i love you, i'm sorry

chapter two

I stared deliberately into my lap, smoothing pink satin over and over again. The only sound was the rattling car and the faint sounds of some pop hit playing on the radio. I could feel Gavin's eyes on me, tension so palpable I could've sworn I was sweating my mascara off.

He was still so very Gavin. Because of course he was. And the mountains of history between us were piling up with every second that passed in this godforsaken car, and soon there wouldn't be any room to breathe.

I'd known Gavin my entire life. Like actually. I wasn't just saying that to say that. He was born exactly three months, four days, sixteen hours, and two minutes before me. Louisa was in the delivery room with my mother when she gave birth, Gavin strapped to her chest in a Baby Bjorn. There are pictures.

Louisa and my mom met in kindergarten. They were seated next to each other based on alphabetical happenstance (Gordon, Gideon), and had been joined at the hip ever since. Piper and Louisa. Pip and Lou. Partners in crime, the ultimate BFFs, essentially sisters. Their friendship was going on forty years, and it was still just as strong as ever. I often wondered how they planned it so perfectly. Moving back to Lovingston around the same time, getting pregnant together, and raising their kids together. Joint vacations, holidays, shared cabin up by the lake, the whole enchilada.

All this to say, Gavin was a constant in my world. We grew up together, just as our mothers had before us. We spent every waking moment with the other. There are millions of photos documenting our shared childhood. We were best friends. The sort of best friends that always know what the other one is thinking, and never have to worry about being alone. Then, in ninth grade, we became...more than best friends.

I exhaled slowly, making the mistake of looking up. I caught his eye briefly, and I wanted to shrivel up and die. The look on his face was positively withering.

"Something to say?" he asked, jutting his chin out at me. I opened my mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. I was a fucking fish. Did he really want to talk to me? I couldn't imagine that. Why was he here? Why was I here? He was supposed to be taking an exam.

"Almost there, kids," Mr. Robertson said from the drivers seat, looking almost as uncomfortable as I felt.

"I didn't think you'd be here, obviously," I muttered, biting down on the inside of my cheek. The car slowed, and I could hear the cheers echoing from the football field. I felt sick.

"You could've asked," Gavin folded his arms. "Oh wait, that would require you to actually text me."

I shut my eyes, "I thought no contact was best."

"Best for who, Jules?" he shot back, eyes flashing. "For you?"

"Best for both of us, Gavin," I replied, keeping my voice even. "Clean break."

He scoffed bitterly, "Yes, you certainly made sure of that."

"Otherwise-"

"Otherwise I might've gotten an explanation for why you broke up with me, and wouldn't that just be ridiculous?"

"Can we not do this?" I hissed, as I watched Mr. Robertson pull into the parking lot. "Please," I straightened my sash, smoothed my hair. "Let's just get through the next hour, hand off the stupid fucking crowns and go our separate ways. Then you never have to see me again. Okay?"

"Is that what you want?" Gavin's eyes drew slowly up to mine, and I had to will myself not to look away. My heart thudded hard in my ears, and I took a deep, centering breath.

"Yes."

"Fine," he said sharply, finally looking away.

"Fine."