Chapter Twenty-Three

Then get out of my car and do something about it.

Maisie's words rang through my head as I drove Sabrina's car home and parked the vehicle in their driveway. That night was one of twisting and turning in bed, curling into myself, remembering the pain in Sabrina's eyes as she reminded me of how I reacted after our first kiss.

She was right. She was the one to kiss me first. She was the one who was first to come to my defence after unflattering pictures were taken of me. She kissed me again. She came to me to speak about those kisses. She initiated the whole easy light and breezy aspect of our relationship.

It was all her and I buckled in for the ride, not knowing where it was going and not thinking about the destination. What I was given, I took and didn't dare to think beyond the moment. She did, though. She always did.

It was up to me now.

The next morning I woke up to unblocked light, having left my curtains open the night before. Sabrina was sat at her desk, eyes pinned to her reflection. I swallowed, hand still on the edge of the wall by the window, eventually cracking a smile when she grabbed her small kettle and poured herself a cup of tea and in doing so, caught my eye.

She raised the cup up to me, a silent greeting before taking a sip and leaving the space of her bedroom.

"Uh, Sam, once you're done your ogling, come downstairs. I've made you breakfast," Dad said.

"I'm not ogling."

"Creeping then. There's a full bowl of your favourite cereal. Might eat it myself if you don't hurry."

I rushed by him and jumped down the hallway, skidding around the corner and planted myself at the table, instantly slurping the Coco Pops into my mouth. He sat at the opposite end of the table and drummed his fingers against the table. When he scratched his temple and didn't once blink while staring in my direction, I stopped slurping the milk from the bowl and wiped the residue on my chin with the back of my hand.

"You okay there?"

"That's the exact question that I wanted to ask you. You've been . . . Spaced out. Loopy. More weird than usual. Anything you want to talk about with your old man?"

"Loopy?"

"You know," he began and twirled his finger around like that explained anything. "Like you've got a secret. The only time you acted like this was when you were twelve, before telling us you were gay."

"You're too observational for your own good."

"There is something you want to talk about?"

"How do you go about making a relationship official?" I blurted out. "Or admitting feelings. Or all that emotional stuff. How do you do it? What's the protocol?"

"Should've known Sabrina Jenkins had you on your toes. Good for her."

"I'm just going to go . . . Shit." I so wasn't getting in the car with Sabrina when I hadn't sorted myself out. "Will you drive me to school today?"

"Look, Sam," he said and rounded the table, planting a hand on my shoulder. "There's no code, no one true answer, no life hack."

"Then what is there?"

"Sitting down and having a conversation. It's as simple as that." He squeezed my shoulder and went and grabbed his keys off the hook by the counter. "It's your Cupid thing this week, right? Well, Sam, it's probably the right time to uh—" He jabbed his finger against the poster on the fridge, "—shoot your shot. Don't you think?"

I stood up, nodding. "A conversation."

He spun his keys and left the kitchen. "Come on, kid, I'm driving you."

Do something about it. Sitting down and having a conversation. Shoot your shot. It all sounded so simple. Too simple. If it were easy, then everyone would be declaring their love for each other without hesitation, and that wasn't the case. But there was one difference. She lobbied the ball in my court. What happened next was up to me. The responsibility of opening this discussion was down to me.

Throughout the day, people had their bows and arrows clutched in their hands or peeking out of their backpacks, held tightly within their grasp but there it remained.

Then there were the brave, running down the hallways, embarking on an epic journey to confess their love or to ask their crush out on a date.

There were arrows snapped in two on the ground, or a whole bundle tossed in the trash can. It seemed that Anna and mine's idea surged people to take a chance instead of watching their crush be asked to prom by someone they probably didn't like.

It was so easy to put together something for Anna, no hesitation and no thoughts of rejection. But Sabrina? My hands shook all day, and my brain was scattered into a million rapid thoughts all too quick to process. But there was the poster pinned to the walls; the banners hung on the ceilings. People smiled, making heart shapes with their hands in response to being shot. A surge of confidence slammed into my heart.

There I was, walking with purpose down the hallways, in search for the girl who I wasn't going to run away from again, who I was going to speak to. My whole world tilted on its axis when there was chanting, chanting of Parker's name down the hallway and an arrow raised in her hands. With a release of her fingers, she shot Sabrina right in the chest.

"Sabrina Jenkins, will you go to prom with me?"

"Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!" The chants grew louder and louder until they were left with no choice but to make the crowd happy.

I turned away right as Parker leaned in close to Sabrina's face. No doubt, they were going to kiss. Everything was numb. So numb that I didn't feel a hand grab mine and lead me away into an empty classroom. Why was my system so . . . shocked?

"Gosh, Sam, breathe," Anna ordered sharply, whacking me on the back.

"I don't think I can do it," I said, inhaling deeply.

"You do it every single of every day. It's not that hard."

"Not breathing." My hands fumbled for the desk behind me until I sat on it. "Sabrina."

"Talk to me. What . . . What's going on?"

"Sabrina wants more."

"That's great," Anna hopped onto the desk next to me. "Right?"

"It is, it really is, it's something to daydream about, to dream in the night about, to wake up thinking about," I reassured but my heart was throbbing like it was sliced and was bleeding. "How can she . . . How can she expect more of me, more from us, if she's out there with Parker for everyone to see? We'd have to be a secret. She wants me to be her secret. I don't think . . ."

"Calm down, Sam."

"She wants me to chase her."

"Then chase her, Sam."

"Chase her into a secret?"

"Okay. You're right. You're right. Secrets are bad. Lying is bad."

"I feel like you're going to say 'but' now."

"But I saw you, steamrolling down that hallway. There was this confidence about you." She patted my thigh. "I've always wondered why you have this deep and almost crippling fear of . . . intimacy. You know what comes with that? You find it so hard to talk. You looked like you were going to shout to the rooftops about your love for her and when that plan was knocked sideways because of yeah, Parker, I think you've grabbed that excuse and ran with it. But it's an excuse you already knew about, Sam. You've known this whole time. What do you want from her? To stop the facade? Drop the whole prom queen quest? Would you really want to ask that of her before you even jumped all in?"

"You're diagnosing me with crippling intimacy issues."

"Please don't tell me that's all you got from my empowering and enlightening speech."

I kicked my legs back and forth, trying my best to not look directly into her imploring gaze. "I'm scared."

She hooked her foot with mine and swung them together. "Sabrina told me what happened yesterday, you know."

"I guessed."

"She's waiting for you. You're not jumping into the dark pit of not knowing what her response would be."

"I get that."

"What are you scared of?"

"That's the thing . . ." I started and sighed. "I don't know. Genuinely, I don't know. All I know is my chest gets heavy, and I end up doing silly things, mostly running away. Avoiding a situation. I never stopped to think about why."

"Maybe it's a fear of change. You like routine. Maybe surprises shock your system a little too much. But right now? Your confidence was knocked, that's all, you gained the courage once, you can do it again."

"You think?"

"I know."

A couple of hours later, I found myself in the same position as I was in that morning, stressing inside the confines of my bedroom. Maybe it was a good thing that Parker interrupted my plans and consequently reminding me of the reality of the situation.

There was more to it than jumping into the deep end with Sabrina and hoping it all worked out. There were real obstacles, and the reality of the campaign affected everything. Avoiding thinking about it or considering it at all wouldn't get rid of the problem.

Something rattled against my bedroom window, forcing me out of bed to investigate. Straight across from me was Sabrina by her open window, readying to shoot another arrow in my direction. She let loose, and when it knocked against my window again, she didn't hesitate to ready up another shot. I took the hint and opened my window. With her aiming an arrow at me and with us staring at each other from such a height, it felt like a fairy-tale.

"You looked like you needed to talk," Sabrina explained, shooting an arrow into my bedroom.

"I thought you weren't going to initiate conversations with me first."

"I wasn't. . ." she admitted and lowered her bow to her side. "But I saw you today. You were going to talk to me, but you changed your mind."

"Yeah, I didn't think you'd appreciate me starting that talk after you were asked to prom."

"Go on. Say what you need to say."

"What's the expectation here, Sabrina? You say you want me, but there's the whole campaign to think about too. It relies on you and Parker."

"Sam, I think the better question is, what are your expectations?"

"I can't answer that until I know what yours are."

"I told you already. I want you."

"In what capacity, though? It seems to me that it will be a whole secret."

"Think about what you're saying." Sabrina nocked an arrow. "I tell you that I want you, that all I ever wanted was you, and here you are, refusing to tell me how you feel. You're talking about the possibilities of admitting what you feel for me without explicitly saying it — the logistics behind the emotion. I'm up for those conversations, Sam, they are important conversations, but you're not there yet. You need to make a decision, are you ready to let us figure it out together? That's the conversation I won't start because that's entirely up to you and it can't be had until you're ready."

I frowned. "Why is this so hard?"

Sabrina this time finally shot me square in the chest. "Because you're not ready yet. Don't worry, Samantha, I've been waiting for years. I'm pretty good at it at this point."

She closed her window, ending the conversation.

I plucked the arrow from the ground and turned it around.

Carved into the arrowhead was the initials, S.J. Picking up the other arrows she had shot during our conversation, they were plain old pink with nothing special about them.

She had waited to shoot me. She'd been waiting for me.