The Tree Remembers

This Is Not A Date

I laughed as Eddie managed to miss his mouth, again, and got ketchup on the side of it. He furrowed his brows and finally shoved the fries in his mouth. I smiled at him and held a napkin out, but he smirked and leaned over the table.

"Why don't you lick it off?" he flirted. I scoffed and smashed the napkin in his face, making him laugh. He took it from me and watched me as he wiped his face.

"In your dreams, pervert," I quipped. He got a wicked glint in his eye.

"Aren't you the one who dreams about us?" he teased. I felt my face bloom with color, and he giggled as he nudged my foot under the table. I finally smiled in spite of him putting me on the spot, and he grinned back.

"You're mean," I retorted. He dropped his jaw and leaned over the table.

"Big talk coming from you, sweet pea. You're the queen of mean," he replied. I laughed and set my elbows on the table, placing my chin in my hands.

We had decided on the burger place in the food court, and Eddie had insisted on paying for our food with crumpled bills and change. Eddie was always a mess when he ate – every time he made me breakfast, he often managed to get half of his food on his shirts or in his hair. I had to wash his clothes or comb out his hair on more than one occasion. It would be annoying if he wasn't so genuinely confused by how he managed to do it every time he ate.

"Just so you know, this isn't our first date," he said suddenly, taking a sip of his soda. I scoffed and crossed my arms.

"I didn't agree to a date with you," I sniped. He looked at me like I said the stupidest thing in the world.

"I know, Belle, that's why I said this isn't our first date," he replied. I rolled my eyes but smiled at him. He grinned and winked at me. "When I take you on our first date, we're going somewhere fancy."

"Oh, we are?" I asked. He nodded and smiled knowingly.

"Of course, we are. A girl like you deserves Enzo's," he quipped.

"I think you'd need to upgrade your threads to get into Enzo's," I teased. He shrugged.

"I'd buy a whole new wardrobe if it meant you'd go out with me," he said simply. 

I felt my heart clench and looked down so he wouldn't see my blush. I hated it when he was like this. He made my heart skip and my butterflies soar around my chest when he was like this. I cleared my throat and smiled at him, deciding to change the subject.

"Do you know what you're going to say to Dustin later?" I asked. A look of worry flashed across his face, and I felt that feeling again – the one where I wanted to make him feel better. "Don't be nervous."

"I can't fuck this up," he insisted. I smiled and took his hand, squeezing it softly. His eyes were wide and panicked.

"You won't," I assured him. He twisted his mouth and laced his fingers with mine, squeezing my hand tighter.

"What should I say to him?" He lifted my hand up to his lips and kissed my knuckles softly. It always made me flutterly when he did that. 

"Do you really want to know?" I asked. He nodded quickly. "You need to tell him what you told me the night you walked me home for the first time."

"That's too much—"

"No, it's honest," I insisted. He watched me. "It made me realized you had changed."

"Not enough to tell me what I did to you, though," he retorted. I felt my insides twist and yanked my hand out of his grasp.

---

I was a moron. I knew I was a moron, but I was a moron who was desperate to fix the crack in our foundation. The crack which I had no idea where it was, or what had caused it.

Elle looked away from me, and I missed her hand in mine. I reached out again but she held a hand up, stopping me.

"We are having a nice day together. Why do you keep pushing this?" she asked quietly. I was desperate to go back to where we were earlier.

"I'm sorry – I just," I started. She refused to look at me, and I could see how hurt she was. "Elle, I know that is what's stopping us."

"Stopping what?" she asked, finally looking at me and furrowing her brows. I felt a wave of panic.

"Us. This," I answered, gesturing between the two of us. She groaned and I gritted my teeth. "I just want to fix it. Please, let me fix it."

"Fix what, Eddie?" she snapped. She raised her eyebrows, waiting for the answer she knew I didn't have. She was becoming the Elle who I met at the audition. The one who I couldn't get through to. The one who didn't call me by my nicknames or humor any of my jokes. "You can't go back and fix things. You can't go back and un-call me Smellie Fisher, or un-make me feel stupid, or not be my first—"

She stopped, pinching her mouth together.

"First what?" I pushed. I could tell I almost got her to say it. She glared at me, her gaze stony and cold. It had been a while since this Elle had been around.

"Nothing. When I tell you to stop pushing, fucking listen," she hissed. She started collecting her things and I felt a wave of panic.

"Elle, wait—"

She held her hand up, stopping me in my tracks again.

"I'm going home," she said coldly.

"I was your ride, let me drive you—"

"No," she snapped. She pointed at me. "I'll figure it out. Don't fucking use me as an excuse to fail Dustin again."

"I wasn't going to—"

"I know you, Eddie. I'm your friend," she interrupted, standing and pulling her bag on. "Or was, or am, or whatever is going on. You're going to try to be the hero with me and fail Dustin. Don't."

I swallowed hard. She did know me. Maybe that wasn't what I was planning, but my knee jerk reaction was to fix the two of us immediately. She looked at me – her eyes flashed for a moment, and I saw tears well in her eyes. I waited for her to say something to cut me to the core, for her to make me feel as small as she probably did.

"Good luck with Dustin. You won't fuck it up. I know you won't," she said before spinning on her heel and racing away from me. I felt my heart crumple and looked down at my feet. I sighed heavily. My mind started racing.

First what?