Learning How to Swim

Everything Personal

Steven tried to talk to me in history. He kept bugging me about how he saw me with Adam. He said that I was going to be stupid and go back to him. He said that I was going to end up on the front page of the newspaper and Adam would be convicted of murder. I had told him to leave me alone. He had told me that we needed to talk. I had told him that he didn’t want to talk. He said he did.

I had called him a liar. He told me that he never lied to me. I told him that he was lying as we spoke. He told me I was being an idiot and needed to learn to listen. I had told him that my life was falling apart. Because of him. I told him it was his fault that my sister was back in Beckham; his fault that I had gone to drugs; his fault that I had run to Adam; his fault that we weren’t friends or even a couple. We could have been a couple, I told him. I said that he should feel pretty damn bad.

He said that he did. I said, “Good.” I had turned away from him, refusing to speak to him. He had then slammed his face to his desk, not holding anything back.

He then went to the nurse because he had a broken nose. He didn’t come back to history class, and I left quickly out of fear that he would come back at the last second, just to spite me.

I didn’t talk at all that day. Adam had told me to stop being so depressing, but I had shrugged. I was beyond caring, even when he threatened to dump me.

Okay, I lied. I did talk that day. I had told him to go for it. He had backed off his bluff, grabbing my hand and sitting quietly. Yeah, it was a great day. And it only got better as it progressed.

I had fallen asleep in literature. I narrowly escaped a detention because they felt bad about my sister and all. Alicia had told me that I needed to cheer up. Rose had told me that she saw me with Steven and that it was a bad idea. Vince had just stared at me. Quincy had, thankfully, minded his own business.

Adam had told me to walk home, but I had made up a lame excuse to not go. I said I was swamped with homework, but he should go have band practice unhindered. He had threatened me to some extent but backed off when Steven walked up to me. He had a bandage on his nose, and I could see that his nose was crooked and going to stay crooked.

“We need to talk, Alyssa,” he told me, not sounding too upset about having a broken, bloody nose. I would have been pissed off.

“No, we don’t. We’ve been over this.”

“Please. I want to be friends again, you have to believe me. I just want to make sure you’re not going to leave me yet again. I don’t want to get hurt again.”

“You’ve hurt me, so we’re even.”

“How did I hurt you?”

“You said you didn’t want me.”

He pulled me to the back of the bus with him, daring to say the words, “I do want you.”

I had to give him props for that since the guys next to us started cracking jokes about how Steven had erectile dysfunction. Or that he lacked a dick. I didn’t know which.

“You said we can’t be friends, Steven. You said that I hurt you beyond repair. I wanted to cry, Steven, because you broke my heart.”

“Then maybe we can share one heart, so we’ll be able to breathe again.”

“That was really sappy,” I warned him, waiting for the bus to stop so I could get off. He followed me, not letting me go without a fight. The bus drove off as we stood in the middle of the road.

“Alyssa, I missed you, okay? I don’t want to admit it, but I did. And I do. I couldn’t sleep right because I felt like I should be on the phone until one in the morning talking to you. I cooked food and threw it away just to pretend you ate it. It was to the point of obsession. I was fucking depressed.” He coughed. “I’m sorry for the language. It slipped. Like the razor when I tried to shave my head last night. See?” He leaned forward, so I could see the Mohawk. It was zigzagged.

“Well, that’s too bad. I don’t just hand out my heart to anyone. I thought I could trust you.”

“You can!” he begged. He reminded me of me and Kara, when I had wanted her to trust. He caught my wrist gently. I could pull away if I really tried. I sighed, turning around.

“Really?”

“You’ve had my heart this whole time—my soul, too. Valentine, I still… I love…” He took in a deep breath. I waited, staring at him through tired eyes. “I want to say it, but I’m afraid you’ll throw it back in my face.”

“Then we have nothing to talk about. Please, just let me go home—”

I was cut off by his lips on mine. I pulled back.

“Inappropriate timing?” I asked him, scowling.

“I don’t know. Just one more chance. Just come to my house. I don’t care when. Please.”