Didi
Zac pulls me into a room—I think one of the art therapy rooms. It’s dark, but when I fumble for the light switch he stops me, takes my hand, and pulls me close.
“Hey,” he whispers, his arms looping around my waist.
I freeze.
He ducks his head, pulling me toward him with his hands, and his lips find mine. His hands start tracing my body and he groans.
I kiss him back for a few seconds, but then I pull away. I can’t. I can’t stop imagining it’s Walker kissing me.
Zac is giving me a curious half smile through the dark, wondering why I’ve pulled away.
I look at him. “I’m sorry,” I say.
“What?” Zac asks, sounding confused. “What for?”
“I don’t think I can do this.”
He glances around at the room. “Yeah, maybe it’s not the best place for it. Maybe we should go back to my place.” He leans forward and kisses me again, but I duck out of his arms.
He pulls back with a shocked expression on his face and I realize that he’s probably never been rejected by a woman before. That, in turn, makes me wonder how many women he’s been with.
“What are we even doing?” I ask him.
He gives me a strange look and shakes his head. “What do you mean?”
“What is this?” I say, gesturing between him and me.
Zac sighs and, stepping forward runs the flats of his hands up my arms. “I don’t really know what I want,” he murmurs, “but I do know that I like you. I like hanging out with you and I’d like to get to know you better.” He gives me that look, the one that’s designed to make girls dissolve into puddles, and I feel the muscles in my legs start to come loose, my will start to weaken.
“But, you know, I think the whole exclusivity thing isn’t something I’m wanting to do right now,” he says. “We’re both really young.”
I nod, staring down at my feet. Yeah, we are. And maybe that would work if I was a different person, but I’m not. I want the guy I’m with to be fully, one hundred percent with me, and not even looking at other women, let alone sleeping with them. I glance back up at Zac feeling resolved. He doesn’t know it, but he’s just made it much easier to walk away.
“I don’t think that works for me,” I tell him. “So, I guess we should maybe say good-bye.”
He raises his eyebrows. “No one’s ever broken up with me in real life,” he says. Then he nods, still smiling. “There’s a first time for everything, I guess.”
“I should go,” I say.
“Okay.” He sticks his hands in his pockets and rocks on the balls of his feet, looking like a little boy. My resolve is given another boost.
I reach for the door handle. “Bye, Zac.”
When I walk out into the hallway, I come to a sudden halt. As if the universe has planted him there, Walker is right in front of me, heading toward the elevators, one palm pressed to the wall to help guide him there.
“Walker?” I say.
He stops and slowly turns around. In his uniform he looks altogether different—older, professional, almost a stranger.
“It’s Didi,” I say, but I can tell that he already knows it’s me.
His face is tight, his jaw tensed, and the pain and hurt flashing in his eyes makes me draw breath. What’s happened? Was it that girl? I clench my fists thinking about what I’ll do or say to her if I find out she’s hurt him in any way.
“Oh, hey,” Walker says and tries to give me a smile, but it doesn’t work. A muscle in his jaw pulses. Is he angry? At me? Because I’ve been avoiding him?
“Where are you going?” I ask and step toward him. Why is he so upset? I want to put my hand on his arm but I get a very clear sense that he’s not looking for sympathy or comfort right now.
“I’m just . . . going back to my room,” he says, gesturing toward the elevator.
“Oh,” I say. I think about it for half a second. “You want me to come with you?”
“No,” he says quickly, angrily. “I can manage.”
“I didn’t mean did you need help, I meant do you want me to come with you and . . . hang out?”
One of his eyebrows shoots up. “I’m good, thanks,” he says brusquely. His beard has grown back. I want to run my hand down his cheek. I want to take his hand. I have to stop myself.
“Didi?”
Oh crap. It’s Zac. I turn around.
“Hi,” I say.
Zac glances at Walker. I can feel the heat rush to my cheeks. “Um, this is Walker,” I say, because what else is there to do but introduce them?
“Hi,” Zac says, holding out his hand for Walker to shake. “We met earlier, I think.”
The scowl on Walker’s face intensifies. His mouth purses. I look at Zac, who’s staring at Walker confused, wondering why he isn’t shaking his hand and why he’s staring off somewhere over his head into the middle distance.
“Walker’s visually impaired,” I say quietly, feeling myself cringe as I do. He must hate me having to explain it. And I’m right. I can see Walker’s nostrils flare, the color rise in his face.
“Oh, right,” Zac says, dropping his hand like it’s been burned. “Sorry, man.”
Walker smiles tightly. “It’s fine. I’m just going. You two have fun.” He turns away again, his hand going out to the wall.
“Wait,” I say. “I’m coming with you.” I turn quickly back to Zac. “Bye.”
“Yeah, okay,” he says, shooting a look at Walker, who’s now halfway down the hallway. “I just wanted to ask if you could say thanks to your dad for me. I’m going to sneak out so I don’t have to run the gauntlet of all those middle-aged women.”
“Okay,” I say.
I watch him walk away, wondering about what I’ve just done, but when I do a scan of what I’m feeling, there’s no regret.
I turn and run after Walker, catching him at the elevator, where he’s jabbing at every button repeatedly.
“Hey,” I say. “Hold up.”
He stops punching the buttons. For a moment we both stand there in awkward silence waiting for the elevator to arrive.
“Don’t you want to go with him?” Walker asks me suddenly.
I glance at him. “No. Why?” I ask.
“No reason,” he mumbles.
The elevator doors slide open.
We both step inside without a word.
“I thought you guys were . . . a couple,” Walker suddenly blurts as the doors slide shut.
Oh. I open my mouth to speak but nothing comes out. Could that be why he’s acting so weird? The thought makes me break into a smile.
“No,” I say. “I mean, we were sort of seeing each other, but I just broke up with him.”
The scowl drops off Walker’s face and surprise takes over. He turns to look my way—or at least to face me. “You did?”
“Yeah.”
He turns back to face the elevator doors. For five seconds we both just stand there, and when I glance at him I see he’s trying as hard as I am to hide a smile.