Don't Kiss the Messenger (Edgelake High School, #1)(78)

Now you’re watching me, watching you without me.

Were we a secret? Something warm and bright I kept close to my heart?

What am I without you? A petrified husk. Desiccated.

Why am I without you?

If you want me, get up and hold me. Speak up and scold me.

If this wasn’t real then I’m beginning to think

Nothing is.

I stopped reading and looked out the front window. Thick snow was swirling around the car, like thoughts, like words unsaid and regrets torn up and thrown down. I looked up at the gray sky and felt my eyes burn. I knew he was talking to me right now.

Hot tears ran down my face and I didn’t wipe them away. I wasn’t ashamed. It felt good to cry, to let something heavy finally escape. It gave my mind an overwhelming sense of clarity. Frank was right. It was all so simple.

Finally, I knew what I had to do.

I took out some blank pieces of paper and grabbed a pen. I had my own words to write. Even if they hurt to write, even if they exposed everything, even if the feelings weren’t reciprocated, at least it would finally be the truth.

I never realized what a relief it was to finally let the truth out. It’s only painful if you hold it back.

I smiled to myself. Frank would be proud.

…

CECE

On Christmas Eve night, I looked around at a sea of familiar faces. We gathered inside The Pier, a local tavern, and the only restaurant that stayed open year round in our small tourist town. A giant fir tree stood in the center of the room, glowing with white Christmas lights. Bing Crosby’s “White Christmas” played on the speakers. It was a fitting carol, since the forecast was calling for a winter blizzard. Over a foot of snow was predicted to fall, starting through the night and lasting over the next two days. I looked out the restaurant windows. The wind was picking up and an outdoor porch light illuminated giant snowflakes, as thick as feathers, cascading through the air.

My parents sat at the bar. My dad had driven my mom over in the truck. She couldn’t do the ski trip this year, but she would be damned to miss the Edmond holiday ritual. That was one thing I admired about my mom. She was resilient. And she hated to miss a good party.

I sat in the back corner of the room, in a leather arm chair next to the fire place. My phone buzzed and I checked the screen. I was on a message string with a few of the girls from the volleyball team.

Tuba: How do you get through the holidays with family??!!

VanBree: Alcohol.

Tuba: Ugh. I’m on it.

Aisha: Is it wrong to think my own cousin is hot??

Me: Sicko.

VanBree: Yes it’s wrong, on so many levels. Is he single?

Tuba: You never told me you had a hot cousin!!??

Aisha: You always want what you can’t have. :(

My phone continued to chirp and I was about to turn it off, until the name on the screen made my hand freeze.

Emmett

My heart slammed against my ribs. I scanned through the messages. For a second, I thought one of the girls was messing with me. But his name stood out bold and clear, like my mind was shouting it. Why was he texting me on Christmas Eve? I knew he was still mad, but was he trying to ruin every ounce of happiness I could muster up for the holidays?

I sat up straighter and pulled my knees to my chest, like a shield. I took a deep breath and opened the text.

Emmett: I’m not as good with words as you. But here’s a try.

I stared at the words with confusion. I scrolled down.

I met you, and all my old thoughts, all my preconceived notions were dulled, grinded into sand, and blown away. But now I’m pricked by the sharpness of the new ones.

I swallowed and kept scrolling.

Love has two sides. First it amazes us with its force. Then it humbles us with its sincerity. The first kind electrifies us, the second kind sobers us. The first kind stimulates us, the second kind is a security. One is light, one is heavy. One is almost unbearable and the other makes everything bearable.

It doesn’t happen in an instant, it grows out of a situation, a look, a sentence, a moment, a similarity, a song, a string of messages pieced together.

My heart started to unravel. The tension in my shoulders slipped away. I melted into his confession.

Finally, the answer to the question is obvious. It’s you. It’s always been you.

I bit my lips together and the back of my eyes started to ache. But not the dull ache that I was used to feeling. It was a lighter feeling, closer to relief. I didn’t want the message to end. I scrolled down, hungry for more words. I was afraid to look away, afraid this might all be a dream.

My phone buzzed again.

Emmett: Look up at the door.

As I reread his words the front door blew open. I slowly lifted my head. A white cloud of snow dispersed and Emmett walked inside the room. He was like a lone lumberjack stumbling in late to the party. People turned to see the late guest that had just arrived.

Conversation fizzled out as everyone stared at him with recognition. It’s not every day a six-foot-four celebrity walked into a restaurant in the middle of nowhere stomping snow off of his boots, during a winter storm warning no less.

His black stocking cap was dotted with snow. He pulled it off and his thick brown hair spilled out. Our eyes locked. His face looked drawn and travel-weary. Something about his exhaustion made him look weathered and real and more beautiful than ever. I didn’t realize how much I missed him.