Jack's P.O.V.
She didn't say it back.
As I sink onto my bed, sprawled smack in the middle where A and I spent that one night covered in food, that's all I can think.
She didn't say it back.
But she kissed me...
But it's the hopeful, naive part of my brain.
Yeah, you fucking loser, on the cheek. You don't think that means anything, do you? She just felt bad for you, says the more rational part of my brain.
It's like I can still feel Audrey's hands in my hair and her lips on my cheek.
The smile I gave her made me feel like a liar.
I had been ready to break down in tears. I'm lucky it was only one or two. It's not like I planned on saying everything at that specific moment. But it was too perfect of a time not to. It sounds stupid, but in that moment I really felt like I was myself.
Maybe she wasn't ready to hear it. But not hearing them spoken back to me just made me feel so fucking worthless.
I know I'm being unfair. She didn't ask for me to say what I said. She is under no obligation to feel the same way I do.
So yeah. I was definitely sad when I repeated the words like an idiot, echoing myself in the hope that she might too. And then she didn't.
And now I'm crying on my bed like a fucking wuss. Curled in the same position
A was in on that night she finally broke it off with Chris.
Chris, who A actually fucking liked. Chris, who could kiss her and laugh with her whenever he wanted because when he asked her, she actually said yes.
Unlike me. Pathetic, useless me who can't even be in the same room as this girl without losing my ability to breathe, think, and fucking exist.
I had expected the entire tree-house to collapse under of the weight of my confession.
It had taken all the strength I had to climb down that ladder.
I wanted to take her face in my hands and kiss her.
I wanted to take her hand and run away somewhere.
I wanted to give her the world in a box with a gorgeous ribbon tied in the complicated knot that was my heart.
I wanted to press my body against hers and feel her heartbeat and let her feel mine.
Climbing down that ladder, I wanted to remember how she looked right before I said what I said and ruined everything - perfect and happy and almost like she felt the way I do - and keep it like a polaroid picture in my pocket.
Hell, if I'm being honest, I wanted to rip her clothes off right then and there.
But if she wanted what I wanted, wouldn't she have told me? Especially when I gave her the chance to say it?
I bury my head in my hands and cry like I haven't done in a long time.
She didn't say it back.
***
I don't come to school the next day. I've skipped school so many times that it's not unusual at all for almost everyone there. Jack's not here? No worries, he's probably just beating up a fifth grader or doing drugs on the roof of a building. He'll show up sooner or later.
I don't expect Audrey to be fooled.
She's going to know exactly why I'm skipping. Some part of me is glad that she knows. I'm glad she knows I'm upset. Some ugly, small part of me even feels satisfied that she might feel guilty. I try to suffocate it.
Before I remember it's a stupid idea, I think for the millionth time what it might have been like if she'd only said it back to me.
"I love you too."
Maybe right now we'd be making out in a janitor's closet. Trading stories and jokes. Flirting in class. Maybe I could touch her without having to hesitate and wonder if she liked me for myself or just for the idea of someone.
Maybe, if things had gone differently, I'd still be in this room, only she'd be with me.
She didn't say it back.
She didn't say it back.
She didn't say it back.