Page 4 of Happy Ending
Kind of ironic to be honest, how the Tragedy of the Commons applies to me and Laine. Both of us acting in our own self-interest, inevitably depleting our shared resource: the fragile, yet close bond we shared over the course of the six months she’s been back in Georgia.
Maybe I played the part of the selfish farmer, using our sacred resource with the mindset that one takes in the grand scheme of gives and takes wouldn’t deplete it.
Like I was holding onto something that felt good to me without thinking of what was best for Laine.
After all, she’s moved to a school that would never accept people like me.
People like me , who like people like her . Maybe it was selfish of me to expect her to reciprocate feelings that would get her ostracized in a setting she’s being forced into.
As for her part in this all, she made me feel all the things that realists say are reserved for the movies. Then she shut me out.
I know she was only doing what she felt she needed to do to protect herself. To protect her peace. I just wish it didn’t mean that she had to block me out. Right when it felt like she was letting me in, like, truly letting me into her soul. Letting me see all of the good, the bad, and the ugly.
Just then, my thoughts are interrupted again by my phone buzzing. Mr. Rickshaw shoots me another glare, and I pretend to put my phone away in my backpack. Looking down at my lap, I open my messages, only to find a text from Laine.
Speak of the devil.
Laine 8:52 am Hey
My stomach flips. It’s just a simple ‘hey’, but still, it feels nice to know she’s thinking of me after everything.
Me 8:53 am hi
Laine 8:53 am Can you come over later tonight?
Me 8:53 am sure is everything okay?
Laine 8:54 am I’ve been trying to finish my oil paint project, but I can’t seem to get a part of the torso right. I need a reference, and I’ve drawn you before… I guess I was just wondering if you could model for me.
Model for her? How could she act like everything is normal after what happened—or almost happened—at the playground? As I struggle to find what to reply with, she texts again.
Laine 8:54 am I just need the torso part. You can keep your undergarments on, of course.
Right… How stupid of me to assume otherwise.
Me 8:55 am sure 7pm good?
Laine 8:55 am ??
The rest of the day passes slowly as I count down the hours until I see her again.
I haven’t told my friends about what happened between me and Laine, considering the wound is still fresh and I’m not exactly sure where we’ll end up in it all, especially with her at a different school and us already feeling so distant.
Worst case scenario, I can just tell them we drifted because of the switch. Technically, it wouldn’t be a lie.
Despite my best efforts to keep them separate from this, I know they can tell something is going on at lunch. They don’t immediately press, though, and instead, we talk about Jared’s parents and their inclination to throw extravagant parties every weekend.
“Yeah, I don’t know. My parents just decided to do New Year's part two, I guess.” Jared rolls his eyes, stabbing at his rice with a fork.
“Do you think they ever get tired?” Greyson asks.
“Well, considering their parties go until two in the morning and happen almost every week, I’d be surprised if they didn’t.” Jared’s eyes widen as he looks around the table in excitement. “You guys should sleep over on Friday! We can crash in the basement and steal their liquor.”
I think about the invite for a minute, and although I’m physically and mentally exhausted as is, I decide that maybe it would be a good idea to get out of the house and be somewhere Laine isn’t. Somewhere that was my comfort place before her, my stability.
“I can’t sleep over because I have a tennis match early the next morning, but I’ll be there. I could use a night out, or in, I guess.” I respond, giving Jared a weak smile.
“Hey, what’s been going on with you? You’ve been super spacey since we’ve come back from winter break.” Tatum nudges my arm, a concerned look growing on her face.
She flips her braids over her shoulder and waits for my response, but I’ve got nothing.
“Um, I’ve just been really busy with finishing up senior year stuff.
” “Okay, since when do we lie to each other?” Tatum’s face scrunches in disapproval as I scramble for what else to say.
“Yeah, something’s going on. We know you, Drew.
” Greyson chimes in, his eyes narrowing in concern.
“I’m serious! There’s a lot on my plate this semester.
With varsity tennis starting up again and all these damn college application deadlines, I’ve been swamped!
” I throw my hands up jokingly, and they all nod and feed me sarcastic ‘sures’ and ‘mhm’s’.
“Whatever you need to tell yourself,” Jared mumbles loud enough for me to hear, but quiet enough to act subtle about it.
******
I feel stupid laying out a matching bra and underwear set to wear to Laine’s.
Mostly because I don’t even know why I care so much.
It’s not like anything is going to happen, considering the only time something was going to happen, she shut it down and ran home.
Okay, maybe it was more of a brisk walk, but it felt like she was running.
Running away from me. Running away from her feelings.
Either way, I shouldn’t care this much whether my underwear matches. She just needs my body for a project, not my brain or my terribly messy feelings.
Even the doorbell feels louder than I remember it as I push the small button and give a weak knock to the front door. When Laine answers, her hair is tied up in a messy bun, and her fingers are once again stained with vibrant tones of colors you could only find in the jungle.
One side of her overalls is unclipped and hanging down by her side, while her pink pastel shirt is bunched up, resting on the side dip of the denim.
She looks a mess, but I can’t pull my eyes away from her effortlessly beautiful face, even with eye bags sulking down to her cheeks and her eyes puffy like she hasn’t slept in weeks.