Falling by Design (24 page)

He was about to take a step forward when I started my rant, but my words freeze him in his tracks. The look in his eyes almost stops my heart, the pain so evident I want to take my words back. But I don't. His acting skills are beyond perfection, the words and actions nothing but a game to him. The tears that I've been trying to hold spill over my eyes, blurring Grayson from my vision. I hear his sharp intake of breath.

"So this is what you think of me?" he whispers," I thought, I thought we were past this, Brooklynn." His words catch and suddenly I feel like the smallest of the small. "You're not going to listen to anything I say are you? You said you let the past go, but you haven't. You still see me as that little kid who pulled your pigtails and tripped you in halls. And yes, I publicly humiliated you and crushed your dreams that day, but I was stupid and childish and I truly thought we’ve moved on. You told me we were past that. I thought, I thought we were— But I guess it doesn't matter. Whatever Tamela said or done, I thought you trusted me enough to hear my side of the story, but I guess I was wrong. I was wrong about everything."

His hand lifts as if on its own, reaching for my face. I can't move, frozen by the spell of his words. He stops himself before he can touch me, taking a deep breath and turning away.

"You know, a life without trust is a very lonely one," he says stopping at the doorway, "I really hope that someday, you’ll learn to trust someone."

With those words, Grayson walks out of my life.

❧ ❧ ❧

It's the night of the Winter Formal.

Chance and Dakota have invaded my house in anticipation of getting me out of my funk. I've been a walking nightmare for the last two weeks, my heart breaking with every breath I take.

I screwed up real good this time.

Grayson hasn't even looked my way since that day and I don't blame him. Even I don’t want to be around myself right now, but Dakota and Chance don't seem to care. We're spread out on my bed, Chance and I at the top of my bed, while Dakota is sitting in front of us, blocking the TV.

"Come ooon, Brooklynn," Dakota whines for the billionth time in the last hour. "I know you made that awesome dress just for tonight. Just go to the formal. We’ll go with you. Please, please, please."

"Dakota, you make a better door than a window," Chance grumbles trying to see around her. He doesn’t care if we go to the dance. She shoots him a dirty look, not budging an inch. When he continues to move around, she grabs him by the leg, yanking him down. His head hits the back of the headboard with a whack, while I try to suppress a smile.

"Dakota! Is there a reason physical violence is necessary? Make love, not war."

She reaches for him again, but he dodges her, grabbing me as a shield.

"Hey, leave me out of this," I exclaim, trying to wiggle out of Chance's grip. The next thing I know Dakota is sitting back on the bed and I'm lying in Chance's arms.

I tug at my clothing and hair, sure it's a big mess now, just to give myself a moment to regain my composure. I'm not being depressed on purpose, and they know that. I just can't help feeling like I can't do anything right.

"You're not a failure." This comes from Chance, who's now sitting up, watching me as I try to collect my thoughts. Out of my two best friends, he always seems to see right to the heart of the matter. I glance at Dakota and see the encouraging smile on her face. They want me to talk, they're been waiting for me to talk for two weeks. I gave them a very condensed version of what happened between Grayson and I, keeping most of the details to myself.

"You don't know that," I finally reply getting off the bed so I can start my typical pacing. My friends watch me, giving me the time I need to find the words to tell them what happened. When I do, they tumble out all at once, as if I'm afraid that if I take a moment to breathe I won't continue. When I'm done, I stand there waiting for a verdict. But they don't speak. They wait until I utter the one fear that's been plaguing me since Grayson walked into my life.

"What if?" I begin, turning my back to them, "what if I'm unlovable? I'm untrusting, pushy, neurotic. What if all I'm capable off is these tiny glimpses of a relationship with someone and that’s it?"

I hear the bed creak behind me as I wrap my hands around my middle. Someone touches my shoulders, slowly turning me around. Chance stands in front of me, and a moment later I’m clinging to him like a little kid who just had a nightmare.

"You are an amazing person, Brooklynn. You know that Dakota and I love you very much. Your parents, as screwed up as their view about you future may be still want the best for you. Granted, they think their opinion is what's best, but still. And honestly, I think you and Paige will get past this tension between you, but you have to start believing in yourself. You don't give yourself enough credit, Cosmopolitan. And you definitely don't give people around you enough credit." I fidget, trying to get out of his hold, but he'll have none of that.

"As your best friend—" Dakota makes a small noise from behind him, making Chance grin and rephrase his statement "—as one of your best friends, I can tell you that you have some superb qualities about you and some that are not that great. Which makes you human," he hurriedly adds at the look on my face. "You just have to learn how to become the better version of yourself and go from there."

"Grayson made me the better version of myself."

"I think," Dakota says coming up to stand next to us, "that you let yourself be the better version of yourself when you were around him. He didn't do anything."

I toss an arm over each of their shoulders. "And what did I do to deserve such brilliant friends?"

"Nothing. We're just awesome like that," Dakota shrugs before reaching out to hug both Chance and I. After a moment, we step back, stupid smiles plastered on our faces.

"Umm, can we watch some blood and gore now? I think The Walking Dead is on." Chance asks plopping himself down on my bed. “This is way too much emotional crap for me.” Dakota and I giggle.

"So..." Dakota turns to me, expectation clear on her face. I'm afraid she's going to bring up the dance again, but she surprises me. "I'm thinking we can bulldozer Chance into watching some Jane Austen, don't you?" Chance's eyes fly to us, the look of panic on his face. Dakota and I burst out laughing as I reach for my copy of Star Trek. Chance growls in our direction, before scooting over so we can take our place on the bed.

I glance from Chance who's half lying beside me to Dakota who has a thing for watching TV on her stomach and smile. I am truly blessed with the best friends anyone could ask for. I realize the dance was just a tactic to get me to talk about what happened, so I’m glad she doesn’t push it farther. The three of us just don’t do dances, and right now, that’s the best. I just need some time with my two friends and I’m thankful they understand that.

I let my mind wonder over what's been said, knowing each and every word is truth. It's way past time for me to start taking control of my life. Grayson helped me with that when he pushed me to follow my dreams in design, going as far as putting together the fashion show that's in four days. Now, it's my turn to become what I want to be. Yes, this means talking to my parents. Yes, this means taking a risk. Yet, as I sit between my two best friends I realize, I have all the necessary tools in my toolbox to be who I want to be. Now it's just time for me to use them.

As Chris Pine puts on his best flirting moves on screen, my mind drifts to Grayson.

Briefly, I wonder what he looks like in a suit.

THIRTY - SIX

You never realize what you have till it's gone. Toilet paper is a good example.

- Author Unknown

Dakota is staying behind for a make-up test, so I'm taking her car to run some errands before coming back to pick her up. I've been so out of touch with the world since my argument with Grayson, I’ve been doing my best to stay busy and get my head screwed on straight.

I know he's right. I know I push everyone away. I honestly don't believe I do it on purpose, but maybe I do. After all, it's much safer that way, right?

I definitely don't expect to see my sister when I walk out of school on Monday. She's parked by the curb, her vehicle a shiny green Toyota Prius, practical yet pretty. She's dressed in her typical matter, light colored blouse tucked into her dark slacks, long blonde hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail, nothing out of place. Suddenly, I feel underdressed in my dark blue t-shirt and jeans.

"Hello, Paige," I say as I make my way over to the car. "What brings you here?"

That's the thing between us. We're polite, cordial, businesslike when it comes to our relationship.

"I talked to Dad."

I'm not even surprised. Of course he called her after our last argument. In fact, I bet he got on the phone with her the moment I ran upstairs. After all, Paige is the perfect daughter. She's the perfect everything.

I look for something to say, something that doesn't make me sound whiny or immature, but I've got nothing. I study her for a second, before heading for Dakota's car. "I don't have time for this."

"Then make time for this." She moves to intercept me and I'm sure we're about to make a spectacle of ourselves. Paige and I can't have a normal conversation. Not anymore. Everything that comes out of her mouth is a polite judgment on my decisions, while everything that comes out of my mouth is mean.

"Look, I've already heard everything there is to hear from Dad. I don't need to hear it from you."  I wish things were simpler between us. I wish she didn't dislike me so much. "Paige—"

"Brooklynn, you have to stop this." I fight the urge to yell, her voice taking on that kind of patronizing tone my dad wears. She's so much like him, sometimes I wonder how I even fit into this family.

"Stop what?" I turn, getting myself ready for battle. There is fire in her eyes that I'm sure matches my own.

"You know Dad is just looking out for you. You need to let him. Fluffy poodle skirts and butterfly bracelets are not going to make a career for you. You need to think practical." The rage boils within me and for a second, I'm afraid I'll literally explode.

"Poodle skirts and butterfly bracelets?" I ground out between my clenched teeth, trying to find some kind of balance. "What are we, in the 1950’s? Do you even know what I do?"

"I didn't mean it like that. I know you make things—"

"No, you don't know because you never cared to find out. You listen to what Dad says without even taking the time to listen to me."

"That's because you get like this!" She waves her hand at me as if I'm Godzilla or something. "You don't think! You act out and Dad and I are not always going to be there to clean up your messes."

Her words freeze whatever I'm about to say. She glares at me, the mistakes of yesterdays shining plainly in her eyes. Once again, this has nothing to do with Dad, but with the fact that she still blames me for what happened two years ago. Apparently, she'll take every opportunity to open up these wounds. I ignore the fact that I can draw correlation's to my own life and focus on the present. Well, I'm not about to let her get away with punishing me. Again. I take a calming breath, trying to be the mature one.

"So that’s what this is about?" I spit. She knows what I'm talking about. Of course she does. I watch her hand twitch at her side as she glances around us, as if searching for something.

"It has nothing to do with that," she finally manages, after a few tense seconds of silence. Now it's my turn to be on the offensive. I'm tired of everyone attacking me and pretending like they know what I'm feeling.

"It has everything to do with that. You won't let it go, Paige. How many times do I have to tell you that I didn't do anything? When are you finally going to believe your own sister instead of your dumb ex-boyfriend?" I'm almost shouting but I don't care. For once, I want her to hear what I have to say. Me. Not my dad. Not her stupid summer fling. Me.

I think over how things ended with Grayson and I realize I don't want the same to be true for my sister and me. I've made too many mistakes already and I won’t be able to live with myself if I let this go any farther. If I never try and mend any of my relationships, where will I end up? I drop my voice, but keep it firm.

"I'm sorry about what happened. I’m sorry that your best friend couldn’t be trusted. I’m sorry you placed me in the same category as her instead of trusting me when I said your slime of a boyfriend was the one who put his moves on me. And made me uncomfortable in the process, by the way. I won’t apologize again. I wasn’t the one to make the move. I'm sorry you hate me. But please try and understand, I'm not like you. I will never be like you. I can't be happy being buried in some office going over paperwork that is not my own. I need to be creative. I need to create. It's the only thing that's mine. Why can't you understand that?"

I wait for her to say something, anything, but she stays quiet, her eyes staring at her shoes. I've apologized a million times, I told her my side of the story, but she wouldn't listen. Refused to understand. After everything that’s happened with Grayson, I miss her more than ever. A million times, I wanted to call her and talk about what’s been going on. I’m tired of standing on the sidelines, watching our relationship passing us by. I need my sister and it's about time I let her know that, instead of running away every time.