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Chapter-Themed Song
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Then the door opens. "Oh, sorry!"
We quickly pull apart, and I brush my hands on my dress shirt to act like I was doing something else.
"Sorry, um, you can use the restroom." Hazel says. We awkwardly pass Emilia, the person who interrupted my moment with Hazel.
Of course, that was the Gods' way of telling me I'm stupid and should never tell her. It's a good thing they stopped me before I messed up again.
Hazel walks quickly down the hallway, but I don't want her to leave. I want her to stay with me. The small moment we had in the bathroom ended too soon.
I know that's a selfish thought, but it's true.
"Hazel." I call out.
She turns around. "Yeah?"
I approach her. "Are you . . . going outside?"
"Yeah. I was going to go get my friend Sophie." She says.
"Oh," I say. "Are you leaving?"
"Yeah." She answers. "I think I'm done for the evening."
My heart sinks a little, but I ignore it. "Oh okay," I say. Then I get an idea. "I can, um, drive you home," I mumble nervously.
Hazel looks away, biting her lip in thought. Finally, she looks at me. "Okay."
It's alright, I wasn't expecting her to agree. Wait, did she say okay? She said okay.
Alright, calm down. My heart is swimming in my chest.
We say goodbye to Emilia and thank her for inviting us, and I pretend I don't see the side-eye she gives me as we walk out.
As we approach my car, I realize I don't know what to say to her. The only thing on my mind had been the almost-confession, and that's obviously off the table.
"How's Landon?" I ask, fishing my keys out of my pocket.
"He's good," she says. "He really likes you."
I smile as I unlock the car, and we get in. "I'm flattered. I really like him too."
"I thought so."
"How's your mom?" I ask, pulling the car off of the side of the road and making a U-turn at the cul-de-sac.
"She's fine. She found an outpatient rehab program that she goes to three times a week, so she can still go to work for the other three days." Hazel explains. "So she's doing better, I guess."
"That's amazing," I say. "She's really trying, huh?"
"Yeah, she is," Hazel says, frowning. I can tell she doesn't want to discuss this anymore, but I don't know what else to say.
"Well, that's good."
Hazel nods slowly. She must be tired, or she just doesn't want to talk to me. Either way, I remain silent.
She breaks the silence. "Hey, thanks for the whole Liam thing," she says. "I don't know what I would have done if you weren't there."
"Of course," I say. We're on the highway now, which is quiet and peaceful at this time of night.
Hazel turns to me. "You don't like him very much, do you?"
I glance at her, eyebrows raised. "Do you like him, after what he tried to do?"
"Well, no, but you seemed to hate him from the start."
I look back at the road. "Yeah, 'cause he's a jerk," I say through gritted teeth. Then my heart drops as I see the blur of a green sign pass by. "Sh!t, I missed the exit."
"That's okay. I don't really want to go home yet."
Relaxing, I smile softly to myself. "Perfect. Let's get food."
Three exits later, I pull up at Routine Burger, which is a restaurant Leah and I used to frequent when we would go on our late-night ranting sessions. I park and we get out and enter the building.
It smells great, and my stomach is already growling before we even get to the counter to order. We order our food and sit at one of the booths by the window.
"What made you cry at Emilia's party?" I ask, taking a sip of my soda.
Hazel sighs. "You always ask me these deep questions." She fiddles with the bottom of her cup, staring at the straw.
"Sorry."
"No, no, it's okay, it's just--" she takes a deep breath. "I don't know. It's just . . . everything. It's stress from my mom, from myself, from the responsibility I have over Landon, from you, and, I guess, the party was just supposed to let me get loose, you know? But I guess the thing with Liam just pushed me over the edge."
I nod, just fascinated by her.
But wait. "Me? I stress you out?" I say. I hope I don't sound too worried. "Is it because of tutoring? I'm sorry if I make it hard for you."
Her cheeks are pink, and she looks a little embarrassed. "No! No, don't worry. It's not your fault at all."
I watch her, waiting for her to elaborate.
She looks away, shaking her head. "Um, anyway," she starts. "Thanks for, you know, all this."
I squint a little, studying her. She wants to change the subject. That's fine, I'll bring it up again later.
"One Original Roastburger Meal, and a Santa Barbara Roast with cheddar?" The server asks, balancing a tray on each arm.
"SÃ," I say, and he places our trays down in front of us.
Once we finish our food, we refill our drinks and throw away our trash.
"Ready to go?" I ask as Hazel sips on her drink.
She looks at me and smiles. "Not really, but we probably should."
I love her smile.
When we reach her house, it's past midnight and all the lights are off. She opens the car door and gets out. I get out as well.
"Let me walk you to your door," I say. "It doesn't look safe."
She looks at me. "I live here. It's the least safe for you."
I shrug. "I'm still walking you."
When she tries the door, though, it's locked. But she doesn't seem fazed. "I'll just sneak in through the back window. My mom never locks that one."
She laughs when she sees my concerned face. "Bye, Casey."
"Wait."
She stops, stepping back onto the front porch where I stand. "What?"
"You never told me why I'm in the top five on the list of the 'things that cause you stress'."
She looks away like she's pondering whether she should answer the question or leave me in the dark.
"Because. You're too nice."
I stare at her. "I stress you out because . . . I'm too nice?"
She bites her lip in exasperation. "You just . . . I don't know how I'm supposed to feel when you do all these things for me."
I continue staring at her. "I'm confused."
"I don't want to get the wrong idea, Casey. I get that you're nice and want to help people all the time for no reason."
"Well, yeah, 'cause I care about you," I say.
There's a glimmer of something new in her eyesâlike hopeâbut then it dies and she looks away.
"See?" she says, frustration vivid in her tone. "You can't just say that to people. It's not . . . it's not right."
"I'm sorry, I'm still not following."
Hazel takes a deep breath, hugging her arms. "When you say things like that, and do things like that, it makes people feel . . . special. And then, maybe those people start to develop feelings they've never felt before." She says. "But then they realize, you're just being nice, like always, and that you would do the exact same thing for the next person."
I stare at her.
"But that's not a bad thing, necessarily, but it can mess with people's brains, you know? When you give them the wrong idea, and then they realize your feelings aren't even real."
She had been avoiding my eyes while she talked, and in my silence, she raised her gaze to mine.
"It's okay if you don't get it. I barely understand it myself." Hazel mumbles.
I don't entirely get it. I cause her stress because I do nice things for her. Maybe it's because she feels she has to return the favor, but can't.
"Do you want a hug?" I ask.
She looks surprised, if not annoyed. But she closes her eyes and shakes her head as if she's erasing vile thoughts.
She opens her eyes. "Sure," she says flatly.
So I wrap my arms around her, but it seems like she's not giving it her all. She reciprocates, but barely. Just the bare minimum. She pulls away, but before I let her go, I turn my head and brush my lips against her cheek.
"Have fun sneaking into your own house," I mutter into her ear. Then I pull away.
She stands there, frozen, eyes wide.
I turn around and walk back to my car.
~~~
During the drive home, I begin to overthink. Did I do too much? Maybe I misread the situation. It could be that I just make her uncomfortable.
It's dark when I enter the house, and I quietly shut the door behind me.
"Casey Julia Winters." My mom's voice cuts into the silence. "Since when do you come home at such a time?"
No, not my mom. This voice is deeper; less flat.
"Grandma?" I call out into the dark house. I hear a chuckle, and there's a click as a lamp flicks on. I see her smiling face, her eyes crinkled at the corners from age. My heart swoops, and I feel my throat starting to close up. She opens her arms wide, and I rush into them.
She hugs me tight and kisses me on the forehead. After a few minutes of secretly drying my wet eyes on her sweater, we sit down on the living room couch.
I turn on her. "Why are you here?" I say, folding my arms. I'm happy she's here, but I'm mad she ever left.
"What, you don't want me here?" She jokes. She's always dressed fancy; she likes those kinds of things.
"Grandma," I say, frowning.
She sighs. "I'm sorry. I got caught up--"
I roll my eyes and turn away from her. The house is pitch dark, the only source of light being the small lamp beside her on the couch.
"Casey, don't be like that." She says. "I really am sorry."
"Who was it this time?" I ask, my tone lacking interest.
"Casey," she repeats. "I'm sorry."
I swallow the lump in my throat. "I waited for you, and you didn't come. I got stood up by my Grandma."
She winces. "It wasn't a man," she says. "I mean, it is about a man, but not in the way you think."
I stare at her, unmoving.
She continues. "I was trying to get my things in order because I'm getting married."
My eyebrows perk up in interest, but I maintain my scowl. "You're what?"
"I'm getting married, Casey. To a wonderful man I did not meet at a bar. And he proposed the day before I was supposed to fly here. I'm terribly sor--" She pauses. "A lot of things had to be changed, and my flight was one of them."
My gaze softens as I look at her. "Congratulations. You could have told me."
"I know, Casey." She says sadly, and I suddenly feel bad. She's never gotten married before, so of course this is going to be big for her.
I lean forward to hug her and say, "That's amazing, Grandma. I'm so happy for you."
She pats my arm. "Thank you, sweetie. But enough about me--what's been going on with you?"
I squint. "What do you mean?"
"You never come home at one o'clock." She inquires, raising a brow.
"Oh, um . . ."
She smirks suddenly. "Was it a boy? Did you get--"
I shut my eyes in agony. "Ew, Grandma. No. There was no boy."
She smiles. "That's right, I forgot my grandbaby is a queer. Good. I don't need to be a great-grandmother already." She laughs a big hearty laugh. "So who is she? Did you get down and d--"
"Grandma!" I exclaim, covering my face with my hands. "No!"
She puts her arms around my shoulders. "I'm joking. But there is a girl, right?"
I stare at her. "You missed a lot."
She rests her head on my shoulder. "Aw, baby."
Another light flicks on, and my mom, dressed perfectly from head to toe in her pajamas stands in the arch of the living room entrance. "Casey, can you keep it down?"
Then she looks at us, shock plastered all over her tired face as she stares at us.
"Mom?" She croaks. "What are you doing here?"
A/N:
Wish me luck at my recital!
Don't forget to vote!
<3