His words are like an ice bath. It’s like being cast into darkness after relishing in the sunlight. Gone are the softness and affection in his eyes.
I shake my head. Before what? The future? The Renner staring at me like I’m a freak of nature is not the Renner who confessed his feelings for me. He’s not the Renner I made out with in the rain. Which means . . . it wasn’t based in any sort of reality, alternate or otherwise. Because if it were an alternate reality, surely he experienced it too?
Could it have been a dream? Perhaps.
But that doesn’t compute. Usually, after a vivid dream, the thrashing heartbeat fades once you regain consciousness. But my heartbeat shows no signs of slowing.
“Hello?” Renner waves his hand annoyingly close to my face.
I recoil before he pokes my eye out. “Yeah. I’m great. Never better,” I say sarcastically, batting his limp, outstretched hand away to pull myself up.
Renner remains kneeled over me, stupid seventeen-year-old face backlit by the fluorescent gym light like a tacky, yet annoyingly handsome, angel. A supercut of memories floats through my mind. Walking into the school with him. Being surrounded by friends and family at our bachelor/bachelorette party. Ripping through town playing car hide-and-seek. His chest against mine as we danced to “（I’ve Had） The Time of My Life” while chaperoning prom. Clutching my stomach with laughter in the thrift store dressing room. The sweet taste of candy on his lips. The feeling of his chin on my head as we hid from the rain.
I’m half tempted to pull his face to mine and see if Real Teen Renner kisses like Adult Renner before logic takes over again. This is the real Renner, after all. The one who insults me whenever possible. The one who delights in all my failings. And the one who lives to make my life a living hell. How could I possibly conjure up anything different?
“I’m . . . I’m gonna go get the nurse,” he says, standing.
“N-No,” I stammer. “I said I’m fine.”
He gives me an as if look. “You’re not. You can barely get up.”
It’s natural instinct to prove him wrong. And I try to, at least. I start pulling myself up, but he presses my shoulders down, anchoring me in place. “Jesus, will you just listen to me for once in your life and stay there? You could have a concussion.” His tone takes me aback. It’s strict, but has an edge of warmth. Not unlike how he addressed his students in phys ed class. When we were thirty.
“Okay. Fine.”
About ten minutes later, he returns with Nurse Ryerson. It’s a running joke that anyone attracted to women will make an excuse to see Nurse Ryerson. She’s admittedly hot for forty.
She performs a quick assessment and badgers us about safety.
“How in the world did you manage to fall off the ladder?” she asks, almost as if it’s my fault.
Renner’s eyes flicker to mine, daring me to blame it on him. Before he can conjure up some lie to get me in trouble, I steel my spine.
“I fell trying to take a roll of streamers from Renner. He was holding it too far away on purpose, and I guess my weight tipped the ladder off balance,” I tell her.
Renner grimaces. “Are you really accusing me of making you fall on purpose? How was I supposed to know that ladder wasn’t stable?”
“Well, you two better get your story straight. I’ll need to write an incident report for Principal Proulx. And Charlotte, I’m calling your mom to pick you up. You’ll need to go to the ER as a precaution.”
The ER is the stuff of nightmares. Waiting rooms are always anarchy, full of people on their worst days, germs floating about. It’s extra stressful for Mom, given our shoddy health insurance.
Luckily, all my scans come back clear. The doctor says I likely have a minor concussion, so I should take the rest of the day to rest, with limited screen time. Mom cackled the entire drive home, my phone in her clutches.
I’ll admit, a whole day of forced rest with no electronics is actually more peaceful than I would have imagined. It also gives me time alone with my thoughts.
Only, the moment my head hits the pillow, I sleep straight into Thursday morning.
TWENTY-EIGHT
Two days until prom
Renner has outright ignored my entire existence all morning. It’s the norm for him to grind my gears, but snubbing me like I’m a ghost has never been one of his tactics.
Exhibit A: He didn’t even bother to race me to our lockers before first period. In fact, he just stood aside, eyes locked to his phone. He let me grab my books without a hassle.