Just Like the Movies (23 page)

“Yeah. I guess you're right.”

Marijke sighs and, on the table, her phone vibrates. She doesn't even bother looking at it.

“Is it him again?” I ask. She's the one who shrugs this time.

“Probably.”

Apparently Tommy has texted her more than a dozen times a day since Tuesday—and that was only after he stopped calling and leaving multiple voice mails. She never checked them, so eventually her mailbox was full. Now he just keeps sending texts.

“I'm starting to regret getting that unlimited data plan on my phone,” Marijke says.

“When did you give him the letter, anyway?” I ask.

“When he came to pick me up for school on Tuesday. He acted like nothing had happened, and I refused to speak during the entire drive to school. When we got there, I handed him the letter and walked away.”

“Wow. What did it say?”

Marijke swallows a gulp of her drink. “It said that I'd given things a lot of thought and that I was sorry, but I just couldn't do it anymore. And then I told him about the movie experiment.”

“You
what
?”

She shrugs again. “I just figured I might as well explain it. I mean, he pretty much missed out on everything I'd worked so hard to plan for him. He needed to know how hard I'd been willing to work to win his love.”

I shake my head. “Did you tell him everything?”

“Yep. I even gave him a copy of that scientific method thing you typed up.”

I toss my empty paper cup into a nearby trash can. “So now what? What about prom?”

Marijke winces. “I don't know. Honestly, I'm
so
tempted not to go, but I know it's the last prom I'll ever go to, so I sort of feel obligated. And I guess I kind of want to.”

“I know what you mean,” I say, nodding. “I don't want to
go stag, but I don't want it to seem like I think people can't go without a date. I just don't know if I can handle seeing Joe with a date.”

“Whatever happened with that, by the way? You never gave me the full story.” She leans over and rests her face in her cupped palm. I just shake my head.

“I asked him out; he said he didn't want anything serious right now.”

“And?”

“And that any guy would be lucky to have me, blah, blah, blah. And ‘but.' A big ‘I like you, but.' ”

Marijke sort of scoffs. “Well, come on, it's not like he
totally
rejected you, he said he didn't want something serious. Don't you get what that means?”

“Uh, yeah. It means he doesn't want to be with me. That he's blowing me off.”

“No.” She groans. “It means that he sees you as the kind of girl to get serious with, and he's not ready for that now.”

I blink at her. “How could you possibly derive that out of what I just told you?”

“Because it's total guy language. He thinks you're a serious girl—the kind of girl to
get serious
about. He doesn't want to hurt you, and he's got other stuff going on.”

“Huh. I never thought about it like that.”

She rolls her eyes. “Obviously. How did you react when he said all of this to you?”

I wince. “I got out of his truck as fast as possible. And I've spent the week avoiding him. And avoiding you too.”

“Yeah, I figured that one out on my own.”

I drop my head into my hands. “I guess I should have considered the brighter side of his rejection—but really, it took every ounce of bravery I had to ask him out at all. Hearing him say no was about as painful as it gets.”

Marijke takes another sip of her drink, then tosses it in the garbage.

“You want me to be honest with you, right? No BS?”

I nod and she leans a little closer.

“I think you caught him off guard. I think a guy like Joe is used to being the pursuer. He's the kind of guy that takes charge.”

I sigh. “I guess. It's a little useless speculating about it now.”

We lapse into silence and Marijke glances at her phone.

“Three new text messages,” she murmurs. Taking a deep breath, she taps on the envelope icon and reads them. Then she hands the phone to me.

She sighs. This time I lean forward.

“So what are you going to do?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, he's not going to stop texting you or trying to get you back until you've talked to him again face-to-face. You need to tell him that you love him.”

“
What?
” she looks dumbfounded. “Why in the world would I do that
now
?”

“Because then he'll understand.”

“That doesn't make any sense.”

I cock my head. “Maybe. Maybe not. But I know one thing—he's not going to let up until you've given him a chance to get closure. And besides, wouldn't you rather get that out of the way before the meet tomorrow? That way it isn't hanging over you while you race.”

“You could be right,” she admits. “But the last thing I'm going to do is hunt him down. I've spent enough time focused on Tommy. If he wants to talk to me that badly, he can find me himself.”

Ever heard the phrase “be careful what you wish for”?

I really should have paid closer attention to it.

As Lily turns onto my street, I see the General Qi before I see Tommy. Lily sees it too; she glances over at me with a nervous expression.

“You want me to stick around?” she asks. I shake my head.

“No. It's fine. I need to face him. It's like you said, it's better if I don't have it hanging over me at states.”

“Okay,” she says, sounding a little unsure. I shoot her a smile.

“You're coming tomorrow, right?”

“I wouldn't miss it. Although Salverton is a hike and a half.”

“You could ride the spirit bus. It leaves from school in the morning.”

Lily barks out a laugh. “Right—I'm just full of school spirit. I think I'd rather drive.”

“All right. Well, thanks.” I lean over and give her a hug. “We may not have traveling pants, but you're as good as any sister I could ever have.”

Lily shakes her head, smiling. “Come on, Hallmark. Save the waterworks for Prince Charming out there.”

I nod, but I don't say anything. Honestly, I think I've already cried all the tears I had left for Tommy Lawson.

I wait for Lily to pull away from the house before taking a deep breath and turning to face him. He's sitting on the front stoop, a bouquet of red roses in one hand. I can't help but think of the Monday after the county meet, when he showed up with the same bouquet and the same sweet smile. At the time, I'd been so sure of his love, even though he hadn't said it. Now I know better.

Roses are just roses.

Smiles are just smiles.

There isn't a double meaning or hidden agenda behind something as simple as a flower or a facial expression.

“Hey,” he says, standing up to greet me. I stop walking and stand about five feet away from him.

“Hey,” I say slowly. He reaches across the space to hand me the flowers, but I shake my head. “What are you doing here, Tommy?”

He sets the bouquet on the cement step and shoves his hands in his pockets.

“You weren't answering my calls. You ignored all my texts. I told you in the last one, if I had to stand in your driveway to get you to talk to me, that's what I'd do.”

“I've already said everything I have to say to you.”

“That's crap—you didn't say
anything
to me. You wrote it.”

“Same difference.” Blinking, I look up at him. He's shaking his head, a fierce expression on his face.

“What do you want me to say?” I ask, unable to keep the sarcasm from leaking into my voice. Tommy sighs.

“I don't know, Marijke. I just don't believe that after so much time together, you're really ready to throw it all away because of one night.”

I stare at him for a second. His hair is messy and tousled in that sexy way I love. His eyes are darker than usual, and they lack their normal glint of good humor. I wonder if he's hurting the way I am. I wonder if he knows how hard it's been for me to let him go.

“My parents are separating.”

Tommy's eyes widen, but he doesn't say anything, so I continue.

“That's why I wanted you to come over on Monday. They told me when I got home from practice. That's why I texted you and told you it was important.”

“Jeez, baby,” he says, shoving a hand back through his hair and messing it up even more. “I had no idea—I wish I'd known. Are you okay?”

I shrug. “My dad's staying at a hotel near his work. Mom seems sad a lot of the time, but we haven't really talked about it that much.”

“Did they tell you why? Like, did one of them meet someone or something?”

“I don't think so. Mom just said that they got married when they were really young and they feel like they've held each other back.”

I scuff my shoe against the brick border around the flowerbed.

“I feel terrible that I didn't even notice they were having problems. I guess I was just too wrapped up in us to give a damn about anything else.”

Before I can stop him, Tommy moves forward and pulls me toward him. I can't help myself. His arms feel good around me and his chest feels solid and strong. I've missed him so much over the past few days. All I needed was for him to hold me like this. I feel his lips press against my forehead.

“Baby, I'm so sorry. Truly. I-I had no clue that was going on. I swear to you, I would have been here in a heartbeat.”

His lips begin to travel, pressing against my temple, then my cheek, then my jaw, and finally the corner of my mouth. I suck in a breath and he takes it as an invitation.

“I missed you so much,” he murmurs against my lips before pulling me closer and deepening the kiss. For a
second, I let myself go, losing all of my thoughts and new convictions in the power of that kiss.

And then I remember how I felt waking up Tuesday morning, knowing he'd never even bothered to come by. And I remember how I felt when he stood me up to go play paintball with his buddies. And I remember how I felt when I saw the texts and Facebook messages from other girls.

I jerk back, covering my mouth with one hand. My whole body is shaking. Tommy reaches for me again, but I stumble even farther backwards.

“I can't do this.”

“Marijke,” Tommy says, his voice uncharacteristically frantic, “come on. You know we belong together. You know this is right.”

I shake my head. “No, this
isn't
right, Tommy. You have no idea what I've been putting myself through for the past month. For longer than that, really. You probably didn't even notice how miserable I've been.”

Tommy swallows hard. “Okay. I-I guess I just thought you were being jealous.”

“Maybe I
was
being jealous. But that's not why this is over. It's over because I've been
living my life
for you, I've let everything revolve around you. I didn't get my driver's license. Hell, I haven't even picked a college because I was waiting to see what you decided to do next year. I built my world around you!”

His expression changes a bit as I yell at him. This time he looks a little frustrated.

“I never asked you to do that.”

“I know that.”

“So then, why did you?”

“Because I love you!”

Suddenly, it's like the world stops. I don't hear any birds chirping or cars driving by. The wind ceases to blow. It's just me and Tommy, staring at each other. Is it just my imagination, or has my boyfriend—my
ex
-boyfriend—turned pale at the three words I've held back from saying for so long?

“If you love me,” he says slowly, “then why are you breaking up with me? That doesn't make any sense.”

“I know. It doesn't, but this relationship feels totally one-sided. Love has to be a partnership. It doesn't matter how much I love you if you don't love me back.”

“Who says I don't love you?”

I stare at him, one brow cocked. “Sometimes it's about what you
don't
say, not what you do.”

Tommy groans. “You know how I feel about you.”

Shaking my head, I move around him and start walking toward the front door of the house.

“No, I don't know how you feel. And that's the point. I don't need flowers or gifts or songs you wrote or anything like that. I just need you to
tell me
how you really feel. And you can't give me that, can you?”