Chapter 6
six
DAVIS
Jesus Christ, why did I do this to myself?
I don’t know what came over me, but when I saw her walking on campus that day with a smile on her face, I couldn’t stop my traitorous feet from running over to her.
I needed to be close to her, to see her actually happy for the first time in what feels like forever, to know what it feels like to be near something so perfect.
She looked so beautiful. Her hair, her dark red lips, her eyes, everything about her made my brain stop working, and I made a complete fool of myself.
But she said yes anyway.
And now, despite wanting to spend the entire day in my bed and drown in my own thoughts, I’m forcing myself to go meet her.
I don’t want to do anything, I don’t want to feel anything.
For a while, I thought I was getting better, the nights started to become less and less welcoming as I started to enjoy the feeling of the sun on my face.
My meds were finally working, and the world seemed to brighten every minute that passed.
Claire, Chris and Craig have been by my side for the last two months, working with me to find something to help me get my depression under control. Each of them has been so patient, listening to what I have to say and hearing out my concerns like no one has before.
It still boggles my mind that I have one of the top professional hockey players in my corner. I honestly didn’t believe Claire at first when she told us they were related, but the more and more I see them interact, I also see the similarities between them.
Half the time, I’m speechless because Chris fucking Taylor is somehow in my orbit, the other half, I’m trying not to let the jealousy take over every inch of my being. Being an only child sucks. I wish I had someone like Claire or Chris growing up, I would have felt a hell of a lot less lonely.
But even though things were starting to look up, I woke up this morning feeling like I was being dragged underwater.
I want nothing more than to hide in my room and let every dark thought consume me, but I know the moment I see Sasha, everything will be better.
Me
We still on for today?
I feel like a fifteen-year-old boy again, tapping my fingers against the steering wheel, anxiously awaiting her response. No girl has ever made me feel like this. I hate it and love it all at the same time.
Pixie
Damn, I was hoping you’d forget… wanted to hide from the world in peace.
Today sucks.
1. I could never forget.
2. Want to talk about it?
I’m afraid my lips are sealed.
I chuckle at her response. She was a tough nut to crack, almost impossible, actually, but eventually she started to open up to me. She’s different than I originally thought. I mean, she’s still just as smart and kind, but there’s a sharp tongue on that girl, too.
When are they not? I’ll see you at 4, unless you want a ride?
Three little dots appear as she types out a response, but they disappear. Two minutes —and a half panic attack later— her response finally pops up on my screen.
Sorry Johnny, I’m gonna have to take a pass on that one. See you in a bit!
I love that she calls me Johnny. Not Davis, or any other stupid nickname, just Johnny. It makes me feel special, like she sees there’s more to me than what’s on the surface.
But it also reminds me of the harsh reality that I’m living in.
The friend-zone.
She hasn’t given me the slightest clue that she thinks of me as anything more than that, while I look at her like she’s everything I could want in this world and more. My heart bleeds for this fucking girl, and I’m stuck in the god damn friend zone.
I wouldn’t give it up for anything though. It’s the best part of my day, and the only thing I think about when we aren’t together is when I’ll get to see her next.
Sasha Price has me wrapped around her finger, and she doesn’t even know it.
I turn the keys in my ignition, ready to leave when Claire comes running out of the house, waving at me like a bat out of hell. I roll down my window as she comes to a stop next to me, “what’s got you all in a panic, Clarity?”
“Are you heading to campus?” I nod, and her shoulders sag in relief. “Can you give me a ride? I got a call from Tony and he said that one of the locker rooms is flooding.”
For half a second, I forget that she doesn’t have a car, she wrecked it the night she came to find me, and guilt gnaws on my gut.
“Yeah, get in,” I tell her.
She’s never made me feel bad for what happened that night, and even though I’ve apologized and thanked her more times than I can count, she won’t let me help pay for a new car.
She keeps telling me that it’s fine, brushing me off in a way that tells me it really isn’t a big deal to her, but that doesn’t mean I’ve stopped trying to find a way to make it up to her.
Giving her rides whenever she needs is one of them.
To be fair, she’s also made it very clear that she is perfectly able to buy a new car, just hasn’t found one she likes yet.
I’m still getting used to her being loaded.
And owning the hockey arena… that shit’s weird.
We’re about halfway down the block when she connects her phone to my car, scrolling through a playlist she made specifically for when we’re in the car together.
A small smile plays on my lips. She’s one of the few people who just seem to get me, and after accidentally singing along to New Romantics while we were on the way to practice one day, my little Taylor Swift obsession was outed.
What can I say, her music makes me feel good.
Ever since, she’s cultivated the perfect playlist filled with songs we both love.
“How have things been going with the rink?” I ask her, turning onto Main St.
Shrugging, she turns down the volume and angles her body towards me. “It’s okay I guess. I’m thankful my Mom gave it to me, but it’s a lot of work.”
“And things with your Mom are…”
“She’s trying.”
I can honestly say I have no idea how Claire manages to stay so positive. She forgave her mom and has been trying to rebuild their relationship, but if someone had treated me like that? I wouldn’t be giving them a second chance.
Lucas has been a firm supporter of never speaking to that woman again, but Claire won’t hear it.
“How have things been for you?” She asks in return, “Craig won’t give me any updates on your progress, patient confidentiality and all that.”
I laugh, grateful that he’s respecting my privacy. “I’m doing better? Shit is still hard, still have bad days, but the good ones are more frequent than I’ve had in years.”
“Is that because of the new meds, or because of all that time you’ve been spending with this girl you won’t tell me anything about?” She pokes my side playfully, a wide grin plastered to her face.
“Ha, Ha” I deadpan. “You’ll meet her eventually, but she’s skittish. I’m just trying to find the right opportunity.”
For the last two hours, I haven’t been able to focus on anything other than the dark-haired goddess sitting across from me. She takes up all the space in my head whenever she’s close, which means I don’t get any actual studying done on our little dates.
I called it that once —a date— and I swear her whole face went pure white. For some reason that scared the shit out of her, if it was anyone else, I would poke fun, but I can’t bring myself to do that with her. At least not when she acts like she’s seen a ghost.
She flips through her textbook, taking notes for a class. When she looks up, she catches me staring and narrows her eyes, “you’ve got some serious issues.”
A startled laugh escapes me, “what the hell does that mean?” I can’t help but smile. I wish she could have this confidence around everyone else.
“You keep looking at me funny. I can only assume that you have issues when you spend all day, every day, looking at me.” She tries to tuck a strand of short black hair behind her ear, but it falls back in her face.
I smirk at her, “well when you show up to a coffee shop to study in tight black jeans and a cropped tank-top… how am I not supposed to stare?”
She looks so damn good today. Dark red lipstick paints her lips, making them look downright sinful. The varying shades of red she wears on them every day sends my mind spiralling, thinking of all the dirty things I would do if only she gave me a chance.
I don’t get to see her tattoos often, she usually wears sweaters or long sleeves, so the times when I do get to see them, I memorize every single one.
She has a dagger that sits in between her tits, the hilt of it peeking out through the top of her shirt.
It’s surrounded by vines and flowers, something deadly and delicate at the same time.
It takes everything I have in me not to stare at it.
Her arms are covered in ink, more vines and flowers, birds, butterflies, stars and moons. A vine weaves its way onto her right shoulder, with rosary beads tangled in between. A detailed black rose sits atop her left hand, while palm leaves spread across her right.
I don’t ask her what they mean, worried that I’ll scare her off. I tried once, but she went dead silent, didn’t talk to me for three days. It fucking killed me.
Even though I don’t want to pry, I can’t help but wonder. I want to know more about her —everything about her. I want to know why she gets so skittish when I try to get to know her or ask questions about her tattoos.
There’s a story there, I know it.
She hasn’t told me about her brother yet, hasn’t even brought up the fact that she had a brother. Jurian died in that car accident a couple months ago, it shook the collegiate hockey world, he was one of the best. I didn’t know him well at all, but I respected him on the ice.
I can’t imagine how hard his death would have been for her, and after doing a little mental math, I realized that the time when she was M.I.A. from class lined up perfectly with the accident that killed him. Can’t say I blame her for taking some time off.
She mindlessly plays with the gold necklace around her neck, moving the pendant left to right as her eyes take in every inch of me.