CHAPTER 18
I glance at Peter, but he doesn’t look back at me. The consequences have been spelled out. If we keep this up, we both lose everything. The lump in my throat feels like a sugar cube. It won’t move. It’s just stuck. I want to say something to Peter, make him smile again, but it’s as though someone blew out the light in his eyes.
I can’t stand the silence any more. “We’re just friends, Peter. She knows that. So, we don’t eat here anymore.” I try to make light of it.
Peter looks up at me. His lips are parted, as though he can’t believe what I just I said. “Don’t lie to me, Sidney. I know you. This may be friendship, but there’s more to it than that. Everyone can see it. I know you see it. I wish you’d admit it. At least, then we could decide what to do together.” He pauses and then shakes his head when I don’t say anything. “Are you so messed up that you don’t even recognize your own feelings anymore?”
His words feel like a slap. I stiffen and look away.
I love him. I know I love him. Those words pierce my heart. My jaw twitches. I want to say it. I want to tell him that it’s so much more than he thinks, but I’m afraid that he’ll run. Maybe Peter’s infatuated, but I’m not.
“You’re damn right that I didn’t want to admit it,” I say. “And no, I don’t have a good handle on my feelings anymore. For all practical purposes, the only emotion I’ve felt for the past four years has been pain. It never stops. Then, I met you.” I’m breathing hard. I feel my chest rise as I speak. I can’t stop the torrent of words flowing out of my mouth. “Things changed. Maybe I didn’t recognize what I felt then, but I do now. I’m a stupid girl who fell in love with her friend, and that’s not even the worst part. The worst part is that I’ll lose everything if I tell you. This little patch of happiness will wither and die, and it will be all my fault, because I couldn’t keep my mouth shut. I’d rather have you as a friend than not at all.”
Peter’s back is rigid, like someone replaced his spine with steel bar. Shocked, wide, eyes look back at me. He doesn’t try to cut me off, and the more I talk, the worse he looks. By the time I finally shut up, Peter looks as if he’s been hit on the side of the head with a board. The only response is a shocked blink.
Screw it. I’m not sitting here waiting for him to reject me. I jump up from the table and walk toward the ladies room. I feel tears building behind my eyes. I barely make it up the staircase and push open the door before big wet tears roll down my cheeks. Clutching the counter, I look up into the mirror. Calm down. I hear that little voice speaking softly inside my head.
“I ruined everything.” I clutch my face and sob into my hands. I don’t want to be alone. I need him, and telling Peter how I feel was the stupidest thing I could have done. Strictland said our friendship was over the line, so I tell him that I love him. What the hell is wrong with me?
I twist on the faucet and splash some water on my face. My crying slows, but my face still feels hot and puffy. When I go back downstairs, I need to act like I’m fine no matter how I feel inside. I need some fresh air, just for a second.
I walk over to the small window and yank the string for the blinds. They pull up quickly and I tug on the window, opening it. My vision is blurry and it’s dark, so I don’t notice until it’s too late. There’s a squirrel clinging to the outside of the window. When I throw it open, the little beast starts to slip. His nails are lodged into the wooden frame, but the rapid movement when I slide the window open knocks him loose. His nails screech as he slides down the glass.
I watch for a moment and realize that it can’t get a grip. We’re on the second floor. A strange impulse pounds through me. He’s going to fall. It’ll be my fault. I can’t be a squirrel killer.
I shriek and stomp my feet—as if that will help—and shove my arms out the window to try and catch the little creature. The squirrel falls into my hands. My heart is about to explode. When the squirrel touches me, my brain shoots warning message and before I realize what I’m doing, I’m yanking my hands back inside. The squirrel clings to my arm.
I scream like someone is killing me and hop up and down, trying to get him to let go. When that doesn’t work, I scream louder and spin in circles, whipping around as fast as I can, hoping the squirrel flies off. I only stop when he slides down my arm and his claws run out of skin to grab. I watch the animal sail across the room and smack into the wall.
At the same time that happens, the bathroom door flies open. Peter is standing there, ready to punch someone when a frightened squirrel darts between his legs. Peter glances down, surprised. He turns on his heel and watches it run down the hall. Screams erupt a moment later.
Peter looks up at me. I’m holding my clawed arm with my hand. My bottom lip quivers and sobs bubble up from inside of me. I can’t stop crying. I feel so stupid, so incredibly foolish. Peter walks to me, smiling and pulls me into his arms. For a moment, he just holds me. His fingers tangle in my hair and he keeps me tightly nuzzled to his chest.
When Peter lets go, he looks down at my arm. The scratches aren’t deep. “Did it bite you?” I shake my head and wipe the tears away. Peter is trying so hard not to smile. “What happened? Were you guys fighting over a stall?”
Tears are still in my eyes, but the smile on his face makes me smile, too. I thump my fist into his chest. “We weren’t fighting over a stall! I opened the window to get some air. There was a squirrel. When I pulled the window open, I thought he was going to die, so I caught him… and then I freaked out a little bit.”
Peter tries not to smile. He tries to keep a straight face and not laugh, but he’s doing a terrible job. He takes my head between his hands and looks me in the eye. “You’re all right? No rabies? No serial killer squirrels hiding in one of the stalls?”
“Shut up. You would have screamed, too.” I twist out of his grip and swipe at him.
Peter laughs, really laughs. It shakes his whole body and tears form in his eyes. He rubs the heel of his hand over his eyes and says, “I would have. No doubt.”
“Then why are you laughing?” I’m pouting. I don’t mean to, but I’m an emotional lunatic. We hear someone scream and then a crash. They still haven’t caught the little beast. Damn squirrel.
“Because this is the kind of thing that would only happen to you. You’re at the best restaurant in town and get attacked by a squirrel.” He starts laughing again.
I fold my arms over my chest; the impulse to laugh with him is too strong. I smirk, saying, “When we retell it, let’s just say it was a bear.”
That makes him laugh harder. The two of us stand in the ladies room way too long, leaning into each other and laughing. By the time we go to leave, my ribs hurt from giggling so much.
The restaurant apologizes over and over again. They hate that I was attacked by a rodent in their bathroom. They comp our meal, and give us a ton of gift cards so we’ll come back. The manager is worried that we’ll tell everyone that they have animal problems, even though I have no intention of mentioning this to anyone for as long as I live.
Peter and I return to his car. On the way back to the dorm, he asks me if I have stuff to take care of my cuts. I don’t.
“I have a first aid kit at my place. Let’s patch you up and then I’ll take you home.”
“Your place?” I ask, and glance over at him. He still hasn’t said anything about my, I fell in love with my best friend thing. I’m hoping he’ll never mention it again. I feel stupid enough as it is. I tease, “You’re not asking me up for coffee again, are you?”
He laughs. “No, but you can’t leave that cut untreated. You’ll grow a tail or something. Besides, it’s on the way to your dorm.”
I nod. I go to his place. I don’t realize what will happen. I don’t realize any of it.