Chris
Ever since Lou and Blue had crashed our picnic, I couldn't feel lighter.
It felt like a huge weight had been lifted off my chest; there were two less people dead because of me. Sure, it was awkward and confusing to see Blue. She seemed different, somehow. She didn't stutter; her voice was chipper and happy in conversation. She was suddenly so...normal. Like any drop-dead gorgeous girl a guy could find in a crowd. But she didn't really talk about what happened between us before, so I didn't either.
I guess it was better that way.
I ignored any conflict that stirred inside me when I was around her, and took solace in the distractions. I begged for them. I begged for Lou to get my jokes, and I begged for Laska to keep my attention. It worked, for the most part.
I told Lou that I'd be right back, and strolled out the doorway. The evening breeze was cold, but it didn't bother me as I walked to the nearest fire pit. I sat down on one of the logs we'd installed as makeshift benches, and started poking at the fire with a tree branch. I was planning on cooking up some meat, bringing it back to Lou and that little karate kid along with a few mangoes. But when I caught sight of Laska walking towards me, I doubted any of that would happen.
She was coming from the med tent, I was guessing; she'd said she was heading over to talk to Ezzie. I started calling out to her, singing (badly), "You're an angel, tell me you're never leaving // 'Cause you're the first thi--"
I stopped suddenly, smile fading, because I saw the tears that were streaking down her face. Her hand was covering her mouth, and her shoulders were shaking. I stood up in a flash, a tinge of worry rising inside me. "Laska, baby, what's wrong?" She didn't respond for a moment. All I could hear was the crackling of the flame. When she got to me, she could barely talk through her tears.
"Chelsea's dead," she told me, and her nose was running. She wiped her upper lip, but she couldn't stop crying. Her curls stuck to her cheeks. "Chelsea--she's--and Jackie might be--" Without waiting for her to continue, I pulled her close, cuddling her up in my arms, and she melted into me, sobbing into my sweatshirt and curling her arms around my torso.
"Hey, shhh," I reassured her, kissing her hair.
"Elvis told me," she said, her voice raw, eyes leaking tears as she looked up at me. Her fingers clung to the fabric of my sweatshirt. "He told me my best friend died, Chris." Her lip trembled. Her eyes were wide and desperate. "And-and Jackie might be on the way, and I--I don't know how to deal with any of this."
"You're doing just fine," I told her.
She swallowed and shook her head. "No," she said, "No, it's not fine. The only reason I thought it was fine was because I had you. But I don't--" She scrunched up her nose, her expression pained. "I don't know what I'm gonna do if you still love her."
Surprised, I pulled away slightly, mouth agape. "What? Love her? Love who?"
"Saph," she choked out.
My eyebrows fell, and I felt my shoulders slacken. "Aw, Christ."
Laska narrowed her eyes and turned away from me, wiping her eyes. She looked so upset, and it broke my heart. Voice shaking, she said, "Yeah, I know, I'm stupid. Go ahead and--"
"No, look at me," I cut in, voice demanding. "Listen to me, alright? I don't love anyone." Then I stepped forward, waiting until she met my eye. "Anyone else. I don't love anyone else." I shook my head. "I'm in love with you," I blurted out, shrugging. It felt so good to say it, and I reached out for her.
My voice faltered. "Lask, I'm so in love with you."
She turned back towards me, letting out a short exhale, breath leaving her. "You are?" she got out, shivering from the cold.
"Yeah," I told her, biting my lip to keep from smiling. I wiped her cheek with my thumb and then wrapped her in another hug. "It's alright," I told her, kissing the top of her head. "We're gonna get through this together."
After a moment, I freed her from my arms and wriggled out of my Packers sweatshirt. I gave it to her to put on. "You're freezing," I said.
"Won't you be cold?" she asked, but didn't protest much more as she tugged it over her head.
"Nah," I replied. Her hair was caught in the neck of the sweatshirt, and the sleeves came a few inches past her fingertips. She blushed and smiled. "You look cute," I told her. "Packers look good on you."
She wiped her eyes again, the sleeves curled up inside her palms, and I took her other hand. "Walk you home?" I asked. She stretched up and kissed my cheek in response.
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