Page 4 of Holding On To Good

Especially a bathroom shared by five boys.

Five. And not one of them was capable of putting the toilet seat down.

That had to go against the law of averages.

Moving as quickly, as silently as possible, she went back to Urban’s room. Closed her geometry book, then sat on the bed, only to bounce up and begin pacing, feeling like that aforementioned lightning bolt was zipping and zapping through her veins, ricocheting against her skin. Burning through her protective walls and leaving all her well-intentioned excuses smoldering in the ashes.

She was edgy and amped up when she needed to be calm and collected. Nervous and confused when she needed confidence and clarity.

But mostly she needed to get a grip.

This was hardly the end of the world.

Just really bad timing.

She and Urban were just getting back to normal. Back to spending time with each other without awkwardness, tension and lingering hurt feelings.

Back to how they’d been before Valentine’s Day when Urban showed up at her house unannounced at nine p.m., apologetic and nervous and acting weird, and asked if they could talk on her porch.

Before he gave her a pair of ruby heart-shaped earrings so beautiful, so delicate and perfect, she hadn’t been able to breathe.

Before he told her, his deep voice soft and sincere, that he liked her as more than a friend.

Before he asked her to be his girl.

It’d been like a moment out of time. A dream she hadn’t realized she’d always had until it happened for real. The dark, quiet night surrounded them, gently falling snow glittering like diamonds under the light at the corner of the garage. Urban, standing in the glow of her porch light, his expression hopeful, his hair slicked back, the high ridge of his cheeks and the tip of his nose pink from the cold. She’d wanted to cup his face in her hands. Warm his skin. Brush her thumbs along the sides of his mouth, trail her fingertips along the edge of his jaw.

She’d wanted to throw herself into his arms and never let him go.

Instead, she’d stood there, stunned and freaked out, her mouth too dry to speak, her body shivering from the cold and a sudden, vicious onslaught of nerves.

She’d known that no matter what answer she gave, everything between them was going to be different from that point on. Everything they’d been to each other was going to change.

That was a given. His choice—him showing up at her house, giving her those earrings, telling her those things, wanting more than friendship, wanting more from her—had already put those changes into motion.

But it was what she did next, it was her choice that would determine what happened next.

And the wrong choice could cost her Urban.

She could lose him. Forever.

Talking too quickly, her voice unsteady, her tone pleading with him to understand, she’d given him back the earrings and told him she didn’t feel the same way. That his friendship was the most important thing to her and she didn’t want to lose that. That she was sorry—so very, very sorry—but they would only ever be just friends.

As she’d rambled, he hadn’t said a word. He’d kept his head down, his fingers gripping the jewelry box so tightly, his knuckles were white. But there was a moment, when the flow of her words slowed to a trickle, that he lifted his head and she’d seen it. His disappointment. His embarrassment.

How much she was hurting him.

But he hadn’t argued with her. Hadn’t pushed her for more than she was willing to give.

He’d just walked away.

And she’d let him go.

She’d given him time. Space. Had kept her distance from him for two weeks, sitting at another table at lunch, avoiding him between classes. Staying home instead of taking the chance of running into him at a basketball game or party. She hadn’t called him or lingered by his locker after school.

She’d waited. Waited for him to make the first move, to be the one to mend the fracture in their relationship.

It’d been hard, the hardest thing she’d ever done, staying away from him. But it’d been her penance.

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