Everything We Always Were

Thirty Two: Bubbling

There hasn't been a day yet when I don't think about the New Year's party. It eats away in the back of my mind, like the scene of a movie that plays over and over again.

I can feel her lips on mine again sometimes, like a faint whisper.

There have been many times over the past couple of months that I wanted to tell her. After she told me that she didn't remember, and it was obvious that she really didn't, I had so many opportunities, but fear got the better of me each and every single time.

But I'm going to do it. At prom.

I had thought about asking her to prom and telling her that way. But it didn't seem right, somehow. So I decided that after prom, I'd take her back to the clearing by the barn.

The sound of my front door opening brings me out of the movie again.

"James, I brought you some dinner," Maria's voice floats down the hallway from the kitchen when I open my bedroom door.

"I'll be there in a second,"
"I can't stay, but it's been a month and a half and I had a minute to stop by," She stands up after sliding containers into the fridge and turns to look at me. "How are you?"

"Fine,"

"You don't look fine,"

"I am fine,"

"Anything you want to talk about?"

I shake my head, "Not really,"

"Well," She sighs. "You look horrible. Eat this food, and get some rest for God's sake." As she passes me, she pats me on the shoulder, "I have to go,"

"Bye," I force a smile. "Thank you for the food."

"So," Delia clears her throat, her hand on her seatbelt before the door is even closed all the way. "I didn't realize but apparently CJ is in my last hour this semester," I clench my jaw, anger beginning to make its way into the edges of my vision already. "And the girl behind me passed me this before class ended today. I think it's from him."

I take a deep breath. Out of the corner of my eye, I see her hold out a small piece of folded-up paper. "We can open it when we get to yours,"

She doesn't respond, and my jaw aches with tension for the entire drive home, but all the thoughts running through my mind make it hard for me to keep my anger at bay, let alone relax. I stay silent until we get into her bedroom, taking the extra time it took to walk in to take big breaths and calm down my heartbeat.

I can't control the look on my face as I read the scrawling handwriting on the paper.

"Here," I don't bother refolding it before handing it back to her.

"Um," She clears her throat, sitting awkwardly on the edge of her bed. "What do I do?"

"It's up to you," I stare at the wood grain on her desk next to me.

"Do you think he wants to apologize?"

I hold back a scoff, "Or he wants to manipulate you back into a relationship with him." I stand, every part of me wanting to leave before I say or do something I regret.

"I think he wants to apologize," I see her shrug in my peripheral vision, and I have to hold myself back.

"Then unblock him. I have a shift soon," I grab my bag off of the floor and take a few steps towards the door. "So I have to head home."

She doesn't respond, I don't give her a chance to, and I'm in my truck in less than a minute. A groan escapes my throat and I slam my hands into the steering wheel. Seriously? I was so close to telling her, why does he have to try to come back to her life now?