of pain I’ve felt on my hand for an extended time so thanks.” She sends me a small smile. “Again.”
I’m about to respond before I remember something else she had told me. Holy fuck, I hope that what I’m thinking is wrong. “Seven years?”
She nods, getting up from her chair. “I can see the gears in your brain turning, Carson.”
“You know what I was going to ask?”
“Yeah.” She holds out her left hand and I grab it, standing myself up. Whether that yes is directed to the unasked question looming in the air or not, I’m not sure. “Same scenario. I nearly died that night but my mom did, because a drunk driver didn’t know his right from his left on a Friday night.”
Just like that, the last puzzle piece of Diana Blanco fit into place. To me, it explains a lot about her. Why she doesn’t like rollercoasters or why she was about to pass out from sitting in Jake’s car. It wasn’t motion sickness—and I know better than anyone else what that looks like—it was a panic attack.
“What are you thinking?” She asks, breaking me out of my thoughts. And a good thing she did because I don’t want to imagine Diana in that situation again.
I think that I might get sick if I ever think about it again.
I shake my head. “Nothing you’d find interesting, I assure you.”
“You can still talk about it,” she insists. “I won’t judge you.”
“Not right now.” I glance over at the streets, the area much busier than it had been when we first arrived. “Race you back home?”
The twinkle in her eyes appears at the mention of a challenge. “What does the winner get?”
“I’ll decide when we get there,” I say.
She scoffs. “What makes you think you’re going to win?”
“Easy.” I lean closer to her. Our foreheads could be touching but I manage to restrain myself. Her cheeks turn red and I can sense her heavy breathing and we haven’t even started running. Just being this close has my heart beating in my ears. She must be feeling this too, right?
I could close the distance right here and now. It’s tempting but I manage to resist. “Because I don’t lose.” I dash off in the direction of home with Diana shouting not far behind.
“What the fuck? That wasn’t fair, man!”
I start to laugh as I pass the restaurants and parking lots. I finally reach the crosswalk before Diana catches up and she doesn’t even seem out of breath. I know I am and it has nothing to do with running.
“That was cheating!” She complains right beside me.
“I didn’t say start.”
“Well, distracting me like that still counts,” she states. “Besides, actually kissing me would have been much more effective.”
The statement catches me off-guard and I nearly trip over a crack in the sidewalk, allowing Diana to move farther ahead and I try my best to catch up. Thankfully, we’re stopped and I manage to catch up with her.
“I’ve got one.” I press my hand to my knees, catching my breath for a minute. “The winner gets to ask the loser any question they want.”
“That’s it?” She furrows her brows. “One question?”
“One question. About anything.”
That definitely piques her interest. “Anything? Even…”
I nod. “Yup.”
“Deal.”
We’re then given the signal to cross and we run like hell. It takes us a while to even reach the house but by the time we do, Emma is sitting out by the lawn chairs, reading a book with a cover that would make my sister blush.
She looks up at us running and her eyes widen as she scrambles off the chair. Diana and I both reach for the chair. Our hands touch the chair at the same time, my left hand next to hers.
“What did I just witness?” She mumbles to herself.
“Emma!” Diana grabs her hand and brings her closer to the chair. “Who do you think won? We were racing.”
“Uh…” Emma glances between the two of us. Both sweaty and a little out of breath. “I wasn’t paying attention. Please, if this is a fight, then don’t get me involved. Just kiss and makeup or something. I’m calling a tie.”
She then grabs her book that she dropped and heads back inside Diana’s house, the door shut behind her.
I stare at the door. “Well, she was—”
“Yeah,” she agrees. “But we surprised her and she hates surprises.”
I nod, totally understanding what she just said—even though I do not. “So, it looks like I won.”
“No way! I got here first. See?” We look back down at the arms of the chair. Both of our hands are touching the same arm but—something I didn’t notice at first glance—the tip of her finger sits atop my knuckle.
“How do you explain that, then?” I gesture to the placement of our hands.
“You moved my finger.”
“Diana,” I sigh. “I moved nothing. You lost by a finger. Though I must admit, you were a tough competitor. Did you do track or something?”
She nods. “And cross country all four years of high school.” Wiping the sweat on her forehead with the back of her hand, she closes her eyes and she’s not breathing as heavily. “Is that your one question?”
“Nope. I’d do better than that.”
“Well, ask away,” she says, plopping herself down on the chair. “I might as well be an open book.”
I allow myself to ponder that question. Honestly, I should have let Diana ask me a question instead because I’ve learned a lot more about her than she has of me.
But the tiny part of my brain wants to be selfish and ask more because I want to know more.
“Coming from someone who’s never been through something like that,” I begin with. “Was it that terrifying?”
“Going deep aren’t you?” She chuckles before getting serious. “Without going into much detail, yes. A near-death experience could change someone. I was terrified of it happening again. So I avoided drinking, parties—anything that could lead to a similar occurrence. Even motor vehicles when I had the chance.”
“No driving?”
She gives me a look. “That was two questions.”
“I’m just saying. You live in California now, a state that practically requires driving from one place to another. Not once have you thought about learning how?”
Diana opens her mouth slightly before closing it. This is the first time I’ve ever seen her hesitate on anything. “Well, I am trying.”
I frown slightly. “Trying?”
“I got my learner’s permit back in July but with everything going on and school being at walking distance, I just never had to chance to ask Ronnie to teach me.” She leans a little closer and lowers her voice. “Plus, I’ve been scared to ask.”
“Scared?” I question. “The Diana I know is fearless.”
“Well,” she says, shrugging. “I’ve been scared my entire life.”
Scared my entire life. Holy shit, that’s sad. I can’t imagine the slightest picture of what Diana went through but I want to so badly tell her that she’s a survivor. She shouldn’t let one moment dictate how she lives her life moving forward.
Maybe I can show her. An idea forms in my head and I choose to act on it.
“What’s that look?” Diana asks wearily.
I shake my head. “Not important. Do you have anything planned for today?”
She shakes her head.
I stand up from my chair. “Meet me back out here with your purse in an hour, okay?”
“Am I allowed to ask questions?”
Chuckling, I ask, “Do you trust me?”
“Do you really want me to answer that question?”
“Just trust me,” I assure her before heading towards my front door and entering my house.
“You better not steal my stuff!” She shouts before I close the door behind me.
Trust me, if anyone’s gonna be stealing anything, it’s her. She already stole my heart anyway.