Page 84 of You Started It

“She did?” I ask, sitting up straight.

Mom comes through the kitchen carrying a bunch of empty mugs. Dad shoots up to help her bring them to the sink.

“She did,” Mom says with a hesitant smile. “Is that okay?”

“Yeah.” I nod. “That’s okay. Speaking of food, I’m starved. Can we get some burgers?”

“The usual?” Dad asks, a familiar sparkle in his eye.

“The usual,” Mom and I respond.

“I have a question,” Dad says, looking between us. “I met Axel. But who’s Ben?”

I let out a groan at the same time as my mother.

“Sorry I asked,” Dad responds, holding up his hands.

“I’ll catch you up while Jamie picks up dinner?” Mom says, shooting me an “I got you” look. I smile as I release an appreciative sigh. Dad’s gaze flits to Mom, a slight flush visible in his cheeks.

I have no grand delusions of my parents getting back together. They’re not right for each other, romantically, and I can see that now, but maybe the three of us can find a new way to be a healthy, maybe even happy, family unit.

One day at a time.

“Can you call in the order?” I ask Mom as Dad helps her with the mountain of dirty mugs. “I’ll run out now to get it.” It’ll give me an excuse to go to Axel’s first. Because what I want to say to him can’t be done over texts. We need to see each other in person.

Back in my car, I make the short drive to Axel’s, but as I pull up to Varley Crescent it appears I’m not the only one who decided to pay him a visit. Olivia’s car is parked outside his house. I’m not going to jump to any conclusions. There must be a reason why she’s here. Before I can get out of my car to ask Axel himself, Olivia steps outside his front door and hugs Axel goodbye. He hugs her back and my heart breaks like glass, shattering into a million tiny little pieces.

My throat closes in on me as a flash of heat rushes up my face. I try to breathe, even just short breaths, but I can’t. I can’t get them out. As soon as the tingles start in my fingertips, I know it’s only a matter of time before I lose complete control.

I need to get out of here and fast.

I can’t believe this is happening again.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Step one in getting over Axel: give Ben a second chance. Second chances. Seems to be the theme lately, so why not? Itiswhat I wanted, according to my notebook. Written down, in ink, and so it must be true.

Right?

Right?

I guess.

In order to get the ball rolling on this whole getting over Axel thing, I need to tie up all loose ends, like paying Axel the money I owe him to repair Betty White.

I managed to make sixty dollars tutoring Ben. That combined with the hundred and twenty dollars I have left in my bank account still leaves me short seventy-five dollars. I glance at my beautiful bookshelf. Expensive hardcovers. Special editions. Signed author copies. I know what I have to do.

I take photos of two of my most prized possessions and post them to our school’s “Buy and Sell” Discord group. If I can get fifty dollars for each book, I’ll be able to e-transfer Axel the money and close the chapter on us.

Instead of staring at my phone, waiting for someone to buy my book babies, I decide to tackle something I’ve been putting off for far too long: cleaning my bedroom. Now that Ben and Iare trying to make things work between us, I figure I should put in the effort to create a more inviting space for him. A clean slate. A fresh start.

We can’t move forward if I follow the same patterns as before.

Anxiety whirs under my skin as I glance around my room and see how much work it needs. The clothes on the floor alone overwhelm me. I’ll just do what the organization TikToker Eli follows suggested. Make one pile for laundry. One for donations. The rest I’ll fold and/or hang up in my closet. After that, I’ll clear all surfaces and wipe them down. Clutter. It just distracts you. Makes it hard to focus. The TikTok person said clutter makes anxiety worse. I never saw it that way personally, but maybe I’ll try their method out, since whatever it is I’m doing doesn’t seem to be working.

Why is this so hard?

I can find the derivative of any given function in calculus, but the sight of dirty laundry and stacks of books paralyzes me.

---