Page 70 of The Do-Over

“You must be so lonely now.” I knew there were things far worse than loneliness, but I also knew firsthand that the empty achiness of feeling alone could be utterly suffocating. I turned around on the bench and set my hands on his cheeks, stricken by the sad in his eyes.

I had no idea what I was doing, but I kissed the tip of his nose. Because this wasn’t about boys and girls and love and attraction, this was about a human soul needing to feel seen. I knew that because even though it wasn’t comparable in scale to what he must be feeling, I felt that loneliness often. Every time my mom forgot itwas her weekend or my dad left me a note telling me to just order a pizza because he and Lisa and the boys already had dinner, I felt like I was all alone in the world.

“Stop that.” Nick’s hands covered mine, trapping them on his face. “Stop wearing that heartbreaking look on your face. Were you just thinking about Sutton?”

“What?” That made me snort. And I realized that I felt nothing at the mention of my ex-boyfriend. “You know, I actually forgot that he existed.”

“Then what was that?” His thumb stroked over my hand as he removed it from his face and then wrapped his fingers around mine. “What made your face so sad?”

I rubbed my lips together. I never—ever—talked about my parents to anyone. But as Nick looked at me as if he actually wanted to know, I found myself telling him everything. Our fingers ended up linked together, caught in between us as I got lost in rambling away about infighting and shiny new families.

I didn’t realize the level of share I was at until I saw the bubble of tears blurring my vision.

No, no, no, you dork—don’t cry in front of Nick Stark, the one person who should be crying.

“Sorry.” I blinked fast and said, “That was weird—I never talk about that stuff. It’s probably the last thing you need to hear about today, my pathetically mundane family life.”

“You’re wrong.” He swallowed. “Somehow knowing I’m not the only, um… fuck… lonely one? Yeah, somehow I think that helps.”

I forced my mouth up into a smile. “So you’re happy I’m crying.Sucha dick.”

That made him grin and squeeze my hand. “Little bit.”

We both laughed, and I said, “I actually do know what you mean. Nothing makes you feel alone quite like thinking you’re the only one who is alone.”

Nick smiled and said, “Tell me more about you. It’s a good distraction.”

I told him a million little stories, but he seemed fascinated by each and every one. He joked and teased, but it was warm and sweet and everything my lonely heart needed.

“You sociopathic little deviant,” he laughed, tugging on a piece of my hair after I told him about my secret box of lifetime confessions. “Hazelwood’s valedictorian is not at all what she seems.”

“For the record, I haven’t added any confessions in quite some time,” I clarified.

“Bullshit,” he coughed, and we both laughed.

“Oh! This is a good one,” I said. “All I wanted for my ninth birthday was this purple unicorn cake from Miller’s Bakery. It was majestic, Nick, for real. It had glitterinthe frosting, so it looked like it was dusted with a thousand tiny diamonds. Every Saturday, when my grandma took me to get doughnuts, I would gaze at that glittery, beautiful cake. I loved it for like a year, and I wanted it as my present. No toys, no clothes; it was the only thing I wanted, and I talked about it nonstop.”

“Sounds like an ugly cake,” he teased, his fingers gently rubbing against mine. “But carry on.”

“So my birthday comes and I am beside myself with excitement, right? My mom and her boyfriend drive me to the roller-skating rink, and I am bouncing off the walls. I skate with my friends for a bit, and then it comes time for the cake.”

“I feel like I’m going to hate this part,” he said.

“Oh, absolutely.” I smiled at the warmth in his eyes and said, “Because my mom looks at my dad and goes, ‘Tom? Cake…?’?”

I shook my head at the memory. “And he says, ‘Beth? Cake…?’?”

“No,” Nick groaned.

“Yes. So then they morph into their whole fake-smile-but-homicidal way of conversing, arguing because since the party is on my mom’s day, he thinks it’s her responsibility. But she thinks since I saw the cake when I was withhismother, it’s his responsibility.”

“Meanwhile you’re just hearing the word ‘responsibility’ and feeling like a piece of shit, right?”

“Exactly. Like, if they cared about me and my birthday, shouldn’t they have wanted me to have that purple unicorn cake, no matter what?” I rolled my eyes. “Then they said ‘Oh well’ and just stuck a bunch of candles in the pepperoni pizza that kids had already started stealing pieces from.”

“There was no cake at all?” he said, looking outraged.

“Nope.” I kind of wanted to laugh at how offended he looked. “Did you and Eric ever have any cheesy roller-skating birthday parties?”

---