First There Was You

Chapter 4: Greyson

June 13

Port Carling, Muskoka

"What's so special about this girl, Grey? I've never seen you like this."

I don't blame him for his confusion. Of course he's never seen me like this, there's only one Elle. I didn't really care about the girls I'd dated, just like they hadn't really cared about me. They're the ones he'd seen me with.

I've spent the day with Ry, giving Elle some space after our unplanned encounter at the cliffs. I'd rushed her, forcing us back into our old habits. That shit won't get me anywhere.

Sometimes it feels like she's the Sun, and it's all I can do to resist that gravitational pull. Well, if she's the Sun, then I guess that makes me Saturn. A cold metal heart at the core, surrounded by shields of rock and ice. Just like the planet and its rings.

Bringing my driver down with a smooth whoosh, I shank my golf ball straight down the fairway, watching it as it arcs perfectly before landing a few yards short of the green. I bend and collect my tee before turning to Ry.

"She's the best person I know. She's everything I'm not, but she loves me anyway. Loved me, at least."

I wonder if she would still deny me her love as a friend too, will she? It's probably what I deserve after our brief romance went down in flames. I lit the match, after all.

I don't know why I'm telling Ry this shit, I guess it's because I don't have anyone else to talk to. I'm not normally a sharer.

But with everything Ry and I have been through together, it's hard to keep the walls up between us. I'm so tired, I'm not even sure I remember why it's so important that they stay up.

All I know is that time moves differently when you cut yourself off from the people who love you. I'm just so angry all the time, I'd rather be cold and distant than hurt someone close to me. I'd learned how much pain a loved one can cause you when they lash out at you. Better to keep everyone at arm's length until I figure out what to do with all this rage inside me.

It's like swimming upstream, against the current, with an anchor wrapped around your legs. I'm exhausted from the effort.

Tossing my driver back into my golf bag, I watch Ry tee up before he swings, sending his golf ball sailing down the fairway. I whistle, impressed as his ball lands on the rough just beside the green.

I'm not really a golf guy, but Ry is. If you can do it at the country club, he'll be there with bells on. We couldn't be more different. I wonder why he's friends with me, sometimes.

But he is. Ry's got more sticking power than superglue.

Considering my alternative is hanging at home, however, I'll take the golf. Even if it means dragging my ass here at the butt crack of dawn. Dad's so wrapped up in work right now, I doubt he'd notice if I was gone for a week. Mum's around here somewhere, lunching with her perfect friends, who have perfect kids. Unlike me, the proverbial black sheep.

We played the back nine this morning, then looped around to play the full eighteen again. Ry's practicing for his pro card, and I'm just the sucker he's dragged along. I know he'll crush me, it's almost not worth keeping score.

Tossing Ry a Gatorade from the pocket of my golf bag, I uncap one for myself and take a long drink. We're on the sixteenth hole, two more to go before we can find relief from the surprising early summer heatwave. Sweat rolls down my spine, drips from my neck. Ry's sweating even more than I am.

I prefer more extreme physical sports; Hockey and boxing, to be specific. I like the sports for different reasons, but I'm a natural brawler both on ice and off. The white scars on my knuckles prove it, as does my now slightly crooked nose. Pain and adrenaline remind me I'm capable of feeling something, anything.