oxygen (e.d.)

chapter fifteen

{riley}

"up and at em!" i hear my dad shout, and i groan.

"let me sleep, please?" i mumble, turning onto my other side.

"you have a visitor."

my blood runs cold, and i ask, "who?"

"sloane."

i relax my shoulders and sit up.

"hey," she fumbles with her hands and bites her lip nervously.

"hey,"

my dad leaves, closing the door behind him.

she slowly walks over and crawls into bed with me, getting under the covers and letting out a big sigh.

"i'm sorry about last night. i tried to find you, but someone said you left."

"you shouldn't be sorry," i shrug, "it wasn't your fault and it's not your job to be my mom."

"but it's your job to be mine," she sings and snuggles next to me.

"is that my headband?" i ask.

"maybe," she giggles and i smile.

"can we stay inside today? i don't feel like doing anything."

"want to tell me what happened last night?"

"what?" i ask.

"wyatt's friend said he saw you leave with a tall dark haired guy with earrings and a bunch of leg tats. spill."

"okay, so," i giggle, "i ran away from the crowd and he saw me. he ran to catch up with me and even told his girlfriend to go back to the party. then we argued and he took me home."

"argued about what?"

"feelings," i shrug.

"is that it?"

i think for a bit, but then say, "yeah, yeah that's it."

i didn't want to talk about the glove compartment because it was a secret just between the both of us.

"well," sloane yawns, "it's early."

"it's 10 am."

"and?" she asks, closing her eyes.

i think about things as she sleeps her morning away, wondering what's next for this summer.

i get out of bed quietly and go upstairs to make breakfast just to get my mind off things.

"hey dad," i say as i open the fridge and scan for items.

"someone left something for you."

"what?" i swivel around and he sips his coffee, mischievous smile.

"on the porch."

"what?" i ask again, and walk to the front door.

he shows up behind me, peering over my shoulder as i turn the handle.

my eyes travel to the doormat, and i see a box.

it's maybe 1x1 and wooden, little etchings around it.

on the top lies a note with sloped, large letters.
the handwriting i know too well says, "riley."

"who could've left this?" i ask, bending down to pick it up.

of course i know who it is.

why does he keep doing this?

"what's in it?" my dad asks.

i take the taped note off and put it in the pocket of my shorts. i slowly open the lid and smell the mahogany wood stain.

inside is the necklace, but the 'e' charm is taken off.

"what?" i whisper, holding it up in better lighting.

"there's a note in here," my dad mumbles, holding up a folded piece of paper.

i carefully pull apart the folds and read aloud slowly,

dear riley,

you may be wondering why i'm writing to you, and i don't blame you. i'm kind of questioning it myself. but, that's besides the point. the point is, i can't keep carrying around this necklace. it was made for you. i'm truly sorry and regretful everyday for us not working out, but i'm glad we're both strong enough to move on. i took off the e charm so you didn't think this is some elaborate plan to get you back, because i'm not that creepy. basically i just want you to have the necklace. it won't look right on anyone else's neck.
(also grayson made this box. i was going to give it to you in an envelope, but he had a better idea)

take care,
ethan grant

i stare at the letter in my hands for a solid 30 seconds, trying to soak up the words.

"why'd he sign it ethan grant?" my dad asks.

"because that's what i called him." i whisper.

"honey," my dad says gently, but he doesn't end up finishing his sentence.

we're both at a loss for words.

3 hours later

"are you going to wear it?" grayson says, breathing heavy as he jogs next to me.

"f*ck no. but i'm using the box. thanks, by the way."

"you're welcome," he smiles, "i thought the box might soften the blow."

"he gave it back to me, gray." i say, "what does that mean?"

"it means he doesn't want to give it to anyone else," he shrugs and slows his pace to a walk.

"but why?"

"riley, the times with you were when ethan was at his prime. he can't replace those memories with anyone else."

"i guess," i sigh, "but what am i supposed to do with it now?"

"tell your kids about it one day," he shrugs, "the love story that wasn't meant to be."

"ouch," i say, hitting him lightly on the arm, "still hurts."

"sorry,"

"so who's rowen?" i ask.

"ugh," grayson rolls his eyes, "i don't like her."

"is it because she has red hair?"

"no," he laughs, "i couldn't care less about that, but something about her is off. not everything is balanced in that little brain of hers."

"how do you know?"

"okay," his voice drops low, "you can't tell anyone i'm telling you this, okay? especially not ethan."

i nod eagerly and he continues:

"i have a friend that goes to princeton with her. apparently she's a psycho bitch who goes around manipulating people into doing things for her."

"really?" i whisper, my eyes wide.

"yes, but you didn't hear it from me, okay?"

"do think it's true?"

"i don't know," he grimaces, scratching the back of his neck, "i kind of hope it's not."

"same." i lie.