Running Back To Him (6 page)

Okay, two things are happening here. The plan sounded amazeballs when me and Justine came up with it, but that was back when no one was around. Now that he’s here, I’m so regretting this. I know I asked him to do it, but I never realistically thought he would say yes. Now what do I do?

I swallow hard and docilely say, “Okay.”

He wraps his arms around me, joggling me. I fold up, his strong biceps coiling my body. I close my eyes and breath in the sensation. I feel protected, safe with him.

He releases me and rubs his hands together. “Now what?” I ask.

A fake hookup with an old bff who I’ve secretly had a crush on for years? A feeling of ice-cold terror blankets me.

Exactly. Now what?

Chapter 8

I swipe my card on the scanner at the entrance to the Physical Therapy Department at McLaren Hospital. The green light flashes and the door clicks, granting me access.

This is the only place I can say that while I’m here, I’m shut out from the rest of the world—which is a good thing. Especially in times like these.

I’ve been doing my physical therapy internship here for about a year and a half. Helping people regain their strength and recover to full health is a passion of mine. It’s something I can see myself doing for the rest of my life. I have dreams of opening my own clinic, helping athletes and even regular folks bounce back from injuries and surgeries.

That’s how Lucas and I met. It seems like eons ago now that I think about it. He came in earlier this year, a snowy January morning. He had three months of rehab to do on his shoulder which he injured in a game during the previous season.

He said nothing to me pretty much the entire time, just small talk. Which is normal because I’m just an assistant to Julie, the head trainer. But since Julie loves me and wanted me to gain some experience and thought I could handle the responsibility, she let me take care of the last portion of the rehab. Just minor stuff like stretching and strength work. I can do that in my sleep.

When I first met Lucas, my perception of him being an arrogant, egotistical athlete was correct. But rehab humbles you. And it humbled him severely. I saw him on the verge of tears, his confidence shattered in fear of his throwing arm never being what it once was and never being able to throw that game winning touchdown pass.

Over time, that mask of his slipped and what I saw was a scared sixteen-year-old boy. And I was there for him. And I did what a good physical therapist is supposed to do. I pushed him to the edge and was there to catch him if he fell. I was his harshest critic and biggest fan. I lifted him back up when the pain was pushing him to tears. I challenged him harder than any angry coach could have. And then I gave him the words he needed to hear. I believed in him when no one else would. All the writers in the media said he’d never be the same after the surgery.

But I believed in him.

He confided in me and we bonded. When somebody is at their lowest point emotionally and the only person who is there is the person helping them recover, an unbreakable bond is formed.

Right around the middle of April, after his last rehab session, he asked me to join him for ice cream to celebrate. After saying no like twelve times, I finally gave in. A little bit of persistence and a delectable smile like his would make any girl say yes.

First it was ice cream. Then it was catching a movie with him. Then it was a walk downtown on the riverfront. Then a goodnight kiss. Then holding hands. Then making out in his backseat. From then on we were inseparable.

We absolutely had the wrong idea about each other. The age-old adage of judging a book by its cover reared its ugly head. He thought I was just some nerdy girl who could quote Harry Potter line for line and who had her hair dyed fire engine red and who spent her Friday nights practicing her Jedi Lightsaber moves in the mirror. Well he was correct about those personality traits, but that didn’t mean because he was a superstar athlete he should only date ditzy cheerleaders with the brain the size of a walnut. He was able to see past the surface and realize that two people could care about each other despite social differences. I got him hooked on the Divergent series and he introduced me to the game of football. And being with him catapulted my high school popularity ranking to the stars. I admit, it became addicting. I rid myself of the red hair, dumped the hoodies with pictures of frowning cats on them and traded in my dystopian novels for a steady diet of mani-pedis, makeup, and whatever else it is trendy teenage girls do.

And then it all came crashing down.

Thinking back to all of this, I saw the real Lucas—the sweet Lucas who thought all he had was football and how it taught him all about life and how was his ticket out of Flint. I still don’t understand how I got blindsided the way I did when he broke up with me. All dreams come to an end. Mine ended up with a rude awakening.

“Magnolia, can you wipe down the mats?” Cassie, the assistant manager asks me. “Mr. Marsten got a little too sweaty after stretching today.”

“Sure,” I say snapping out of my daydream. I go to the back and grab the disinfectant spray and come back out to see Lucas sitting down in near the front desk. The spray bottle and the paper towels slip from my hands.

We catch eyes and I stand frozen.

“Lucas,” I say in a shaky tone. “Your appointment isn’t until tomorrow.” I made sure I wasn’t on the schedule for it.

“It got pushed up to today. Last minute stuff.” His smile is wide and bright, clearly unaffected by the happenings of the last few days…like ya know, him ripping my heart in two and dumping me for my supposed best friend. He comes closer to me. I want to back away but I’m still frozen stuck. “How are things? You look great.”

For a split second, I think about picking up that spray bottle and shooting him right in his eyes. It wouldn’t mend a broken heart, but it would make me feel oh so delightful.

“Wow. How are things? Really? You take a chainsaw to my heart just a few days ago and you want to make small talk with me.” I pick up the spray bottle and paper towels and wipe the mats down.

“I know it’s stupid of me to say that. I just want to say I’m sorry.”

I get down on my knees and spray and scrub furiously. “Apology accepted. That all?” The tone of my voice is cold and distant.

“No,” he says. “I feel bad for how things went down.”

“You do?” My scrubbing comes to a sudden halt. “
You
feel bad.” I feel my blood begin to bubble.

“You’re right. This is all my doing. All of it. You’re a great girl and I don’t deserve someone like you.” He stuffs his hands in his pockets.

“You’re saying all the right things, but I know they have no meaning behind them.” My voice cracks. “I really thought you were a good guy.”

He pulls his hands out of his pockets and drudges his hands down his face. “Mags,” he says laughing tensely. “I mean, you weren’t
really
in love right? We were only together for a few months. I mean…what we had, was what we had. We both knew it wasn’t going to last.”

“I would really have more respect for you if you came to me like a man and said that. ‘Hey Mags, I think it’s time to move on’…yadda yadda yadda.”

“I
did
do that.”

“Yeah, you did and but you conveniently left out the part how all it was lies and you left me for my best friend.” I slam the bottle on the floor and it spills out forming a large puddle between the two of us. I want to scream but I remember at my place of business. My father always told me that—always be mindful of and respect public property. “And must I forget, you were cheating on me the entire summer with Ashley.” His lips part and his eyes broaden. “You didn’t think I knew about that.”

He tugs at the peach fuzz on his chin. “Mags, I never meant for this to happen like this.”

“Well you know what? It did happen.” A mountain of tears flood up behind my eyes, but I push them back. I have to be strong.

“Mr. Gladstone?” Julie asks, coming from behind. “We’re ready for you whenever you’re done chatting with Magnolia.”

I cock my shoulders back and smile brightly at Lucas. “Yeah Julie, I think we’re done.”

Chapter 9

My fingernail’s going to break off if I tap this table any harder. It’s seven thirty and he’s late. Kellen said for me to meet him at Dunkin Donuts at 7:15AM so we could make our grand appearance at school by walking in together. He’d pick me up and we’d drive to school in his car. The donut shop is a block away from my house so I decided to meet him here.

I sit at the table in the back, picking at an onion bagel like a starving mouse. I eat like a girl gone mad when I’m nervous. This is my third bagel, well beyond my carb count for the day. But it’s the only thing that’s taking my mind off my rattling pulse. It feels like a thousand eyes are on me right now.

Most of the shop is filled with students, ordering a quick pick-me-up before class so they won’t doze off during homeroom. Everyone’s hovering over their phones, their fingers pecking away, between sips of coffee, nibbles of bear claws, and chattering about the latest school hookup and the game tomorrow night. And unfortunately I catch sets of eyeballs darting my way every thirty seconds.

Normally I wouldn’t be here, but Kellen insisted.

I, along with Ashley and the rest of the gang, used to meet here, back when it used to be filled hipsters and hot college boys. Now it’s just high school students. I hated coming here back then. The faint, odor of cigarette smoke still hovers in the air. It made my allergies go haywire.

My nose starts to tickle so I get up and grab a napkin at the counter and I catch a few looks from people above their laptops.

The peeks and whispers were never an issue before when I was in the ‘inner circle’, but now that I’ve been banished, the glares have the intensity of ten thousand suns. It’s just not as fun when everyone is talking about you in a bad light. But this is what I wanted right? The spotlight.

Ugh. Where is Kellen? Did he sleep in late? I bet he smartened up and realized how stupid this idea was. He’s said that since the beginning, but that was until Mackenzie took her craziness into deep space nine.

Before I can get up to grab another rush of forty grams worth of carbs to bloodstream, my nerves quake when I see that I have an unexpected guest sit down at my table. Didn’t anyone see the ‘do not disturb’ sign on my forehead?

My shoulders deflate from their rigidness as a thin, hazel-eyed girl with a Jurassic Park tee plops into the empty seat.

Wow, I can’t sip a smoothie at the mall or nibble on a bagel in peace without someone wanting get a firsthand seat to binge watch the reality show that has become my life.

My eyelids droop down, but I stop them short of closing shut. I need to stop this ship at the docks before it sets sail. Starry-eyed, she parts her lips to speak but I jump in before she can utter a syllable.

“Look,” I say to her in an angsty breath. “I don’t care what you’ve heard on Twitter or what Lucas Snapchatted last night. He and I are done. Finito. Done-zo.” I swipe my jutted thumb across my neck for emphasis. “And no, Justine and I aren’t becoming lesbian to get over the breakup. And I’m definitely not pregnant with Lucas’s baby.” I roll my eyes and puff heavy through my nose. “Does that cover everything?” I stuff another piece of my bagel in my mouth and chew it like it’s leather.

This nameless intruder stares at me blankly. “Uhh…” she says, her eyes doting around, “I just wanted to ask if you’ve heard that Ben Affleck is the directing the reboot of the new Batman movie next year. I know you’re into that kinda stuff. I just saw it on Twitter. I just thought you would be just as amped about it as I am.” Her face softens, embarrassment setting in.

I cringe as a flush of red floods her cheeks. “I’m sorry, I thought you were—”

“No, it’s okay,” she says standing up, “I guess you’re not into that stuff like you used to be.” I don’t recall ever speaking to her before. “I’m Tammy. We we’ve had a few classes together over the years. I remember you used to dye your hair granny-white like Storm every Halloween. I always thought it was so awesome when you did that.” Her voice trails. “I guess you’ve outgrown that kinda stuff.” She slings her book bag over her shoulder tightly. “See ya around.” I nod up at her and shoot her an ashamed grin. Her face frowns. “And who is Lucas?”

“Doesn’t matter,” I whisper, sidestepping her eyes. I slide down in my seat feeling two inches tall.

I look at the time on my phone and sigh. I pop the last bite of my bagel into my mouth and make my way out of the shop.

As my hand falls on the door, Kellen’s black Camaro pulls into the parking lot.

My stomach drops. A small part of me actually wanted him to flake out on me. The thought of being in his car, at such close quarters with him is starting to make old feelings bubble up to the surface. When he was sitting on my bed the other night, all I could do was become lost in the ocean of his blue eyes. It’s sinful how delectable his eyes are. Enchanting. They make me lose focus. How am I going to make a fake romance work while secretly crushing on him in the first place? Call it a conflict of interest. This is soooo a bad idea.

Kellen steps out of the car and takes off his Wayfarer sunglasses like he stepped out of an Esquire Magazine photo shoot. It feels like time stopped and he’s walking towards me in slow motion.

He’s wearing crisp, dark blue denim jeans and his ubiquitous white t-shirt. Straight 1950’s California cool like those old, faded Life Magazine covers in my Grandma’s attic. My pulse rages at how cute he looks. It still bewilders my mind that this is the same boy who used to have milk squirt out of his nose if he giggled too hard. I wonder if he thinks the same about my
transformation
.

“Where are you going? You weren’t about to leave were you?” he asks pulling the door open as I was exiting.

“Oh no,” I say, my voice stammering. “I was just getting some air.”

He squints his eyes and bites the corner of his bottom lip. Gosh, how could something so simple be so incredibly sexy?

“You’re punking out on me aren’t you?” he says cheesing.

My spine straightens. “Of course not!” I say defiantly. “This plan is important. I’m all about the follow through. This plan has to work and I’m willing to see it through to the end. Rain, sleet, or snow. Crash and burn or victory, this has to be done. I should be asking you if you’re ready.” I pound my fist into my palm, but I wince from the pain.

He laughs and lightly pats his hand on the side of my arm.

“Alright. That’s the fired up spirit I want to see.” He puts his shades back on. “You ready for showtime?”

I turn around and see a few startled faces glaring at us from inside of the donut shop. “I think showtime has already started.” I nod back towards the shop. Kellen grins slightly.

“What have we gotten ourselves into?” he asks, his voice deadpan.