Hate to Say I Told You So

Chapter Twenty Five

How would I get Ross' notebook? The question rang in my head over and over School had finished, so I couldn't sneak it in English. He wasn't going to pick up my calls, and he for sure wouldn't let me in his house. I enlisted Heather for help. If she knew Ross went somewhere and had his notebook with him, she would text me and I'd try to catch him. Nine times out of ten, he saw me coming before he got in there, and would just turn around, or I'd give him a head start and he would gather his stuff and leave while I ordered my coffee or something, but I could tell he read some book about Rob Lowe. It looked brand new.

After a few days of this, I got another text from Heather:

He's gone to Pages. Brought the book. Good luck!

I waited another minute before heading out myself, citing some lame excuse I'm not even sure my mom bought.

On the right side of the entrance, Pages had their cafe, hidden by some magazine racks for customers' privacy. I shot a subtle wave to Tony, who used his raised hand to point out Ross. Right there where I wanted him, sitting in the corner table, his favorite because he could see the people in the store, and those coming in and shopping at the other stores on the block, and unaware I could see him. He read his book about Rob Lowe, I tried to look natural as I stood at the rack, flipping through some deliciously gross gossip magazine and catching up on some eating disorder under the guise of a diet. Right on cue Ross drained the last bit of his coffee cup, and I knew he would hit the bathroom in a matter of minutes. Just as I reached to flip through another magazine, Ross stood up to head for the restroom, asking to the barista to keep an eye on his things. I wasn't worried about getting past the person behind the counter. Tony had gotten so excited about us getting together, he announced to the whole store about our relationship.

I stayed hidden until Ross turned to the restrooms just past the manga books. I waved to the worker as I walked to Ross' table and rummaged in his bag until I found it. The key to his brain, or heart, whichever poetic cliché you preferred. Tucking it into my somewhat oversized purse, brought for this very purpose, I stepped up to the counter, ordered coffee to go, and headed for the CLFS section, trying to act as calm as possible.

...

When I got home that night, I tore through his book. Some of it looked like poetry, some of it looked like just his thoughts, more like a diary. He wrote a lot about me and his concern about how I dealt with my father. How proud he felt that I had called called him. A bit about his own father. I saw lists upon lists of date ideas, things that I liked, and notes on kissing, which made me smile. It almost made me feel bad. He put so much into this relationship, and I felt like I just let him down. He knew everything that made me happy, things that made me sad, he noticed things about me I didn't even know. It made me want to know him the same way.

I turned to the last page that had writing on it, dated the day before, and his train of thought. I scanned the words, my brain barely processing what he wrote. Then my eyes fell on one passage "I should hate Belle, I really should. She kissed someone else and never told me. I know it was before we started dating, but she should have told me. But I don't hate her. I can't hate her. I still love her."

It hit me all at once, like a ton of bricks. He still loved me. He didn't hate me at all, it only seemed that way in my head. I spent hours reading and re reading everything he had written since I had last seen his notebook. He'd written many additions to the "Belle" poem, and many different poems. He had tried to write hate poems about me, but he crossed them out, or rewrote them, and all of them had "SCREW IT" written across the page in his boyish writing.

How could I have ever not have realized this before? He was my Duckie. I had liked Collin for most of the time he had liked me. Every couple has a Duckie. A guy on the outside that likes the girl. Collin seemed like my Blaine, which made Ross my Duckie, minus the fact that I hadn't known him my entire life like in Pretty in Pink, but pretty close. My life felt like Pretty in Pink with the original ending.