It’s been four days since Seeley texted.
Four days since she didn’t show.
And I’ve felt every second of them without her.
I faked sick for the first two, spent them lying in bed rehearsing speeches and typing out texts to her and not sending them. But by day three my dad started to catch on— especially when I refused to even come downstairs and watch the Fourth of July fireworks on TV. The only thing worse than going through this is going through this with my father anxiously pacing outside my door. I couldn’t take it anymore. So here I am today, standing in a hot dog suit with my heart in my throat, staring at the breakroom door and hoping Seeley will walk in.
“You never texted me back,” Nick says, shoving his face into my line of vision. “I was worried. Did you guys really break up?”
I blink slow, and take a deep breath. There hasn’t been enough time yet for me to learn how to answer that question without feeling like I’m being swallowed up by the sun. I look at him, squinting, like if I try hard enough I could feel something for him again. If I could, maybe all the hurting would stop. Maybe everything would be okay. Maybe all the people I love wouldn’t leave. I don’t know.
The breakroom is filling up with people on lunch, and he’s dripping all over the floor, his skin prickling under the air-conditioning, like it doesn’t even matter. I wonder where his towel is, and why he’s standing here soaked, as if he rushed right over when he saw me walk by in my suit. I squeeze my hands into fists at my sides, fighting the urge to yell in Nick’s face about how this is all his fault somehow. I know it’s not, but still.
Why did he have to be cute? Why did I have to be stupid? Why did I have to crush on a sweet boy with a secret lisp who jumps into pools and bakes cupcakes and is just insecure enough to be endearing? And how come his girlfriend is the one who’s cheating, but I’m the one whose heart is broken? I glance down at the floor, nodding twice and keeping my lips pressed in a hard line, too scared of what will escape if I don’t.
Nick runs his hands through his hair, sending rivulets of water streaming down his face. “Sucks.” His eyes are so full of pity when I look at him that I almost hate him. I swear to god, in this moment, I really could. The words are right there, on the tip of my tongue. It would be so easy to open my mouth and let them fall out, to tell him the truth about Jessa, if only to wipe that look off his face.
It’s not fair that I’m the only one hurting here.
Angie walks in with a couple of the girls from housekeeping, rolling her eyes when we make eye contact. Sorry, I want to shout. Sorry for everything and to everyone, but mostly to Seeley, who won’t even pick up her damn phone.
I bite my lip and scrunch my eyes shut, because I can’t do this right now. I can’t. I’m trying to be a better person. For real. At least that would make this whole situation mean something—like if I grew and embraced the life lesson here or whatever. At least that would make it count.
“Elouise.” Nick reaches for my hand. “Lou.” And I hate the way that sounds coming from his mouth. It’s all wrong.
I think for a second that he’s going to say something deep, something meaningful and sweet, some attempt at trying to cheer me up, at making me feel better. I hold my breath, waiting, because I want something like that to exist, for something, anything, to be the Band-Aid over this gaping wound. And I get it now, I know that’s all he could ever be, that’s all anyone else could ever be: a Band-Aid, a butterfly strip, a temporary measure, because this is the after, and all of the good stuff got left behind in the before.
“Yeah?” I ask, and my voice is just . . . it’s just aching.
“Are we still getting together tomorrow night to get things ready for the bake sale? We’re still on for Saturday, right?”
I pull my hand back, because even I have my limits. What does it really matter anyway? Why am I trying to be a better human being if it means I’ll still be without the one person in the whole world that matters the most to me? I guess if I’m going to be a shit person to Seeley, then I might as well be a shit person all around, right?
I flick my eyes up to his. “Jessa’s been cheating on you with Ari.”
It’s like the whole breakroom goes still. Nick is gaping like a fish, opening and closing his mouth with no words coming out, and I wonder if that’s what I looked like after Seeley and I got into our big fight. I bet I did. And man, this whole room smells too much like chlorine and heartbreak and other people’s food. My stomach flips, and I can’t be here anymore. I can’t.
“Sorry,” I whisper, and then I bolt. I make it all the way to the second bathroom before I completely lose it. I duck inside, locking the stall door and peeling off my costume, letting the sobs wrack my body while all around me toilets flush and nervous mothers dart in and out, keeping their children safe.