The Bucket List

35

The moments I had to spend waiting for Colby to show up at my door left me riddled with anxiety. What if he hated me? I'd hate me if I were him. Who would forgive someone who screamed at him and hurt him like that? Someone who blamed him for their best friend's death?

I didn't know what I was going to say. I didn't even know if I could say anything, to be honest. I was worried that when I saw his face I might just burst into tears.

It felt like hours before I heard a few soft knocks at my door. I hopped up from where I was waiting on the staircase and made my way over to the door, taking a deep breath. I had no idea how either of us were going to react to this.

But when I pulled open that door and stared into those bright blue eyes, I felt safe. I felt home. I decided I shouldn't say anything, so I kissed him instead. He flinched at first, when I lunged toward him, but leaned into me when I grabbed two handfuls of his shirt and pressed my lips against his.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry, I don't know why I did that," I said, quickly pulling back. What was I thinking? He probably hated me.

"No, don't apologize," he said. His eyes drifted down to my arm and his face fell. "You... you got a tattoo? Without me?"

"I...," I started. I could already feel the tears welling in my eyes. "I'm so sorry, it was the other day when you and Eli were all weird with each other and he'd said this thing about our brains being beautifully chaotic and he said we live for impulsive decisions."

"Okay, two things. One: he shouldn't be trying to use your mental illness as an excuse to be reckless, even if it's based on science. And two, that wasn't the other day, love," he said.

"Huh?" I asked.

"That was, like, two months ago," he replied.

"Oh," I said.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, yeah," I nodded. "I just think that while I was in there, I forgot the real world still existed. I didn't speak a single word for nearly seven whole weeks. I just shut down. I didn't feel anything."

"I know how scary it is to not feel anything. Being sad or angry is sometimes heavenly compared to feeling completely empty," he said quietly. "That's why I wanted to do the list. To make you feel something, to remind you that you're human and it's okay that things get hard sometimes. But I know you said you didn't want to do the list anymore so—,"

"No, no, I do," I insisted. "Every word that I screamed at you? I didn't mean it. None of it. For those weeks that I was silent, I just replayed everything that I said to you and Jess. Everything."

"You made yourself listen to those words over and over?" he asked. I nodded, tears now streaming down my face.

"I decided that I deserved it," I whispered.

"Oh, baby, no you didn't," he said softly, pulling me into a hug. "You were hurting. Your best friend died in an airplane crash and I was the one that bought her ticket. I understand why you were upset with me. It's okay that you yelled. Really. I'm just so glad that you're okay."

"Yeah, me too," I whispered. Before he could respond, I heard the door burst open.

"ROSALINE GENTRY!" Jess screamed. "Oh, sorry, sorry, you're having a moment," she then whispered when she saw us. I giggled and wiped the tears off my face.

"Hey, girl," I sniffled.

"Aw, come here," she said, holding out her arms. I ran over to her and gave her a giant hug. "Don't do that shit again. Love you, though."

"Love you too. And I promise I won't," I said.

"Good. I'll go over to the Traphouse so you can finish your talk... or whatever that was. I'll see you soon," she said, heading out of the door.

"Hey, Rose?" Colby said.

"Hm?" I asked.

"Happy late birthday," he whispered.

"Oh my god," I said. "I totally forgot about my birthday. I'm 20 now."

"You sure are," he said.

"Aw, and you guys were setting up that party when I...god, I'm sorry," I groaned.

"Stop apologizing," he chuckled. "You wouldn't have enjoyed the party in that state, anyway."

"I have a replacement idea," I said.

"Yeah? And what's that?" he asked.

"Let's check something off that list of ours," I smiled.