ᴛᴏᴏ ʏᴏᴜɴɢ » ᴢᴀᴄʜ ʜᴇʀʀᴏɴ

Chapter Sixteen

May 1, 2018

Anna was sitting at the raised counter when Maeve walked into the kitchen.

"Hi," she greeted, the older woman looking up from her computer and smiling.

"Hey, sweetheart," she said, a name she'd called both her and her daughter since they were little.

Maeve pulled the cookie dough out of the grocery bag hanging from her arm and opened the fridge to set it inside.

Anna laughed; Jess's love of the substance she considered a main food group was no secret to her family.

"She'll be home in about forty-five minutes," Anna said, referring to Jess at work. She was planning to come home and stay up all night with Maeve before she had to leave for the airport the next morning.

Maeve nodded and continued a conversation with Anna for awhile longer before moving to the backyard, one of the prominent sites of her childhood memories.

She sat on the hill overlooking the property they owned, the sky long since darkened by nightfall. The area was so nostalgic to her, filled with beautiful times of her and the twins: the rickety wooden playset at the bottom of the hill, freezing winter mornings spent racing down the snow covered hill on cheap sleds, filling up a plastic kiddie pool with hose water and splashing each other in the face, water gun fights, hide and seek, and countless games that they made up for the afternoon.

It was strange, sitting there, set apart from the time those memories were made but still able to recall them as if a picture played in her mind.

Someone cleared their throat behind her, shaking her from her thoughts.

She glanced over her shoulder to see Greyson, who moved to sit down next to her in the grass.

"What're you doing?" he asked casually. She shrugged.

"Being nostalgic. Thinking about everything we used to do out here."

"Mhh," he hummed, nodding his head. He seemed to be remembering something, a smile breaking out on his face. She couldn't remember the last time she'd seen him smile.

"Do you remember... when we were, like, eight, your mom came to pick you up but you didn't want to go home so we turned on the hose, made a whole bunch of grassy mud, and then smeared it all over ourselves and laid at the bottom of the hill to hide from her."

Maeve laughed. "Yeah. She and your parents were actually getting concerned and then your dad found us—"

"And all he did was start laughing—"

"We were such a mess—"

"And your mom was so mad," he finished, both laughing at the shared experience.

Silence then rested between the two, but Maeve didn't mind it, at least until she became aware that Greyson's head was turned towards hers. He was looking at her, something in his eyes that she couldn't place.

The moment stretched out, the only sound being insects chirping loudly from the brush at the bottom of the hill.

And then he leaned forward.

Panic flooded her system as she realized he was going to kiss her, and without a second thought, she jerked away from him, her mind spinning out of control because he wasn't Zach.

Greyson backed up immediately, turning his face away with his mouth hanging open, rejection churning on his features.

Maeve stared at him incredulously. She did not feel regret or guilt, just emptiness.

When the awkward tension had become too much to bear, he turned back to her.

"Really?" he said, in a voice so low, it shocked her. She didn't respond. "You throw all these signs around, and then when I try to give you what you want, you back out?"

The emptiness in her system was flooded with hot anger. When she spoke, her words were dripping with disbelief and impatience. She didn't need to work up to having a fight with him; she'd been ready for it for years.

"Have you ever considered that I'm not like every other girl you've been with, Greyson? Have you ever thought about the fact that maybe I'd like to actually talk to you for once? But that doesn't matter, does it? Because you can just not talk to me for months, stay at home morning I leave Fairfax, and then contact me at random because you just need someone to make you feel desired, right? Right?"

"Yeah, I forgot," he said gruffly, rising to his feet, "I forgot you're not like every other girl, that you're difficult and expect every guy to be perfect."

Her mind was reeling as she pulled herself from the ground, glaring at him with narrowed eyes.

"Difficult?" she repeated, her voice raising. "No, I have standards, standards, Greyson! And I haven't been flirting with you, you know why? Because I don't give my energy and attention to those who treat me like they treat every other girl they meet, like trash."

He was shaking his head adamantly, eyes trained on the trees spreading out in the distance.

"I want a friendship with you, Grey, nothing else," Maeve said desperately.

Greyson clenched his jaw. 

"That's not what you've been showing me these past couple years."

The comment almost threw her off track, but she recovered quickly.

"I wanted you to come back," she said. "I never wanted to change you, I just wanted you to look at me in the eyes again and not push me away in front of your friends or in public. I wanted to talk to you again."

He didn't say anything, his hands on his hips, body faced slightly away from her. She knew he didn't want to hear what she was saying now, and soon he wouldn't be listening at all. She plunged onward, needing him to be aware of what he'd done in the past.

"Do you realize that the only times you've texted me over the past couple years has been when something didn't work out with another girl?" she said, fighting to keep her voice firm and unwavering.

He stilled. She had his attention.

"Those were the only times you'd talked to me. And then after a few days you'd be gone again, pretending we never knew each other." She paused, even though he remained unresponsive. When she spoke again, her voice broke a little against her will. "Do you know how used that's made me feel, Grey? That I've always been last choice when it comes to someone you need?"

A moment passed in which he dropped his arms to his sides, his shoulders straightening. She already knew that what she'd said wasn't enough, that she'd lost him for good.

"I never needed you," he said.

Her heart sunk, even though she'd known it was coming.

"Don't ever text me again," she spoke up. "I'm not your backup, and I guess I'm not your friend."

A long silence passed between them.

Finally, he turned back to her, his stare cold, emotionless, as if none of this had affected him at all.

"When did you get so stuck up, huh?" he said.

There was a weight in her chest, sinking far beyond the years she'd spent caring for him with no return.

She lifted her chin.

"When I found people who love me the way I deserve to be loved."