A Four Letter Word (20 page)

Ashlee is wrong.

"Ashlee, you're wrong.
So wrong. Why didn't he tell me the truth?" I shake my head in disbelief.

"If he had, what would you have done?" Ashlee questions.

"Told him that him being with Paige was more important, that our friendship shouldn't be the deciding factor in his future. That Evan should be with Paige and not worry about me," I truthfully admit. I would do anything for him—anything.

"Exactly.
Evan knows you better than anyone and knew that is what you would do. He didn't want to risk not having you in his life."

Evan loved Paige so much. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. As if she could hear my inner thoughts, she continues "He loved you more—loves you more. Evan loves you,
Zoey. He always has, just as you have always loved him. The two of you are just too damn blind to see it and too damn stubborn to do anything about it."

"It's not possible. Evan could never…"

"Zoey pooh, it is possible. We've only known the two of you for what—a few hours, and we know that the two of you are totally in love. You just don't see it. If you were to ask anyone at this party who interacted with you or saw you two together, they would say it as well—that's a couple in love—deeply in love," Geoffrey affirms.

"Evan loves me?"

"Yes," three voices return.

"Evan's in love with me?"

"Yes!" the three of them yell at me.

Can it be true? After all this time, Evan has felt for me what I've felt for him? He can't…can
he? I feel my eyes well up again and squeeze them tight, fighting back the tears. I've cried enough. I feel like I've lost enough. Even though none of what happened was real…it felt real. And I'll be damned if…If what?

Ashlee turns to me, her eyes full of so much concern it warms me. She takes my hands in hers and gives them a little squeeze. She has my full attention. "Honey, I know you're scared. I know it's hard for you to even fathom the idea that Evan feels an ounce for you what you feel for him. But, please trust me on this—I know what I'm talking about. Like I said, I've known it for…well…forever. You need to stop torturing yourself. You need to let him know exactly how you feel because if you don't, it's going to eat you up inside, and you are never going to be truly happy. I know the risk you see is losing him, but in my eyes, there is no risk. And even if there were,
isn't it better knowing for sure that what you have with him is only friendship? That way, you can move on and find someone else. I know the what ifs that go on in that head of yours. Those what ifs will eventually kill you."

"Take that leap,
Zoey," Geoffrey adds.

"Definitely.
Jump heart first right into it. You have more to gain than you have to lose," Patrick gives his opinion.

I swallow, pushing down the lump in my throat. "I have him to lose if he doesn't feel the same. I…I…can't lose him. I just…can't." I don't think I
could live a minute without Evan in my life. It wouldn't be much of a life, either. I don't think I would know how to be if he wasn't a part of my life—a part of me.

"I think it wouldn't really change anything if you tell him. I mean…sure, things may be a little awkward at first, but in the end, you won't lose him." Ashlee is very adamant and somewhat convincing.

If the three of them are right, then Evan and I…Together. A couple. Forever. My head won't totally let my heart believe what it wants to believe. It can't. I shake my head.

"
Zoey, look. I didn't know Geoffrey always had a thing for me—I thought he had feelings of only friendship. Hard to believe, me being the fine specimen that I am, but it's true. I thought my love was unrequited. But one day, I just said, 'You know what? I'm gonna let that hunk of a man know exactly how I feel about him', and I did. And voila, here we are. I was scared to put myself out there like that, but I had to know. The torture of those what ifs were killing me. I took the risk and it did pay off, but even if it hadn't, I was better off knowing than not knowing." Patrick finishes, and Geoffrey gives him a sweet, tender kiss.

The three of them allow me to take it all in. Never did I think Halloween would be like this. Never did I imagine I would be thinking what I'm thinking. Never did I imagine I would be brave enough to do what I am about to do.
Never. I quickly get up and start pacing the room. Patrick, Geoffrey, and Ashlee just watch, still remaining quiet. If I'm going to do something, I need to do it now; otherwise I will lose my nerve and never do anything. I need to. They're right. The not knowing is slowing killing me—always has been. I wasn't happy with Liam, Stefan, or any of them. I won't be happy unless I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that Evan is just my friend—will only be my friend. The small inkling that there could be more starts to grow, spreading into every molecule. And then once again, it just "clicks."

I turn to the three of them. Each one of them is practically jumping out of their skin with anticipation over what I am thinking and probably what am I going to do. What am I going to do? I continue to pace, and begin not only gnawing on my bottom lip, but my thumb nail as well. It terrifies me beyond anything to tell Evan, but the three of them are so right. I hate to admit it, but they are. And if what I imagined is what my future could be, don't I deserve to find out? Don't I deserve to see if there is something more? Don't I deserve to find happiness? Don't I deserve to find that elusive four-letter word, take hold of it, and have it forever? For so long, I didn't think I did, but now—now I do. I deserve all of it and more, and that notion swells inside me, consumes me. For the first time in a long time, I truly want to take charge and not let that four-letter word be an apparition. I want it to be real,
tanglible. I want it with Evan. I always have. I always will. And if not, if he doesn't feel the same, at least I'll know right? I stop dead in my tracks.

"Well, what's the verdict, hotness?" Patrick breaks the silence.

I can't help the smile taking over my lips or the heat the creeps into my cheeks. I take a deep breath. Here goes nothing. "I'm going to tell him exactly how I feel. I'm going to tell Evan I love him." I brace myself for their reaction.

"When?"
Ashlee adds.

And without hesitation, I answer, "Now."

The three of them sound like a bunch of newborn piggies—squealing like crazy. They form a ring around me and then come in for a group hug, telling me how proud they are that I'm taking this step, that I won't regret it, that only good things are in my future. Once their little celebration is over, and we've all calmed down, fear starts to creep into my skin. And the what ifs begin to plague me, yet again.

Always knowing, Ashlee pulls me aside. "
Zoey, you don't have to do this now. If you're unsure and scared as to what to say exactly, mull it over, and do it when it feels right." Her words are comforting, but I know if I don't go to him now—I never will.

I hug her tightly. "I love you, Ash, but you guys are right. It's time."

I pull away from her, and she gives me the look—the "are you sure" look. I nod, and my lips pull up into a huge smile. My head is catching up with my heart. I hug Patrick and Geoffrey and thank them both—for everything. They give me some more encouraging words but say they really aren't needed—Tarzalicous will be mine. Of that, they are certain. And for once, I've never been surer of anything in my life.

****

In a rush to get the first cab to his place, I totally forgot to grab my coat, and to say I am freezing my ass off would be an understatement. My nipples could probably cut glass at this very moment. And don't think the cab driver hasn't noticed, because he has. Every time he looks in the rearview mirror, he gives me the once over, totally creeping me out. I try to use my arms as a cover-up, but it's pointless. This Jane costume leaves too much of me exposed that I can't cover up enough. Finally, the cab stops in front of Evan's apartment building, and suddenly, my stomach is overtaken by a swarm of killer butterflies.

These aren't the small, beautiful butterflies that you would find floating in the air going from flower to flower. These are killer butterflies that are relentless in their attack, slamming into my stomach over and over again. These are huge-ass butterflies that found their way into some toxic sludge and have become mutants. What I wouldn't give for a shot of Jaeger. It gave me courage earlier tonight, and I really could use some now—just a little push to get me in the right direction. I climb out of the
cab, quickly give him the fare, and then he takes off. The cold air assaults me, leaving me a shivering mess, frozen to the bone. Why didn't I grab my coat? I rub my hands up and down my arms, but it does nothing to warm me. My teeth are chattering, and I'm sure if I looked into a mirror, my lips would be a lovely shade of blue. I take a deep breath and release it. I watch a cloud of white escape from my mouth as I do. My steps are hesitant as I slowly make my way up the steps of his building. The encouraging words that Ashlee, Geoffrey, and Patrick expressed play on a loop in my head as I embark on the biggest moment of my life.

With each step, I hear,
"You're meant to be with him"…"You're his lobster"…"Take the leap"…"He loves you, too".

Each phrase I hear makes taking a step a little easier, until there are no more steps to take. I enter the building, the warm air greeting me like an old friend—wrapping me into a warm hug. My teeth only chatter periodically. I take the walk down the hall to the elevators like I've taken so many times before. But this time, it's different. This time, I'm not only going up to see my best friend; this time, I'm going to see the man I've loved since I was a teenager, the man who I've measured all others against and have always come up short; the man that has taken up residence in my heart ever since he said hi to me that first day in biology class. My body is buzzing with a twist of excitement and trepidation—of relief and unease. Up is down, and down is up. And the mutant butterflies are on a full nuclear attack. Good thing I didn't eat or drink too much.

The elevator ride feels like an eternity, and it allows my mind to go through about a different thousand scenarios. Evan will let me down easy and say he doesn't feel the same. Evan will laugh because he thinks I'm drunk and joking. I will chicken out and ask him something stupid, like can I borrow a cup of sugar. There will be complete and utter silence, while this palpable awkwardness settles between us and never goes away. He'll ask me to leave. He'll say he thinks it's better if we weren't friends anymore. He loves me, but not that way. But after all of those and many, many, more, one keeps reoccurring. The same instance plays in my mind perfectly. And it's the same one I've had all through high school when I would dream of Evan. He tells me he loves me.

The elevator's ding brings my thoughts out of my head, and when the doors open, I feel as though I could literally throw up. The mutant butterflies
have grown in numbers. I slowly walk down the hall—so slow I feel like I'm not moving at all. I reach his door and stop dead in my tracks. Now what? Do I really want to do this? My fist hovers over the door, waiting for my brain to tell it to knock. It hovers. And hovers.

The not knowing will kill you, echoes in my head.

My fist listens to my brain's command and knocks—lightly. And then again—a little harder. I wait. I lean my ear to the door and hear nothing. Maybe he's not home. Maybe he met someone at the party and went to her place. Maybe he went to a bar or something after leaving the party. Maybe he's sleeping. Maybe he's looking through the peephole, sees me, and is thinking what in the hell does she want now?

Maybe…

Maybe…

I knock one more time, slightly harder than the last. I lean a little closer, my ear just grazing the door. Still I hear nothing. But just as I'm about to pull away, I hear the rustling of the door chain and then the clicking of the deadbolt. At warp speed, I move away from the
door, and just in time too, because it quickly swings open. Evan stands before me, wearing a pair of flannel Northwestern Pajama bottoms, his hand ruffling through his hair, and he's squinting. Probably trying to figure out what in the hell am I doing here at—two in the morning.

"
Zoey?" His voice is groggy.

All my maybes go out the window. Well, except for the one where he was sleeping. I just stare at him, willing my mouth and brain to come to some sort of agreement and cooperate with each other. Why is this so hard? It's just Evan. Oh, right; I'm about to totally put myself out there and risk everything by finally telling him, after about a gazillion years, that I love him, and not in the "only as friend"
sorta way. We just stare at each other, and my brain and mouth finally have come to an agreement.

"Hi."

Well, that took more thought and energy than was warranted.

"Uh, hi.
Are you okay? Is everything okay? Where's your coat? Did that guy hurt you? I swear, if he did…"

"I'm…I'm fine. And no, that guy, Griffin, didn't hurt me. Why would you think he hurt me?"

"Well, because you are standing in front of me at two something in the morning, wearing only your costume, when it's like twenty below outside." He grabs my forearm and pulls me inside, shutting the door behind us. "Jesus, Zoey, you're fucking freezing. You're lips are a lovely shade of blue," he informs me, like this information is new to me.