Page 115 of I'm Gonna Get You Back
I review my notes, making sure I’ve tracked everything from his interview, before I move on when I see a note to myself that I forgot to ask him about.
Did you ever read the card?
I had no idea what Reid was talking about this morning when he asked me that. But I know someone who might.
I send a text to Mitchell.Do you know anything about a card Reid gave me last year?
When he doesn’t text back right away, I keep working.
As the hours pass and light shifts outside from a bright white to a golden hue, I barely move from the editing chair. Splicing and cutting as fast as humanly possible, grateful I did so much of the work last year. I intercut between all the footage I already had with all the interviews I’ve gotten this weekend.
When it’s as close to done as I’m going to get it before the banquet, I lean back.
My eyes are burning. A bit from staring at the computer all day, but also with pride. For the first time ever, Iknowthat this is good.
When I have time to fully complete it, this is a doc that could get me back into CAFA.
Only… what was true last year is still true this year: It’shighlypersonal. Incredibly raw. It highlights pieces of my friends’ and formerteammates’ lives in a way that I’m not sure I can show without upsetting them. Or revealing all they’ve been hiding. All the program hides.
And it shows Reid completely unguarded.
I’m taking a big risk including everything. Though I think this is what he needs, uncertainty lodges in my stomach and festers as I race home to get ready.
An hour later, Reid appears on my doorstep looking like suits were invented just for him. The one he’s wearing is dark, and the crisp white dress shirt is open at his throat. His hair is perfectly mussed, and I can smell his clean shaving cream and woodsy cologne from here. Even with a purple eye and a bruised jaw, this boy makes my brain stop.
“Damn,” I blurt appreciatively.
His grin is modest but confident. It falters slightly as his gaze rakes up and down me in a way that shoots fire across my skin.
I smooth my hands across the skirt of the dress Aunt Xi gave me. Made out of a soft emerald-green satin, it’s got a vintage vibe—thin straps, a fitted bodice, and an A-line skirt that flares out and hits me a little above my knees.
“Ready for some subterfuge?” he finally asks, a glint in his eye.
A fresh burst of nerves tumbles through me. “Ready” isn’t the word I’d use. Terrified we’ve got it all wrong. Worried about what else Legacy Lore might do tonight. Hopeful our plan for Nicole is the right one.
One of the straps slides down my shoulder as I shrug. His gaze follows the slip of fabric as I readjust it and say, “As I’ll ever be.”
Just as Reid is taking my camera bag to his truck, my phone buzzes with Mitchell’s response.You mean the one for your birthday?
I frown. Reid didn’t give me anything for my birthday. I had found it unlike him at the time, but I wasn’t about to ask. Then we broke up and that was it.
Mitchell sends another message.Didn’t he put it in your backpack for you to find? God, he’s so dramatic.
My backpack? I haven’t used it since school got out. With a quick shout at Reid letting him know I forgot a jacket, I sprint to my room, tearing open the closet. Pushing clothes and shoes and boxes aside, I finally see the dark green canvas tucked in a heap under some sweaters. Turning it over, I shake out the contents on the floor.
I spread all the papers out andthere—among them, crumpled and dirty, is a small, purple envelope that apparently has been sitting here for six long months.
I open it, smooth it, and read it in dawning disbelief. Blood thrumming so hard it’s all I hear.
To my favorite light-chaser,
You asked to see them so many times, I finally had to give you one. To be honest, my pen hasn’t stopped moving since I met you. Ink spilling with your laugh, your touch, the continuous torturous prospect of your mouth on mine. Every word looking for you. Every page another freeze-frame in our story.
I don’t want to scare you, Clara. I just want to love you.
Happy birthday.
Love, Reid
