Disclaimer: Ally Carter owns all characters.
~Coincidences~
Hold me
Pull me just a little bit closer
I don't wanna lose this moment
Your love has covered me
And now I can't get over You
I can't get over You
I can't get over You
I just can't get over You
-Anthem Lights (Can't Get Over You)
Maybe it had never been a coincidence.
He sure as hell didn't think it was.
Maybe she was meant to destroy the sandcastle he had worked on for two whole hours.
Looking back on it, total world domination would seem like a mere smack on the head, compared to her.
::
"Zach!" she squealed, the salty sea water spraying her in the face.
He smiled at her, watching her hair sway in the slight breeze. "What?" he said innocently. "You deserved it. Destroying a guy's sandcastle is a must-not in a healthy relationship."
She merely glared at him, telling him that they were not, under any circumstances, in a relationship. She gave him the cold shoulder for the rest of the day.
Nevertheless, he followed her for the rest of the day before she gave in.
::
They had never dated, really. There were a couple kisses at midnight on New Year's and a few chaste kisses on the cheek when they were playing games of Truth or Dare, but other than that, they were just friends.
And they were fine with that, really.
They managed to live through 17 years of their lived without any sort of attraction between each other, and there was nothing wrong with that. They were friends. They were best friends.
And that was the way it was.
::
"Hey, Zach?" she asked, eyes closed, as they basked in the last of the summer sunshine on his front lawn, her blonde hair splayed out on the grass.
He muttered an incoherent 'yes', and rolled over, opening his eyes, watching her. His fingers laced together, and he put them behind his head, leaning back.
"We're best friends, right?"
He gave her a look of utter disbelief. "Do I really need to answer that question?"
She shrugged, sitting up, propping herself on her elbows. "I don't know. It's just that people all over school have been asking me if we're dating."
He raised an eyebrow. "Is that a problem?"
She sighed in frustration. "I don't know!" she said, exasperated. "It's been getting to me, you know? We're best friends, and I don't like the fact that people think we're dating. I mean, like, we're practically brother and sister!"
"Gallagher Girl, I don't give two shits about what other people think. We're best friends, and that's final. We're not going to let anyone break that friendship, okay?"
She looked at him, and found him staring at her with his green eyes. She gave him a small smile.
"Okay," she agreed.
::
He didn't really know what went wrong, but he blamed it all on him.
Preston Winters.
He blamed that blasted son of a senator who had run off with his Gallagher Girl.
Zach had never understood why she liked him. Girls claimed that he was 'cute', whatever consolation that was.
What was so 'cute' about that damn Spiderman watch? He found it extremely nerdy and stupid. Made the spoiled kid look like frickin' Sheldon Cooper, only much shorter and with blonde hair.
Damnit, that kid was so skinny; he was like a stick on a diet.
And yet, she had taken a liking to him.
::
"Zach!" she yells, screaming across the ocean of students. You look at her, and see her sporting a huge smile, grinning like she had just won the lottery.
You walk over to her, grinning right back at her, until you see their joint hands. Your smile falters.
"Guess what, Zach?"
"What?" you say, though you already know what she's going to say.
She lifts their hands into your face. "We're dating now!"
She says it as if it's the best thing in the world.
As if she just got her driver's license, even though you know that she's terribly afraid of driving. She refuses to sit in the driver's seat of any car until she reaches 20.
She's grinning like she just got a pet kitten. You even contemplated getting her a kitten for her birthday, which was only a mere two weeks later. It was too late for that now.
She was happy. Happy like you had never seen her be.
Somehow, it didn't make you happy. Normally, seeing her like this would be the cause for a celebration, often the usual drive to the local creamery, where she would always order two scoops of vanilla, drizzled with caramel and rainbow sprinkles.
Instead, you think of it as a tsunami earthquake hitting your heart at 100 miles per hour.
"Oh," you say, your heart clenching as you speak, "when did this happen?"
You don't really understand this feeling. You've known this girl for sixteen of your seventeen years now, but why does it come up now? Why senior year?
You had been warned, two years ago, that senior year would be the year you'd break. Senior year would be the year that your feelings would come out.
Back then, you had laughed it off, promising that you would be the exception to that rule.
You would've never guessed that Grant would be right.
Cammie grins. "They were the most beautiful roses," she gushes, and you don't listen anymore. You watch as Preston's grin grows wider, the smug look on his face mocking you.
She finishes her ranting, a good five minutes later. "Isn't this wonderful, Zach?" she asks.
"Oh, yeah," you mutter. "Just fine and dandy." You pause. "So, are we still up for Thrifty Thursdays?"
Every Thursday, the two of you would go down to the town's Main Street, walk into the Thrift Shop, and stay there for hours, rummaging and pillaging through the mountains of discount items.
A look of realization was cast upon her face. "Oh," she said, glancing at Preston. "Can I get a rain check on that? Preston wanted to take me out to the creamery today."
The bell rang, and you glance down the hall, where your class was waiting.
"Oh," you say. "Well, I'll see you later, Gallagher Girl. Have fun."
::
There are never anymore Thrifty Thursdays to come.
Your creamery soon becomes their creamery.
You become the fateful third-wheel. But it's not like you go on their dates anyways. You can't bear to see them canoodling in an unobstructed corner, helpless and broken until you've almost died a thousand deaths.
You often smile at the irony of the situation. You recall that conversation from a couple days before the semester began. You remember her head resting on your chest, listening to her rhythmic breathing. You remember talking about being best friends forever. You remember promising her that your friendship won't be broken.
You've broken your promise, and so has she.
The two of you rarely talk to each other anymore. Only the occasional smile or nod of the head in the hallways is shared between the two of you. You don't know if she's in any of your classes, but it's not like you would've even cared.
But as much as you'd hate to admit it, you do care. A lot, actually. More than anything in the world.
You've been stuck in that fateful position between love and hate, but you don't know how to get out. It's like a tiny little box that traps you in, with no windows or doors to let you out.
So you're stuck. You're stuck watching them canoodle in those corners. Occasionally, you walk into the thrift shop, and she's there with him, looking through the hills and valleys of items.
With him.
It bothers you, because you know that it used to be you, sifting through scarfs, helping her find the perfect shade of peridot green to match her eyes.
You wonder if she still has that scarf.
Sometimes, after a big win against a high-ranking football opponent, your teammates head to the creamery to celebrate. Funnily enough, they are sitting in one of the secluded booths in the back, sharing a two-scoop vanilla cone with drizzled caramel and sprinkles.
She glances at you, and you glance at her too. You raise your eyebrows questionably, silently asking her about her choice in ice cream. She gives a small smile, then returning back to her ice cream.
::
"Will it be the usual for the two of you?" the waitress asks.
She nods. "Yes, thank you."
The waitress leaves, going to prepare the ice cream for the two of you.
"You sure do love your vanilla ice cream don't you, Gallagher Girl?" you say, smirking.
"Well don't you? You share it with me every time," she retorts.
You chuckle at her protectiveness. "Gallagher Girl, I only pretend to like it, for your sake."
"Well that's flattering. My best friend doesn't even like vanilla ice cream," she mutters. "I mean, who doesn't like vanilla ice cream?"
She's on the verge of nagging, which usually turns into yelling. Fortunately, the waitress arrives with the ice cream quickly. She happily digs in, and in minutes, the whole thing is gone.
"Wow, that's a new record. You finished that before I even reached for my spoon," you say, pouting.
"Too bad, so sad," she replies, sticking her tongue out for good measure. The waitress comes to give you the receipt, which you pay.
She smiles as the girl leaves. "I like this waitress."
You raise an eyebrow. "Why this one?"
"Because she wasn't batting her eyes a hundred times a minute at you," she replies simply.
"Oh?" you say, smirking. "Is someone a little jealous?"
She rolls her eyes at you. "No, but someone's a little extra cocky today."
::
You were accepted into Columbia University, fresh out of high school. You decided to major in law, because she had always told you that you were good at defending people.
You took her advice, and you're currently sitting in a crowded classroom, and the professor continues lecturing.
You know she was accepted to NYU, pursuing her professional dance career, but Preston's halfway across the country, majoring in political science as Texas A&M. They had decided that the long distance thing wasn't going to work, and made the mutual decision to break up.
You haven't seen her lately, which isn't a surprise to you. New York is America's largest city, and there are so many people on the streets that it's constantly crowded. It's literally impossible to get through 5th Avenue traffic. Damn those tourists.
Then you go to the coffee shop on the corner of the block, a couple buildings from your apartment. You see her sitting at one of the tables, typing on her laptop. You notice that it's the sleek MacBook Air that you gave to her for her 16th birthday. It's covered in stickers and photos.
She still has her long golden blonde hair, and sparkling blue eyes peek out from her glasses. The green scarf is wrapped tightly around her neck.
So many memories come rushing back, and it's making your head spin in circles.
You pretend not to notice her, and order your coffee. The barista finishes concocting your salted caramel latte, and you walk out of the warm shop, the bell on the door jingling as you leave.
You notice that she's left too, and you shrug, walking to your apartment.
But your blood runs cold when you realize that she's walking, about half a block in front of you. She stops in front of an apartment building.
Your apartment building.
You're silently praying that she doesn't walk in, but she does. You can't believe it. You don't know how you've lived in the same building as her, and you haven't even noticed.
You used to notice her.
::
She squirms in your arms, as you pick her up from the warm sand.
"Where do you think you're going?" you whisper, your lips grazing her ear. You smirk as she shivers.
"I was just going to grab a towel," she replies, voice not faltering. She was never one to fall for his charms, but that just made her all the more special.
"Why a towel when I can dry you up?" you tease.
She springs up out of your arms, running away, screaming about your 'womanizing ways'.
She returns, a striped towel slung across her shoulders. "That comment really wasn't necessary, you know."
You put an arm around her. "I always notice you, Gallagher Girl. Always did, always will."
She smiles, wrapping her arms around your bare chest.
"And I'll always come to find you, Zach."
::
You wait fifteen minutes before heading up. You say hi to the doorman, but you've never learned his name. You walk into the elevator wing, waiting for an empty one to come. The bell dings, and you walk in, pressing the button with a black '16' stamped onto it.
The doors close, and the ride seems to go so slowly. The elevator hits the 5th floor, and the New York skyline is displayed before your eyes. The lights twinkle and the buzz of the city is seen, but it's all so beautiful.
It's one of the perks of your apartment. The glass elevator lets you see everything.
You reach your floor and the moment you open your apartment door, you realize that you forgot your phone at the café.
You dash back into the hallway, racing towards the elevator.
The doors are about to close, but everything seems to go so slowly.
"Wait! Open the door, please!" you say.
The girl in the elevator presses a button, and time stops.
Her eyes widen in realization, and she presses buttons randomly, rapidly. It's too late. By the time the doors close, you're already in the elevator.
You have a sudden urge to grab her in your arms and kiss her senseless, despite a year of ignoring each other.
She squeezes herself in the corner, hugging her laptop to her chest.
She's grown to be a beautiful girl. A beautiful woman.
You look at the laptop in her arms, and you're surprised by the photograph in the center.
It's of the two of you, during junior year. The two of you are sitting in the grass, smiling at each other. You remember that day. You'd been so happy.
::
"Happy Birthday, Gallagher Girl," you say, opening your arms to welcome her with a hug. She accepts the embrace, hugging you back. You take the package from behind your back. It's wrapped in silver wrapping paper, covered in blue polka dots. You press it into her hands, telling her to open it.
"Oh, Zach. You shouldn't have," she says, looking at you. She looks at the package, then back at you.
"How much time did you spend wrapping this?"
You think about it for a second. "Two hours? Maybe three?"
She laughs. "Figures. You're horrible at wrapping things."
"Just open it, Gallagher Girl. Now is no time to mock me."
She carefully opens the package, squealing when she sees what it is.
"Zach! You shouldn't have! How much did this even cost?" she asks.
You scoop her up in your arms. "Doesn't matter." You fall back into the grass, taking her with you. She snaps a picture of the two of you.
"Smile," she tells you, and you do.
::
"Cammie…" you begin.
"Zach," she greets coldly.
You run a hair through your hair. Your phone has already been forgotten, and the cold, emotionless tone to her voice surprises you.
"Cammie, I'm sorry. I just-"
"You abandoned me, Zach. That was your fault and your fault alone," she spits out.
"It's not like you tried to fix this either!" you yell, your emotions getting the best of you. "You left me for-for that asshole Peter! I was your damn best friend! How could you just leave all of that?"
She's still pressed up against the wall of the elevator, and you know that your words are true, but she won't admit it. She never liked to back down.
"Well you could've tried too!" she screams, but her argument is no use.
"You think I didn't? You shut me out, Cam! How the fuck am I supposed to handle my best friend ditching me for her boyfriend? You think that doesn't do any damage?"
She has tears flowing freely now, and your heart clenches in pain, watching her cry. You pull her into your arms, hugging and comforting her, trying to calm her down.
::
"Gallagher Girl, what's wrong?"
She's crying, hiccupping so much that you're worried that she's going to pass out. You tug her into your arms, and she wraps her thin arms around your waist, crying into your shoulder. You feel your shirt getting soaked from her tears, but it doesn't really matter.
"Cams, tell me what's wrong," you ask softly.
She continued to cry, her sobs wracking her body.
"Gallagher Girl…" you sigh, trailing off.
She wipes her tear-ridden face with her sleeve, and looks up at you.
"It's my dad, Zach. I got a letter yesterday…" she stuttered, "and it said that he was KIA."
You stare at her broken form in your arms, mouth wide open. You're in shock. You don't believe a word of it. You've known Captain Morgan for almost your entire life, and the countless stories you've heard about him replay in your head. You remember the times he would come back to Cammie's house and tell them stories about fighting in the war. You remember the hugs and kisses he would give Cammie, calling her his little girl every time.
He wasn't coming back to his little girl.
You hug your best friend tightly, pressing her to your chest.
"Cams…"
"He isn't coming back, Zach," she cries. "He's never coming back."
"Gallagher Girl-"
"He's left me, Zach. I don't have anyone anymore." Her voice breaks, and she's hopeless.
You lift her head up, forcing her to stare in your eyes. "You'll always have me, Gallagher Girl."
::
She quickly pulls out of your arms, dashing to the other end of the elevator.
"Don't you dare touch me," she hisses.
"We're going to have to talk sometime, Cam."
She glares at you. "If you think I'm going to talk to you, you're fucking demented."
You are taken aback by her harsh words. She was never the one to freely cuss.
"Gallagher Girl-"
Her eyes widen at the ancient nickname. "Don't fucking call me that. I don't think you got the memo, but I am not your Gallagher Girl anymore," she snarls.
Those words pierce your heart like knives. They shatter your soul, and the pieces scatter across the marble floors of the elevator, slipping into the tiny cracks. It clenches in sheer pain, and it tears in half, cracking with every breath you take, as you continue to stare broken-heartedly at her. Your chest aches in complete pain, and you nearly fall to floor crying.
Is this what heart break feels like?
Because if it is, this must be the worst form of pain.
Pain shocks your body repeatedly, and you don't look away from her. She's staring at you, covering her mouth, seemingly apologetic for her words.
It doesn't matter. You've been broken already, and you know this is the last time you'll be seeing her.
She doesn't want anything to do with you anymore, and you respect that. You were never a perfect person, and you know that.
You realize now that she knows that too.
You nod goodbye to her, and the elevator door bell dings, opening. You briskly walk out, heading for the café to retrieve your phone.
Her eyes are wide open with shock and regret.
Good riddance.
You hear her call, "Zach, wait!" behind you, but you don't look back. You won't look back. It hurts too much.
You did this by yourself. Stop blaming her.
But you know it was her fault just as much as yours.
You walk faster, unfazed by the freezing cold air that is blasting towards your face as the doorman opens the door for you. You want to get the hell out of the building.
You want to get the hell away from her.
But deep down inside, you know that you still love her. You've always loved her, and no one, not even you, can stop that. It is a pure, unconditional love for her.
But it's too late.
::
That's a wrap, people.
Since you've made it this far down the page, review for me?
~ilovemesomecupcakes