We Talked About Tomatoes

We Talked About Tomatoes: 12 - Maybe

"Still saying to-mah-to?" Man, Bryce thought, Her smile is great. She is great. "I can't believe you still remember our first conversation," Georgia commented, blushing ever so slightly.

Bryce looked at the now full blue sky. The clouds were spread out, as though it rippled through the sky like waves on a windy day. "How could I forget? We talked about tomatoes."

Georgia bit her lip. She missed this. She loved looking at Bryce, talking to him, being with him. He was sitting there, looking cute and happy. His hair looked windswept, he was only wearing a thin cotton shirt and jeans. He was so simple. The situation was simple. Her thoughts were simple. She was going to come clean. She wanted Bryce. Harriette wasn't hers, it was Ivy's. She was still in love with Bryce. Sex with Harry was meaningless. Georgia loves Bryce. She felt her eyes burn, she shut her eyes tightly. Why was she getting teary? Gosh, she thought, I'm stupid. She sighed and watched herself twiddling her thumbs.

"Sorry," she mumbled.

Bryce turned to her, confused. "About what?"

Georgia looked up, swallowing down a thickness in her throat. "For everything. Me, running away. Me, sleeping with Harry. Deluding you to think that Harriette's mine, which technically, she is. But not in that way. For giving excuses back then: beer, parents getting divorced, Ivy. For still being in love with you even though you're with Rachel." She laughed a little and looked back down to her hands.

Rachel. Rachel, Bryce thought. He was with Rachel. "Georgia, it's okay. I was angry. I'm not anymore. It was stupid, me getting that angry. I never hated you. I just . . . didn't understand it. I'm sorry, too. But . . . I can't reply to you loving me. I have Rachel and . . ."

Bryce wanted to say he loved her, just to back things up. But was it even true? They'd been going out for months longer than Bryce and Georgia had but . . . he didn't really feel the urge to tell Rachel. His mind wasn't always on Rachel. He didn't want to be with Rachel all the time. It wasn't like it was with Georgia.

"You love her," Georgia finished reluctantly for him, assuming it was correct. She swallowed. "It's fine, I get it. Don't worry about what I said, okay? That's just me and this place and me being with you. Sorry. What I said was really unnecessary." She stared forward, the view overlooking the park. It was just as beautiful as she remembered. "Are you still practicing plays here?" She asked, a silent plead to change the subject.

"Uh, yeah. Once I'm done with Steph's and Nick's wedding I'm out of here. I'm going to go on broadway. In New York." Bryce exhaled, relieved at the subject change. Things were getting heavy and emotional. He didn't want or need that right now. Or ever for that matter. "So, you better spread the word over there when you get back."

"Bryce, I'm friends with artists, of course I'll spread the word." Her smile, oh her smile was completely wonderful.

"How's that going?"

"Being an artist? Kind of failing." She gave a nervous laugh. "Well, I'm trying. I guess I'll find out if my stuff has been sold or not when I return. But it's fun."

There was a short silence. There wasn't much to say. All the small talk had been finished. What else was to say? Georgia wanted to kiss him. Bryce wanted to run away. Maybe play his guitar. He hated that things were awkward.

"Well," Bryce started, standing up from the bench. "I have to go now. Rachel's waiting for me." It wasn't true. It was just a reminder: Rachel. Rachel is there.

Georgia smiled wryly with a shrug. "See you," she said rather hopefully.

After Bryce left she moved to the other edge of the bench; where Bryce had sat. She leaned her ponytail against the smooth bark of the oak tree and watch the view. It was breathtaking and she had missed it. She looked down at the bench, catching a glimpse of something etched into the wood. She peered closer. She sighed and bit her lip when she read it: