Their love should just be water under the bridge.
And for a while, she lets herself believe that. Permits herself to block out the memories, retrains her mind not to replay the swiftly moving picture that was them.
Ignoring him at school was not initially difficult, as she is a year behind him. And there has always been a certain elusive quality to him. An invisibility factor. Being in the same building however, she sees him in the hallways, glimpses him at school assemblies.
He looks happier lately.
Zoe pretends not to care.
-
Sitting alone on the concrete steps to the school, paging through her textbooks as she waits for her ride, Jared brushes past her, talking on his cell phone.
"Alana, you've gotta be more chill about this. Yes, I know that partner assignments mean that two people work on them. Yes, I will pitch in. No, you won't do my part for me. Calm down and goodbye." Standing at the bottom of the staircase, he notices Zoe. He hasn't seen her since the Project blew over despite the fact that she was a major part of his life for so long; one year age differences in school might as well be a lifetime.
"How are you, Jared?"
"Alana won't stop bothering me about a project and I'm on my third Red Bull of the day. How are you?"
"I'm fine."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
He doesn't believe her for a second; it's hard to miss the sullen, damp look in her eyes, the persistently downward curve of her lips. He tells her he's glad to see her but he's got to go tend to his project with Alana now.
As he turns to go, Zoe hears herself stumble out, "How is Evan doing, by the way?"
Keeping her eyes trained on the grey concrete under their feet, she hears him say with hesitation, "He's fine too."
Zoe nods; that's all she can do. She wonders if Jared expects a bigger reaction because he's silent and watching her intently. Wrapping emotions under layers and layers of aching repression is something that has taken years to teach herself.
-
It's always at night.
It's always at night that she misses him the most.
She doesn't view the memories with as much hostility; at night her barriers are tumbling down, her defences fold in on themselves. Alone in the dark, she cradles her legs, resting her face on her knees and stares out the window at the street below. The headlights of cars that stream through, illuminating her face with their amber glow. The street lights that comfortingly burn for the endless hours. Lights from the houses around them flick on and off throughout the night.
And her mind drifts.
Sometimes it's a movie. Specific memories that replay second by second. Their first kiss, when he had impulsively brushed his lips against her's with a fervour that she'll never forget. The time he'd laid with her on his bed for hours, just talking and leaving gentle kisses on her in patterns that she still feels etched into her pale skin.
Other times, it's pictures. Snapshot moments. Certain looks and feelings that she can't erase.
The warm sensation of nostalgia and remembrance surrounds her and takes control of all hesitation and reservations.
Despite all the fighting she does to keep the memories in their place, the odd thing is that she never feels upset when they do come back. It takes more pain and effort to suppress them than to just let them run freely.
Her moments in the dark are when she feels the most at peace.
-
It's a school dance.
A stupid, tiring school dance.
The cesspool of students, as she thinks of them as, swish around in their skimpy, sparkling dresses and offbeat tuxedos. Zoe does not want to be here, as she made abundantly clear to her parents, but they insisted and she was obligated to comply.
The metal bleachers to the school gym are cold and unforgiving. Zoe tugs at the hem of the skirt her mother made her wear and gets a handful of the ridiculous glitter that is covering the dress like sugar. Muffling a sigh, Zoe watches as her peers who may as well be complete strangers, mingle closely and dance intimately to the droning music.
Zoe doesn't know how much longer she has to be here but time seems to be moving slower than usual.
She sees Alana first, then Jared who is trailing her. With mild interest, she watches as they dance with about a foot of space between them, arguing the entire time. Not as if they don't enjoy every animated and lively challenge that they prompt each other with, though.
Zoe wonders if because Jared is here, Evan is too. His familiar face is nowhere to be seen in the sea of people.
What if things had been different? What if he'd asked her in his quiet, sweet way if she'd like to go to the dance with him? What if she'd said yes?
Even though she hates school dances with a passion, maybe they'd have had fun together tonight. Maybe they would have danced to that generic pop music and she'd have tolerated it because at least she was with him. Maybe they would have drunk that nauseating pink punch and gotten their pictures taken and everything might have been okay.
The lump hurts her throat as she swallows hard. Abandoning her viewpoint of Jared and Alana's antics, she gets to her feet and carefully navigates her way down the metal bleachers and onto the shiny gym floor. The music is slow and everyone is kissing; Zoe wants to vomit. Pushing further through the crowd, she finds the door to the cool hallway.
It's quiet, the moment that the doors swing shut behind her. To see a school hallway not brimming with rushing students is an unusual sight; the hallways are wider than she realised before. Taking her time, relishing in the freedom from the ordeal of a dance, Zoe walks alongside the lockers and checks her watch. Another hour until her father comes to pick her up.
There's no one to tell her not to and there is no one to tell her to stay inside, so Zoe opens the large doors and steps outside. Cold air hits her bare arms right away; she sucks in a breath. Compared to the stifling heat of the gym, it's a welcomed change. The tightness in her throat begins to subside right away as she closes the door behind herself and starts to walk down the concrete steps.
And she sees that she is not the only person with this idea.
At the bottom step, Evan has a book resting across his knees, his head bent over in focus. Zoe stops behind him, every muscle simultaneously deciding to lock up and her tongue feeling heavy and useless in her mouth.
She wants to run away and she wants to kiss him all at the same time.
"Hey," Zoe says in a voice hardly above a whisper and she can see her breath in the air.
Instead of a thousand feelings of confusion, anger, sadness, love and forgiveness, she is dry on all of them. No strong or overpowering surges of emotion coalesce inside of her. Nothing more than a simple and pure hello.
Evan lifts his head and turns, stunned to see her. "Hi Zoe."
She stands behind him a moment before taking a cautious pace forward next to him. He gazes up at her. "Can I sit?" she asks.
He quickly says that of course she can. Adjusting her skirt around her as she takes a place beside him, Zoe offers a timid smile which he returns. Closing his book, he turns his wide and intent eyes onto her. "Why are you out here? Are you ok?"
"I'm fine," is Zoe's automated reply and Evan pretends to accept this. He knows her too well. "Why are you out here?"
"The people and the noise were getting to be a lot...besides, I don't want to actually be here in the first place."
"Me neither."
A pause. "You look cold."
Zoe doesn't object when Evan takes off his jacket and puts it around her slim shoulders. Running her fingertips across the threads, it is strongly tinted with his sweet, clean scent. Small, worn thin patches are on the sleeves. There's a comforting quality about them; subconsciously, Zoe touches them as she gazes out at the fluorescent lit parking lot that stretches out before them.
"Where's Jared?" Evan asks, turning his head towards the large double doors to the school. "Was he still in there when you were?"
"I saw him arguing and dancing with Alana."
"I see." Evan manages a small laugh. Looking over at Zoe, he asks with trepidation, "So, um, did you bring a date or something?"
A small shake of her head. "Just me tonight."
His eyes are a new way to spell unspoken relief. "Oh," is all he says.
Silence sets in, surrounding them in a tight clutch. Evan picks at the concrete step with nervous fingers as Zoe pulls the jacket tighter around her for warmth. "I guess I should go back in. I don't want pneumonia."
Standing up feels wrong. Turning to walk away feels wrong. Leaving him behind, alone in the cold feels even more wrong. Everything about this is wrong. Zoe's hand hovers over the door handle. "Evan?"
He shuts his book again. "Yeah?"
"Come inside with me."
"I don't know if that's—"
Zoe interrupts, "I can stay with you in there if you feel anxious. I just don't want you out here freezing."
For a moment, she thinks that he'll refuse her.
Until he quietly and with hesitation, gets to his feet.
-
They stay in the bleachers together, watching the people below them. Any risk of not having something to talk about is gone; the dance is far more entertaining to watch and comment on with someone else. Between the neutral topic, the avoidance of any personal thoughts and the focus on others and not themselves is helpful in more ways than one.
"What is Sabrina Patel even wearing?" Zoe murmurs, "That colour isn't even found in nature."
"You have the nicest dress," Evan says with conviction as he surveys the shifting sea of dresses beneath them.
"I'm getting glitter everywhere," Zoe remarks, reaching over to brush some of the sparkles off of Evan. Distracted by the melding scents of cheap cologne, floor polish and fruit punch and the voices of people and music, she forgets about being awkward and feeling nervous around him.
And they laugh together, for the first time in what feels like ages. Now that the ice is beginning to thaw, minutes slide off of the clock with far more swiftness. Almost intoxicated on the infectious environment of music and dancing and the increasing lateness of the night, Zoe suggests that they dance.
It isn't until he agrees and he takes her outstretched hand that it sinks in as actually occurring. His breath on her face, his physical contact is acutely vivid. The music is a predictable, sappy love song but she can't hear it over her pounding pulse. Licking her dry lips, Zoe tightens her grip on his hand as they find a rhythm together.
Dancing with him, being in such a close proximity, Zoe finally sees Evan for the first time in months. He's the same person but there is a remarkable difference; a sort of freedom that exists with being oneself and no longer hiding behind a facade.
And he is happier, now living with an unshakable inner peace that he's never had before and Zoe wishes that she can have.
The movies plays in her mind again; Zoe wonders if she'll go home and curl up by her bedroom window and add this moment to the mental film reel.
Evan's expression has shifted. "I've missed you, Zoe."
This statement startles her out of her thoughts.
"I know that's a stupid thing to say and I'm sorry. I just want you to know that...I miss talking to you and...and seeing you. I wish things could be different."
There's a pause, heavy and saturated with unspoken words. Underneath the vibrant lights, his eyes are shining and sparkling with emotion. His silent look says far more than words ever can.
It's overwhelming; Zoe is drunk on it.
In one swift, brash move, she kisses him.
He is stunned; he takes a step back, a bewildered expression on his features.
A rush of a million different feels crash over like a tidal wave. She wants to say something, has words on the tip of her tongue but her lips part and nothing comes out. Her hands are cold as she pulls them from his; the floor rocks under her feet as she plunges through the crowd and away from him.
-
Gold headlights from passing cars spill light across her face as she leans her forehead against the glass window, burning tears spilling across her pale, peaked face.
Her dress is still on, suffocatingly tight across her chest. Reaching back a fumbling hand to unzip it, she loosens it, taking in a steadying breath. Drying her eyes on the hem, she replays the evening on a constantly turning loop in her mind. Her lipstick is still smudged around the edges; Zoe doesn't bother to wipe it off.
If only things can be black and white. They never were and they never will be but she wishes more than anything that they are. She wishes that she can just hate him and never look back, not be buried in these indecisive and messy feelings.
Because she does love him, for all that he is and all that he was and all that he can be.
-
She wants to forget about everything.
Seeing Evan at school the next day sends waves of emotion through her; her lips still tingle and her stomach twists. He looks tempted to talk to her but the ebb and flow of the students throws their gravitational balance and they lose each other in the crowd again.
After school, Zoe goes to the only place she knows where to clear her head.
-
The tree bark is rough and digs at her palms as she climbs higher and higher. Her footing falters briefly; she scrambles onto a branch and regains her balance. Looking down, feeling impossibly high, she recognises Evan's blue shirt as he wanders around the trees. Forgetting that he too comes here every afternoon, Zoe remains silent and still from her position.
He's singing to himself; Zoe never realised that he sang so well before.
Wondering if he'll notice her, Zoe stays stationary, cradling the branch of the sturdy tree between her legs. Disconnecting from the plug of high school is a welcomed relief. Inhaling the sweet scent of the air and feeling earth on her skin is a different perspective that she's wanted for a while.
Evan does see her and she's so caught up in taking in the world around her that she is startled when he says, "Zoe?"
"Hi." Zoe looks down at him.
He's stopped singing. "Are you alright up there?"
Zoe nods. And she does not object when Evan begins to climb up and takes a place beside her. "How are you?"
"I'm ok." Evan pauses with bated breath. "What about you?"
Maybe it's trust. Maybe it's the bond that they forged even in difficult circumstances. Maybe it's the fact that he was her first kiss and the only person she hopes ever will kiss her again. "I'm not ok."
"Are you sick? Is something wrong?" Evan's eyes narrow in concern.
"I love you, Evan. That's the problem."
A few words strung together lift an unspeakably heavy weight off of her chest. The words hang in the air, as if visible.
Evan doesn't know what to say and he tells her that.
"I wish that...I wish that it could just be us again and nothing else matter. Not school, not what's happened, not even my brother. When this all began, from day one, I just wanted you and even when everything went completely wrong, I guess I never...stopped wanting you."
His hands are warm; Zoe savours the feeling of his skin on her's, something that she's missed desperately.
"Zoe, you know that I've loved you since you first drew stars on the cuffs of your jeans."
And he keeps his fingers entangled with her's; neither ever want to let go.