The Senior (College Years 4)

“She doesn’t want me,” I say morosely, not knowing for sure if that’s true, but going with it anyway.

“Oh, you’re just saying that. You two were together for four years. You don’t just stop loving someone after that long,” Mom says.

She should know. Despite her hatred for my father, she still loves him too.

That’s half the reason she hates him, I think.

“Don’t let yourself become bitter,” Mom says, pulling my attention back to her. “Don’t let yourself become me.”

I stare at her, noting the vulnerability on her face. This is the realest she’s been with me in a while. “You’re not bitter—”

She laughs, and even it sounds bitter. “Don’t lie, Eli. It’s not becoming. My favorite trait of yours is that you’re always truthful. Even when it hurts or is rude. You at least always tell it like it is. I need that from you, son. I need it from you more than you know. And that’s why I’m trying to be truthful with you.”

“I just worry about you,” I admit, my voice low. “When you drink—”

“I know,” she interrupts, pushing the wine glass away from her. “I shouldn’t drink as much. And you shouldn’t be so stubborn. Go to her. Talk to her. Tell her you’re sorry.”

“I’m not so—”

“Eli,” she interrupts again. “Don’t lie to yourself, and don’t lie to me either. Talk to Ava. Send her a text and tell her you want to meet up or whatever.”

I can’t. I blocked her ass from everything months ago, like the impulsive dick I am. It was easier to block her. That way I didn’t have to see her posts when she was in Spain, looking beautiful and having the time of her life. I didn’t have the temptation to call or text her and admit that I missed her. Blocking her was saving my sanity.

And ruining my chances to ever make it right between us.

I think about what my mother said the entire drive back to her house. After dropping her off, I don’t head to Fresno. I turn my car around and head north, back up the moun

tain. Until I find myself driving slowly through Ava’s parents’ neighborhood, shutting off the headlights on my car as I pull in front of her home and park. I stare up at the massive house the Callahans live in for a moment, my gaze automatically going to Ava’s window.

The light is on. A couple of windows down, another light is on.

Beck’s room.

No lights are on downstairs and I check the time. It’s past nine, still pretty early, meaning her parents could be awake. Tucked into the couch in the family room, snuggled up together as they watch something to end their night, which is their usual ritual.

Should I chance it? Or just go home?

Fuck it, I’m doing it.

I slip out of the car, as if I’m in pure stealth mode, shutting the door quietly and sneaking across the front lawn, heading for the side of the house. I’m keeping with the ‘I feel like I’m seventeen again’ mood and come to a stop in front of the trellis that’s attached to the wall, leading right up to the second story.

Right up to Ava’s bedroom window.

I crawled up it a couple of times when we were in high school. Sneaking into her room like a crazy asshole, and she loved every minute of it. We would hook up anywhere we could when we first got together. In the back of my car or hers. In that old cabin Jackson’s uncle owned. Her bedroom. My bedroom. That one night after she won homecoming princess and was still wearing the crown when I fucked her the first time.

She was my princess then. She’s still my princess now, if she’ll let me into her room.

Reaching out, I give the trellis a firm shake, ignoring the worry streaking through me. I’m bigger than I was at seventeen. I’m more muscular, I’m taller and I weigh more. This is risky shit right here.

But I’m not one to let risk hold me back, so I grab onto the trellis and start climbing the wall, wincing when I hear something snap. Bracing myself for the inevitable fall.

Luckily, I’m still in one piece, attached to the wall like a modern-day Spider-Man.

Once I’m at the base of her window, I knock lightly. Three times with a pause in between knocks, like we used to do. I wait, clinging to the wall, my arms starting to shake.

She doesn’t come. Doesn’t lift away her curtains to peek outside, nothing.

Fuck.