Page 229 of Something Rad
The car ride to my house is almost entirely silent, but I wouldn’t say that it’s awkward. There’s tension between us, but it’s not heavy, not suffocating. It’s more like a buzz of energy in the air, drawing the two of us together, but neither of us acting on it out of fear of giving in.
It’s almost like when you run into static electricity, and you know if you touch the person or thing before you that you’ll be shocked. You’re often left in suspense, your finger floating in the air between yourself and the other object, afraid of the possible pain but also inexplicably drawn to it anyways. You know there’s a chance you could regret giving it. It could simply hurt, leaving nothing but an aftershock and regret running through you. Or it could hurt just a little, but the satisfaction of giving in, of letting yourself feel it, far outweighs any hurt. In fact, it almost makes you feel stronger for having endured the pain. That shock is sometimes worth that blissful invincible feeling you get afterwards. The only issue is, you don’t know unless you try. Unless you invite the pain in. You have no possibility of knowing how fulfilled and euphoric you can feel unless you allow yourself to get hurt. And I suppose that’s the real test of it all. Whether or not to give in. Whether or not you’re willing to risk the pain. Whether or not you’re okay with never knowing what could be.
When Robbie pulls up to my house, my mom’s car is already parked in the driveway. The lights in the house all seem to be off, so I’m sure she’s already asleep. But that doesn’t mean I’m about to prance through the front door with Robbie on my heels. Especially considering that I’m coming home much later than I normally ever would, the clothes that I’m wearing, the way half of my makeup is gone while the other half is smeared or running down my face, and the fact that we both have wet hair. With my mother’s basic knowledge of me and Robbie’s history and her awareness that I haven’t been anywhere but home, school, or work in the two months since things between us ended, all of this would just lead to far too many questions that I don’t have the brain capacity to answer right now.
I start to turn to him to tell him thank you and good night, but he’s already opening his door and climbing out of the car.
“Okay then,” I mutter to myself, doing the same.
By the time I close my door, Robbie’s already rounded the car and is standing at the head of the walkway leading up to my house. He stops, looking over his shoulder with raised brows like he’s waiting for me to hurry up.
I approach him hesitantly, my arms crossing. “Um…my mom’s home,” I mumble.
“Okay,” Robbie says.
“Okay.” I fidget, running a hand through my hair. “Well…” I flick my eyes in the direction of Robbie’s car, expecting him to turn and go back to it.
“Does Sherri have rules against walking you to the door?”
I roll my lips into my mouth, fighting the urge to berate him for calling my mom by her first name again but also the automatic reflex to smile. “Not that I’m aware of,” I tell him.
Robbie holds out an arm, telling me to lead the way, and I do. We quietly make our way up the walkway, the door feeling so much further away than it really is and time feeling like it slows with each step we take. Eventually, we reach the top step of my porch.
I turn towards Robbie to find his eyes already on me.
A few seconds go by of me averting his gaze and tapping my foot awkwardly before I finally blow out a breath, facing him. “Hey,” I say dumbly.
“Hey, Cooper,” he says back, his lips twitching into a smile for a moment before it fades, his brows pulling together. “Are you okay?” he asks, his voice gentle.
“Physically?” I ask.
“Sure,” he nods.
“Yes, I’m okay.”
Great, actually.
“And mentally?” he asks, taking a step closer. “Emotionally?”
“I…” I shake my head. “I’m not sure.”
Robbie watches me for a few seconds, seeming to take me in. “What are you thinking?” he asks me.
“That’s not a simple question.”
“Actually, it may be the simplest question ever,” he retorts. “Whatever’s in your head right now, Cooper,” he pauses, reaching up to brush his thumb across my temple, “just say it. Whatever it is. All of it.”
I swallow hard, looking away from him. “I…I’m thinking…”
“So close. It’s right there,” Robbie pushes me, smirking.
“I’m thinking that… I’m freaking out a little. That…I don’t really knowwhatI’m thinking. I’m thinking that I don’t really know if I trust you, but that everything in me wants to. I’m thinking about how no one has ever made me as angry as you have made me. Or sad. Or frustrated. Or enraged. But…I’m not sure if anyone has ever made me feel as happy either. Asalive. And that…kinda scares the shit out of me. So, in a way…all those months ago…you were right. And I’m thinking about how I hate that you were right. I don’t want to be scared…but I’m not sure how not to be. I’m also thinking that…if you meant what you said… If you want to stop trying to stay away from each other…which, I think you meant, but I–I don’t know. I can’t be sure. Things…things got heated…and I know we were in the moment… So, if you didn’t mean it, that’s fine. You can just tell me and we can move on with our lives. Get back to the status quo. But…if youdidmean it. If you want to try to be around each other again, to be…whatever it is you want us to be…to be…together…in any way…I…I just…I think we need to take it slow.”
I take a deep breath as I finish, looking up to find Robbie staring at me with wide, thoughtful eyes. Several seconds go by of me holding my breath and Robbie not saying anything.
Eventually, I’m forced to let out a weak chuckle, feeling like I might pass out if I don’t get any new air into my lungs. Robbie still hasn’t responded. He hasn’t answered any of my questions. Or really addressed anything that I just word vomited out at him at his request. I shift on my feet, running my hands up and down my forearms uncomfortably, my eyes flicking between Robbie’s unmoving face and my feet.
“What areyouthinking?” I finally ask him.
