Page 94 of How (Not) to Conjure a Boyfriend
I close my eyes and let my finger drop. The little whooshing noise confirms it sent, and immediately I want to puke everywhere.
MACKENZIE: Hey, I need to tell you something sort of important, but in person.
“Done,” I say between gritted teeth.
“You just started,” Kaitlynn corrects me.
“And I already hate—” I stop when the bubbles start jumping at the bottom of the screen, and my stomach starts to churn quicker. “I’m going to be sick.”
“Sodramatic,” Kaitlynn says in time with my phone vibrating from the new text.
HAYDEN: Same! Come to my house for dinner tomorrow and we can talk.
Uh… That’s not how I want to do this.
“What did he say?” Kaitlynn’s bouncing impatiently.
“Well, uh…he wants me to come to his house for dinner tomorrow. He says he has something important to tell me too,” I say, stopping with my lips pooched awkwardly.
“Oh.” Kaitlynn sits back. “Baby steps?”
“I hate you so much.” I roll my eyes at her, then send a response.
MACKENZIE: OK
27
By the time I pull in I’m going to have every pine needle on this damn tree memorized. I’ve been sitting on the side of the road next to the Marcuses’ mailbox for the past ten minutes, contemplating my every life choice and possibly even my very existence. I’m trying to find the mistake that led me here, as if it’s not obvious. Maybe it was when I decided Hinduism wasn’t for me, or when I decided not to go on the eighth grade field trip to D.C. Maybe it was none of that, or maybe it was when Dad died.
It would just sound so much better if I could say it wasn’t just me being totally and completely pathetic. I’m not going to lie this time. I’m not. It’s a lie that got me into this. It’s a lie that compounded into more lies and made things even worse, so it’s not going to be another lie that gets me out of it all. I promise myself and Freyja.
I really hope they don’t have cameras out here. They strike me as the type that would have little hidden cameras spread around the property, and it’d be my luck that I’m staring one down right now. They’re probably watching me on their phones, wondering what I’m doing out by their mailbox.
I slouch and put my car in gear.Just get this over with. It’s not going to get any easier just because you wait another minute.I barely press the pedal and my tires start crunching down the driveway. I still take my time, letting the now familiar canopy of pine needles and bare branches guide me to my doom. It’s fitting. It’s dark under the branches. My headlights sweep the pavement but fade to nothing at the edges of the trees, into the unknown. It’s sort of scary until it opens up and the stoicblack columns and hard geometric lines of the Marcus residence slide into view.
I come to a stop and sit with myself a moment, fingers gripped around the amethyst hanging from my necklace.Please Freyja, Odin, Thor. Please give me strength.Somewhere in my chest I find the will to open the door and practically ooze out onto the pavement. At least, that’s how it feels. I’m upright, on my own two feet, but it feels like my legs are coated knee-high in some thick, heavy, sticky goo pulling me back, tethering me to the ground. Each step is a labor of sheer willpower, and it only gets harder when I mount the steps, fear crashing through me, and without me so much as reaching for it, the front door swings open.
“Mack!” Zachary steps outside and shuts the door behind himself. “I need to say I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
“No, Zach, don’t.” I cough against the cold to uncrimp my nerves.
He freezes, eyes confused and hurt. I brace myself against those beautiful gray eyes so they don’t bring me to my knees.Why do you have to make it so hard to be strong?
I look at him. Gods, it’s so hard to hold back the feelings roiling through my chest. The need. I steel myself. I can’t show him the struggle behind my eyes. I know the truth about my feelings for him. What I want.I want him.I don’t know if I love him, but I don’t think I really know what that means yet.I like Zachary. I want Zachary, not Hayden.I want the boy standing right in front of me. He’s kind and thoughtful, even if he gets a little carried away. Funny. Confident but not full of himself. A bit of a nerd, and a lover of this big ball we call home. Someone who seesmeand still wants me.
And I ruined it all.
“Gods, I’m sorry,” I blurt when I realize I zoned out for a moment.
“No, you’re okay,” Zachary says, fiddling with his fingers. It’s the only thing that betrays the calm in his eyes.
I want to reach out to him and wrap my arms around his waist and kiss him. I want to tell him how I feel and run away with him—go anywhere but here, but that’s another life. Another time.
“Can we just act like we’re okay?” I ask and start forward, trying my best to ignore the chill in the air.
He doesn’t answer. Instead, he dips his head and gives me the saddest smile I think I’ve ever seen. Eyes on the floor, he pushes the door open and holds it open for me to go in. Torture isn’t harsh enough a word to describe walking past him. He’s not even making eye contact, yet I can feel the hurt I’ve put him through in his downward gaze. I finally breathe again when I cross the threshold and smiling faces turn to greet me. It breaks me all over again knowing how I’m about to ruin everyone’s idea of me.
“Kenzie!”
