91
"I know, I'm sorry."
Try as she might, she could not find anything else to say. Every second was a struggle for breath, for space. If she could be anymore torn, the kaleidoscope of a person that the Scottish lass was might have split in half. More and more, with each word she could feel press against her cheek, she was more resolute in knowing she could not risk losing him.
He was serious. He loved her. He'd come to confront her in front of everyone to do so and she'd spent most days since replaying it in her head over and over. Each time it hurt her more. Spencer had offered her his heart and she'd responded by saying it was not enough, that he wasn't, and there was no worse feeling than that.
She couldn't look at him because she felt so small. Sydney liked to dream large and spread her brand of sunshine into the world. That perspective did not dismiss the darker side of the world, not for anyone, but she wouldn't look back at her time with Spencer and think that wherever this would leave them would not have made it her favorite memories. He was her foundation, the steady gravity that kept her from drifting off the deep end and so much more.
And even then, she couldn't be his girlfriend.
His tug had pulled her closer and, without second-guessing herself, she rested her head on his chest. The hand that had been clenching her forearm dropped to pull at the ends of his shirt. When she looked up at him then, teary blue eyes suddenly finding his, she chose to be selfish once more.
"I'm so, so sorry." The words came out broken as she leaned forward to kiss him.
Before she ran away.
92
He wanted her to look at him.
He wanted to pull her into his arms.
He wanted everything to be alright.
He knew, though his hand remained on her arm, all those things were out of reach. Unless the spin of a time turner could take them back to how things were before, then things would not be alright again. But Spencer Callander would always cling to hope, and so, with the tips of his fingers, he gave her a gentle tug. An invitation to come closer, into his arms, so that for a moment, they could find a glimpse of comfort in what they once had.
"I didn't always feel this way," He explained. "I always loved you, but not like this." It wasn't something he could easily explain, that blurry barrier between the unconditional love of a best friend, and the now conditional love of something more. If he had to draw it, he would fill paper with an explosion of bright golden light, engulfing the white page in bright, vibrant yellow. Not a depiction fated to become a masterpiece, certainly, but it would be more accurate than anything he could put into words.
"I've got other friends, you know. I can tell the difference."
These didn't feel like the right words to tell her she was everything, that he spent every waking moment thinking about her, that she'd saved his life, once, and in so doing, invited him into a life that was so much more extraordinary than it had been before, that she was at the center of it all, that there was no greater magic than that which was cast into the world by the brightness of her smile.
93
She hadn’t wanted to be impressed.
She hadn’t wanted to be impressed, but she had been, for once in her life when it came to him. She’d looked and listened with uncharacteristic patience as he’d taken her to the sage plants, shown her the rose bush, led her over to the pumpkins. Now, crouched in the dirt beside him, Vega looked up from the Moly plant to glance back at the house.
Did she want to go back?
No, she didn’t want to go back.
She waited a beat too long to say it out loud, though, and in that moment, Avery moved, sweeping up and upright. For a moment, Vega knelt at his feet, still watching the windows and the warm light that glowed from them. Then, rising to follow suit, she folded her arms across her chest.
“Let’s do the sparklers.” Her gaze flickered to his, “I’m not sure I want to hear what your mother thinks 2012 has in store for me.”
If Mrs Elliot was anything like her son, and Vega suspected that she must be, then it wouldn’t be good news.
94
She gulped, frozen, held back by his hold on her and finding it impossible to face him after those words left her lips. Even then, when she had basically told him to leave her alone despite attempting to frame it in the best way possible, he wouldn't let her go. Not because he selfishly wanted to keep her there, not because his wants were more important than hers, but because Spencer wouldn't let her say such things about herself.
Even in these heart-wrenching moments, he proved to be far better than she deserved.
"Spencer," she started, gaze glued to the floor. She didn't know what to say. A small stream of tears began to flow freely as her ability to hold herself together had reached its tipping point. She shook her head, grinding her teeth until she found her voice once more.
"You're supposed to say that. You're my best friend." She felt like she'd made that point already. Whether aloud or internally, she couldn't decipher after so much time spent overthinking every action, every thought, every feeling.
"How can you really know if, if you've always felt like that?" Whether she was referring to loving her, in whatever context, she couldn't tell. She wiped her wet face clear with her forearm.
"That I'm worth it?"
95
She was right. He didn't want to admit it, because that would mean saying those past few months hadn't been everything he'd ever wanted, but she was. And really, that time had been everything he'd ever wanted, but it wasn't worth this. Spencer felt lousy, guilty, his heart torn into shreds—if this was love, then, yes, she was right, they should never have gone down this painful path. They had been perfectly fine, perfectly happy, when they were just friends.
But he still didn't want to admit it. He looked away, downwards, avoiding facing her, avoiding facing reality.
And then she said something that made his entire being churn with an indescribable horror.
"I'm not worth this. I--"
Horror, because of all the things that weren't worth it, Sydney Lamont was not one of them. He knew, deep down, regardless of all the things he did and did not admit, that for her, he would have done it all again in a heartbeat.
And, God, would it be worth it.
Spencer reached out to grab her arm, to stop her in her tracks. His eyes pleaded through their confusion. He knew he should let her go, respect her wish for space, but he clung to her like he clung to hope.
"What do you mean?" He asked. "Of course you're worth it."
96
*dusts off forum* Thought I'd put it out there that I did a thing. Which is in part attributed to a lot of you here, since you guys ensure I keep lovin' writing. I wrote a whole novel, the first in a series, edited it twice, almost died of nerves when I let a few people read it. Got a cover made, got it edited and it's coming out on 28th of Feb. It'll be in the Kindle Unlimited program as well. It's dark fantasy. There's no chosen one trope. There is a little bit of magic involved. All the protagonists sins are laid bare. She's unlikable in a way that makes you want her to win. Can't guarantee it's the next SJM novel but hey, I'm proud of it. If you wanna check it out: Goodreads || Amazon US || Amazon AU || Amazon UK
97
Their garden wasn't overly impressive by any means, situated behind their store, guarded by a few low fences and suspicious-looking engravings in the wood. One of the posts had fallen over and left to wither away in the seasons, making the edges of the garden bleed into the fields. The only mark it was not the most Muggle garden, was the fact it was still growing in this weather at all. Despite not being guarded by a greenhouse, the garden bloomed with odd pots of glowing flowers and vines that seemed to twist and burrow along the ground. If there was any rhyme or reason to the order, it was loosely grouped at best; vegetables on one side and herbs on the other. The rest, such as the rose bush with multi-coloured petals, were scattered between. "Choose something."Avery snorted indelicately, folding his arms across his chest. "Oh no, I believe this is your area of expertise." The gaze that trailed over to Vega flashed in the dim lighting. "Though, maybe the aconite over the corner is something you'd like." 11.53 pm
They'd managed to escape most of the festivities by hiding in the garden, out of the growing crowd of patrons and the watchful eye of his mother. As the noise grew though, Avery's head turned from where he'd been crouched, in the middle of pointing out a single Moly plant he'd managed to grow in one of the pots. (He'd also shown Vega every single one of the sage plants he'd grown about half an hour ago, whether she'd actually listened or noticed, bursting with an unspoken pride.) "Sounds like it's almost midnight," he murmured, voice edging on apprehension. When more shadows moved across the windows, his brow furrowed. "Do you want to go back?" After a pause, he cleared his throat, straightening. Looking at the doorway, Avery's hands dug into his pockets, shoe scuffing the dirt as he muttered, "Or, I could steal some sparklers and we can avoid my mother trying to tell your fortune right at midnight."
98
"Then maybe we shouldn't have!"
The words were ripped out of her in retaliation, the accusation Spencer lay at her feet finally twisting the bitterness she felt after days apart and bringing it to light. Sydney didn't want to be his girlfriend. If she had made him believe so, then it had been a selfish thing to do. This was likely selfish as well, pulling the rug of his hopes out from under him.
It didn't make sense why she felt so strongly, why she wouldn't give in. Ultimately, she believed that just because he'd thought they were didn't mean they should. That relationships wouldn't bring them closer than they already were and what they already had was not worth risking. She would stand her ground until it did make sense to her, she owed it to them both.
And, if anyone would accept her, for better or for worse, she had to believe it was him. If he didn't, then she had been wrong all along.
She held back the timidity that would normally keep her anchored as well as the impulse to cry again.
"I'm not worth this. I--" she took in a deep breath, closing her eyes before finding his once more, knowing she was risking it being the same way for a long time. "--I need some space to figure things out."
She turned to leave, barely holding it together.
99
Okay, so they hadn't wanted her sister's cupcakes, that was okay because that meant there was more for her and the other kids who did and her mum said that it was important to maintain a modelling figure and maybe the other girls just wanted to keep up their figures, even though she didn't because she didn't want to model. That was her secret though. Maybe she'd tell Tawnie. Maybe, but only when it was really going to blow up out of her and she was going to burst with its enormity, that was when it'd pass her lips. At least the boys had been much nicer and they'd all had a cupcake, which had been delicious and sugary and exactly what she wanted-- although that slide did look very very fun. But, she wasn't here to slide because she could do that at home and Marilyn had definitely told her that she had to make more magical friends so that when she went to Hoggy-warts she could have people to spend time with. So, even though the other girls were clearly very busy and she didn't want to interrupt them and the boys had been really super very friendly which meant that she was going to talk to them more-- plus, she already knew Eli and that wouldn't do much good so she had to find someone else. Plus, that boy had been standing in the corner for a really long time. Maybe his mum had told him off before he'd come here because she couldn't imagine not wanting to be in such an amazing and really cool house full of really cool people. With a bright smile, the blonde bounced over, "Hi I'm Dorothy Wilson, but you can call me Dore, not Dorothy though because my family only call me that when they're mad at me like when I don't want to go on runs or when I don't help out in the shop, and I made cupcakes, well, I didn't but my sister did and she's a really good baker, but don't worry because I'll be a really good baker too when I grow up and I love to help decorate them I'm really good with the sprinkles so it won't be long before my cupcakes taste just as good!" She offered one out to him, brushing down the lemon yellow dress with her other hand, "It's really really cool here isn't it? It's like a princess castle, when I'm older I want to live somewhere like this-- with the huge slide in it and then I could do whatever I wanted all the time, and then I'd really be a princess and I'd have a big tiara and someone would do all the boring stuff like stupid homework for me. What about you?"
100
Suddenly her hand was on his. That particular size, shape and warmth that fit so well in his. His own fingers reached to graze the tips of hers, because now that she was touching him, he was powerless to do anything but touch her right back.
"Not exactly."
But at the ambiguity of those words, his hand flinched free and he took a step back, bracing himself for a terrible admission.
What came instead wasn't quite so crushing as he was expecting, but the notion that she had kissed someone else, even only once, be it before, after or during, still hit him like a whomping willow. He passed his hand through his curls and tried to think as hard as he could about what she'd just said.
While he understood some of what she was saying—the fear, the uncertainty in the face of the unknown—he still couldn't wrap his head around why.
"You do know, though!" He insisted. "Because it's exactly what we've been doing for months now!"
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