The Night We Said Yes (14 page)

NOW

11:00
P
.
M
.

Matt and I are silent during the car ride back to Evan’s party. I have nothing to say. I’m numb. Matt puts on music to fill the void, but it doesn’t work. I know something is playing, something melodic with voices and instruments, but I can’t concentrate on it. I’m focused on him. I’m conscious of every move he makes, every breath, every frown. I’m sure he’s just as aware of me.

I text Meg to let her know that we’re on our way back. I don’t give her any details—I’d rather not get into them over the phone. It’s as if she already knows, though, because she just responds
Okay, I’ll be outside
, and leaves it at that. My phone vibrates again and I pick it up, expecting something
else from her, but instead I see Jake’s name.

Where r you?

Heading back to Evan’s

I hope he gets what that means and leaves it at that. But of course he doesn’t, because as soon as I put my phone down, it vibrates again.

What happened?

I take a deep breath and out of the corner of my eye see Matt looking at me, watching me. I’m sure he knows who I’m talking to, or at least can guess. And it’s awkward thinking about him, writing about him, when he’s right there. And I have that always-present urge to tell him everything, but I can’t. Especially now.

As I raise my thumb to start typing to Jake I realize that what I say will affect him, too. That without me, there won’t be a Matt and Jake reunion. That I’m this strange building block that’s deciding if our group can once again become whole.

I can’t be that. Everything can’t revolve around my decision. He left me. And while what happened to his brother and family is terrible, I still can’t get past the fact that he lied to me. So it’s his fault. Jake will have to understand that.
But still, how am I to compose all of that into one simple text? I shake my head and simply type:

Will call later.

And I hope that’s enough. I look over at Matt and see him staring out at the road in front of us, watching the lights as they pass by. The rain has stopped, but everything looks slick, wet. He’s so close and still so far away. I feel like this is it—this is the conclusion, the closure, I wanted. But I still feel a little piece of me breaking off, and a little part of me wanting to cry. Because once I get out of the car, it’s officially over. The feeling of that washes over me—as soon as I’m out, I’m free of him.

But am I?

I think about when he left, about the good-bye we had the night before. It feels so different now, knowing he wasn’t just leaving because of his dad’s job. That the sadness he was holding back had to do with his brother, too. Did he know when he kissed me good-bye how much my heart was breaking? I know his was. I remember the tears in his eyes.

Even so, this good-bye seems much sadder.

We pull up to the house, and Meg’s outside waiting for me, frowning. Her foot is tapping, her hands are on her waist, and I can tell she’s using every ounce of energy she has to not run over to the car and punch Matt in the face. I almost let her.

When he parks, I look over and don’t know what to say. There isn’t much left to say.

“Ella . . .” he starts, looking down at his knuckles clenching the steering wheel. “I’m sorry.”

“I know,” I answer, because I do. Deep down I do believe he’s sorry, that he regrets everything, but that isn’t enough to make up for how I felt, for what I went through.
I’m sorry
just isn’t enough of an excuse.

“It’s just,” he continues, turning to me, and I see the fear and hope in his eyes, “you’re here for three more months. Just give me another chance. I’m not leaving this time, no matter what. And here would be a hell of a lot better if you were with me.”

And now it’s my turn to open and close my mouth and find no words coming out. Because it sounds so rehearsed, but still. He means it. “Matt—”

“Please,” he cuts in. “At least think about it. I mean, even if you don’t want to date or anything, at least let’s try starting over. Like, as friends.”

“We never were friends,” I respond meekly, tugging at my bracelet. “I mean, not really. We were always more than that.”

“So let’s try, okay? Just . . . say yes.”

My heart leaps from his pleading, from his question. We’re back there. We’re back to the beginning of the night, to the game we started. But saying yes was so much easier a year ago when
I didn’t know I could be that hurt. When I didn’t know how much each yes meant. This time it just seems like a pale comparison, a reminder of what once was and can never be again.

“I can’t do that,” I say, turning away to see Meg waiting for me, beckoning me.

His head slumps down, but he jumps back up, ready to try one more time.

“Just don’t judge me for what my brother did. I’m not him.”

“I know you’re not,” I say.

“And I won’t be. Ever.”

“Okay,” I say, noticing the resolution in his eyes. I know he won’t be—he’s too good for all of that. But I can also see how everything he’s gone through affected him. “I should go . . .” I say, feeling myself wanting to stay and talk more. I can’t do that right now.

“You almost kissed me tonight.”

“Matt—”

“That’s it. That’s all I wanted to say.”

I take a deep breath and remember how it was on the roof. How close we were. How, were it not for the rainstorm—

And it is enough. I
did
want to kiss him. But it was before. Before I knew everything. Before I realized the closer he got, the harder it was. And we can’t go back to before; this much was proven by everything going wrong tonight.

But I did want to kiss him. I really, really did.

“Okay, that and I really missed you,” he admits, and I can’t help but smile. His words are so simple now, so uncomplicated, and I kind of wish we started here instead of under this whole facade of re-creating the night.

“I missed you, too,” I respond, giving him one more look before unbuckling my seat belt and opening the door. Enough.

I shut the door before he can say anything else, but I do stop to look back. He’s staring at me, and even though it’s dark, just like earlier in the night, I know his eyes are shining.

“What was that all about?” Meg asks, instantly by my side. She shoots him a look that could kill a weaker animal, and then pulls me away.

“We said some things that should have been said a long time ago.”

The next time I look back, he’s gone.

THEN

11:20
P
.
M
.

In the car, Meg let out all of her aggression on the steering wheel. “He’s such an asshole,” she yelled, slamming her hands. We were still parked on the street beside the school. We hadn’t left yet; we weren’t ready. With the mixture of alcohol and anger, I knew we’d be in trouble once she started the ignition. So I opened a bottle of water, handed it to Meg, and let her vent.

I sat in the passenger seat, looking out at the houses in front of us, sometimes glancing at her. I knew she just had to get everything out of her system, let it all pass before I could offer any sort of advice. Not that I had any, really. Jake was an asshole in so many ways, but she wasn’t helping when she
decided to kiss him. Not that I’d say that to her.

Meanwhile, I hadn’t heard from the guys. I didn’t let on, but I was worried. I was worried something had happened when they were driving. I was worried they were hurt. And part of me, a small part, wondered why Matt just left without anything more than a wave. No hug, nothing. But I decided not to dwell on that since there was other drama going on. There was no point in doubting something before it even started.

“I mean, he comes back to me, as if nothing happened, and promises to change. Promises to be someone different. And then he goes off with someone else.”

“What?” I was lost in my own thoughts and had missed a bit of her rant. She’d been yelling for a while.

“Nothing has changed,” she continued over my question. “He’s still the same asshole he was before, despite his promises.”

“What promises?”

“Just . . . stuff he’s said.”

“When? Tonight?”

Meg was silent as she stared down at her hands. “Things are complicated. This wasn’t the . . . first time we hooked up since the breakup,” she said quietly, not meeting my eyes.

“What?” I spat out, finally looking at her. “How could you do that, after everything you’d said?”

“It’s hard! I mean, it’s Jake. I hate him, but I love him. And every now and then, he calls me.”

“But you broke up with him,” I pointed out. “And for a good reason, don’t forget.”

“I know, and I’m glad I did. He was a crappy boyfriend, but . . . it doesn’t mean I stopped loving him,” she sighed. She looked defeated, dead behind the eyes, as if it hurt her to admit this. “He’s dated a few girls since . . . you know. They only last a couple of days. Every time they break up, he comes back to me. And I let him. Every. Single. Time.”

“But why? You know it’s not going to last. You’re better than this, Meg.”

“I know, it’s just . . . how do you think it makes me feel every time I see him with a new girl? I hate him. And then he comes to me, all cute and sweet, with these promises about changing. I know he won’t, but . . . I can’t say no.”

I took everything in, letting the quiet steal our words. “I just . . . I don’t see how a relationship like that could make you happy.” She simply shrugged in response. “I couldn’t handle it,” I admitted. “I mean, I get that it’s you guys, and that’s how you work, but . . .” I trailed off, not ending my thoughts, because I knew they’d hurt her. How could she still trust him? And if she liked him so much, why live in a secret? So I settled on a different question. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want you to be upset with me.”

“Meg, I’ll never be upset with you.” But I was. What else didn’t I know?

“It’s also—I just didn’t want to admit it. I hate myself for
getting into this situation, for going back to him. And it’s like . . . if I admitted it, said it aloud, it meant I was actually doing it. You know, becoming someone I hated.”

“Don’t hate yourself; hate Jake, if anyone. You deserve better than him.” She looked sad, hopeless, and I couldn’t handle seeing her like that.

I knew why she liked him. It wasn’t just the looks or the attitude. He was just so . . . in control so often—it was like you wanted to be in on whatever joke he was thinking about. Go on whatever adventure he schemed. But still—that was all he could give her—a fun time and a small claim to fame. Nothing substantial, nothing emotional.

I didn’t know what to do, so I hugged her tight and felt her body shake. I knew she was crying. We’d all been there. We’d all had those moments. She didn’t have to hide from me. Her secrets washed away with her tears.

We stayed in the car for about half an hour. Having lived in the city my whole life, I knew there was nothing to fear. The biggest danger to us was bad boyfriends, not predators who lurked in the dark. That knowledge kept me protected, and happy. Especially in times when we were too drunk to drive.

Clucking interrupted our silence.

“Chickens?” Meg looked at me, surprised.

“What the— Oh wait, it’s my phone. It’s Barker.” A few days prior, Jake and Barker had stolen my cell phone and decided to change their ringtones to something annoying
so I always knew when they were calling. Jake picked an old locomotive sound; Barker decided on clucking chickens.

My heart skipped a beat as I pulled my phone out. Was he calling about the guys? Were they okay? Did he know anything? Why else would he be calling so late?

“Hey Barker, is everything okay?” My body literally slackened when I heard everything was fine. Okay. Good.

“Hey, I’m with Meg, I’ll put you on speaker.” I put my phone down and turned the speakerphone on.

“Hey Barker,” Meg said.

“Hey guys. So, here’s the deal. A bunch of people went over to One Spin after the party broke up, just to hang out.” One Spin Records was the only remaining local indie record shop. It still sold CDs and records, as well as books and DVDs. To make up the money they lost after everyone started downloading music, the manager built a stage in the back for local bands to utilize, and for touring bands to host secret shows. He also had a small recording studio put in that most local bands took advantage of. It was significantly cheaper than most other places, and added a neat authentic (as in, kind of tinny) sound to the recordings. “I guess word got around about what happened, and the manager invited all the bands to play tonight.”

“Oh cool!” I answered, and then looked over at Meg. She wasn’t as pleased. “When?” I asked tentatively.

“That’s the thing. They want us on tonight. As in, right now.”

“Right now?” I questioned.

“Well, like in a half hour, but you know. Anyway, I wanted to let you two know. I just talked to Jake and he said he wasn’t with you all anymore. Should I ask what happened?”

“Jake was Jake,” Meg said, her words full of venom.

“Not surprised,” Barker groaned.

“Yeah, um, I don’t know if we can make it,” I started. I wanted to, I did. I really wanted to see Matt again, but my allegiance was to Meg. I’d do what she wanted. I couldn’t leave her now.

“No, no. We’ll be there. Give us half an hour. We wouldn’t miss it,” Meg said.

I looked at her wearily, wondering why she’d want to go, why she’d want to see him again. She said she was a masochist when it came to him, but this seemed to be going too far.

“Sweet. Okay, see you soon. Gabby’s glad you’re coming; she doesn’t want to be the only girl there. For some reason, she thinks no one else will show up.
But they will
.”

“Of course they will,” I reassured Barker, although I really wasn’t sure. It was late, after all. “See you soon.”

“Later.” I hung up the phone and stared at Meg. She knew what it meant.

“It’s the night we said yes,” she sighed.

“So? We don’t have to do this. Also, didn’t the game end when we all broke up?” She flinched at the words “broke up.”

“Yeah, but I’m not turning back now.”

“Are you sure?”

She pushed her hair back and then looked at me. “You like him, don’t you?”

“Who?”

“Matt. I saw you with him tonight. And I saw your face light up when Barker said they were playing. I’ve known you for how many years? I’ve never seen you so . . . excited . . . over a guy.”

I didn’t know how to react. I did feel differently about him, I just didn’t know what it meant yet. It was so soon; I still barely knew him. But when we were walking, or swimming, I felt free to be who I was. I felt safe.

“He makes me feel like me.”

Meg smiled to herself, I’m sure remembering a time she, too, felt that way. I wondered if that was how Jake made her feel. “It’s decided, then. We’re going. And, hey, Gabby’s glad we’re coming, apparently.”

“So I heard,” I sighed. It’s not that I didn’t like her, I did, I just still felt a bit off since finding out she’d known about Nick cheating. I hated how she’d betrayed me. But I loved Barker; I didn’t want it to get in the way of our friendship. I’d lost the guys once—when Meg and Jake broke up—I really didn’t want to lose them again.

“She’s trying, that’s for sure,” Meg responded, referring to the numerous attempts Gabby had made in trying to get me to forgive her. The multiple texts with sweet messages that I deleted. The “I’m sorry” cake that, okay, we did eat.

“She makes it hard to hate her.” I sighed.

“Do you ever think of what you’d do in that situation?” Meg looked over to me with one eyebrow cocked.

“What, like if I saw Jake cheating on you?” I asked.

“Yeah.”

“I’d tell you. I’d call you right away,” I answered automatically, but when I thought about it, I realized how hard it would be. Telling Meg that Jake was with someone else? It would have killed her. Could I have been the one doing the murdering? For the first time, I started to see Gabby’s side.

“Same here, of course, but I bet it is hard. Telling someone that their boyfriend is cheating.”

“I know. And I know that’s why Gabby didn’t tell me,” I said, for the first time honestly. “It’s a touchy situation; I get that. But still.” I mulled Meg’s question over.

“I saw her yesterday, and
again
she told me to apologize to you for her. Listen, she also said, and I found this interesting, she said she feels bad that she struck gold with Barker. Like she doesn’t deserve it or something. I don’t know.” Meg paused and fiddled with her water bottle. “We always give her and Barker such a hard time about them being so cute and sweet together . . . maybe she felt bad because she
does
have it so good, and we, well, don’t.”

“Maybe.” I pondered this. While all of that might have been true, it still didn’t make the situation any less awkward. “I guess we’ll see tonight.”

“And I guess we’ll see what happens with you and Matt.”
She nudged me with her elbow. “If anything else, this night deserves a bracelet,” she said, lifting her wrist up. I matched mine to hers and smiled, feeling a bit like a superhero. “Oh, hey, we should get going. I’m good to drive now.”

“Okay,” I said, erasing Gabby from my mind and replacing her with happier images of crooked black-rimmed glasses, random notes, and hands being held.

As Meg put the key in the ignition, she looked down at her wet clothes. “Ummm . . . we should probably change first.”

“Yeah.” I looked down at my shirt. “My wet bra is kind of peeking through this shirt. We’ve had some amazing ideas tonight, might I say.”

“Can we go back to your place? Grab some clothes?”

“My parents think I’m spending the night at your place. How about yours?”

“Oh. My parents think I’m spending the night at yours.”

“So . . . wait. If both . . . where
are
we supposed to spend the night?” I questioned nervously.

“Oh shit.” She paused. “We’ll think of that later. Let’s just get a move on,” she said, waving off the question.

“Where to? Everything is closed. And I really don’t want to go to One Spin in wet clothes.”

“Well, there’s one place that’s still open.”

I looked at her warily as she started the car.