Trying to avoid Miles is like trying avoid a test that you know you have to take because no matter how many times I’ve tried to stop running into him at the rink, he manages to be there every time. It’s not as awkward as it was the day after we broke up but it still stings. It hurts the most when I can hear him and his teammates around the corner and he’s laughing and when he sees me he just blinks, not saying anything. I don’t either. We’re always caught in a moment where we’re both too afraid to say something. As if it will burst this uncomfortable bubble that we’ve created around each other.
The last time I saw him still feels like a blur.
I forced Kennedy and Scarlett to watch me practice my routine, needing the last minute tips before the finals. They were both by the boards, watching me intently like I had asked and then Kennedy says what she’s thinking, like always.
“Do you miss him?” she shouted into the silence.
“Do you have to ask me that right now?” I said back, trying to control my breathing as I turn and glided down the ice.
“It’s just a question,” she sing-songed, trying to play coy.
“Yes, I miss him,” I admitted, the second the words leave my mouth my stomach turns. “Is that what you want me to say? That I actually miss him so much that it physically hurts that he’s not around anymore. That it hurts that he’s not waking me up with kisses and his terrible singing. Is that what you want me to say, Ken? Because it fucking hurts to even say it out loud.”
They both stood there, watching me, waiting for something. Anything. And because my life couldn’t get any worse, the sound of the hockey team roared in my ear as they go towards their rink. I turned to look towards the entrance of the rink, waiting for him to walk past, to look back, to have heard what I said and somehow make it better. Is that even what I want?
Still, it stung like a bitch when he walked past, did a double-take and continued walking.
Now, it’s been a month since then. If I had known that that would be the last time I saw him, would things be different? I don’t let myself overthink it. This is good. This is good for us.
It’s been a month of trying to avoid him at school and my friends trying not to mention him since we saw him at the rink.
Part of me wishes that he at least tried to text me. To fight for this in some way but I know he knows that I need space. That’s the only way I’ll be able to heal. Because this is it, right? We’re done.
Unfortunately, Scarlett and Kennedy have really fallen in love with all of Miles’ friends. We spent most of our time over there before the breakup and they even became some of my closest friends too. Now, the girls are trying to stay loyal to me by not hanging out with them even though I told them it’s fine. It’s also been a month of hard work, focusing on myself, and doing things that I want to do.
It’s been a month of skating competitions and spending my afternoons busting my ass off at the practice rink on campus. I’ve had to travel alone to the competitions because they’re always at the most inconvenient times for Scarlett and Kennedy to tag along. The first few comps were hell, but I had the girls via FaceTime and Coach Darcy by my side.
Darcy wasn’t impressed about my latest scandal but she’s holding onto hope that people will move on by the time the finals come around. I doubt that’s going to happen. I’ve got used to the sour looks I’m given on my way around campus and the nasty comment every now and then. There’s something about people at NU and their need to hold grudges.
I thought that ending things with Miles was the best idea. We were both too attached, and it felt like we were constantly being consumed by each other. It makes sense to break up. I need to focus on skating and my classes, and he needs to do the same. I spent so much time depending on him for happiness. So much time being addicted to his touch, his smell, his voice. I knew that once we slept together it would be another thing tying us together and it would make it harder to turn back. It turns out that not seeing him has made a small hole in my heart that only he could fill with his terrible jokes and even worse singing. I can’t say I don’t miss him because I do. So much. But this is going to be good for us. It has to be.
Not having to worry about Miles has given me some more free time. I’m still busy with training and competing but when I’m not doing that, I can have time on focus on my writing. As soon as he came into my life, I scrapped one of my dreams to focus on getting back on track. I’ve managed to write another thirty thousand words of Stolen Kingdom over the last month. Now, I spend lunches in between classes with Kennedy and Scarlett at Florentino’s, reading over the latest chapter. I don’t know how Kennedy is not sick of being here all the time when she still works here most days. We use half an hour of our one-hour window talking over major plot lines and the other half trying to study.
“You can’t end it like that!” Kennedy shouts almost knocking over her coffee. A few people turn their heads and flash us a dirty look. I don’t know how we haven’t got kicked out yet from the constant destruction we – mainly Kennedy – cause.
“I’m not ending it like that, it’s just a draft of the ending,” I say, taking a small bite of my scone. “I’m open to suggestions.”
“The only logical ending is that Carmen runs away and starts a new empire,” Scarlett suggests with a shrug.
“Yes, that sounds better than her dying,” Kennedy groans dramatically. “Wait, you’re making a sequel, right? Please tell me you’re making a sequel.”
“I’m thinking about it. I need to focus on real work for class instead of this. It’s not like I’m going to get it published,” I admit.
“You could. I’ll design a cover and you can self-publish like Gigi,” Kennedy replies, almost falling out of her chair as her eyes widen. “Thirteen-year-olds would eat that shit up.”
“It’s a possibility but it’s also a lot of work.”
“Since when are you afraid of hard work?” Scarlett asks with a sceptical look. “Maybe not now but I really think you should in the future. With a bit of editing, it would be perfect. I’m sure G would help you.”
“Maybe,” I say, trying to mentally add that on my thousand-word long to-do list. “Anyway, I’m thinking of making Carmen fake her death and then run away to start a new empire.”
“I hate that idea a little less,” Kennedy says thoughtfully before her face lights up again. “Will she have a sidekick?”
“I’m thinking that Vita will go with her,” I reply.
“Isn’t she, like, a million years old?” Kennedy asks, flicking through the printed sheets of my book in front of her.
“Yeah, but she’s in a middle-aged woman’s body. She’s basically like a Cullen,” I say with a waft on my hand.
“Oh, that’s cool,” Kennedy agrees nodding her head. “I give you permission to end it that way.”
“Why, thank you,” I reply, nodding my head towards her. Scarlett pulls the paper out of Kennedy’s hand and looks over it with a serious expression. They are both my harshest writing critics, but Scarlett looks more at the intricate details more than anything. Kennedy just worried about how hot the protagonist is going to be.
“So, talking about boys…” Kennedy drags out with a whistle.
“We weren’t,” I say with a bored tone. She ignores it anyway.
“How are things with he-who-shall-not-be-named?”
I roll my eyes at Kennedy and shake my head. They’ve not managed to go a week without bringing him up and the answer is the same every time, but they can’t let it go. They’re expecting me to just wake up one day and completely forgive him and move on. To ignore every red flag and let myself get distracted.
“There are no ‘things’ with him. We’ve not spoken, and I don’t think we will for a while,” I respond with a huff.
“Can’t you guys at least be civil? It’s my birthday soon and I want to invite his friends,” Kennedy says, chewing on her bottom lip. “Obviously, if you don’t want me to invite them, I won’t.”
“Do whatever you want to do, Ken. I’ve got to go meet Austin before practice,” I say dismissing her. Scarlett looks up from the papers and flashes a small smile as I get up and walk out of the café.
*
After the heated conversations at my mom’s house, Austin and I have been seeing a lot of each other lately while I avoid my mom like the plague. She’s planning on moving to Portland with Zion but for the time being they’re staying in a hotel in Salt Lake so Austin can visit us, and Zion can see his mom’s side of the family.
I’ve done more baby shopping this past month than I have ever done in my whole life. My mom is an only child – thank God for that – so I don’t have any close cousins or relatives from her side of the family. My dad has three older brothers, but they all had kids a long time ago, so I’ve never got to go baby shopping before and it’s so much fun. All the tiny clothes are so adorable that it makes my heart swell but watching the mothers in the stores with their toddlers is just another reminder to take my birth control.
We’ve also been going to this new restaurant that has opened up called Juno’s. It was a phenomenon in Florida, but they’ve started to franchise, and the food is incredible. Being pregnant has changed Austin a lot. At first, she was a total control freak but now, sat in Juno’s with her maternity dungarees and wild hair, she has become more content with having a baby and I couldn’t be happier.
“What are you going to get?” Austin asks, skimming over the menu again, biting her lip in concentration.
“The usual: a chicken salad.’
“Do you think if I ask for a fry-up with extra tomatoes and extra hash browns, they won’t ask any questions?” she asks.
“Considering your belly is the size of a watermelon, I’d dare them to.”
“Okay, good.” She looks through the menu again before placing it down. Austin smiles wide when the waiter comes over and asks for our orders. When she’s floated out of sight, she turns to me. “Have you spoken to mom during comp season?”
“No, I haven’t seen her since the first show. We were both pretty catty with each other the last time we spoke,” I admit, thinking back to everything that happened that weekend. “Have you?”
She shrugs then shakes her head. “She’s doing the thing where she’s pretending that I’m not carrying a seven-pound baby thats going to be her grandchild,” Austin laughs. “I don’t mind. I just hope that she’ll come around when he’s here.”
“I do too,” I say, taking a sip of my strawberry lemonade. “Have you thought of any names yet?”
“Zion is obsessed with the name Marley. Which definitely doesn’t have anything to do with his undying love for Bob Marley. I kind of love it though.” She grins wide when she mentions Zion.
It still baffles me how Zion has made it work with Austin with how stubborn she is. She’s like me, in the sense that she trains all the time and has little free time. I remember when they first started dating when they were in high school, and Austin told me that she was going to break it off with him before she left for NU. Then they started to get more serious, and she found it harder to resist him and he was relentless in keeping them together. My mom wasn’t happy about it, but she simmered down when she realised that Austin always put her work first. For them, that was never an issue.
“I think you’ve got your answer. I love that name too,” I sigh, leaning back into my chair. I let myself melt into it for a second, as I close my eyes, thinking of all the things that are going to change when the baby is here. Good things. I’ll have a nephew, I’ll get to see my sister more and Zion too, I’ll get to watch this little boy grow up in a happy family.
“You seem sick,” Austin comments and my eyes shoot open. I straighten my posture and look over at her.
“I’m not sick. I’m fine.”
“No, you’re lovesick. I saw the way your face turned sour when I mentioned Zion. I can tell somethings going on in that weird little brain of yours,” she explains, wiggling her finger into my face.
“I’m closer to being actually sick than being lovesick,” I say with a shudder. She gives me a disbelieving look while she sips her water, her eyebrows raising over the glass. She sets the glass down and sighs.
“Emmy, it’s okay if you miss him. This is the first time I’ve really seen you so happy with someone. When you were with Augustus, it sounded like you guys were bound by a business contract more than anything. Miles sounded fun. He seemed like he was good to you and he was good for you,” she mentions, leaning back in her chair as she rests her hands on her stomach. I try not to laugh at the irony.
“I do miss him, but I don’t have to. The semi-finals are this weekend and if I get in, I’ll be going to the finals in two weeks.”
“You need to let yourself have fun. You don’t have to see him as a distraction. That’s something you can work on. I thought the same about Zion and now look at us,” she begins, gesturing to her stomach. “The only thing I’m waiting on is that engagement ring.”
“You and Zion are different,” I huff, waving my hands around to give myself an excuse. “Miles and I are at college. We could be going into two different paths at the end of fourth year.”
“I think that you’re trying to think of any excuse to let yourself be happy. I saw that video, Wren. He adores you. Let yourself have that.”
She looks at me with tender eyes as I try and let her words marinate. I’ve always known that Miles felt that way about me but the part of my brain that I can’t ignore is telling me that this is only infatuation. Something that can fizzle and burn out. Something that when he spends enough time with me, he’ll realise he won’t want me anymore.
“But… What if he stops feeling that way.” My voice sounds distant and weak. Almost childlike.
“It’s like you’ve listened to nothing I just said,” Austin concedes with a frustrated grunt. “You’re never going to know unless you try. Even if he does, which I’m sure he won’t, at least you can have some memories together.”
“I don’t know, Austin. This month has been hard, but it’s been productive.”
“Okay, how about this? When you get into the finals, because I know you will, go and talk to him. If there’s a part of you that wants him, see where his head is at and give him a chance,” Austin suggests.
“A chance?” I groan.
“Yes, a chance. You need to rest and have fun.”
“I’ll rest when I’m dead,” I mumble. With wicked timing, the food arrives, and Austin’s thoughts become clouded by the smell of her meal instead of me.
