LOCKDOWN

Chapter 10

She finally looked at me, dumbstruck at my outburst. Dennis was cowering one the corner, frightened by my booming voice. I could see Zara's eyes fill with tears as she clenched her hands together.

"I'm far from perfect," she spoke weakly, wiping a stray tear that rolled down her cheek. "But you know what, at least I don't make someone feel like shit for four years for no fucking reason!"

It was the first time I had ever heard her swear, and it was obvious by her reaction that she didn't do it often. But the fact that she thought I didn't like her for no reason was laughable.

"No reason?" I scoffed, "You've got to be kidding me!"

"Then tell me, Peyton. Tell me what I did to you that was so horrible that you made my life hell for the last four years?"

Made her life hell? God, she's dramatic. But the truth was, I couldn't tell her the reason. I couldn't tell her that I'd hated her for four years because she beat me in a running race. I'd sound pathetic, and then I'd have to talk about my parents...I couldn't do that.

"I...y — you," I stammered, and she interrupted me.

"Exactly," she cried, wiping her face of her tears. "Just go back to acting like I don't exist, it'll be easier that way."

She sat down in the couch and began to sob, instantly making me uncomfortable. I hated people crying in front of me, and I was genuinely terrible at comforting people. I hadn't cried since I was thirteen years old — the day of the athletics carnival, and I didn't plan on breaking that dry spell any time soon. I didn't know what to do. Zara was crying because of me, and she had a reason to be. I had treated her unfairly, expecting her to do things for me purely because we were in her house. But the truth was, we were both in the exact same situation. I slowly walked over to where she was sitting in the couch and sat down next to her, leaving a fair amount of space between us.

"McMann, don't cry," I attempted to comfort her, but my tone came out dry and awkward.

I reached out my hand and placed it gingerly on her shoulder, but she shook it off, shuffling further away from me as she did so.

"Leave me alone!"

I contemplated doing what she asked, but I knew it wouldn't be the right thing to do. The conversation I overheard between Zara and Aspen played over and over in my head - hearing Zara tell Aspen that I would never purposefully hurt her struck a cord deep within me.

"I'm not just going to leave you here while you're crying," I told her, and she turned to look at me wildly.

"Don't act as if you care!" she snapped at me.

But I did care, and I didn't know why. Why did the image of Zara crying actually...hurt? I had never cared for the girl before so why, all of a sudden, did I care now? It's not as if I ever found joy in seeing her upset, or hurting her, I just didn't necessarily care. I always felt as if it was deserved after what she had done to me at the athletics carnival, but truthfully, she hadn't done anything wrong at all.

"Look..." I sighed heavily, "I'm sorry, okay? You're right. I'll try harder."

Admitting that I was wrong, and actually apologising, was hard for me to do, but I knew that I needed to. We were stuck in this hell together and it would be much easier for the both of us if we at least attempted to get along. I could acknowledge that she had been making attempts to make this time easier for me, and I hadn't been doing the same for her. I didn't plan on becoming best friends with the girl, but I could at least recognise that she wasn't so bad after all.

"Yeah...right," Zara sniffled, her tone thick with sarcasm.

Anger pulsed through me momentarily, and I had the urge to rage at her for not believing me, but in all honesty...why would she believe me? I let the anger dissipate and took a deep breath, putting my pride to the back of my mind as I said the following words.

"I promise I'll try harder."

Her watery eyes met mine, and in that moment I realised that I had never noticed how strikingly beautiful they were. They were a dazzling deep blue, brighter than the twilight sky on a cloudless night. They glistened with tears as she gazed at me, and it looked as if she was searching inside me just the same as I was searching her.

"Okay, I believe you," she whispered.

It was the first time I felt like I was actually connecting with the girl sat in front of me — the first time I actually let myself be connected to her. For years I had dismissed, ignored, even made fun of the girl, and for what? For beating me in a race? I felt small and pathetic in that moment, but I wouldn't admit it to her. I could never admit it to anyone, because no one knew the truth behind it. The girls in my friendship circle took a disliking to her as soon as I did, purely because I told them to. They didn't have minds of their own. Waves of guilt crashed through my like tsunamis as I looked at the girl in front of me, tears still leaking from her striking eyes. I resisted to urge to wipe them away, knowing she would recoil.

For years I had built up a tough exterior, refusing to be broken down. I never cried, I never ruminated on my problems, I never let the outside world know what was going on inside me. I had slept with girls, but never had feelings for any of them. I refused to let myself get attached to anyone for fear of being broken. But here I was, sitting on the couch in front of Zara McMann, fighting the urge to wrap my arms around her protectively and tell her that everything was going to be okay. She couldn't know what was going on inside my head, she couldn't know that she had become my weakness.