Gavin texts me again. I know it’s him before I look at my phone, because the only person who talks to me most of the time is Livi, and she uses Snapchat instead of texts.

Gavin has texted me every day, but only once per day. It’s kind of weird how he’s so persistent. If he thinks he’ll get forgiveness, he’s dead wrong.

I pick up my phone. The last few days have been a one sided conversation.

 

Gavin: Clarissa, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have lied.

Gavin: I know I can’t explain in a way that will make it up to you, but please talk to me.

Gavin: If I had any idea that was your greenhouse, I wouldn’t have touched it. Will you talk to me?

 

And now, one more text today. There are no words, just a picture of a pile of greenhouse supplies on the ground. From first glance, it looks like he did buy everything I told him to. Good. I hope it was expensive.

I gnaw on the inside of my lip. Although I do plan to avoid him for the rest of my life, this is something that needs to be done. I text him back.

 

Me: When can we get started?

 

At first, I’d written you, as in when can you get started. Then I realized I have to be there. I have to supervise and help and lead the entire project if I want it to turn out right. This is the part I don’t think I can handle—being around him for hours, days on end, rebuilding something my grandfather had helped me build the first time.

When my grandpa had given me that tulip bulb, Livi had suggested that I treat Gavin as if he were an anonymous contractor who had been hired to help me. If I spend the whole time pretending he’s just a stranger, then maybe I can get through it.

I had fully planned on cancelling the entire thing and just lying to my grandpa forever until he brought me that tulip. I can’t do that to him. I can’t do it to my grandma’s memory. This greenhouse needs to rise again.

So I send the stupid text and I tell myself Gavin is just a contractor, just hired help, a total stranger. To make myself believe the lie even more, I delete our chain of texts and then rename him in my contacts list. Now, instead of Gavin, he is Contractor.

It doesn’t make me feel much better seeing his name like that.

 

Contractor: Soon, I promise.

Me: You can’t give me a date?

Contractor: I’m scheduled to work several days in a row, but as soon as I’m off, I’ll be there.

Me: Okay.

Contractor: Could we meet? Have coffee? Talk?

 

I ignore it. A contractor worth his salt would only care about the job, not taking his clients out to coffee. And from now on, that’s all Gavin is to me.

I throw the phone back on my bed and I go back to reading a book I’d checked out from the library this morning. It’s a teen fantasy novel with dragons and princesses and a handsome vigilante guy with a sword and a penchant for danger. There’s magic and beautiful landscapes and castles. I’d hoped I could slip into this fantasy world and forget all about the real world at home. It works for a just a little bit, and then my phone rings.

Seriously? It’s after nine on a school night. Gavin is getting really annoying if he’s switched from texting to calling me.

But the number on the screen isn’t the “contractor”. It’s Shawn.

My freaking ex.

The last time I spoke to him was when he was breaking up with me. I cried, and he apologized. He … apologized. He said he felt bad and that I was a really nice person. He also said he just couldn’t date someone as tall as me.

I think we might have even agreed to the pathetically impossible notion of “staying friends”. Of course, I knew we wouldn’t. No one stays friends with their ex, especially after the ex in question starts dating a much more beautiful and shorter girl immediately after dumping you.

Still, it’s kind of weird.

“Hello?” I say timidly, wondering if I should even bother talking to him.

“Hey, Rissa.” His voice is easy going, laid back. Same ol’ Shawn. Although I feel like telling him my name is Clarissa and only good friends get to shorten it like that. He dumped me, therefore we are not good friends anymore.

But I don’t. I take the high road and say civil.

“Um, what’s up?”

“Not much,” he says. His voice is like a slap of nostalgia straight in my face. I’m suddenly thrown back in time, talking to him in this same place in my bedroom, at this same late time, just like I did three months ago.

“So listen, Rissa, um, I just had this question.”

“Okay…” I say. He almost sounds nervous, but that can’t possibly be right.

“I just heard some stuff lately, and I was curious to know if you’re dating Gavin Voss now?”

I nearly choke on my own spit. I’m not sure if this is hilarious or terrifying or both. “Why?” I say, smiling so it sounds like I’m not as depressed as I am. “Are you jealous?”

“So you are dating him?”

I snort. “Who told you that?”

“Just heard it around. Like, that ya’ll are dating now or hanging out or something.”

I stare up at my ceiling as I lay on my bed. This is actually funny, now that I think about it. I am almost positive he’s jealous. Shawn, while totally hot and fairly popular, isn’t exactly on the same rung as Gavin on the popularity ladder. He’s probably several steps below. So even though I hate Gavin, Shawn clearly doesn’t know that, and the opportunity to make him feel crappy in a way he’s made me feel lately is just too good to pass up.

“Wow, that’s so weird,” I say slowly. “I mean, I’m like a nobody in that school, but I start hanging out with the famous Gavin Voss and now people are talking about me.”

“So, you are together?”

“Shawn, I’m surprised that you even care. I mean…you broke up with me.”

“I don’t care. I mean, it’s not a big deal, Rissa. I just heard some stuff and I was curious. I’m actually dating someone now, too, so it’s all good.”

I take a shuddering breath. I know he has a girlfriend, but hearing him say it just hurts me in this weird way. It shouldn’t. And I’m over him. And it’s all old freaking news. But it still hurts. I still feel rejected, not good enough, and worst of all, I feel pathetically, freakishly tall.

Maybe if things were different, and if Gavin hadn’t been a massive douchebag who lied to me, then maybe I’d feel on top of the world right now. If things were still good with him like they’d been that night we went on a date, maybe I’d laugh at Shawn and let him know how wonderfully happy I am. But that’s not life, not now, not for me.

“Well, if you’re happy then I’m happy for you, Shawn.” It’s the fakest voice I’ve ever had, but he seems to buy it.

“Thanks, Rissa. I’m happy for you, too. Gavin is a cool guy and he’s like really tall so he’s good for you.”

I grit my teeth together. God forbid you date someone because you like them, not because of their height. Instead of telling him to fuck off, I force myself to laugh. “I don’t know what rumors you heard, but I’m not dating Gavin. I mean, hooking up with someone isn’t commitment, you know?”

I feel so dirty saying it, talking like I’m this badass girl who dates around and doesn’t get her heart broken. But I want him to feel a little tug of jealously, the same tug I get when I see him with Mindy.

“Cool, cool,” he says quickly. “I feel you.”

“Good talk,” I say, and then I tell him goodbye.

My hands shake as I put the phone down and let my mind replay that stupid conversation a million times. Shawn clearly has old information about me and Gavin. Or maybe Gavin just hasn’t told any of his friends that I hate him now. If he couldn’t tell me the truth, then he probably lies to his friends too. He probably lies to everyone.

Even an hour after that phone call is over, I’m still in bed, staring hopelessly at the ceiling. My life feels like a rollercoaster lately. First, I was so happy with Shawn my first real boyfriend. Then he dumped me, and I went swooping down that metaphorical roller coaster. Then Grandpa and I built the greenhouse and I felt better about myself. I had a purpose and a mission. Then it was destroyed. Another hill on the roller coaster.

Then that date with Gavin brought me up the tracks to the peak of happiness. It was only about twenty four hours, but they were the best. I liked him so much it hurt.

And then it all came crashing down again.

But my life isn’t a roller coaster, no matter how much it may feel like one. In life, there’s no guarantee you’ll ever go back up again.