“She doesn’t, huh?”
“Nope. One time, Tina said the F word at dinner and Blue freaked out. She thinks I’m a kid and I’m not supposed to be around bad stuff.”
Zach throws a lopsided smile. “Yeah? Well, she does freak out easily, doesn’t she?”
Art nods his head enthusiastically. “But she doesn’t freak out on me. She told me once that I was her favorite person ever.”
“No shit.”
“Yeah. I think I’m gonna ask her to marry me.”
So far, I’ve been super quiet. Super-duper quiet. Even though there’s this weight pressing down on my chest. My tears are clogging my nose, my throat. They are clogging my very breath.
But I’ve managed to stay undetected.
At Art’s words though, I snort in pleasure and Zach looks up.
His eyes are liquidy, not like mine though. Mine must be a mess right now. Red and swollen, probably. His are as dark as ever but with undercurrents of some pretty intense emotions.
He’s always been the bully and I’ve been the bullied.
But maybe I’m a little bit of a bully too.
Don’t be like me.
No matter what I am, my life revolves around him. It always has.
“Well, good luck with that,” Zach replies to Art’s earlier cutesy statement that melted my heart. “Blue’s pretty hard to catch.”
Not if I don’t run.
I wish I hadn’t run that night – the night I went up to his room to confront him about the date. I wish I’d stayed and… kissed him. I wish I’d touched him some more.
I stare at his eyes, his dark hair, the cut of his face, his lips. The way he’s kneeling down on the floor, being all tender with Art, and yet he looks so powerful, the tallest guy I’ve ever met.
The guy I might have hurt for years and years, without knowing.
“D-dinner will be ready in ten minutes,” I say, clearing my throat.
When it’s ready, I tell them to go wash up while I serve them each a huge stack of pancakes. With all the syrups that I could find in the fridge.
Dutifully, they both sit on the bar stools and dig in. Well, at least Art does, and when Zach simply picks up his fork without even glancing at the food, but keeping his attention on me, I turn away.
I start cleaning up, avoiding his gaze. I can’t eat with them.
The truth is that this is the very first time I’ve done anything remotely nice for Zach. I’ve never even smiled at him. And every time I hear my own voice from years ago, it all gets too much.
Art’s making yummy noises but Zach is silent. I’m not sure if he likes the food and I want him to. I want him to like it. Very, very badly.
After dinner, I rinse the dishes in the sink but before I can put them in the dishwasher, they get snatched away from my hand.
It’s Zach. He has them in his grip and I go to protest but he slides them all in the rack, shuts the door and hits start, whirring the magic appliance to life.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I tell him.
He shrugs, his jaw clamped. “It’s nothing.”
“Um, and thanks for talking to Art,” I begin. “About everything. I just… I’ve tried to teach him a few things myself. And Doris, she talked to the teachers about the bullying and it was okay for a while. But no one can watch these kids 24/7. So, I’m sure he appreciates that.”