Fall from Love

to answer her.

 
     
    Chapter Nine
     
    Sometimes the questions are complicated and the answers are simple.
    ~ Dr. Seuss
     
    HOLLY
    It’s been two days since the football game. Two days since I’ve talked to Carter. I’m not sure if I should call him after the fight or not. I pick up the phone a couple times to call him, but then I talk myself out of it, not knowing for sure if he even wants to talk to me.
    “Hey, Holly, wait up,” a male voice shouts from across the courtyard. Turning around, I see Travis jogging up to me. As he gets closer, I see that his face still looks swollen and bruised.
    “Hey.” He lets out a big breath when he gets within a few feet from me.
    “Hey,” I say, gripping the books in my hand a little tighter to my chest.
    “I’m… I just wanted to say I’m sorry for acting like an asshole the other day at the football game. I was drunk and wasn’t thinking straight. Actually, I hardly even remember it all, but the guys told me all about it the next morning.” He glances down to the grass beneath our feet. “They told me I said some pretty messed up things to you.”
    My shoulders tense as my eyes scan over his black eye and busted lip. The image of Carter tackling Travis after he yelled at me pops in my head. It wasn’t long after the two of them were on the ground when Josh shoved the keys in Jenna’s hand and told us to get out of there. I blink away the memory. “Well, I don’t think it’s me you should be apologizing to anyway,” I tell him.
    He clears his throat, glancing back up at me. “Yeah, well, I’m not sure if I’m ready to apologize to Carter just yet.”
    We stand in silence for a moment and I’m about to excuse myself when he finally speaks, “Are you doing okay? I’ve been meaning to call you, but I’ve been dealing with my own stuff, you know? I’ve been pretty messed up lately.”
    Looking at him now and seeing the broken guy he has become is killing me on the inside. Not only does his face show the beating he took a few days ago, his eyes look sad, worn and stressed. Travis and Adam had been best friends since high school so I can’t imagine what he’s going through.
    “I’m getting better, but there are still hard days,” I mutter, trying to keep my voice steady. “I mean, there are good days and there are bad days.”
    “Yeah, I know what you mean.” The muscles in his neck flex as he swallows deep. “You know you can call me if you need to talk or anything, right?”
    “Yeah, I know.” I smile at him, starting to see just how much pain he’s still in. My heart aches for him, but I’m not sure what I can do. Most days, I’m barely holding on by a string.
    He shuffles his feet for a minute, like he wants to say something else, but he doesn’t. “Well, I’ve got to get to class. It was good to see you, Holly. I’m really sorry about the other day.”
    I nod. “I know. It’s good to see you, too, Travis.”
    As I walk away from him, I pull out my phone and do what I should’ve done a few days ago.
    Me: How are you?
    A few minutes pass, but Carter doesn’t text me back. Don’t read too much into it , I tell myself. There’s no reason to freak out if he doesn’t text you back right away. He could be in class or sleeping. He could also not want to talk to you , a little voice in the back of my head tells me. With each second that passes, I feel horrible for not calling or checking on him sooner. It’s not that we are really that close or anything, but I still should’ve called. When he tackled Travis he had been sticking up for me, and calling to see how he’s doing is the least I could’ve done.
    When I walk into class, I see a few familiar faces from the football game this weekend. Apparently, seeing me triggers their memory and whispers begin to fill the room. I walk over and sink into my chair, wanting to pull the hoodie over my head to hide. Becca sees me, closes her notebook and scoots down two chairs to sit beside me. She had called me a few times this weekend, but I didn’t answer or call her back. I feel bad for that, though I know what she wants to gossip about and I’m not in the mood for it—I wasn’t then and I’m sure as hell not now.
    “Holy shit. I heard about what happened this weekend at the Sigma house. Was it as bad as everyone says it was?” she asks me, her eyes are wide as she stares at me, anticipating my response.
    I nod. “Yep, it was pretty bad.”
    She scoffs and falls back into her