The Girl Who Was Supposed to Die (GirlXGirl)

Chapter 44: Embracing the Moment

The diner hummed with low chatter, the scrape of forks on plates, and the occasional hiss from the kitchen. Warm golden light spilled across the room, mixing with the cool night air outside, making it feel like we were in this weird little bubble. I sat across from Marie in one of those old vinyl booths, my back sticking to the damn thing, trying to shake off the emotional high from the locker room. Everything felt distant—like the real world was still out there, but we were sitting in a dream. A cheap, greasy dream, but whatever.

I dragged my eyes to the neon "Open" sign flickering outside the window, the buzzing making me want to snap it in half. It threw pink and green lights across the glass, and for a second, I wondered how long it'd last before it died. I flipped over the menu in front of me—worn out and sticky in the way diner menus always are. I wasn't actually looking at the food, though. Nah, I was thinking about the kiss. That kiss. Still got my heart doing dumb shit every time I let my brain go back to it.

Across the table, Marie was way too calm. She leaned forward, eyes on me, that damn smile still glued to her face. Like she was in control or something. Like she had me figured out. The way her eyes glittered in the low light, it made me want to either kiss her again or knock over the salt shaker just to break the tension.

The waitress sauntered over, and I snapped back to the present, scanning the menu for something—anything. "Burger and fries," I said, tossing the menu aside. It didn't matter; I just needed something to do with my hands before I lost my mind. Marie ordered some grilled cheese and onion rings, all casual, like we didn't just almost tear each other apart in a locker room. The waitress flashed a half-hearted smile and disappeared, leaving us with all that thick silence between us again.

But it wasn't awkward. Not really. It was like we were waiting for something to crack. Or maybe I was. I caught Marie's eye again, and for a second, everything froze—the way her hair caught the light, the way her smile softened just a bit, like she was still letting me in. It made my chest tighten in a way I wasn't used to.

"So," she finally said, propping her chin on her hand, her eyes narrowing slightly like she was about to spring some bullshit on me, "when's your birthday?"

Seriously? My fingers clenched around the edge of the table, knuckles turning white. Birthdays? Of all the stupid things to ask. I shifted in my seat, keeping my face straight. "Next week," I muttered, testing the waters, seeing how much I could say without freaking myself out.

Her eyebrows shot up. "Next week? You didn't tell me?"

I shrugged, staring at the napkin holder like it had some profound wisdom to offer. "Never really celebrate it," I said, keeping my voice even. No big deal. Not worth talking about. Just another day I'd rather forget.

Marie's smile slipped, replaced by something that looked a little too much like sympathy for my taste. "Why not?"

Of course, she'd dig deeper. I could feel the pull to shut down, to retreat behind my usual walls. But there was something about Marie, something that made me not want to bullshit her. So I sighed, leaning back in the booth. "My dad," I started, words tumbling out like I was peeling off a scab. "He never gave a damn. Either forgot or just pretended it didn't exist. So, I stopped caring, too."

The air between us thickened, heavy but not suffocating. More like... loaded. I didn't feel exposed exactly, but I was on edge, waiting for her to say something stupid that would make me regret opening up.

Instead, her brow furrowed, and she leaned back too, not breaking eye contact. "Well, we're celebrating this year," she said, her voice firm but kind of light too, like she wasn't asking for my permission. "I don't care if it's just the two of us, we're doing something."

I rolled my eyes, but I could feel a smile creeping onto my face, no matter how hard I tried to kill it. "You're really gonna push this, huh?" I asked, trying to sound exasperated, though I knew I'd already lost this argument.

Marie grinned, that spark of defiance lighting up her face again. "Absolutely. You deserve to be celebrated, and I'm not taking no for an answer."

I shook my head, chuckling softly, but there was a warmth in my chest that hadn't been there before. "Don't get your hopes up," I muttered, trying to act like I didn't care, even though a part of me kind of did.

The food arrived just in time, the smell of greasy fries and melted cheese filling the air between us. We dug in, and the conversation drifted into lighter stuff. We joked about school, about how our math teacher had to be a vampire with the way he hated sunlight, and I half-heartedly told a story about the time I got stuck on the roof of the school in seventh grade, leaving out the part where I punched the guy who dared me.

Marie laughed, full and real, and for a second, I forgot why I always kept everyone at arm's length. She had this way of making the world seem a little less shitty, like maybe not everything was a fight.

"So," Marie said around a mouthful of grilled cheese, "what do you wanna do for your birthday? Got any preferences?"

I rolled my eyes again, popping a fry into my mouth. "I told you, it's not a big deal," I grumbled, but even I knew my protests were wearing thin. The idea of actually doing something for my birthday wasn't so horrible. Not with her, anyway.

Marie shook her head, grinning like she had me all figured out. "You can pretend it's not a big deal, but I'm still planning something. You don't have to do anything—just show up."

"Fine," I muttered, feigning annoyance as I bit into another fry. "But seriously, don't go overboard."

Marie raised an eyebrow, her grin widening. "No promises."

We finished eating, and as we stepped out into the night, the cool air hit us, sharp and fresh. I looked up at the stars and felt that weird weight in my chest again—the one that made me think maybe I didn't have to keep shutting people out. At least not all of them.

Marie glanced at me, her expression soft but full of mischief. "Next week's gonna be fun," she said, and there was a glint in her eyes that made me feel like whatever she had planned, I wasn't gonna hate it.

As we walked side by side through the quiet night, I let myself hope that this birthday, for the first time in forever, might actually mean something. And that wasn't the worst thing in the world.