I made my escape through the door off the stage and hid in the music-department storage room. It was dark, and there were no chairs, so I sat on the floor and leaned back against the metal shelving unit.
I’d only been there a minute or so when I heard a soft knock on the door. I assumed it was Alyssa, so I yelled, “Come in.”
My heart started racing when I looked up and realized it was Aaron. I wasn’t ready to see him. Or talk to him. Or hear his apologies and explanations. Or think about what he’d done to Luke. And to me. I already had too many thoughts in my head and I didn’t want to make room for any more.
“Why are you sitting in the dark?” he asked as the door closed behind him with a soft click.
“I’m thinking.”
“Do you want me to turn the light on?”
“No.” I knew where the switch was. If I wanted the light on, I would have turned it on. I was mad at him all over again. “What do you want, Aaron?”
Saying his name made butterflies start to come to life in my stomach, so I rested my hand there and pictured all of them getting caught up in a bug zapper.
He crossed the room. He took my hands in his. I tried not to notice how nice they felt wrapped around mine. “Can we talk?”
I pulled my hands from his grip. “Not right now. I have more important things on my mind.”
He didn’t reach for them again. “More important than us?”
I laughed in his face. “Yes, Aaron. A lot more important than us.” Emory was more important than anyone.
He stepped backward, giving me space. “Okay…I get it. I’ll leave you alone. I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am. It’s all I’ve been able to think about, and I’m just…so, so sorry for what I did. I betrayed your trust. And Luke’s trust. What I did was…inexcusable.”
He paused, and I wondered if he was waiting for me to jump in and tell him I forgave him and that it was okay. I didn’t.
He continued. “After your dad told me about your college fund, I didn’t feel like I had any other choice. I knew Luke’s video would draw attention to us and get kids in the door, and I knew once we got them here and they saw your dad in action, we’d get all the applications we needed.”
That wasn’t what he’d told me earlier. It wasn’t what he’d told Luke.
“So you sent the video out on purpose? You asked someone to upload it and make it public.”
Aaron dropped his chin to his chest. I took that as a yes.
“Our methods were wrong,” he said, locking his eyes on me. “But they worked. We had a waiting list before anyone even walked in that door tonight. We’re solid. You’ll go to BU in the fall, like you’re supposed to. And I’ve got a stack of applications from kids who want to audition for SonRise, so Jack, Logan, and I can keep this going after you and Alyssa are gone.”
It was good news, but hearing him say it made me reach for my stomach again. It wasn’t the butterflies that time; those were long gone. Now I just felt empty. This wasn’t the way I wanted it to happen.
“Have you apologized to Luke?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Not yet, but I will. I promise.” And then he stepped in closer and started to reach for my hands again. “I just need you to forgive me. Please. I miss you.”
As I looked at him, I realized I couldn’t say it back. I’d thought about him. A lot. But I hadn’t missed him.
Suddenly, all I could think about was that card Luke wrote to Emory. And how he’d talked about her in the hotel room the night before. How he’d put himself out there on TV that morning, completely going against my dad so everyone would know how he felt about her. Luke never would have done what Aaron did to me. And it hit me like a slap. Luke never would have done to Emory what Aaron was doing to Beth.
It looked like he was about to lean in to kiss me, but I didn’t give him a chance. I put both hands on his shoulders and pushed him as hard as I could. “What about your girlfriend, Aaron? Have you apologized to her?”
He combed his fingers through his hair. It was quiet for a long time.
“Look,” he finally said. “You once asked me if I loved her, and I was honest with you. I do. I’ve loved her for a long time. But we’re not like this.” He gestured back and forth in the empty space between us. “I don’t think about her all the time, the way I think about you. I don’t want her the way I want you. I didn’t care that things were kind of lukewarm between Beth and me, but now that I understand how this is supposed to feel, I can’t pretend it doesn’t matter. It matters. A lot. And now I can’t go backward. I can’t settle for less than this.”
Emory and Luke. That’s what I wanted. That’s what I deserved. It was a high bar, and I didn’t want to settle either.
My phone chirped. I pulled it from my pocket and checked the screen.
Mom: We’re ready to go. Where are you?
“I have to go.” I pushed past him, moving for the door.
“Can I call you later?”
I didn’t even turn around. “I don’t know,” I said as I reached for the door handle.
Nothing mattered to me but getting home so I could see if Emory was there. And if she was, I wouldn’t even text her first; I’d just sprint across the grass and slap my hand against the side of her house until she opened her window and let me in so we could talk. Aaron’s apologies didn’t matter. All I cared about was getting to her. And after I did—if she understood and accepted my apology—I’d never let her go again.
Dad tried to talk to me on the way home, but I told him I wasn’t ready. He apologized at least four times. He told me how impressive I was during all the interviews. Repeatedly. Until Mom finally rested her hand on his shoulder, silently telling him to give it a rest.
After he pulled into the garage and cut the engine, I went straight to my room without saying another word. My whole body was heavy and my mind was spent, but I couldn’t go to sleep until I saw Emory.
I watched at the window. At midnight, her mom and D-bag finally came home. But Emory never did.
I typed at least ten messages to her, but I never sent them. I forced myself not to. But somewhere around 1:00 a.m., I finally caved and sent one to Luke.
Hannah: Is she okay?
“Please reply,” I begged as I pressed SEND. “Please.”
A few minutes later, my phone chirped.
Luke: She’s here.
Hannah: She knows everything?
Luke: Yeah.
Hannah: And she’s okay?
Luke: She will be.
I thought back to how stupid I’d been in the car on the way home from LA. I sat there in silence for over an hour, beating myself up for what had happened, when I should have been using that time to strategize with Luke. How could I have been so selfish when Emory needed us?
Hannah: There are so many things I need to say to you, but I’ll save them for later. For now please tell Emory I love her.
Hannah: And that I’m so sorry.
Hannah: I let her down and I’ll never forgive myself for what happened that day.
Hannah: And I know she hates me for telling you what happened, but I’m not sorry about that part. I’m glad I did.
There was a long pause, but then those three dots appeared on the screen and I could tell he was typing.
Luke: Now you sound like her best friend.
The next morning, I woke up surprised to find myself in Luke’s clothes and in his bed. The sun was peeking through the opening in his curtain. I could tell it was early.
I turned over on the pillow. He was still sleeping, so I dozed a little longer, too. When I opened my eyes again, he was starting to stir. He blinked, and when he saw me, he gave me a sleepy smile.
“Good morning.” He ran his thumb along my cheek.
“I’ve been waiting forever to hear you say that.”
“This isn’t quite what we had in mind, is it?”
“Not so much.”
He kissed me, and I didn’t want it to end, because I knew
that when it did I’d have to get out of his bed and go back to a world I didn’t want to face.
“My mom knows you’re here. I told her last night. I didn’t tell her why, or what happened, but she knows you need to be here. And she understands. But I think you should talk to her.”
I squeezed my eyes shut. I wasn’t ready for this. Not yet.
“Think about it, please.” He kissed me softly, and then whispered, “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
When he got up, I could see he was still wearing his clothes from the night before. He climbed out of the sheets, crossed the room, and opened his desk drawer. He pulled out a bright blue envelope and handed it to me.
“I wrote this the night I got hurt. I keep trying to give it to you, but…I can never seem to find the right time.” He climbed back in bed and slid his arm under my neck, while I worked the flap on the envelope.
I opened it and read it to myself. I smiled at the line, I love the way you play with your hair when you’re nervous and I melted when I read and the way you look at me like I’m the most important person in the room. I laughed a little at his P.S. Sorry. I know that’s a bit long for Day 280. Feel free to paraphrase.
“I loved all these things about you,” he said. “Before the accident, I pictured giving you this card, and hearing you tell me all the things you loved about me. But after the accident, everything changed. I couldn’t imagine what you’d say.”
“Luke…”
“Last night, you said you didn’t want me to see your flaws…your broken places. Well, I didn’t want to let you see mine either. My mind is a mess. My whole stomach is one huge, disgusting scar. I have horrible nightmares. I wake up constantly, sweating and shaking and feeling like I’m dying all over again. I’m different. And I know you want it to be temporary, but it’s not. What happened to me changed me.”
“It’s okay,” I said.
“How is it okay?” He closed his eyes tightly. “I don’t know who I am anymore.”
“You’re still you.”
He wrapped his arms around me, and I buried my face in his neck as I intertwined my legs with his. We held each other like that for a long time. When he brought his mouth to mine, neither one of us closed our eyes. I felt like I could see through him, all the way down to his soul, and I loved what I saw.
“I missed you,” he said, and then we kissed again, and I closed my eyes and paid attention to the little things—his taste on my tongue, and his hands in my hair, and his breath rising and falling with mine—and all I could think about was how much I loved him. The old Luke. The new Luke. I didn’t care.
I slowly climbed on top of him, carefully straddling his hips. I checked to be sure I wasn’t hurting him. He assured me I wasn’t. I pulled my sweatshirt over my head and felt his hands slide around my waist. I started unbuttoning his shirt.
I could see his scar, starting right after the fourth button, just below his rib cage, and I kissed it. And then I undid another button, and kissed him again. I kept going, and when I reached the last button, I let his shirt fall open. I planted a soft kiss on his scar, and traveled back up again, kissing him all the way to his chin.
“I love kissing you,” I said. “I love the way you make me laugh without even trying. I love when you call me Em. I love the way you taste like peppermint all the time. I love wearing your jersey. I love talking to you, super close, like this.” That made him laugh. “I love the way your brain works. I love that what happened to you that night mattered to you, and that you want to talk about it, and figure it out, and tell other people, because it might give them hope in something they can’t see.” I brought my mouth to his. “I love you more right now than I did two weeks ago, and that’s really saying something.”
I unbuttoned his jeans, slid them over his hips, and tossed them on the floor. He helped me out of my sweats and added them to the pile next to his bed. I unhooked my bra and dropped it on the floor, and we were both giggling as we struggled with his socks and our underwear, getting all tangled up in the sheets as we tried to get rid of everything.
Finally, we slid back inside the warm covers, the sun streaming through the window, skin to skin, with nothing in between us. I wanted him so much I could barely stand it, but I forced myself to slow down, because I didn’t want to forget this morning, just like I didn’t want to forget any of the nights we’d had together. He rolled over slightly, reaching in between the mattress and the box spring for a condom, while I slid my hands over his skin, loving the way his body felt under my fingertips.
He wrapped his hand around the back of my neck, pulling me closer. I brushed my lips against his neck, and his cheek, and his lips, and I felt his fingertips slide down my spine and rest on my hips. We moved together for a long time, kissing and touching and teasing each other, until neither one of us could stand it a second longer. And when he was inside me, I told him I loved him again, even though I’d already said it too many times to count, and I thought I might choke on the words, because I meant them in a way that made my heart ache. I couldn’t stand the idea of us not being us someday. But we were here now. Alone in his room. Waking up together. Exposing all our secrets and flaws to each other.
I closed my eyes and lost myself in him, pretending we would be that way forever.
Afterward, I had no idea what to type. I had far too many choices. So I kept it simple.
Day 302: “Good morning.”
I stayed in bed all day Saturday, dozing and binge-watching movies on my laptop.
Every so often, I’d get up and look out the window. David’s car was there, but then it was gone. Emory’s mom’s catering van was there, but at some point, it disappeared, too.
I still hadn’t seen any sign of Emory.
A little after 2:00, I finally saw Luke’s Jetta pull into her driveway. I watched them kiss good-bye, and then Emory got out and Luke drove off. She worked her key in the front door, stepped inside, and closed it behind her.
I waited.
And waited.
I waited until I couldn’t stand it a second longer, and then I reached for my phone.
I started to type the word, but it popped up on my screen before I had a chance to.
Emory: GRASS?
Her shade snapped up and she was standing there, looking at me.
I held my hand up and waved.
She waved back.
As I walked down my hallway, I pictured her walking down hers at the exact same pace.
I stepped off our back porch, and she stepped off hers at the same time.
My legs were trembling and my heart was beating so fast, but it felt good. Without saying a word, we walked to the center of the grass and threw our arms around each other. I squeezed her as tightly as I could, and she held on for the longest time, like she didn’t want to let me go.
“If I could go back to that day, I would have done everything differently.”
Emory blew out a breath. “Me too.”
“I should have defended you to my dad.”
“I shouldn’t have called you a fucking sheep.”
I squeezed her harder. “Turns out I was a fucking sheep.”
“You’re not.” She took a step backward and her hands found mine. We interlaced our fingers together. “You believe in something big and important, and you believe it with your whole heart. I love that about you. I’ve always loved that about you.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m not sure what I believe anymore.”
I told her how the words she said to me that day got me thinking, first in a way I wasn’t sure how to handle, and later, in a way that had changed my life. I told her how I was finally feeling good about questioning my faith, when Luke came along and made me question everything all over again.
“And now?” she asked.
I pressed my lips together and thought about it. I remembered the song we’d sung at Admissions Night, and the dare I’d accepted. “Now I’m just…here.”
She smiled. “I’m glad.”
“Me too.” I smiled back at her, and the sight of her almost made me break down in tears. For a while there, I hadn’t been sure I’d ever be this close to her again. And now that we were, I had to say the thing I’d wanted most to tell her for the last three months.
“Hey,” I said.
“Yeah.”
“It wasn’t your fault. You know that, don’t you?” Emory’s eyebrows pinched together, like she wasn’t sure of the answer, so I said it again. “It wasn’t in any way your fault. And I never thought it was. I didn’t defend you to my dad, and I should have, but that was about my dad and me. It wasn’t about you. Still, I should have stood up for you that day. I’ll never be able to tell you how sorry I am about that. And…about everything that happened afterward.” I swallowed hard. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
We were quiet for a long time. And then she spoke. “What am I going to do, Hannah?”
I pulled away and looked at her. “What do you want to do?”
“Move to London.” She chewed on her bottom lip while she thought about her real answer. “Seriously, you should see her, Hannah. Her business is doing great. And she’s so excited about this wedding. It’s all she talks about. And UCLA isn’t London, but I’m moving out in a few months anyway.”
“But she deserves to know.”
She nodded. “So…say I tell her. And she dumps him. And then she stops cooking and stops seeing her therapist and conveniently forgets to take her meds and stops working out. And we’re back where we were, only this time, I’m over an hour away and I can’t take care of her like I did before.”
“Or?” I asked.
Emory reached for a blade of grass. “Or…I tell her. And none of that happens. She defends him. Or he lies to her and she believes him. Or she believes me, but marries him anyway.”
“You’re leaving out the most likely scenario,” I said. “You tell her. She believes you. She calls off the wedding and she’s heartbroken for weeks, maybe even months. But she gets back on her feet. She returns to her clients and the work she loves.”