Magnolia Parks (The Magnolia Parks Universe Book 1)

I’m in my room by myself when I get the feeling I’m being watched—it lasts only for a second before I look over and see him, hovering in the doorway. 4 X 4 Biggie Hoodie in jet black from Ksubi, the hood pulled up, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his drawstring, drop-crotch trousers from Rick Owens DRKSHDW.It’s been nearly a week since Julian’s party. I haven’t seen him or heard from him. I rush over to him, pull him into my room and yank the hood off his head.

“Did they hurt you?” I blink up at Christian.

His eyes flicker down my knitted, candy pink, hooded, pompom-embellished mini dress from Gucci before shakes his head. I sigh relieved and he pushes past me, walking into my room.

“You did but—”

“What?” I blink.

“Honestly Parks, fuck you.” His tone is aggressive. “Like, really, fuck you. I mean it.”

“Christian—”

“You’re a bitch, Parks.”

I’m baffled. I can’t believe he’s saying that to me.

“I’m in love with you,” he tells me, frowning.

He slips his hand around my waist.

“What?”

And then he kisses me.

It happens too quickly for me to stop it—he grabs my face, and he kisses me, and I don’t stop him because it’s oddly familiar and the familiarity of it is the first thing I register, not that I shouldn’t be doing it.

By the time I register that the kiss should stop, it’s already stopped.

“And I hate you,” he tells me, and he’s angry.

I swallow and try not to look gutted. “Why?”

“Because you let me be,” he yells, exasperated. “There’s a reason you turn to me over the other boys—”

“Yeah, because we—”

“Don’t.” He shakes his head. “You know why.”

I don’t mean to, but my bottom lip starts to go. I don’t really like it when anyone’s angry at me but Christian feels particularly bad.

I give him a tiny shrug. “The other two, they’re too loyal to Beej. They’ll lie to me for him. And I know you’d—”

“Do anything for you,” he says. “Yeah, I would. But fuck you for letting me—” His anger peeks through again. “Do you need the whole fucking world to be in love with you?”

My eyes go teary. “Christian—”

He rushes towards me, takes my wrists in his hands, pushing some hair behind my ears.

And it’s bad, all of this is bad.

I know it’s bad.

Bad that he feels like he can be like this with me, bad that he can touch me without a second thought, bad that I’m not stopping him.

He looks for my eyes. “I’m done with this now, okay?”

“Christian—”

“And I need you to let me be, Parks.” He shakes his head, eyes stern. “Let me be over you.”

I nod, tearier than I should be. Nervous that I’m losing him.

“Are you not going to be my friend anymore?”

“I’ll always be your friend.” He gives me a look. “But I haven’t been your friend for a long time.”

I drop my eyes from his, feeling embarrassed. I don’t know how active a role I played in him loving me still. It’s not like we hang out by ourselves—Henry’s almost always there. Usually. Sometimes we text, occasionally we talk on the phone. Our eyes catch when we remember things we probably shouldn’t anymore, but he can’t have thought it meant anything. I don’t know—maybe sometimes I did treat Christian like a safety net for when Beej lets me fall, which he does. Often.

“From now on”—he searches for my eyes—“if you wouldn’t ask Jonah to do it, don’t ask me.”

I nod, solemnly. “I’m so sorry—I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I—”

“I let you.” He shrugs. “We could have had this conversation three years ago but we didn’t because I didn’t want to. Loving you was a good reason not to love anyone else.”

“Do you love her?” I ask, and I’m not jealous as I do.

He nods, sitting down on my bed. “Yeah.”

I give him a small smile. “Lucky girl.”

“Oy.” He points at me, squinting almost playfully. “None of that shit—we’re strictly business now, you and me.”

“I’d say that to Jonah.” I frown, defensive.

“Nah, how could you? It’s completely irrelevant.” He shrugs. “His heart’s dead in the water.”

I watch him for a few seconds. “I love you,” I tell him. “Do you know that?”

He stares straight ahead, nodding two, three, four times.

“Yep.” He looks over at me. “Not how I love you, unfortunately.”

“I did once,” I remind him, I don’t know why.

He nods again, thinking about it. “Not how you love him though.”

He puts his hand on my knee, squeezes it once.

There’s a finality to it. Like we’re closing the chapter, finally, on what we used to be.

How many loves, I wonder again?

Some loves, like ours was, are like wrecking balls in glass houses. And wrecking balls have no business being in glass houses like I had no business loving Christian how I did once upon a time, except that sometimes, some loves keep your head above the water when you’re drowning. Some loves might fog up a phone booth on a rainy London afternoon and make you feel less alone than you did before your lips touched.

He’s leaving what we had behind, like he should. Like I should have let him so long ago. But I’ll miss him on my rainy days.

He stands and walks towards the door, pausing as he looks back.

“Don’t fuck it up, Parks. I’ll be fucking pissed if you do.”

11:16

Tom

Heard from him?

No

You doing okay?

Do you want me to have heard from him?

Hah

No, not really.

I do want you to be okay though.

Cute.

I miss you.

I miss you too.

Dinner tonight?

Yes please.

Be ready for 8. I’ll grab you.

Don’t bring BJ…

🙄

Sorry.