august

behind the mall

My mother looked at me pointedly. Her raised brow said, is that him?

I pursed my lips. "Just a sec," 

I didn't look at her as I turned and retreated up the stairs. Settled at the bottom of my bed, I slid the call to answer with shaking hands. This is it, this is it, I thought. I imagined you saying, I've broken up with Betty. I imagined you asking me to hang out tomorrow, I imagined being next to you again, in a bed that was warm with the heat of both our bodies. I pictured your golden smile, your real smile, bright and rare enough to turn my heartbeat into a skittering, wild thing--

"Hi," I said, thought it was less a word and more a breath. 

"Hey," your voice said, on the other end. "Sorry to call you. Just thought we should, like, talk."

There was a breathy silence. "Sure," I said, eventually, trying desperately to sound casual. 

You said my name delicately, like it was a fragile glass which you were unaccustomed to holding. "I had fun. Loads of fun, actually. You're great."

I said nothing, thinking, fun? thinking, I'm in love with you. 

"Thing is, Betty's back in town tonight, and I know I said she'd never have to know, but... I think she does."

My stomach dropped like a stone. Suddenly there wasn't enough air in the room for all of us: me, curled in a ball by my bed, you on the other end of the line, and the ghost of Betty standing between us. "What?" I whispered, into the phone. "How?" 

We had been so careful. You'd started the flirting, after all, as soon as school was over. You knew I'd liked you since, like, third grade. You must have done. The talking began - Instagram first, then you'd asked for my number, and, blushing, I'd given it. We bumped into each other in person once, and that was enough. After a shared stolen bottle of wine, we were fantasising about open starry skies and a summer of adventures. 

I'd barely believed it when you'd looked at me and said, Let's do it. For real. Why not?

Your quirked brow was a challenge, your slight smirk a dare. Are you serious? I'd asked.

Dead serious.

And so I pulled up on your street the next morning, and we were in California by early afternoon. 

"How do you think she found out?" you said bitterly, pulling me back into the present. 

"Rumours?" I whispered, afraid of your reply. A few of your friends had teased us before, made jokes about us being together or whatever - we'd always been neighbours, and everyone knew I'd liked you since forever. A few times we both got a ride to school with a mutual friend, and us stepping out of the back seat together was enough to fuel the running joke for another couple years. 

I'd never imagined - or rather, I'd never seriously thought (because I had imagined, actually, innumerable times) - that there would ever be anything substantial behind the gossip. There had been nothing for years except my one-sided crush, and then: this summer. 

"Yeah," you said, "rumours. Apparently Inez saw me get into your car."

I paused. "And she... Betty believes that?"

"Evidently, yeah."

"Evidently?"

I heard your sigh through the phone, and for a split second I was underneath you again, with white bedsheets twining around us, our pulses thudding beneath our warm skin, mouths soft and slipping together, your sigh fluttering over my lips. I almost gasped aloud, so thrown by the sudden memory. I pressed a hand over my mouth. My eyes watered.

You said my name.

"Mm?"

"I said, she texted me. About it."

"What did she say?" I asked, so quiet I was surprised you heard. I pulled the blanket off my bed and twined the corner round my finger like a nervous child.

"Erm, something like... hang on, wait--" Your voice dropped a level quiet, as if you were removing the phone from your ear. "Here it is, yeah: she messaged me yesterday morning, saying, 'I actually trusted you. Inez told me what you did. Don't call me.'"

The pain in your voice made me wince. 

"Did you reply?" I breathed.

"I tried calling her," you said. "Three times. Straight to voicemail. She blocked me on Instagram, too."

"I... I'm sorry," I stammered, unsure how to respond.

"No, it's not - don't worry. It's not your fault. I just... like, I thought I should tell you, in case anyone says anything to you."

There was an awkward pause. "I guess we should've been more careful," I said.

"Yeah," you murmured, with a slight nervous laugh behind the word. "Or probably I just shouldn't have - I don't know, I mean, it was kind of stupid. She hates me now."

I swallowed down those words like a lump in my throat: I shouldn't have. It was stupid.

"Sorry to dump it all on you," you said, "but I thought you should know. I probably shouldn't, like, talk to you anymore. Betty's having a party tomorrow night - I'm gonna try and speak to her then. Explain it all. Sorry."

My heart crawled up my throat and splintered there. When I tried to talk, words as sharp as shards of glass cut against my tongue. Nothing I thought of sounded right. 

"So. Yeah," you sighed. "Sorry about all this. I did have fun, I swear. I'd say we should be friends, but I doubt that's going to help with the whole Betty hating me thing." You laughed awkwardly, breathily, and it made my eyes well again. 

Neither of us spoke for a full ten seconds. It felt like years. "James," I whispered into the phone.

"Yeah?"

I gathered all the tethers of my courage, as frayed as it was. "I feel like we should talk properly, like, in person. I just thought... I thought this might be--"

You were silent for too long. "I don't know if that's a great idea, though. Betty--"

Just forget about Betty for one second! I thought. I thought you were calling to tell me you'd ended things with her, I thought about saying.

Instead, I whispered, "I just really need to say some things."

"And you can't say them now?"

I just want to see you, my heart thudded out with every beat. I didn't think about it, beyond the fact that I needed to see your face one more time before school began and we were just classmates again.

"James," I said, and my voice broke a bit. "Please. Meet me behind the mall tomorrow, 10?"

"I don't know," you said, distracted. I heard noises in the background. "Maybe, sure. Sorry, my mom's calling. I need to go now. Sorry. Bye,"

"James--"

The line went silent. 

Maybe. I took that word and clung to it, pressed it into my chest with both hands.