Page 63 of Pumped

CHAPTER

TWENTY-THREE

EVEREST

Owen’s being weird.

I mean, that’s not saying much. He’s weird all the time. But he’s been especially weird today.

He won’t say more than a single word to me at a time. He won’t look at me. He’s got his nose buried in the map of the zoo, as if there aren’t arrows on the ground directing us where to go. He moves away whenever I get close.

He seemed okay this morning when he brought me my coffee, doctored exactly the way I like it. He was definitely more than okay last night when we fucked each other’s brains out. So what happened? What is my grumpy little gremlin overthinking now?

We’ve been at the zoo for a couple hours already, six adults trailing behind a tiny little girl like she’s our tour guide. The grandparents have been non-stop feeding Ivy sweets, so she’s all hyped up on adrenaline and sugar and excitement. I’m not looking forward to her crashing when we get home, but right now she’s ecstatic and it’s a delight to watch.

Ivy insisted on getting her face painted as soon as we arrived—with a unicorn, of course. A glittery one. Then the grandparents bought her a hairband with a unicorn horn and a pink wand with streamers on the end. We went to the children’s zoo where she squealed while petting the goats. In the butterfly garden, she walked around with her eyes wide and her jaw on the ground. I got a couple great photos of her hugging a goat and several more with a butterfly on her head.

And through it all, Owen’s been avoiding me like I’m the fucking plague. It’s just me, as far as I can tell. He hasn’t been grumpy or short-tempered with anyone else. He chats with his parents and my parents perfectly normally. He gives Ivy all the attention she wants. But it’s like I don’t even exist to him. Like I’m a ghost.

I’m not gonna lie. It hurts. It’s how we treated each other in the before times. When we weren’t at one another’s throats, we stayed as far away from each other as we could. But that was before. Before Ivy, the house,us.

I thought we were past that. I thought we… well, I wouldn’t call us friends necessarily and “couple” sounds way too serious. But we’re something, something more than two people who happen to live in the same house, raising a kid together.

Have I been reading our whole situation wrong? Does he still hate me? Am I just a convenient fuck?

My stomach churns as unease eats away at me. By the time lunch rolls around, I’ve lost my appetite. In fact, my stomach is so twisted up in knots that I kind of feel like vomiting.

The Zoomobile arrives to take us from the butterfly garden to the restaurant on the other side of the zoo. For a moment, I almost want to maneuver myself in next to Owen so I can confront him on being an asshole. But I chicken out at the last second.

He’s just going to say that everything’s fine, but I’ll know he’s lying. The ride will be too short for us to really hash it out. Then I’ll be second-guessing myself even more than I already am for the rest of the afternoon. I’d rather not know. I’d rather be not-so-blissfully ignorant than have confirmation that something is actually wrong.

I end up several rows behind Owen, sitting with Mom. I have the perfect view of the back of his immaculately styled head. He’s got his arm laid across the back of the bench seat where Ivy is sitting next to him. The sweater he’s wearing molds to his shoulders, his biceps. When he turns to talk to Ivy, I can see the corner of his smile and the way his cheeks bunch. When he chuckles at something she says, his shoulders shake and his head tilts back a few degrees.

My chest feels both hollow and too full at the same time. Like I’m desperately hungry for something and that hunger is clawing at my insides. I’ve never felt anything like this before. I’ve never felt like I was going to die just because someone was ignoring me.

“Everest?”

I jump, snapping my head around to find Mom regarding me with a concerned expression.

“Are you alright?”

Out of the blue, my eyes start to sting. That gnawing feeling rips through me like a physical thing, trying to crawl out of my skin. I hiccup and slap a hand over my mouth to swallow down the unexpected sob.

“Everest?” Mom grows alarmed. “What is it? What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

I shake my head. I am hurt, but not that kind of hurt.

I slump down instead, making myself as small as I can so Mom can wrap her arms around me and I can rest my head on her shoulder.

“Is it Eden and Jeremy?” Mom asks in a whisper, rocking me back and forth like I’m a child again. “I miss them too. I don’t know if they ever got the chance to bring Ivy to a zoo.”

I’m too slow to stop the sob this time. It escapes my throat as I realize I haven’t thought about Eden and Jeremy all day. I’ve been so wrapped up in Owen that I totally forgot about them. Jesus, I’m a selfish bastard, aren’t I? Obsessing over a boy when I should be remembering my sister and brother-in-law, Ivy’s mommy and daddy.

Mom rubs my head and I kind of wish I wasn’t wearing a cap so she could run her fingers through my hair like she used to when I was a kid. The Zoomobile drives past the penguins, the puffins, and the sea lions. We’re passing the polar bears when my neck starts protesting the cramped position I’m sitting in.

Reluctantly, I straighten, but Mom keeps her hand on my shoulder.

“It’s not actually Eden and Jeremy,” I admit sheepishly.

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