“You haven’t washed this shirt in five years!” she shrieks from the bed. “That’s fucking gross.”
“You can still smell him.” I smile and hold the shirt out for her, but she backs away from it.
“I’ll take your word for it.” She grimaces, and I laugh, putting it aside.
Taking out the pictures that are on the top, I flip through them. I’m in his arms in all of them, and he looks at me with a huge smile or I look back at him. “This one is my favorite,” she says, taking the picture she took one morning when we were on the beach.
We had stayed at the beach for the weekend, and I begged them to watch the sunrise with me. It wasn’t even a warm day, and the wind was blowing fierce. I had to put on one of Ethan’s sweaters just to keep warm. Ethan sat on the sand and opened his legs for me to sit between them. I sat down with my back to his chest. He put his arms around me, and I leaned back into him. The sun slowly peeked out of the darkness, and the sound of the waves crashing into the sand filled the early morning quietness.
“Look how pretty that is.” I point at the sun coming up at the same time that Jenna took the picture. The sunrise was a light purple, and with my hair blowing and his face by mine, it was magical.
“It was a good day,” she says as I sit down.
They were all good days, I think to myself, until the one really bad one, and then, all the good left. Putting the pictures down, I walk over to my closet and slip on a pair of skinny jeans and a white V-neck T-shirt, then slide on my white Vans. “Where are you going?”
“I’m going to return that,” I say, pointing at the box and putting everything inside it. “I don’t want it. Maybe this is the thing I need to be set free.” I throw my hands up.
“You’re going to go and bring him this box from five years ago?” She points at the box, trying not to laugh. “To be set free.”
“Yes.” I roll my eyes, picking up the box and walking out of the room.
“You forgot this one,” she says, holding up the frame on my bed. I look at the box and then look at her and then look at the box again.
“It won’t fit.” I make the excuse and walk out of the house to her laughter. I put the box into the trunk and make my way over to the house where he is staying. The sun is slowly setting when I pull up to the house. I get the box out of the back and walk up the steps to the front door. I press the doorbell and wait.
My heart is beating so fast that I’m surprised my shirt isn’t moving. The sound of it echoes in my ears, and my mouth is suddenly so dry that I feel like I’m swallowing sand every time I try to swallow. I wait for a minute, and nothing happens, and the adrenaline suddenly starts to go away, and I have a slight moment of panic.
“What the fuck am I doing here?” I say to myself and then look at the box in my hands. “Oh, good god, this is a bad idea.”
I turn to walk away, hoping that maybe he’s not even home. Looking up, I wonder if there are cameras, and then I close my eyes tight. Obviously, there are cameras. This is Casey’s house.
“Fuck,” I hiss to myself, and when I take one step down from the step, I hear the lock open. I look down and wonder if the earth can open and swallow me right about now. I also make a mental note to kill Jenna for not stopping me.
“Em.” He says my name, and I turn around, coming face-to-face with him. He’s wearing shorts that go low on his hips and nothing else. His hair is wet, and he still has drops of water on his chest.
“I was in the shower,” he says, but all I can do is look at him, my eyes roaming his chest as if I’ve never seen him naked before. My eyes fall on the scars that he has on the side of his ribs. “Did you need something?” he says.
“Um …” I look up at him and see his smirk. Fine, he knows that I love his body. It’s not like I kept it a secret when we were dating, but I hate him now so there is that. “I came to return your things.”
“My things?” he says, and I hand him the box. “These are yours. I couldn’t give you them before, so I thought I would return them now.” He just looks at me. “Take the box,” I say, raising my voice.
He grabs the box. “Do you want to come in?”
“No. I just came to give you back your things,” I say, turning and walking away.
“I’ll ask my mom for your stuff,” he says, and I stop on the step.
“No need to. She returned it to me five years ago,” I say and see the
