Page 230 of Cloudy With a Chance of Bad Decisions

It was…so close to what George had told me. The words that had rattled around inside my head. The words that—as I recalled them—with my walls down and my heart vulnerable, began to crowd into that awful, empty space.

“I like your intensity.”

“You’re perfect.”

“To see Alex James as a whole…picture? Not just the put-together-bits you want everyone to see is an honor. And I find…I like you more this way, without the masks. Dirty socks and all.”

Dad’s words were there too. As well as June’s. Filling in the gaps of that gaping, open wound.

Enough…that I could breathe again.

Enough that I could think.

That my self-loathing faded, and I was able to offer myself the grace that everyone else did. George worried about perfection the same way that I did. Georgeunderstoodthis feeling better than anyone. He gave himself rules tofollow. He was desperate to be seen as perfect. To make his family proud. To not be viewed as a burden. Maybe…if there was anyone in the world who could love me, it’d be someone like that.

Someone who looked at my dirty socks and told me helikedthem.

Someone who understood my flaws because he shared them.

The storm that had overwhelmed me calmed as the storm outside the windows raged on, the steady beat of the windshield wipers waving back and forth. The sound of a train approaching grew louder, but I hardly noticed.

I breathed in and it hurt.

I breathed again, and it felt a little easier.

“I let him go.” The words were knives on the way out.

“It’s not over,” Dad promised. “There’s still time. That’s what phones—and planes—and computers are for. Hell, you could even tweet-tweet him.”

“You don’tgetit.” I clung tighter to him, opening up even further. And it didn’t hurt. It didn’t hurt like I thought it would. Sharing the burden. “I’m like Brendon. No. I’mworsethan Brendon. All George ever wanted was for someone to need him like he needs them—and I do. And yet, instead of being a goddamn adult and being honest about my feelings—I didn’t fucking tell him. I ran away. Ilethim leave. I let him think that I?—”

I let him think that he wasn’t special.

That he wasn’t enough.

And hewas.

“I need to call him.” My heart was pounding. “I need to ask him to stay—I need to tell him how I feel. I need—” I fumbled my phone out of my pocket. A horrified sound escaped when I saw that it was dead. Dead-dead. Jabbing the power button into submission didn’t provide even a flicker of light from the pitch-black screen.

Fuck. Fuck. Car charger.

I needed—Jesus. I scrambled around for it, relieved when I found it where I’d put it. Plugging everything was a struggle when my eyes were bleary withtears and my nose was running, but I managed.

It wasn’t until I had my phone turned back on and I’d pulled up my contacts list that I realized I didn’t have George’s number.

“I don’t…” I trailed off, staring woodenly at the screen. Tears slipped down my cheeks as I turned to my dad with despair. “I didn’t ask for his number.”

“Alright. Get out.”

“W-what?—”

“Don’t fight me on this. You’re in no state to drive, and the faster I can get you to the airport the faster you can fix this.”

Dad had always been the type of man who took action, and he did so now, already out of the car before I could even process what was happening.

Dazed and confused, I pushed my door open and stepped out. Off in the distance, bells rang, the rattle of the approaching train forcing me to pick up the pace. It’d gotten louder. Loud enough I couldn’t ignore it anymore. I scrambled around the car, switching spots with my dad and sliding into the passenger seat.

It was a miracle I didn’t throw up.

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