Second Chance (20 page)

“That was a
graceful
exit
,” Dylan says.

“
You’re insane,” I say through gasps
for
air
.

She
pushes herself
of
f
m
y chest and sits up
.
She slips her arms out of the straps and
I
lean on my elbows a
nd look in her eyes, eyes that
I’ve
smiled and laughed into
so many times
.
I
t’s too easy, too familiar
to back here
.
But I force the thoughts out of my head
.
I wind them up
, stuff them
in
a
ball and
smack
them
into the sky
.

She looks away from m
e and picks at a tu
ft
of grass
between us.

“Would it be too much
to
ask to
use your
shower?” she
asks
.

DYLAN

Well, that was adequately mortifying. It’s
n
ot exactly how I imagined our reunion
would
go
.
I didn’t expect a welcome parade, but a friendly hello would have been appreciated
.
Instead,
I get demoted to not only an unanticipated
visitor
, but an
unwanted
one
.
Harsh
.
And Gray has no idea how flushed he gets when he’
s mad
and how it just makes his
eyes
blaze
and his cheeks b
lu
sh and
how
our entire, stupid fight
just felt like foreplay
.

Cat
herine
was right.
I didn’t want to really believe it, but I see it now.  Gray needed more from me. I realize how much I’ve let him down.

N
ow I’m naked in his shower
,
which is
awkward
because it
’s just making
me picture him naked
.
The water doesn’t help
me
re
lax
.
It pelts my skin, like it’s angry,
like it’s pushing me to hurry up
and get out
.
Or
,
maybe I’m just not used to really good water pressure
.
 

I
dry off and
wrap a
faded yellow
towel around my chest
.
I
wipe the steam off the bathroom mirror
, meeting
eyes that are still puffy and skin that’s dry and peeling around my nose
.
I dab some lotion on my face,
brush
my teeth
, and contemplate
where I went wrong
,
and more importantly,
how to make this up to Gray
.

Maybe I’ve watched
movies like
The Cutting Edge
and
When Harry Met Sally
and
A lot Like Love
and
Ever After
and
While You Were Sleeping
and
Say Anything
(just to name a few) one too many times
.
Is my hopelessly romantic idea of love
just an
unrealistic
collection of
Hollywood
movie clips
?
Have I
convinced
myself
that my
love
life could mirror
the high
-
intensity story plots of fiction
al
characters
?

I guess I did
.
Huh
.

But what is life without love
?
It’s what inspires us, what drives us, what keeps our bodies warm on cold nights and our
hearts
soft
when
they want to harden with loneliness
.
So why hold it back
?
Then
,
t
he worst thought of all strikes
:
Gray
doesn’t love me anymore
.

I
stare at my reflect
ion and see the disbelief on my face
.
Is
it possible to fall in and out of love, like it’s just a season, just a trend
?
Can love be an illusion
—a
moment that pass
es
—like
any
other
fleeting
emotion
?
 
 

I pull on
the khaki pants Catherine
’s grandmother
gave
me
.  They’re
too
short and hang low off my waist
,
but they’re the cleanest ones I have
.
I throw
on
my
jean
jacket
and check out my appearance in the
full
-
length mirror
.
Not
exactly
stunning.

I make a mental note:
In the future, do not attempt to win a boy’s heart
when you look like you
were just
released from a refugee camp
.
I
lift my chin
and try to shake off my doubts
.
All I can do is be myself
.

I
spring
down the stairs and
through the front door to find
Gray sitting on the steps in the sun waiting for me
.
His elbows are resting on his knees and he’s staring out at the street
.
I
sit down next to him and
run a
comb through damp hair that smells like his shampoo
, l
ike musk or
spice or something
.

He leans away from me, a little sti
ffly.

“You know,” I say,
“I
’ve always
wonder
ed
why men and women’s shampoo
s
smell so different
.
Why do guys want to smell
like Ocean Mist and Steel Ice
?
And how is Steel Ice even a scent
?
And who decided women prefer to smell like fruits baskets?”  I
wait for him to help explain my
observation
,
but
he studies
me without a trace of a grin
.

“I’m not
really
in the mood for you
r
random
questions right now,” he says
.
I stare back at him and
wrinkle my eyebrows
.
I
had
considered
it
a very serious question
.

“You must be hungry,” he says
in a flat voice
.
I pat my empty stomach
and swear it feels concave
.
I nod and
start to
tell him the bar of soap in the shower look
ed
like a block of
cheddar
cheese
,
but
then I remember his comment and bite my
lips together.

“I’m low on groceries,” he says
.
“But there’s a café down the street.” 
He stands up and
frowns when he takes in my
outfit
.

“Seriously, Dylan?”