19. Elliot
ELLIOT
M y eyes are still red when I look in the mirror. I stayed up all night crying after Connor dropped me of at home. I told myself I was being stupid. Even if Scout wasn’t the biggest obstacle ever, I was never going to live happily ever after with Connor Ryan. But nothing stopped how much it hurt.
I don’t know if I can face seeing him again just yet, but when Scout sends me a barrage of gifs and reels and silly messages, everything in me longs to be around her.
She’s the person I seek out when I’m sad.
She’s my comfort. And if I can’t have that, then what was the point of pushing Connor away?
Can we go to the movies?
She texts back right away.
Let me see what’s playing.
I don’t care what’s playing. I’ll watch anything. I just need to sit in the dark with my best friend, eating popcorn and disappearing into another world.
John Candy marathon?
I guess the universe does love me after all.
Perfect
I manage to make my eyes look less puffy by trying one of Scout’s tricks with cool, damp cotton pads and the tiniest dab of concealer.
I put my sunglasses on the second I leave the house, just in case.
“Everything okay?” Scout asks.
I know she’s asking about my dad, but I haven’t seen him since I checked on him yesterday. I didn’t trust myself not to go off on him if he ignored me again.
“Yeah, everything’s fine.”
“Okay, good.” She nods. She’s trying to refrain from asking more questions. “You ready for your John Candy Daddy?”
I snort. “Always.”
I usually laugh my ass off through Uncle Buck, but while I watch John Candy dance around the living room, there’s a weight sitting on my chest. Scout’s laughter only annoys me.
The way she keeps grabbing my arm and stuffing popcorn into her mouth.
Stop it, it isn’t her fault. You’re the bad friend.
You’re the one who crossed the line. You finally did the right thing. Don’t take it out on her.
She goes to pee in the intermission between movies. I check my phone, my thumb hovering over Connor’s number before going back through his texts with a dull ache in my chest.
When she comes back, I shove it back in my pocket.
“Here, got you another Sprite and some sweet popcorn—weirdo.”
“Thanks.”
Planes, Trains and Automobiles breaks me.
When John Candy is sitting in his car talking to his dead wife, I lose it.
I bite my lip to try and keep it in, but it’s like a door has been demolished.
That door was keeping my emotions under lock and key.
Now they’re flowing freely, all over the Cinemark floor.
I swipe at my eyes, feeling stupid.
When Scout tries to hold my hand, I slip it out of her reach and tell her I’m fine.
It’s dark when we emerge from the movies. Scout’s eyes are red like mine, so I guess I wasn’t the only one crying. Don’t be mad at her. She isn’t the reason you’re sad.
“You wanna go home for dinner or get McDonald’s?” she asks.
As much as I like the idea of staying away from the house, I can’t hide forever.
The way Scout automatically assumes I’ll be coming ‘home’ for dinner reminds me why her family is so important to me.
Why they’re not worth losing over a fling that would have ended at some point anyway.
The sooner I start acting normal around Connor again, the sooner things can go back to the way they were.
My heart stutters when I see his car parked at the end of the driveway, but I push through. I can make it through this first dinner, then everything will get easier from there.
I let Scout walk ahead, listening to the hubbub in the kitchen. Connor’s voice usually carries over everyone else’s, or maybe I’m just naturally attuned to it. But I can’t hear him now.
He’s at the counter, and the sight of him in a t-shirt from Coach Garvin’s rink and light grey sweatpants makes my chest clench.
“You two look like you’ve been crying. Is everything okay?” Naomi asks.
Connor’s head snaps in my direction, but I keep my gaze averted.
“John Candy,” Scout says.
“What?”
Richard laughs. “You two been to the movies?”
“ Planes, Trains and Automobiles has a lot to answer for,” Scout explains.
“Ah.”
I slip into the washroom to splash my face with water and make sure no one can tell I’m wearing concealer before I join everyone at the dinner table.
After saying grace, everyone tucks in. The conversation flows and I slip into the background. It’s easy to do with Scout and Naomi. As different as they appear on the surface, they’re a pair of Chatty Cathy’s once they get going.
“How was practice today, Connor?” Richard asks when he can get a word in.
“Good.” He puts his fork down and dabs at his mouth with a napkin. Hours of watching him over the years tells me that he’s about to tell his family something important.
“Actually, I have some news.” His gaze flickers to me and for a moment, I’m gripped with terror that he’s about to tell them all about us. But of course, that’s ridiculous. Why would he do that when we just agreed to end things?
“I’m going back to Harvard. ”
The reaction is instant and overwhelmingly positive. Naomi gets up to hug him and Richard follows.
“Great news, son,” Richard says.
When I look at Scout, she’s smiling, too. A genuine, happy smile for her brother. She gets up to hug him, and I’m the only one who is still sitting in my seat. It’s weird, so I get up, too.
Connor’s eyes get wide when he sees what I’m about to do, but if I back away now, it’s going to look suspicious. Finally, after a little too much hesitation, he opens his arms and I go in for an awkward hug.
That door I broke down at the movies threatens to open again the second I’m hit with the comforting smell of his cologne.
The warmth of his skin, radiating off him, wrapping me in a blanket.
I want to bury my face in his chest and let him stroke my hair.
I want to tilt my face and kiss him, experience what it feels like to have his lips on mine again.
I realize a little too late that he’s dropped his arms and I probably should have stopped hugging him at least thirty seconds ago.
Someone clears their throat. When I turn to look a Scout, she’s narrowing her eyes at me suspiciously.
“Scout, what do you think?” Naomi asks, thankfully taking her attention away from me. “You’ll be seeing him around a lot more, I’m sure.”
Scout turns to her mom before turning back to Connor, “Just don’t cramp my style.”
Naomi rolls her eyes, but she’s laughing.
“And don’t steal Eli.”
Connor freezes and I flinch.
The rest of dinner is taken up with all the questions Naomi and Richard have for Connor .
“There’s more news,” he adds once they’re done asking questions.
My heart rate picks up again and I can’t look in his direction.
“I was scouted by someone from the ECHL. They wanna talk to me after graduation about a contract.”
Naomi squeals.
“It’s just minor league, Mom.”
“So what?” Richard says.
Connor glances down at his plate before placing his fork on his napkin. “I know it’s not what we always imagined for my career.”
Naomi reaches across the table and puts her hand on her son’s. “Connor, the only thing we imagined for you kids growing up was that you’d be happy. We only wanted the NHL for you because that’s what you wanted.”
He looks like he’s going to cry. I wish I could go to him. Put my arms around him again. Hold his hand like Naomi is. It feels like something I should be able to do.
It’s so shit being in the same room as him and not being able to touch him or even really look at him. This is the right thing to do. So why does it feel so wrong?
After dinner, Scout and I retreat to her room while Connor helps their parents clean up.
Luckily, Scout’s in the kind of mood where she’s happy to mostly talk to herself while I nod and hum in the right places.
She paints her nails an awful shade of blue while we re-watch the rest of season one of The X-Files.
The obvious tension between Mulder and Scully usually has me internally kicking my feet, but right now, it only stresses me out.
They made us wait seven whole seasons before they got together and then they didn’t even let us enjoy it for very long. What the fuck is that about ?
“Hey, that was weird downstairs,” Scout says, putting the final coat on her ugly, blue nails.
“What?”
“That hug. You were about five seconds away from sniffing his t-shirt.” She leans back to assess her handiwork before screwing the top back on the bottle. “Thought you didn’t have a crush on my idiot brother.”
“Connor isn’t an idiot. You should stop saying that.”
She cuts me a look that could curdle milk. “Seriously, Eli? Still?”
“Still what?”
“The stupid crush.”
That antsy discomfort I’ve been feeling since we were at the movies bubbles over. I stand.
“Just drop it, okay?”
She blinks hard at me. “Jesus, what’s got into you?”
“Maybe the fact you butt your nose into everything when no one asks you to.”
Her face drops. Something twists deep inside me. Stop it, just stop. But I can’t. It’s like I put my foot down on the gas and now I’ve realized the breaks have been cut and I can’t slow down.
“You don’t get to tell me what to do all the time, Scout. You’re not my mom.”
“I didn’t?—”
“You’re so fucking judgmental. So Connor got into Harvard? So what? So he kissed your friend at your sweet sixteen? So what? You can hold a grudge like the fucking Grinch.”
“Fuck you, Eli,” she spits, throwing a cushion at the TV like she wishes it was my head.
Abruptly, I run out of steam. Suddenly I can see myself from her perspective. Let’s just say it isn’t pretty.
I cast a shameful glance in her direction and find her picking at some smudged nail polish on her big toe with a sulky expression.
“Scout, I’m …”
She shakes her head at me in disbelief.
“Why are you being such a bitch?” she asks. “Fuck.”
“I’m sorry.”
The look she’s giving me tells me she does not forgive me and sorry won’t cut it.
“Is that what you really think? That I stick my nose in where it’s not wanted and I’m a bitter little Grinch?”
“No, of course not. I was just angry.”
“Why? Because I brought up you having a crush on my brother?”
“I …” I can’t finish that sentence. I should not be this sensitive over Connor. If it’s chewing me up so much even after I ended things, what am I supposed to do? I have to fix this.
I stalk over to the bed and take a seat close enough to put my hand on hers, careful not to smudge her nail polish.
“Go easy on me. I can’t even blame it on my period.”
A smile tugs at the corners of her lips, but she won’t look at me. “I don’t blame things on my period,” she mutters.
“You do,” I reply, gently to show I’m joking. “Like, all the time. It isn’t fair, I don’t get to say, ‘Sorry for being a raging bitch, I’m hormonal.’”
“Is that supposed to be me?” Her smile has more substance now.
I nod.
She snorts, shaking her head.
“I’m sorry, Scout. All this stuff with my dad has just stressed me out. And then failing that class?— ”
She opens her mouth. I know exactly what she’s going to say, so I cut her off.
“And I don’t want to drop the class.”
Scout sighs and closes her mouth, she studies her nails with a frown.
“I get it,” she says. Her head snaps up and she holds her pinkie out to me. “Friends?”
The second she pulls me in for a hug, I expect to feel what I felt downstairs when Connor hugged me. That safety and relief. But whatever relief I feel from a hug from my best friend is masked by the twisting sensation that has been present since the second I let Connor down in that car.