Part 35 (1/2)
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hated running into you yesterday you looked really cute with that viscera hanging off your head.”
And ... melt.
I tried not to smile at the compliment, but it was impossible not to. ”That's a good word. Viscera.”
”Yeah,” he agreed. We watched each other, silent again, less snorty.
”I need more than cute viscera, though.” He sipped his coff ee.
”Like what?” I asked, stumped.
”I'm not going to feed you your lines, Alex.” I still didn't know what to say. He waited. ”So that's it, then?” he pushed.
Part of me had hoped that everything that happened, or didn't happen, in the last few months could be erased. Forgotten. What good would it do to rehash all of the s.h.i.+t?
I'm the idiot who asked if he still loved me. And I'm also the idiot who decided to say, ”I got a new print of Children of the Corn if you want to watch it.”
”Maybe.” He didn't look quite as mad anymore, just disappointed.
Which was much worse.
I stood up and walked over to his chair. We were about the same height when he sat and I stood, and I pulled off his hat to run my fi n- gers over his hair. It had worked for me in the past when words failed me, as they often did. I leaned in and stole a kiss, then backed away to gauge his reaction. He grabbed my wrist and pulled me toward him, his other hand cupping my neck as he kissed me back. The warmth rushed from my lips to my toes, and for a minute all was forgiven.
Until he pushed me away and s.n.a.t.c.hed back his hat. ”d.a.m.nit, Alex.” He wiped his lips off with the top of his hand. ”I gotta go.” He crushed his hat back on his head and shoved his way out the door, --1 leaving his large coff ee behind.
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I slunk back to my chair and sipped my mocha. When I was done, I forced myself to drink the rest of Leo's coff ee, too. The bitter taste fi lled my mouth and coated my stomach. I imagined it was poison, a concoction that would eat away at my tongue, my teeth, my esopha- gus, rendering me physically speechless. A fi tting end to someone who never said the right thing.
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CHAPTER.
35.
Becca stayed home from school much of the next week. The radiation made her throat incredibly sore, to the point where swal- lowing hurt. Her mom wouldn't let me come over, telling me I made Becca laugh too much and that would just hurt her throat more. I sent Becca a link to Ordinary People, the saddest movie ever made, with the note, ”I hope you never laugh again.”
She wrote me back that Caleb had come to her rescue with home- made hard candies.
”Right. Hard candies. I know what you mean.”
”Perv.”
”Takes one to know one.”
It was hard to communicate with Becca about Leo through typ- ing only. She was stuck on the positive of ”At least he wanted to see you. And he kissed you!”
”And then he stopped kissing me. Is there anything more morti- --1 fying than a guy not wanting to kiss you back?”
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”Try not being able to kiss a guy because you have puke breath twenty- four- seven.”
That shut me up. My problems still weren't real problems next to Becca's.
I drowned my sorrow and guilt in Ben and Jerry's and horror movies. Friday night, my mom asked if I would watch the twins so she could play mahjong with some friends.
”I know they're old enough to be alone, but I'd feel better if you were home with them. Please don't drive anywhere.” Mom had chilled a lot with her tension over driving, except at the thought of her three children being alone in a car together. She never said, but I knew what she thought, if we were all driving together, we could all die together, too. I told her we'd stay home, order pizza, watch some movies.
”Nothing too scary,” Mom requested. ”CJ wouldn't want you to know, but he's been having nightmares lately.”