Page 50 of Not Another Yesterday
Ronan diverts his attention to Zack. “What’s up?”
“So, I have this opportunity to submit a film of mine for a national competition,” Zack says. “My film professor at UCLA has been mentoring me. I’m trying to come up with a concept and then work on it this next semester. I’m hoping to get it finished by June or July and submit it for judging.”
“Okay?” Ronan says. “And how do I play into this?”
“Well, if you’d be okay with it, I was hoping to make a film about you,” Zack says hesitantly.
Ronan’s brow creases. “What do you mean?”
“Okay, Ran, please just hear me out, okay?” Zack says raising his hands.
“Sure,” Ronan says calmly.
“I have all this footage, like of all of us and stuff, and, obviously, a lot of you. And… I mean, I still have that footage from… from when… when everything hap—”
“Yep,” Ronan says with a nod, urging Zack to move past that point.
“Your story, it’s super compelling, Ran. And I mean…”
I feel the tension in Ronan’s body, and I wrap my arm around his waist, scooting a little closer still.
Ronan shakes his head. “Zack, I don’tthink—”
Zack moves his hands as if to rebuff Ronan’s reluctance. “Hold on, okay? The documentary won’t focus on like, specifically what happened to you. It’s more about how you came out of it on the other side, you know? Like, how you overcame it and where you are now and stuff. You don’t have to really do anything,” Zack says, ignoring the rather harsh look Shane’s throwing his way. “I’d just keep doing what I’m doing. Like, just film stuff and put it all together.”
Ronan inhales and exhales deeply. “I don’t want to be an asshole, man. I don’t want to tell you not to do this because, I mean, I know this is your passion and stuff, but… I don’t really want… I can’t…” Ronan trails off.
Zack deflates, sitting back in his seat. “It’s okay, Ran. I figured you’d say that,” he says warmly, though the disappointment is visible on his face. “I just wanted to ask because, well, I really think that your story would touch a lot of lives, you know?”
“I’m sorry,” Ronan says with a guilty look. “I just don’t think I’m ready for this.”
Shane shakes his head. “You don’t have anything to feel bad about, Ran. You’re not fucking obligated to talk to anyone about anything, okay? Not some investigative journalist, not even one of your best friends. You don’t owe anyone anything,”
Ronan’s face blanches. “What?”
“You don’t owe anyone anything—not Zack, not that investigative journalist chick.”
Ronan’s eyes flare for the briefest of moments. “What investigative journalist chick?”
“The one who…” Shane trails off, realization dawning, and levels a dismayed look at me. “You haven’t fucking told him?”
I shake my head at Shane.
“Why the fuck not, Cat? It’s been like two weeks!”
I shift out of Ronan’s hold, creating some distance between us as shame, guilt, and anger clash in my chest, each fighting for poleposition. I know how this looks. Like I’m the one who kept a secret. I’m the one who made Shane raise his voice.
“What are you guys talking about?” Ronan asks, his gaze moving from Shane to me, then back again. I think I recognize fear flaring in his emerald-green eyes, and the guilt inside me takes the lead.
Shane squares his shoulders and crosses his arms in front of his puffed-out chest, his jaw ticking twice while he waits. And now I know, without a shadow of doubt, where Shane’s loyalty lies. Not with me. Never with me. Always and forever with his best friend, no matter how unreasonable, how obstinate, how stubborn Ronan may be. Shane has his back, and nothing and no one will change that. Not even me.
I hold Shane’s eye contact for a moment longer before he raises his eyebrows at me, and I turn my attention to Ronan.
“When were you going to tell me about Rashana Yates?”
Ronan pales even more, his full lips losing their soft pink coloring and I see the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallows what I imagine must be akin to ash. To his credit, he holds eye contact. But his breathing is noticeably elevated as he works to maintain his outward composure, just like he’s been conditioned all his life.
“I wasn’t,” Ronan finally says, his tone even. “I wasn’t going to tell you or Shane or anyone.”
