Chapter Text
You know those moments in life that feel like a dream? Something unexpected, something so far off the script of reality that you needed to pinch yourself? Funny how it’s pain that brings us back, a sharp sting to let us know this isn’t some fantasy.
It was like this that I found myself standing outside my house pressing my thumbnail into my palm. Jordan was here. His car, that I used to scan the parking lot for, my signal for how my day was gonna go, sat cold and quiet against the curb. He was in there somewhere, in my house…without me. A few months ago this would’ve killed me. Honestly , it still kinda did. I wanted to peek through the window, I wanted to barge in as if him being there wasn’t a big deal, I wanted…
I wanted him to tell me the truth. Did he write me that letter or didn’t he? Jesus, I’d been so happy today. And not just happy—vindicated. The hidden depths of Jordan Catalano, that nobody else believed were there, I’d uncovered them. Me. Not Cynthia Hargrove, not any of the other countless girls he’d been with, me.
You could tell me to go hell and I’d go.
Why couldn’t it be true?
I knew why. I could hear the reason riding his bike up and down the street behind me. Pretending like he wasn’t waiting for me to come home. I’d known Brian tutoring Jordan was a bad idea. If you’d asked me at the time I couldn’t have given you a reason. It was just too strange, too weird: two people from two completely different parts of my life coming together to form something else entirely and now…
I called out and he skidded to a stop , back tyre marking the asphalt . He kept his h ead down, shoulders braced . I wanted to see the answer on his face but when his eyes met mine all I had were more questions. I crossed the street, dread climbing up my chest, I knew whatever came next was gonna hurt.
“That…that letter I told you about. Rickie said you wrote it. And I have to know because—“
“Know what? There's nothing to know,” Brian blurted, all jittery and unsure, scanning the night behind me for possible escape. Like an animal in a cage; a thief cornered on a dark street. And I’d caught him. I realised then that I had a choice: I could let him go. I could go on believing that Jordan had written that letter and never find out if Brian had any part to play in it.
But that was also a lie. Because I had to know.
“Okay,” he swallowed, “what, what Rickie probably meant is that, see, Jordan Catalano asked me to, like, proofread it for grammatical errors.”
“You proofread a love letter?” I could not believe this. Only Brian could think that was an acceptable thing to do. “Is this like a game to you?”
“Um, hardly,” he scoffed.
“But you admit that you were involved.”
“I’m not admitting anything!”
Here it was again: the choice. I could just walk away. But the idea of it, the notion of it: that Brian and Jordan had done this…together.
“This is a joke, right?” I said almost to myself. I should have known. “That the, the two of…” It was too perfect, too wonderful. My chest hardened. Of course it was a joke. “Oh God. I can't believe I fell for it. It's obviously a total lie.”
“No,” Brian shook his head. “I meant every word.” Everything stopped as Brian’s wide eyes met mine. His words snagging in my brain . I meant every word. Rickie had been right. “I mean,” he tried to take it back , “the person who wrote it meant every word. Probably.” He looked away from me. “ I didn't write it."
"But Brian, you said—"
"Forget what I said." The sudden anger in his voice made my stomach lurch . But I didn’t know if he was angry with me or with himself. “ Forget this whole conversation!"
How was it that you c ould know somebody for basically your whole life but still not know them at all? Like, after while you stop ped actually seeing them and only see, like, your idea of them. The picture I’d constructed of Brian Krakow was being torn up in front of me.
I swallowed. "How?"
His gaze flicked between me and the street . "You liked it, though, right? It made you, like, happy?" His breath warmed the air between us as he spoke.
"Yeah."
Brian shrugged. "Cos that's probably all that, you know, matters."
"To who?"
"To," he glanced at my mouth, "you know, the person...who wrote it."
Brian Krakow had written the greatest letter I'd ever received. Brian who was easily reduced to stuttering and incoherent thought. He had written those words. I didn't know what to do. I knew what I wanted from Jordan. But Brian…did I?
This wasn’t my life…not really. This was a dream. Only, I knew without needing to pinch myself that it wasn’t. I was wide awake.
"Angela?" Jordan called out to me, crossing the street. We both looked up at the sound of his voice but it was kinda hard to hear him, as if he was speaking under water. "Hey, Brain.” Jordan nodded to him as he reached for my hand. I'd wanted Jordan Catalano for so long…
"Hi. Hey," Brian stammered.
"Come on," Jordan linked his fingers through mine, "let's go."
I'd wanted him for so long but now I kinda didn't want to go.
"Don't worry," he said, tugging me towards his car, "your mom said it's okay."
Today I’d been lost in Jordan. And it had been so easy to believe he’d written that letter because I’d wanted so badly for it to be true. But it wasn’t. Instead I’d uncovered something else. Something I hadn’t been looking for and couldn’t name. Only there it was.