Wishful Thinking (19 page)

“Where’d they run off to?” Luke asked, swinging his backpack down over his shoulder. He pulled out a red and white striped sheet that Hazel recognized from the linen closet at Rosanna’s and flapped it out over the grass.

“I think they want to be alone,” Hazel said, sitting down beside him. Her stomach was in knots and she could hardly keep her mind focused on anything around her. But Luke had gone through so much trouble to make the night special. He began pulling surprises out from his bag: a Tupperware container full of Emmett’s latest foray into the world of cookies (chocolate chip with pecans and dried cranberries), a thermos of pilfered red wine, and two paper cups.

Hazel crossed her legs, the grass cool and soft beneath the thin layer of faded cotton. She had agonized about what to wear. She knew she had to save her final Posey dress for later, when Reid and Jaime had a plan and Hazel could wish to start over with them, and so she’d ultimately decided on a pair of Rosanna’s chocolate brown linen pants, paired with a pretty white tank with light blue flowers on the straps. As she tried to get comfortable, she was relieved she had opted against the selection of skirts Rosanna had unloaded on her that morning. (The last days of packing for California had landed Hazel with more hand-me-downs than she knew what to do with.)

Luke poured small sloshes of wine into the cups and handed one to Hazel, along with the biggest cookie in the bag. He held up his own cookie and tapped it against the corner of hers, a silly, crumbly toast.

“To a perfect summer,” he said, trying to sound official as he bit into one chewy edge. Hazel smiled and did the same. The cookie was somehow still warm, and the perfect combination of soft yet substantial.

But she could hardly take more than a bite. Her stomach flipped and her heart was full and heavy. She wondered where
Jaime and Reid were right now. How would she tell him the news? What would he say?

She must’ve been fidgeting or making some sort of uncomfortable face because all of a sudden Luke floated his head directly into her line of vision, his eyebrows cinched and concerned.

“What’s up?” he asked, before glancing down at her untouched cup of wine. “You don’t have to drink it if you don’t want to. I have no idea if it’s good or not—it’s all I could find left over at the club.”

Hazel shook her head and picked up her cup. “No, it’s great,” she said, taking a small sip. It wasn’t that good, actually, but she hardly noticed as she swallowed a tiny gulp.

The muted sounds of the band across the green wafted around them as Luke stretched out his long legs. “Hazel,” he said, “there’s something I need to tell you.”

Hazel lifted her chin to look at him. His dimples were gone and his voice sounded different. Shaky almost, and like it was coming from somewhere deeper inside of him.

“What is it?” Hazel asked, trying to remember how many times in her life good news had followed that sentence. In the past,
There’s something I need to tell you
had often directly preceded the announcement:
It’s time for us to move again.
Or, the alternative, which was more common and even worse:
It’s time for
you
to move again.
Whatever was coming, it couldn’t be good, and Hazel felt her body shutting down.

“Just tell me,” she said, her voice hard and closed. It shocked her how quickly she could switch back to the way she’d used to be. The way she’d had to be at home, always expecting to be let down, forever prepared for the worst.

“It’s no big deal,” Luke said, tugging at his knuckles and
looking at his rough, strong hands. “I just wanted you to know how much fun I’ve been having. You know, since you got here. Ever since I saw you in town that morning, I knew I wanted to know you. I knew it wouldn’t be easy, but I had a feeling it would be worth it. And I was right.”

Hazel felt all of the blood rushing to her cheeks and looked away.

“And I guess I just wanted to say, while I still have the chance…” Hazel felt Luke inching toward her and looked up. His mouth was doing the nervous, twitchy thing and his eyes were squinting a little bit, like he was staring into the sun. He took a quick breath and shakily let it out.

“I love you, Hazel,” he said. “I love you, and I know the summer’s over, and all kinds of things will be changing, but I hope… I guess I hope that we don’t have to.”

Hazel held his gaze for what felt like an eternity. His light brown eyes were still and focused, begging her to hear him, begging her to say
something…
but she couldn’t speak.

“That’s all,” he said, a tentative smile pulling at his lips.

She swallowed, her pulse a stampede, echoing in her ears, and took a hearty sip of wine. Her hand was starting to tremble. She wedged the cup into the grass beside her, not wanting to spill any on the sheet. She’d heard that red wine stains were impossible to remove, probably on an infomercial for some kind of magical spray or laundry stick that you rub in circles on your shirt.

Her neck was hot, the little veins at her collarbone throbbing. Why was she thinking about laundry sticks? Luke had just told her that he loved her. He
loved
her! Nobody had ever said that to her before. No one had even come close.

She had to come up with something better than stain-lifting detergent spray.

“Luke,” she said softly, looking at a spot between the red stripes on the sheet. Her eyes blurred and the crisp white lines turned pink.

She could feel Luke’s body shifting on the grass as he crossed and uncrossed his ankles, clearing his throat. “What’s wrong?” he asked quietly.

What was wrong? She hardly knew where to begin. Of course she loved him. At least she thought she did. From that very first day at the ice-cream shop, there had been something so easy about being around him. He was so considerate. So open and uncomplicated. And he was always
there.
He didn’t disappear unexpectedly. He’d never let her down. It was more than she could say for anybody else she’d known in her life.

So what was
wrong?
She was leaving. Everything was about to change. At that very moment, somewhere not so far away, Jaime was telling Reid that they were going to have a baby. Plans were being made. History was being rewritten. A brand-new life was just a wish away. And Hazel would have to start living it.

Without Luke.

There was nothing she could say to make him understand. How could she tell him that she loved him, and let him believe that they had a future together, that things wouldn’t change? How could she let him think that this was just the beginning, when it was really more like the end? It would all be nothing but a mouthful of lies.

Luke sat up a little bit straighter and turned to face her again. Hazel looked up and immediately saw the boy she’d
seen from across the ice-cream shop, her very own Prince Charming. The way he’d smiled at her without even knowing who she was, so ready to give her a chance, drawing no lines between stranger and friend.

She couldn’t tell him the truth. But she couldn’t lie, either.

Scrambling to her feet, Hazel wiped the sides of her pants, knowing that she’d have to walk away and suddenly consumed by thoughts of crumbs and damp splotches.

“I’m sorry,” she said, staring hard at the grass. “I can’t.”

“You can’t?” Luke asked, standing up on his knees. “What do you mean you can’t? I’m not asking you to do anything. I’m just telling you I love you.”

He reached for her hand and Hazel pulled it away. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Tears were pooling in the corners of her eyes.

“What is your problem?” he asked again. Something sharp slid into his voice, and she knew without looking that his eyes had narrowed. “What are you so afraid of? I know you love me. Why is it so hard for you to say it? Why is it so impossible for you to let people in?”

Hazel’s cheeks were damp and her lungs felt like they were being clenched in a vise. She wanted to be anywhere else. It felt like he was tearing her apart, reaching in and exposing all of the darkness inside of her, like a roll of film left out in the sun. She took a deep breath and looked down at him, her eyes hard and cold.

“Luke,” she said, her voice strong. “The summer’s over. You said so yourself. Everybody’s leaving. I’m leaving. What’s the point?”

Luke pulled himself slowly to his feet and reached for her
hands again. She couldn’t keep looking at him. He was too wounded, too raw.

“The point?” he asked, disappointment dragging in his voice. “Sometimes there is no point. Not everything’s about getting somewhere, Hazel. Not everything has to be a race. The point is that I love you. Isn’t that enough?”

A lump the size of a tennis ball had formed in Hazel’s throat and she knew she had to leave. It was more than enough. Everything she wanted was standing in front of her, her Prince Charming, begging her to let him in.

But she couldn’t.

“I’m sorry,” she said, pulling free from his grasp. “I’m sorry.”

As she walked toward the road she felt his eyes as he watched her go, like magnets drawing her back to his side. Her head was pounding and her heart hurt.

It took everything she had not to turn around.

H
azel didn’t know how long she’d been walking when a familiar truck slowed to a stop beside her. It was Maura and Craig. They’d had their fill of the crowds in town and were leaving early to beat the traffic when they spotted Hazel on the side of the road. Hazel got in and tried to be polite, keeping up with small talk about the plans for Rosanna’s party that weekend, but really all she wanted to do was curl up in the corner and cry.

By the time she got back to the guesthouse, her eyes were near bursting from holding back tears. Hopefully, Jaime would still be out with Reid. Hazel wanted to know what happened, but she wasn’t sure she had the energy to pretend nothing was wrong.

She brushed her teeth, glancing quickly at her reflection in the mirror. Her hair was longer than it had ever been, and the dyed blond ends had almost completely grown out, leaving her with her natural auburn color. Her eyes were bloodshot and hollow. Luke’s voice echoed in her mind. He didn’t know the
whole story, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t been right. It
was
hard for her to let people in. But was it her fault? Nobody had ever really tried before. She’d spent eighteen years doing all she could not to get attached to anything, or anyone. What good was letting somebody in when they were only going to leave you?

Hazel splashed cold water on her face and made her way down the hall. She was opening the door when she heard the sound of ragged breathing coming from inside the room. She hurried to wipe her eyes and pull herself together.

But Jaime wasn’t in any position to notice much of anything. She was hunched against the window, her knees curled up beneath her as she stared outside. She wasn’t crying, but it was clear that she had been. Her face was blotchy and red, her dark eyes raw at the edges.

“Jaime?” Hazel asked quietly as she shut the door behind her.

Jaime didn’t move, and for a second Hazel wondered if maybe she was sleeping. Her eyes were open, but they were so blank and still that it didn’t seem possible that she was awake. She looked just… numb.

Hazel sat at the end of Jaime’s bed, her fingers anxiously gripping the edges of Jaime’s grandmother’s faded patchwork quilt. The fabric was worn and the stuffing so sparse that it felt as light as a sheet, but it was somehow just enough weight to feel substantial.

“What happened?” Hazel asked, inching closer to Jaime on the bed. Jaime shrunk toward the window, as if there was a line, a limit to how close she could stand to be to another person. And Hazel had crossed that line.

Hazel leaned back and folded her legs on the bed, her bare feet dangling off the edge of the mattress. “Jaime,” she said again. “You have to tell me what’s going on. I’m not moving until you say something.”

“There’s nothing to say,” Jaime whispered. Her voice was quiet and empty, and Hazel felt a chill rippling the little hairs on the back of her neck, as if a window had suddenly been opened. “It’s over,” she said. “I told him. It’s done.”

Hazel felt her throat constricting as she again tried to move closer. She didn’t care if Jaime plastered herself against the glass of the window; she was going to be next to her. She had no idea what to say, or what to ask, but she knew that she could be there. That she needed to be there.

“What did he say?” Hazel asked. Jaime flinched, like the question hurt, and Hazel wished she hadn’t asked it.

“What
didn’t
he say?” Jaime sighed, finally blinking and settling back against the wall. “He was just angry at first. Mad that I didn’t say anything sooner. I could tell just by the look in his eyes that he was terrified. All he kept wanting to know was who else I’d told, who knew, would his parents find out…”

Jaime shrugged and tried to laugh, but it wasn’t long before what began as a loud, harsh chuckle was chopped up into little, shaky sobs.

“It’s just so
stupid,”
she cried, pounding the bony points of her kneecaps with tiny, clenched fists. “I have no idea what I’m even doing anymore. We were just sitting in the car, and he was talking and talking, about how young we are, about how this would change everything, about how we have our whole lives ahead of us. It was like I was trapped in some after-school special. And I was just staring out the windshield
and thinking, how did I
get
here? This wasn’t supposed to be my life.”

Jaime grabbed both sides of her head with her hands, and all of a sudden her eyes were wild and blinking ferociously. She looked like she was being chased by something horrible, and had suddenly realized that there was nowhere left to hide.

Hazel couldn’t take it anymore. She wrapped her arms around Jaime’s torso, catching a combination of shoulder and elbow and squeezing tight. She couldn’t believe how stiff Jaime felt, her limbs hard and taut, as if every muscle in her body was clenched and clinging to the nearest bone.

“You’re going to be okay,” Hazel said. She could barely hear herself over Jaime’s rough breathing, her muffled sobs into Hazel’s neck. But she hoped she sounded like she believed what she was saying. She had no idea if she actually did.