UNEDITED
Gemma Alder is used to being the unlucky one in the Alder family: from a nasty rumour about her back in high school to inexplicable mishaps, she seems to be the comical target for unfortunate situations. But if there's one thing she's good...
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Gemma
I flop onto a rock in the middle of the forest and toss my phone to the side, trading it for a flower. As I sit here, a chill gripping me tightly now that I'm away from the fire, I begin to pick off the petals one-by-one, with each tear that drips down my cheeks. I'm ashamed of myself for reacting this way but that picture was the last thing I expected to see on Cassian's phone. It only made his speech seem more realistic instead of cheesier. Every word he said was a strike to the heart as soon as the mysterious source of evidence was revealed. For so long, I thought Jake and I would be endgame. I loved him so much back in high school that I could hardly decrypt my feelings myself. And when that kiss of sweet relief happened, when we finally succumbed to the feelings we'd been suppressing for so long, I was ecstatic. I was high on life.
Another tear slips down my cheek and before I know it, I'm sobbing uncontrollably, reminded of how badly I was treated after Jake spread that rumour. Reminded of how much I loved him. Of the what ifs and could haves. I'm taken back to where it happened, how it happened, when it happened. And I want to take away the power of the painful memories and prove to myself that I've moved on, that I'm not stuck flipping through them like a dusty old book. I want to be able to pick them up and learn from my mistakes, allow myself to gain a new perspective and use these newfound lessons as daily life tools.
But I can't.
I can't because all I can think back to is the tender breath we shared, the way we slow danced to the music, the way his lips tasted – like sugary fruit punch. I remember the moments we shared before the Spring Dance; all those times we hid beneath the bleachers, skipped class to grab a milkshake, hiked together, binged TV shows on Netflix. Every memory that hits me is like a ripple in an overcrowded pond.
I pull my knees up to my chest and wrap my arms around my shins, wishing I could curl up into a ball and hide away from reality, protect myself from everything around me. Including my conflicting emotions; all at once, I'm feeling irate and miserable, content and curious. I'm irate that Jake degraded me in front of the entire school body. I'm miserable because I can feel the aftereffects of the bullying and depression I suffered from for the last couple of months of high school. I'm content because I, as much as I hate to say it, enjoy being around him. An I'm curious, curious to know if he still has feelings for me.
But, more importantly, I'm confused with myself. I shouldn't be feeling anything for Jake, let alone be crying over him. He doesn't deserve my tears. I should be ashamed of myself for crying over the fact that I miss him – the old us. I should have known that what we had was too good to be true. But I suppose fools never change.
Another sob escapes my lips as I reach for my phone, checking to make sure I have service. I do, only two bars, but I'm sure it will suffice. I know it's late, but I need someone to talk to before I lose myself entirely. With shaky hands, I dial in the number and hold my phone to my ear, waiting for someone to answer.
