Page 93 of It's in the Contract
Zeke looks at me with enormous brown eyes framed by dark lashes. They’re eyes I want to get lost in. They’re eyes that could fill my heart and then shatter it.
A roaring noise seems to fill my ears, and I can almost hear the whispers that would be said behind my back, the vicious rumors that would spread. What people would think. I’m already being targeted, and it’s only going to get worse if I date a nerd. I just want people’s approval. I want it so badly it’s eating me alive.
“I can’t.” I choke on the words. They’re poison in my mouth. My voice is tiny, barely above a whisper. “I thought I could, but . . .”
Zeke’s eyes go wide, and his cheeks darken in embarrassment. He quickly stands and looks everywhere but at me. “I’m so sorry, I?—”
“It’s not you,” I say. “You’re wonderful. You’re?—”
“You don’t have to soften the blow.” Zeke hurries to leave, but he pauses in the doorway and looks back at me. He’s so beautiful I could cry. What am I thinking? I already want to take the words back. I already want to say yes to him, to us. Maybe I could. Maybe I could change. Maybe I could say yes to myself just this one time . . .
I open my mouth, but then Zeke plows ahead. “I get it. I was stupid to even ask.” He lets out a bitter chuckle that soundsnothing like the soft, sweet, kind-hearted Zeke I know. My chest feels heavy, like someone is stepping on my heart. “It was never real, right? I should’ve known better. None of this is your fault. It’s all on me. I knew that we were never even friends to begin with.” Zeke leaves before I can say another word.
My heart sinks straight into the ground, and a sharp pain presses into my stomach. What have I done? I put my head in my hands, and the tears start to pour.
I have one foot out of the bed before I realize that it’s futile to go after him. I’ve already ruined everything. I’ve hurt Zeke. I’ve shown him that people will hurt him, will break him, that friends can’t be trusted. There’s nothing I could say now that would change his mind, even if I wanted to.
This feels a hundred times worse than when Noah broke up with me. It feels like someone is reaching into my chest and crushing my heart, the pain is that physical.
I cry and cry, letting the tears fall harder than they have since before I can remember. When Noah dumped me, I thought that was the worst pain I could feel, but this . . . this pain feels so visceral, so real. And it’s my own stupid fault.
“I take it back, Zeke . . .” I say between sobs. “I take it back.”
Thirty-Seven
Two weeks until the big day! Don’t forget to vote for your Homecoming royalty.
TikTok caption by @CassidyandBrianMVH.
I spendthe weekend lying in bed, totally miserable. All my energy goes to holding in my tears and trying to put on a brave face for Mom whenever she comes in to check on me. Dad FaceTimes and wants the whole story, and I can’t help but let a few tears slip, but I don’t tell him about Zeke, and he assumes I’m crying because of the pain. And he’s not completely wrong. Sprains suck.
I’m starting to wonder why I’m even doing this. What does being Homecoming Queen get me, really? Is all this really worth it?
But the way I hurt Zeke . . . I don’t know if there’s any coming back from that, even if I wanted to.
My phone buzzes from the bedside table, and I grab it. A picture of Suzy doing a peace sign is on the screen. I answer the call.
“Hey, Suze.”
“How are you feeling?” Her voice sounds off, like she’s not happy about something.
“I’m all right. The painkillers take the edge off.” If only they could heal this ache in my heart, this deep regret, this fear that I’ve broken whatever me and Zeke had beyond repair. I roll onto my side, trying to get comfortable in the bed.
I need to tell my best friend everything. I want to tell her about Zeke, about his Homecoming proposal, and how I was so stupid to reject him. I need to tell her the whole story.
“Suzy, I need to tell you something . . .”
She doesn’t say anything.
“Can I come over?” Moving will be hard, but I want to do this in person, and I desperately need to get out of this room.
“Sure.” Suzy hangs up before I can say goodbye.
I hobbleup the stairs to Suzy’s room, limping along with my crutch. Suzy doesn’t offer to help me, so I struggle up the stairs as best as I can.
“Suze?” I ask. “Is everything okay?” She doesn’t answer.
I have a sinking feeling in my stomach. What’s going on? I can’t handle this right now. I just need my best friend.
