The Hardest Fall

“Can I just ask for one thing?”

“Sure.”

“You have one more game, December 26th, right?”

“Yeah, the Cactus Bowl.”

“Can you not tell Mark, or let him know that you know until after it happens? I don’t want him to take it out on Dylan. I wanted to tell you because I was done waiting, and it’s not like he is going to do anything to mess with your future even if—when he learns about this. I’m not even sure if he can do anything to mess anything up for Dylan, but I just don’t want to be the reason for—”

“I can’t promise you that.”

I met his eyes and nodded. That was understandable, but I didn’t think he’d throw his friend under the bus.

The silence after that stretched into minutes and we both sat there, not speaking to each other, just sipping tea and coffee every now and then. When his phone started going off in his pocket, he took it out and shot me a quick look before answering.

“Dad.”

I stiffened.

“Yeah. I’ll be there.”

Just like that, their conversation was over.

“I need to leave,” he explained.

“All right. Thank you for listening to me. I don’t know what I’m feeling right now, but I hope you don’t think the worst of me. I just couldn’t wait any longer and as soon as I can—after the game, that is—I want to talk to Dylan and explain things. He blocked me so I can’t reach him, but I’m going to talk to him somehow. I thought you needed to know before him.”

After that, we had officially reached awkwardland. He insisted on paying the bill then offered to drop me off wherever I needed to go. I told him it wasn’t necessary then we just stood in front of his car. Neither one of us knew what should come next.

“I can give you my number,” I offered, a little hesitantly. “You don’t have to call me or anything if you don’t want to, but if you do end up wanting to talk again…about other things…or anything…”

“Yeah, sure.”

His response didn’t sound promising, but I’d take what I could. After all, I already knew we wouldn’t be besties right off the bat, or maybe ever, really.

After he got in his car and left, I stood at the corner and called Jared.

“Did you talk to him? How did it go?” was the first thing out of his mouth as he answered.

“I did, and I’m not sure. At least he listened. We talked for a couple hours and now it’s up to him.”

“How do you feel? It finally happened, Zoe. I can’t believe you talked to your brother.”

I felt like something was missing, but I didn’t tell Jared that. I assumed I’d feel like something was missing for a while longer. Instead, I told him it had felt invigorating, and I was happy no matter happened next, which was true to some extent.

“Are you coming back here now? Mom made spaghetti and I saved some for you. She has the night shift at the hospital again and Becky is already in bed, so we can talk all night if you want.”

My eyes filling with tears, I sniffled into the phone. “Thank you for letting me stay this last week, Jared. I don’t even know how to thank your mom, and I just—”

“Oh, come on, sweetheart, don’t tell me you’re crying. You’ve thanked us a thousand times already. Becky loves you, and you’ve been babysitting and playing with her, so trust me, my mom is the one who is thankful to have you around. Did your big, bad brother break my best friend? If he did, I’m gonna kick his ass tomorrow. Just say the word—though I won’t touch his face because you guys have some excellent DNA.”

My lips stretched into a smile and it felt weird, as if I hadn’t laughed or smiled for days.

“I’m not crying, just a little emotional. I think I’m gonna walk back so I can get it together—a little fresh air should help. I feel a little weird after finally telling him everything, and I think I’ll grab some pizza on the way if that’s okay with you. I’m sorry, but your mom’s cooking…”

Jared laughed, and the sound made my lips tip up even more.

“Get two,” he ordered. “I’m starving.”

“On it.”

I started walking with the phone glued to my ear.

“I’m thinking we should get drunk and celebrate tonight. What do you think?”

“Celebrate what?”

“We survived finals—what more do you need as an excuse to get drunk? Also, you talked to your brother, and I’d say that’s a good reason, too. We’ll get drunk and talk boys.”

“My favorite pastime,” I muttered. “I can talk about your boys though. That should be fun.”

“We’ll talk about Dylan.”

I sighed and pushed my free hand into my jacket pocket. It wasn’t cold, but every time I thought about Dylan, a little shiver worked its way through my body and my heart gave an extra little kick.