“Sorry going home was such a drag. Every time you called, I wished I could come out there and rescue you.”
“No worries. It’s over. Anyway, New York is my home now.”
“You really think you’ll be here next year?”
“Yeah. I mean, I hope so.” Why did he say “you’ll be here next year” instead of “we’ll be here next year”? I thought we were planning to go to the same college, or at least ones close to each other. That’s why we both applied to some of the same colleges in Manhattan.
I squash the bad feelings down.
“Who’s going first?” I ask. I don’t know what I’m more excited about—Scott opening his present or me opening mine.
“You can go.”
“No, you go.”
“Are you sure?”
“Uh-huh!” I yell, bouncing on the couch like I’m three years old. I cannot
wait
for him to see how perfect his present is.
Scott rips off the wrapping paper. I was kind of hoping he’d say something about it. I spent half an hour picking out the exact right paper and bow. Did he even see the bow? The bow was a masterpiece.
“Oh, wow,” he says. After endless deliberation over the perfect gift, I decided to get him a Dunder Mifflin mouse pad and World’s Best Boss mug. It’s funny because at first I was going to get him
Office
stuff. Then I was worried it wouldn’t be a surprise, so I spent hours going to stores with my cousins over break, searching for the perfect unexpected gift. A gift so perfect that he’d never see it coming, never even realize it’s what he wanted. But in the end, I trusted my initial instinct. I wanted him to have things he could use every day that he’d love.
Scott laughs at the mug. “Hilarious.” He picks up the mouse pad. “I already have a mouse pad, though.”
“I know. But that one’s so old and I knew you’d love this one.”
“Thanks.”
“You love it, right?”
“As much as a person can love a mouse pad.”
Eff. I knew I should have gotten something more personal. I’m such an idiot.
I squash the bad feelings down some more.
“Your turn,” he says.
When I unwrap my present, I just sit there. This must be some kind of mistake.
I’m like, “Cayenne pepper–flavored chocolate?”
“I know! Can you believe they even make that?”
“Um. No. I really can’t.”
“Try some.”
Who is this boy and what did he do with Scott Abrams? Does he seriously believe I would like something as hideous as cayenne pepper–flavored chocolate? When has he ever seen me eat anything even remotely that disgusting?
Then it hits me. This must be a joke. This is a joke and he’s hiding my real present somewhere else.
“Ha ha,” I go. “Give it.”
“What?”
“You know what.”
“I don’t think I do.”
Scott is serious. Scott seriously gave me this as my Christmas present. I spent hours agonizing over the perfect gift for him, and what does he do? He gives me something I would never eat in a million years.
Does he even know who I am?
The stomach churning that’s been keeping me awake every night hits me full force. I hold my hand against my stomach, willing those bad feelings to stay down.
I take out the chocolate and read the label. “Exotic. Where did you find this kind of ... chocolate?”
“At the mall yesterday,” Scott says, looking pleased with himself.
He went to the mall yesterday to get my present?
Yesterday?
He had the whole freaking break and he went—you know what, it doesn’t even matter. It’s just a stupid gift. Since when are material things so important? Why am I acting like such a princess?
Maybe because there’s no way someone who gets me the way I want to be gotten would give me something so clueless.
This isn’t about some nasty chocolate. It’s about the truth that I keep trying to squash down, that keeps bubbling back up to the surface. I already know how the rest of the night’s going to go. We’ll watch TV while we eat pizza. We won’t look at each other or talk to each other. Then we might make out some more if my dad still isn’t home yet. If he is, Scott will leave. He won’t stay here just to be with me. We won’t talk about anything that matters. Scott used to talk about his brother or vent about college essays. It felt like he was opening up to me more, letting me into his life in a real way. I can’t remember the last time he talked about anything serious.
But it’s not like we’re going to break up. I didn’t move all the way here for things to not work out. I’ve loved Scott for so long. We just can’t go on like this.
Even as I’m trying to figure out how to make this right, an irritating question won’t leave me alone. If things were going to change, wouldn’t they have changed by now?
Twenty-one
I’ve thought about
it. A lot.
Conclusion: The only way to know if things will ever change is to ask Scott how he feels about me.
When school started again yesterday, I avoided him outside of class. But it was awesome catching up with Sadie. I didn’t realize how much I missed her until she was right there again.
If things don’t change with Scott, my stomach churning will only get worse. I want to be happier. I want us to be the kind of couple I know we can be. So I’m the one who has to make that change happen.
When Scott gets to Crumbs, I wave to him confidently. Everything will be okay. It has to be. I even managed to save a table for us despite several attempts by mothers to swipe Scott’s chair.
Scott kisses me. Even after all the times he’s kissed me, I still get a total rush. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to him kissing me, no matter how long we’re together. To me it will always be like,
No
way
! Scott Abrams is kissing me!
“What’s that one?” Scott asks about my cupcake. He thinks it’s cute how Sadie has gotten me hooked on Crumbs. I wasn’t particularly into cupcakes before. I mean, of course I liked them. Who doesn’t like cupcakes? I just never obsessed about flavors and frosting and sprinkles the way this whole subculture of cupcake fanatics does. Sadie belongs to that group. Her obsession has apparently influenced me because now I’m a Crumbs fan.
“It’s the Cupcake of the Week,” I say.
“What kind is it?”
“Piña Colada. I love the little umbrella. It’s golden cake with lemon pineapple filling and coconut frosting. With a cherry on top, as you can see.”
“I can’t believe you haven’t eaten the cherry yet.”
“I wanted you to see all the parts.”
After Scott gets a cupcake (the Squiggle one, which tastes exactly like a chocolate Hostess Cup Cake—they even put the swirly line of vanilla icing on top) and coffee, it’s time to be free of everything that’s been bothering me.
“Not to get all heavy?” I say. “But I need to talk to you about something.”
“Shoot.”
“Um ... well, I was just ... wondering where things are going.”
“What things?”
“Things with us.”
“Like ... how do you mean?”
How can Scott not know what I mean? Isn’t asking where things are going the universal code for wanting the other person to define the relationship?
“It seems like ... okay, you know I love being with you. I’m just wondering how you feel about us. Because to me, it feels like things aren’t moving to the next level and I don’t know why.”
Scott glances at a little boy at the next table. His mom is watching him eat a mint chocolate chip cupcake. The boy has green frosting on his cheek.
“Are we talking about sex?” Scott says quietly.
“No. I mean the next emotional level. Like opening up to each other more.”
“I told you about Ross, didn’t I?”
“Yeah, but we haven’t really talked about anything else that matters. It seems like things are kind of ... superficial. I just think we should be more serious by now. But it feels like you’re afraid to get closer or something.”
“Me?”
“Sort of.”
“That’s ironic.”
“Meaning?”
“You’re the one who doesn’t let people in.”
“That’s not true.” I thought I was doing better here. I thought New Me was making friends. What about Sadie? She’s practically my best friend now. And what about John? Old Me never would have been friends with him.
Scott leans back in his chair, rubbing his hands over his face. A group of middle school girls comes crashing in, all loud shrieks and general ruckus.
“Why are you doing this?” he says.
“I’m just telling you how I feel. Shouldn’t people in a relationship be able to tell each other how they feel?”
“Yeah, but why do we have to get so serious? I like the way things are. I thought you did, too.”
“I do ... mostly. It just feels like we’re standing still.”
“We haven’t been together that long.”
“It’s long enough to know if we want more.”
Scott’s looking at me like I’m crazy for saying all this. I can understand where he’s coming from. To him, we’ve been together for less than three months. But to me, we’ve been connected for so much longer. Everything I want us to be has been building up for more than two years. It’s like a part of me has belonged to him the whole time. And yeah, maybe I’m acting crazy, but this whole thing was crazy. It was crazy to leave my entire life behind to follow some boy here. It’s crazy that I’m unhappy when I should be ecstatic. To Scott, it’s crazy that I want a major commitment so soon. But it doesn’t feel soon to me. It feels like I’ve been waiting to have something real with him forever.
“We’ve been having fun,” Scott says. “Isn’t that what senior year’s about? We—hanging out with you is cool. Why can’t that be enough?”
Hanging out?
Is that what he thinks we’ve been doing this whole time? He makes it sound so casual.
“Because it’s not,” I say. “Because I moved here to be with you. I wouldn’t have dropped everything and changed my entire life for someone I wasn’t serious about.”
The shrieky group of girls descends on the table next to us. It would have been better if Scott came over to my place. I don’t know why I asked him to meet me here.
“You don’t think that puts pressure on me?” Scott says. “What am I supposed to do with that? How am I supposed to live up to this person you want me to be?”
“You’re—”
“I don’t think I can be the person you want. I really ... I don’t think I’m enough for you.”
“But you are! I know you better than you think.”
“Do you? You watched me for two years and then followed me here. How is that knowing someone?”
When we started going out and I told Scott how I felt about him, how I knew him without having to be someone he knew back, I thought he understood. I thought he got me. But I’m realizing that he doesn’t get me at all.
“You mean so much to me,” I say. “I thought you knew that.”
“I do. That’s why it’s impossible to live up to your expectations. This is who I am. I can’t be someone I’m not.”
Shrieky Girls are squealing over how good the Cupcake of the Week is. Green Frosting Boy is throwing a tantrum. He wants to finish his cupcake, but his mother is taking half of it home. Meanwhile, my own personal tragedy is playing out here at the Table of Rejection. I am Breakdown amidst the sugar high. I’ve never felt so alone in a crowd.
Shrieky Girls are looking at me.
Leaning over the table, I whisper, “I’m sorry you feel pressured.” There’s no stopping the tears. I angrily wipe my eyes.
“Don’t cry,” Scott says. He slides his napkin over to me. “Didn’t you say you’ve always wanted to live here? Way before I was even in the picture?”
I nod.
“So now you’re here! That’s a good thing, right?”
Not without you. The dream of you and the dream of living here were intertwined. Those dreams go together the way you and I were supposed to.
I wipe my nose. I avoid eye contact with Green Frosting Boy’s mom.
Scott goes, “Can’t we just ... keep it fun?”
It’s so tempting to say yes, to be with him however he wants me to be. But I’ve been playing this whole time. I desperately want to be that girl who can have fun city nights with a boy she loves and not want anything more. Ever since Scott kissed me, I’ve been trying to be that girl. I’m just not her. If Scott and I can’t be together the way I know we should be in my heart, then I can’t do this anymore.
“No,” I say. “That would be a lie.”
“What are you saying?”
“That ... I can’t do this. I can’t have only part of you. That’s not why I came here.”
“Can we still be friends?”
“I don’t know. I have to think about it.”
Scott scoots his chair back and gets up. “Then I’ll give you some room to do that,” he says.
And just like that, I’m back to being all alone.
Twenty-two
Welcome to the
Worst Day Ever.
“Don’t be friends with him,” Sadie advises. “That would be a world of pain.”
“I can’t believe I moved here for him,” I say. “What was I thinking?”
How can this be the end? It was just the beginning.
When Sadie got to my place after school, I couldn’t tell her what happened with Scott right away. I couldn’t talk to her the whole day. I couldn’t talk to anyone. It felt like I was on the verge of crying every second. Despite desperately trying to remain calm, I had to run to the bathroom twice when tears suddenly started pouring down my face. I cut my last two classes and came home early. There’s no way I was sitting next to Scott the day after he broke my heart.
Nothing is going to be okay. Nothing is ever okay.
Sadie sinks lower into my beanbag chair, quiet for the first time since I asked her to come over. This day could not get any worse. It’s all cold and dreary out. A slogging, depressing wintry mix has been falling on and off. Oh yeah, and Scott doesn’t want to be my boyfriend anymore unless we keep things casual.