CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
ANTHONY’S POV

Blake made this look easy. I hated that he was that cool.

Jumping like a kangaroo outside his bedroom window was in no way cool or romantic – not that I wanted it to be a romantic gesture. His window was way too high up and it didn’t even have a ledge that I could hold on to. Blake had moved out of his former bedroom with the balcony, and while I loved that since his current bedroom was directly opposite mine and I could see him whenever I wanted, breaking into his room like he used to do mine was almost impossible.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I had almost gotten a hold of the ledge between the ground floor and the first floor, but his sudden appearance startled me and I lost my bearing.

“Uh...” I had no idea what to say. It was partly due to the fact that I was caught trying and failing miserably to be cool like he was by climbing through his window, and also because he looked yum! Like hair-dripping-wet-grey-sweatpants-while-shirtless yum.

“I just...wanted to talk to you.” He eyed me suspiciously as if deciding whether to be mean to me or just respond normally.

“I thought I told you I never wanted to see you again?” he asked calmly. I took that as a good sign and responded with more cheek than I would have otherwise.

“Yeah, but I tell you not to do things multiple times, but you ignore me and go right ahead and do them. Besides, you’re dating my sister and we go to the same school and have the same class. Wanting to never see me again would be a very difficult feat to accomplish.”

He started circling me like a predator would its prey. I loved how his long, black hair fell over his eyes and dripped water down his torso. I noticed his nipples perk up and saw goosebumps appeared on his skin. It was a bit too chilly to be walking around wet and shirtless, but Blake Lindell still did. And I was glad that he did even though it may lead to him falling sick later on.

“Don’t try to be cute, Pearce. I’m still very much mad at you.” The fact that I wasn’t trying to be cute but he still thought I was made me believe that there was hope for us after all.

Immediately the words left my mouth, I regretted ever bringing up Blaire. What I said was wrong and I felt so bad for saying it. I know I should have apologized to him immediately after my careless utterance, but I was too mad and angry at him for doing something that he may have not done in the end, and I left things the way they were. What Michael said to me made me think about it a whole lot and I came to the conclusion that maybe I jumped into conclusion without hearing from his side first. Looking at Blake now giving me that cold, icy glare of his with his monotonous tone, I prayed silently that I had not yet royally messed up my chances of being friends with Blake Lindell.

“Look, Blake, I am so, so sorry I said what I said about Blaire. I swear, I didn’t mean any of it.”

He scoffed and I could see a flash of fury pass through his eyes.

“If I recall correctly, which I do, you sounded very sincere when you were relaying to me how everyone around me knew I was the cause of my sister’s death. So, don't give me that bs about you not meaning it because I know you did. You still do and you’ll always mean it because you never liked me. You stopped trusting me and you’ve always seen me as a spoilt brat who managed to get away with killing his older sister just like he gets away with everything else.”

His words were like a spear passing through my heart. I felt broken and guilty about the way Blake viewed me. He now believed I never liked him and that I always saw him as a spoilt brat, when in reality I did like him, despite him being a spoilt brat. He didn’t look like he was going to believe anything I said and I found myself crying internally for the loss of Blake’s trust in me.

“Of course I liked you, Blake! I’ve always liked you. I loved you more than anything in the world. You were my best friend. You were the reason I discovered I was...” I held back almost confessing to Blake that I realised I was gay because of him. Despite the fact that I wanted him to know just how much I loved him, I wasn’t ready for him to know that I thought of him in that way.

He looked at me imploringly, waiting for me to finish my sentence. I ignored his look and started a different sentence.

“I admit that I was mad at you when I discovered you were the one who handed Gary my textbook with the note in it, and I admit that that action triggered a memory I would rather have suppressed forever, but you have to believe me Blake, I didn’t mean what I said.”

“It’s a little late for that, Pearce.” He sounded sad and defeated and my soul ached. I admit, in the past, even though we weren’t exactly the best of friends, I liked it whenever he called me by my surname. I liked it better when he called me by my first name because then I knew he wasn’t mad at me and he didn’t hate me as much. But hearing him call me ‘Pearce’ now with his voice all low and sad had me believing that I did make a royal screw up this time around.

“You know the worst part about being blamed for Blaire’s death? It’s that no one knew about the reason why I was out in the first place.”

He shuddered a bit and more goosebumps filled his arms. I wanted to suggest that we both went inside, but I was scared that he’d decide to go in alone and our conversation would be over.

“See everyone thinks that I went off on my own, just being the brat that I was, and decided to not go home that day. I never told anyone the real reason why I was out in the first place and for the first time ever, I’m regretting that decision. I thought that you of all people would be on my side, but you just had to go ahead and say that.”

“Blake...”

“Do you think I don't know that my parents thought, for a brief second, that she died because of me? Do you think I don't know that everyone who attended her funeral and heard the story didn’t think to themselves ‘if only he hadn’t left then and just stayed put, she wouldn’t have ended up like this’, huh? I know that I’m to blame, Pearce, I am fully aware of that and I live with that knowledge everyday, but I did not expect you to think like the rest of them.” His voice carried a heaviness and anger in it and it brought tears to my eyes. I really messed up this time. I hurt Blake more than he ever hurt me and I wasn’t sure if he was going to forgive me for it.

“See, I always hated it when you were sick. It wasn’t because of any selfish reason like you couldn’t play with me or do what I wanted you to do. It was because you were always sad when you were sick. You had this look on your face, like you’ll never be happy again and that scared me and made me sadder than anything ever did.”

The only reason why I hated being sick and looked like that was because I couldn’t hang out with Blake when I was sick. My mom always had me isolated so I wouldn’t spread my germs and so Blake wasn’t allowed to visit for more than five minutes a day. It was excruciating having our little meeting cut short to the extent that I had to beg him not to come whenever I fell sick. It would have been a lot worse to have to part from him a mere five minutes after he shows up.

“One day, you got sick again. You had the flu and as usual we couldn’t hang out and it made me sad seeing you through your window like that. I figured I’d do something to make you feel better. I remembered then that you were talking about these carnations that you saw at the park one time and how much you wanted them. So, I decided to get them for you.”

The feeling started out wonderful, magical even, to think that twelve-year-old Blake wanted to get me flowers. Then the direction of the story began to be clear in my mind and I got a chill down my spine that was most definitely not due to the cold, November air.

“I told Blaire about it and she was adamant about me not going alone. I was strong headed. I hated that she always wanted to follow me everywhere. I didn’t understand then that she was just looking out for me. So, I told her I wouldn’t take long. I was just going to the park to pick out flowers. I wouldn’t take more than fifteen minutes.”

I could see his eyes go misty as he remembered that day. He trembled slightly and I knew it wasn’t because of the weather. Today was the first time in six years that Blake was talking about Blaire and seeing him about to cry because of it, because I said something stupid that turned out to not even be true, made me feel a million times worse than I have ever felt in my life.

“Turns out, it does take more than fifteen minutes to pick out the perfect flowers for your best friend.” He chuckled dryly, and looked at me with a pained expression. “I wasn’t in any danger, but I’m sure she thought I was since I didn’t come back the time I said I would. I decided the park wasn’t the best place to get what I wanted so I ventured down south. Of course, she doesn’t know this so she gets to the park and I’m not there. She begins to panic, starts asking around if anyone has seen me. People don't actually pay attention to little kids on their own, so of course their answer is ‘no, haven’t seen him.’

“Blake...” I could hear the crack in my own voice and I stopped myself as my hand shot up to touch him. Unconsciously, tears began to stream down my face. I felt like the most horrible human being on the planet in that moment.

“She freaks out and just goes everywhere looking for me. She calls your mom, she calls your dad, my parents come home earlier than usual, everyone is searching for me while I’m busy picking out carnations without mud or blemish on it. Then the accident happens. Right when she gets to where I am holding the flowers I am so proud to have gathered in my tiny hands, my smile bigger than the ocean, thinking about how you’re going to love them, I see her face all sad and wet from tears, and she looks at me with relief on her face, and she’s about to cross over to my side and then that x comes out of nowhere.”

He tightened his fists until his veins popped out, until he turned red and his whole being shook with the anger of loosing his sister like that.

“Believe me, Pearce, I did think I caused it. What if I had gone home when I couldn’t find what I was looking for at the park? What if I had let her come with me and we had gotten the flowers together? What if I just didn’t bother myself with trying to make you feel better and just stayed five days without seeing you like I usually did?

“You want to know the funny and annoying thing about it all? The moment I saw her fly through the air like a frisbee, the flowers that I had so carefully curated were completely ignored. No one ever saw them and no one knew about them.”

His tone changed then, and he no longer sounded so pained. He had every intention of letting me know how he felt and what he thought in that moment.

“Listen, I blame myself everyday for what happened to her. No one is more at fault than I am, not even the damn truck driver. But at the same time, I didn’t cause her death! I am not to blame for what happened to her. The flowers aren’t to blame, your getting isn’t to blame, even her worrying about me isn’t to blame! It was just an accident. A very terrible, very heartbreaking tragedy that I wish so badly didn’t happen. I already blame myself for her death over and over again, and I know everyone else thought the same thing. I was the kid who didn’t listen and wandered off on his own. I was the spoilt brat who didn’t do as he was told which inevitable led to the demise of his precious sister. I know that everyone thought it was all my fault, even my parents, but I thought and I so strongly believed that you didn’t think like that. You were to be different, Pearce! So, when you said that shit about Blaire dying being my fault...it broke me.”

And there it was. The first drop of tears falling from his chocolate brown eyes. I don't think I had ever seen Blake cry before. He looked genuinely pained and hurt, the kind of pain that nothing physical can cause and that pain of his found its way to my heart and I felt like death would have been a better option for me in that moment. I hated to see Blake like that. I hated that I was the one that caused him to feel like that. If I could take back what I said, I would. I really didn’t mean it.

“I don't want to see you, Pearce” he said resignedly. “Just go home and leave me alone.”

He stalked out of there with his shoulders drooping, his body pale and dry and his eyes wet. He looked defeated and tired and like he just wanted to sleep unending.

I stood there for the longest time, letting the cold wind freeze up my insides, while I cried my eyeballs out at what I had done.