Taylor stepped back so I could pick up my shoes. In silence, he watched as I sat back on the swing and brushed my feet off before slipping the Vans on again. Then I dusted my hands on my jeans and stood up.
What do you want? I thought, unable to get my mouth to say the words. He just stood there and watched me. Fine. Don’t talk then. In my irritation, I moved away and stood by the large row of steps that led to the slide. I looked out at the boys playing baseball. There were so many things I wanted to tell Taylor, but not now. I needed a few more days before I went all postal on him. Right then I really didn’t want to talk to anyone, least of all him. Maybe he’ll just go away if I ignore him.
The silence loomed for several minutes, and soon I wondered if he had gone. I refused to turn around and see. In fact, my back was still to him when he finally spoke.
“Chloe, I had to come see you.”
I stiffened my back and raised my head in defiance.
“I’m going crazy here,” he said in a frustrated tone. “I can’t sleep, I can’t concentrate in school—everything’s a mess. Listen, I don’t know who that guy was you were dancing with, but please, you’ve gotta hear me out.” I heard a faint mutter and then a ragged sigh before Taylor half whispered, “I—I love you.” It was like a dam had burst. In the next breath he was louder, much louder. “I do. I have loved you from the first time I saw you stomp away from those bleachers three and a half years ago. And trust me, I’ve tried to get over it, always moving on to new girlfriends, pretending like you meant nothing—like I wasn’t in love with you—but I can’t do this anymore. You’re the only girl I want. Chloe, I need you to go out with me.”
In shock, I stood rooted to the ground, facing the same playing field Taylor faced. I knew I had to say something. I lowered my head and contemplated my hands for a moment before I bravely squared my shoulders. Slowly, I turned toward him. He still stood by the swing. His raw uncertainty disarmed me a little as his anguished eyes searched mine for an answer. I knew at that moment that Taylor thought he loved me. But he didn’t, not really. He has never loved me, I decided. He just loves the idea of me—of having the one girl who doesn’t worship the ground he walks on. But I couldn’t love him. I wouldn’t love him. With a deep breath, I braced myself.
“Taylor, thank you.” There, that sounded good. “But no.”
For several long moments, he stared at me, obviously confounded. At first, I wasn’t sure he had heard me. Finally, he spat out, “That’s all you’re going to say? That’s it?” He moved a step closer to the swing and yanked its chain toward him. “You’d think that when a guy bares his soul to a girl at least she would give him a proper reply. Not some stiff, harsh, monotone rejection.” His anger was evident as he punctuated each adjective with a jerk of the swing.
Disgusted, I put my hands on my hips. “Proper reply? You mean yes, right?”
“I don’t care what answer you give. Just give me a reason. If you actually have one, that is.”
“Are you kidding me?” I said furiously. “I was only trying to be nice. You want to know what I really think about you? Fine, let me spell out all my reasons. First off, Taylor Anderson, what makes you think I would ever consider becoming the girlfriend of the guy who has crushed one of my best friends? Zack and Alyssa. Can you say it wasn’t you who broke them up? And that you told—no make that commanded—Zack to leave Alyssa?”
Taylor looked confused, then angry. “You better believe I broke them up. I take care of my friends more than I am able to take care of myself. At least I was able to stop him from falling for someone who couldn’t care less about him.”
Jerk! Imbecile! Moron! “But that’s not all!” I blurted. “You know it isn’t. What about Blake Winter—Wilder—your own cousin?”
“Blake? How much has he told you?”
“You tried to get him fired. You’re a jealous, attentionseeking jerk who would try to undermine his own cousin, just so you could have what you wanted, just to make sure no one shared your spotlight.”
“Wow! So that’s what you think of me?” Taylor shook his head. “You don’t really know what’s going on, and you don’t even care. You know why? Because you’re a fraud, Chloe Hart. Yep. You go ahead and stand there and think how much better you are than the popular crowd, but you know what? You’re just as bad as they are. We both know that you’d rather die than admit the only thing stopping you from going out with me is that I’m popular. The next time you’re out somewhere flinging accusations at people, check your double standard first.”
“My double standard?” Look in the mirror, buddy! I stormed up to the swing. It was the only thing separating us as I looked up into his face. “Taylor, you are the most conceited, rudest, most arrogant boy I have ever had the misfortune of meeting. I would never in a million years go out with you. Even if you had never hurt Blake or Alyssa, you’d still be a smug, manipulating jock with no regard for anybody else’s feelings. Never mind morp and getting me to ask you just—just so you could humiliate me. When I first moved here I saw what a complete jerk you were, thinking you owned everything and everyone. Well, you don’t own me, and you never will. I deserve someone much better than you!”
The air positively crackled as the hollow reminder of my words echoed around us. Taylor slowly scanned my face, his eyes a dull gray. I cannot begin to imagine what emotions he saw there.
He took a step back and then another from the swing that separated us. Then he paused before nodding briefly. “Thank you, Chloe. It’s nice to know what someone really thinks of you. Sorry for wasting your time.”
And then Taylor Darcy Anderson walked away.
Nineteen
A Different Side
I collapsed into the swing after Taylor was gone, completely bereft of emotion and energy. And then I did what any sensible girl would do in my situation—I leaned my head against the hand holding the swing chain and cried.
It was some time later that I realized how cold I was. Grasping the chains, I lifted myself off the swing. My limbs felt stiff so I wrapped my jacket closer, then stomped to get the blood moving in my legs and feet. With one deliberate step at a time, I slowly made my way back across the sand and onto the concrete sidewalk, then across the street to my house. Down the street to my right I could see Alyssa’s and Madison’s homes. The sun seemed to happily bounce off them, and they represented a beacon of comfort I couldn’t indulge in at present. I walked the rest of the twenty or so yards to my front door with a determination to get on with my day.
The next day, Sunday, my mother saw my peaked and weary face and told me to go back to bed. The rest of the family went to church without me. Before they left, my dad came into my room to see how I was doing. He brought his laptop with him and told me not to tell Mom.
“It’s just so you won’t get cabin fever while we’re gone,” he teased, and then after a moment, he added, “Yesterday, I saw the Anderson boy’s sports car in front of our house for a while. It wouldn’t have anything to do with your hiatus to the park yesterday morning, would it?”
“Well, yeah, it did,” I answered. In a roundabout way.
“Is that boy sweet on you?”
I looked down and shook my head. “Not anymore.” My finger rubbed along the soft nose of the bear I was holding.