[a/n: merry christmas, everyone! i hope you're all having a lovely time today!

i can't say how glad i am to have been able to finish writing this story. there's still one short chapter left after this, but that aside, this chapter's the one that ties the story together. i'm sure you guys already know what will happen in this chapter, but none

Chapter 31

When Tori and I made up, I knew I should have expected the Rom-Com marathons that were sure to follow. I loved Tori, yes, but when she showed up at my house with a bunch of movies five days later, I can't say I was completely enthusiastic about the idea.

Which was why, two hours and a box of pizza later, I was relieved to find Tori asleep halfway through the second movie.

As per usual, we'd set camp in the living room, shutting off the lights so that the shadows shifted along with the images on the TV screen.

Despite my recent realizations and growing doubts about what I believed about love all this time, I still couldn't seem to stomach the thought of watching a senseless movie about somebody whining, complaining, scheming and making obviously terrible life choices all for the sake of "love."

Which was why, thirty minutes into (500) Days of Summer, which, contrary to what Tori promised me, was not at all better than the rest of the stuff she'd made me watch, I was ecstatic to hear Tori's soft snores.

It was hardly past eight, but she must have been exhausted. There was some paperwork she and her mom had to settle, she'd told me, so she had been up since five earlier that morning.

Despite the fact that we'd forgiven each almost completely right away a few days ago, the two of us had known that there were obviously some things we needed to talk about, and I was happy when we managed to work through them so far.

The same day we made up, I'd told her about how I realized how distant she had always seemed to me; how much it hurt when she pushed me away instead of letting me in when she was dealing with the aftermath of almost getting raped.

"I'm sorry," she had apologized. "I just—I mean—I've always been the cheerful one, the easygoing girl who remained optimistic no matter what, and after that incident—after that night, I couldn't even bring myself to smile, and I didn't want you to see that side of me."

"But I wanted to be there for you," I told her. "And it hurt that you wouldn't let me."

"I just didn't want you to worry," she said. "I mean, you worry enough as it is."

"And you think shutting me out like that would magically make my worries disappear?"

"Sorry," she'd murmured, leaning her head against my shoulder. "If you'd seen how I had been during those first few months, I knew you wouldn't be able to do anything else but worry."

Perhaps she was right. I knew something was wrong with her, of course, but if I'd actually seen her; if I'd actually seen how much the night affected her; if I'd actually seen how broken she must have been, then I wasn't sure I could handle the worry and the anger and the guilt pressing in on me.

"That never would have happened if I had been there with you that night," I'd told her then. "I'm sorry."

She grabbed my hand almost immediately. "That wasn't your fault, Reed. That was never your fault at all, so don't apologize."

All the other words just seemed to spill afterwards.

I told her about how looking after her can get pretty exhausting and she told me about how frustrated she was about me never being completely honest about a lot of things. In the end, she made a promise to be more wary and less reckless and I swore I'd always try my best to tell her (and myself) the truth from now on.

Then, it was like we'd never even fought at all and it suddenly occurred to me that I was so, so stupid for me to think that I could just walk away from our friendship like that.

Now, there we were, sitting side by side on our couch with half a dozen movies to watch—just like old times. I'd watched her sleeping face, feeling a small pang of sadness at the thought of her leaving for Japan soon, as if going to college wasn't enough of a change already.

"Hey."

I looked up. "Hey."

Mom was standing on the doorway, her hand holding a small basket that held the clean laundry. "Do you know whose this is?"

I looked at the piece of cloth dangling from one of her hands, my eyes automatically growing wide when I realized what it was. I was on my feet in a second, dashing over to where she was to snatch the handkerchief from her.

She raised an eyebrow at me. "That's yours?"

"Yes," I said. "I mean, no. I borrowed it from... someone."

She gave me a strange look before shaking her head and moving onto the next room.

I clutched Austin's handkerchief in my fingers, slowly making my way back to the couch. I'd almost completely forgotten about it, and honestly? I would have preferred never seeing it again.

It was stupid, I knew, but despite the fact that I'd been able to resolve things with my dad and Tori, I couldn't seem to get past the whole Austin situation. I couldn't even tell Tori, for god's sake, even though she'd already badgered me with several questions ever since we made up.

"What's that?"

I startled, surprised to hear Tori's sleepy mumbling. I looked at her, only to find her reaching for the handkerchief.

"I don't think I'd ever seen this before," she told me, rubbing her eyes with one of her hands.

"That's because you haven't." I grabbed it back from her.

She sat up, suddenly alert. "Wait. Is this—is this Austin's?"

"No," I quickly denied. She gave me an unimpressed stare, so I let out a sigh and relented. "Well, okay, fine. Yes, it's his."

"Reed." She looked at me pleadingly. "What do I have to do for you to tell me about him?"

"What's there to tell?" I said, doing my best to avoid her eyes. "You and Lewis left us, we searched for you, we found you, and that's it."

"Honey, you promised me you'll start being more honest," she said. "Lewis tells me he looked for you after our argument, and he never would have done that if he didn't care about you."

I grimaced. "He doesn't... care about me."

"How would you know that?"

"Tori, we'd been together one night," I told her, "one night. And we spent most of it arguing."

"Most," she emphasized. "Not all. So I want to know what happened in the moments you didn't spend fighting."

She crossed her arms over her chest and leveled her gaze with me. Even without her repeating it, I knew she wanted me to remember my promise to be more honest.

With a deep, regretful sigh, I finally said, "Okay. Fine." Doing my best to keep my temper at bay, I turned to her and put up my arms in a gesture that said I'm all yours. "What do you want to know?"

She roller her eyes. "Isn't that obvious? Everything."

So I told her.

I told her about the places we went to in search for her, the things we did, the people we met. I told her about the things we'd argued about and the little observations I picked up over the course of the night. I told her about how I'd initially found Austin so, so frustrating and obnoxious and incredibly infuriating at the start of the night, and how, by the end of it, I found myself enjoying his company.

It was a little difficult to retell the night; partly because I spent so much time not remembering it that I now found it hard to actually do remember it, and partly because I couldn't seem to control, much less identify, the waves of emotions stirring in my gut with every memory.

"He kept me company when I was still down about our fight," I told Tori. "We, uh, didn't really do much. We had convenience store coffee, he gave me a crash course on driving a stick shift, and... I dunno." I shook my head. "I guess we were mostly just talking."

"That sounds like you had such a great time together," she said, sitting back with a small frown on her face. "So, what went wrong? Did he not call or something?"

"Well, no," I said, knowing that the moment I dreaded the most was almost upon me.

"Then what? Did he run off without saying goodbye or did he, like, blow you off or—"

"We kissed."

She paused, contemplating this for a second. When the words finally sunk in, she turned to give me a wide-eyed stare. "You what?"

"We kissed," I repeated, fully aware of the warmth creeping into my cheeks. "And then I pushed him away and left."

"Reed!"

I couldn't help but flinch. Sitting back, I brought my gaze down to the hands on my lap.

"Why would you do that? Did he—did he force you or—"

"No," I replied, my voice merely above a whisper. "It wasn't forced."

"Then why?"

I shrugged. "Come on, Tor. I hardly know the guy."

"Well, how would you know him if you never give yourself a chance to get to know him?" she asked me, her brows furrowed and eyes wild. "Why is it so hard for you to open yourself up to these kind of things?"

"Tori," I said, my voice taking on a defensive tone. "A kiss isn't that big of a deal."

"So why did you run away?" She fixed me with a solid stare. "If it really wasn't that big of a deal, why did you run?"

I swallowed, keeping my mouth zipped shut.

Tori's eyes softened. Neither of us said anything for a while, and then, softly, she broke the silence by saying, "Do you like him?"

I averted my gaze.

She took in a sharp breath. "Oh, boy." She brought her feet up on the couch and sat cross-legged, turning completely to my direction. "I cannot believe this day had finally come."

"Tori—"

"All this time, I'd been waiting for you to actually like someone—"

"Hey, I've liked people!"

"Not this way!"

"How would you know my own feelings better than I do?"

"Because," she replied, "if you didn't like him that way, then you wouldn't have had a problem hooking up with him. But you ran away, and it took you days before you could tell me about him."

I let out a hopeless sigh and buried my face in my hands. "This is stupid."

"What's stupid," she argued, "is the fact that you still haven't talked to him."

"What am I supposed to do, Tor?" I snapped. "I mean, for all I know, he'd probably already forgotten about that night and everything. Or even if he didn't, then who's to say he's actually interested? Maybe it was just—just—just a stupid, casual, not-in-any-way-important kiss?"

She reached up to her head and suddenly started pulling her hair. "See, that's exactly the kind of thing you would know if you didn't run away."

"Well, I already did!"

"That doesn't mean you can't go see him again or something." She lowered her hands, leaving her hair a mess. "I heard he's working for Lewis's dad. They have a wood shop near the beach."

I gave her a pleading look. "Can we please just, I dunno, not talk about this?"

She looked at me for a long time. When I showed no signs of looking away, she finally let out a deep, exasperated breath and shifted in her seat. "Fine. But just in case you wanted to know," she said, "The shop's open every day except Sunday."

* * *

Well, I didn't.

I didn't want to know that at all, and even now that I already did know, I'd resolved that I wouldn't ever actually do anything. At least for now.

Tori, of course, was adamant on trying to make me to reconsider, so in the end, I'd promised her I'd think about it.

Still, I just couldn't see myself suddenly waltzing back into his life after making it clear that I didn't want to be in it.

"Is there any chance you'd change your mind about the trip?" Dad asked me over the phone.

"Sorry," I replied, hauling myself off of the bed. "I just really, really want to spend this summer with Tori before she leaves for Japan."

Of course, that was just part of the excuse. Even though I'd already opened myself up to the possibility of letting my dad back into my life, that didn't mean I was completely ready to just jump at the thought of going to a trip with him and his new family. I mean, I'm hardly even used to him yet. I'm not sure I could handle having to deal with a brand new stepfamily as well.

"Guess we'll just have to have another trip next year," he said.

I was just hanging up the phone when my mother appeared on the doorway, leaning against the frame with a small smile on her face.

I lowered the phone to my side and looked up at her. "Hey."

She took this as a cue to come into my room. "Was that your dad?"

"Yeah," I replied, telling her all about the conversation we just had.

When I was done, she surprised me by suddenly pulling me into a one-armed hug. "I'm really glad you worked things out with him."

"Aren't you—aren't you mad at him?" I asked her.

"Oh, don't get me wrong," she said, pulling away to give me a slightly sour look. "I used to curse him to heaven and hell both."

"How did you forgive him?" I asked her.

"I don't know, honey." She took a deep breath and shook her head. "I haven't told you, but he actually once came to ask me if I would take him back. Before that moment, I would have given everything to have things go back to normal.

"But when he showed up that day," she said, "I suddenly realized it was no longer what I wanted. He was no longer what I wanted. I mean, I loved him—I still do, in a different way, and I knew that there was nothing in the world that could ever change the fact that we were no longer together."

I looked up at her, searching her eyes for answers. "You could have taken him back."

"And I didn't," she told me, "because yes, we still loved each other, but we were no longer in love with each other."

"How come you still trust him? How come you still believe in love and all that... stuff?"

She gave me a genuinely puzzled glance. "What do you mean?"

"Well," I said, "you yourself have experienced getting your heart broken by the man you love. How did that not make you turn away from love?"

"Oh, Reed." She reached for my hand and held it in both of hers. "If I hadn't fallen in love with your father, I wouldn't have had you. And that's why I'm okay with everything that's turned out, because something wonderful came out of that love.

"And I know that this is true even for couples who've never had children. There's always something good that comes out of their love. And so all the pain? All the hurt and the misery?" She squeezed my hands, as if she was willing me to see that she meant every word. "It's all worth it."

* * *

My mom had to leave for work shortly after that.

I already had Tori on dial as I bounded down the staircase. Since we wanted to didn't want to let this summer go to waste, we agreed on meeting up as much as we could, and I was just calling to ask her about our plans for the day.

As per usual, I headed directly to the kitchen so I could myself up a Nutella sandwich or two (or, you know, five).

But when I passed by the counter, I stopped dead in my tracks.

I took careful steps towards it to pick up the note Mom must have left me.

Will be home late tonight. Order some Chinese or something.

Then, accompanied by the note was a crisp twenty-dollar bill.

And that was it. Suddenly, the sight of that twenty-dollar bill on the counter was what made me stop and think—really think about the decisions I wanted to make. It wasn't my dad's sudden comeback or Tyler's insights or Tori's insistence that finally made me realize what I needed to do.

It was this—a moment so ordinary it didn't even seem right to call it a moment—that made the puzzle pieces in my head click into place.

I grabbed the bill from the counter and put it in my pocket.

And when I headed out the front door that day, I knew exactly where I wanted to go.

I just wasn't sure what was waiting for me there.

* * *

Living in a small town like Rivermount meant that there were hardly ever any new sights to see. Every infrastructure seemed or less familiar and any of the newer ones were so readily accepted it was easy to get used to them.

This meant that all my life, I'd have walked by, driven by and parked next to this little wooden shack, but I'd never really thought of it as special. It was just this nearly dilapidated old thing, with a newly-painted sign that stood out in stark contrast against the whole thing.

I'd seen it so many times, but in my mind, it always seemed like part of the backdrop that framed all the other places that did matter.

Now that I stood before it, though, it suddenly seemed a lot bigger and a lot more important; its presence looming over me, tempting me to back off and leave.

There was a small Come in, we're open! sign hanging on the vintage doorknob, but I didn't at all feel compelled to "come in."

I shut my eyes, mentally counting to three.

The twenty-dollar bill in my pocket seemed to burn a hole in my pants, reminding me of what I came here to do. Even though I was already standing there in front of the woodshop, it still wasn't clear to me why I'd chosen to go here in the first place. The specifics of my reasoning for rushing here were completely fuzzy, and to be perfectly honest, I didn't think I could ever make sense of them.

But I'd come this far, and when I reopened my eyes, my resolve had hardened.

I pushed the door open. An overhead bell rang through the shop, making the person behind the counter look up from something that looked vaguely like a comic book.

For a moment, Lewis just looked at me in wide-eyed awe.

When the door swung shut behind me, he straightened up and spurred into action, stepping out of the counter to walk closer to me.

"Reed." There was obvious disbelief in his voice, but there was a note of pleasant surprise in it too. "You—you're here."

I looked down, letting my hair fall as a curtain to hide my flaming cheeks. "Hey."

"Austin's out back."

I didn't know whether to feel relieved that he'd told me even before I'd asked or embarrassed because my intentions were so readily seen.

"Here, I'll show you the way," he said, gesturing for me to follow him. I did, making sure to stay two steps behind him. He looked over his shoulder, sending me a simple grin that made it seem as though we'd known each other longer than we actually did. "Tell Tori owes me five bucks."

"She does?"

"She said there was no way you'd ever go and see Austin," he told me. "I bet against her."

"And what made you do that?"

He shrugged. "I guess I just had a feeling." He stopped walking when we reached a door. Turning to me with a reassuring smile, he motioned towards it and stepped aside. "He shouldn't be too busy right now."

I shot him a grateful look. "I'm really sorry for showing up all of a sudden."

"Oh, it's fine," he replied. "Like I said, I had a feeling you'd drop by one day."

When he walked away, he gave me a slight pat on my shoulder, and as soon as he was gone, I'd turned back to the door and for the second time today, I gathered all the courage I had in me to reach for that doorknob, knowing exactly what was waiting for me on the other side, and with a calming, deep breath, I pulled the door open.

The sour smell of wood glue immediately invaded my nostrils. The room was bright and well-lit, streams of light coming in from the large windows all over it. There were of wood and piles of sawdust everywhere, but amidst the mess was a very, very familiar figure hunched over a wooden plank.

The door gave a slight creak when I moved to shut it close and it was this that finally made Austin look up.

Surprise flickered briefly across his features, but he quickly masked it to regard me with calm, cool gaze.

I swallowed, daring to take a step forward. "Hi."

He stood up, setting down the towel and sandpaper he had in his hands. "Red."

It was then that I suddenly felt my complete and utter stupidity for following my impulsive decision to come here, but before I could further chastise myself, I reached for the twenty-dollar bill in my pocket and pulled it out.

I saw him raise his eyebrows.

I walked even closer to where he was, using my two hands to hold both edges of the bill between my thumb and index fingers, all the while wishing he'd get what it meant.

"I can't promise you a house or anything," I said, "and I'm not asking you to marry me—god, no—but I, uh, got twenty bucks and I was wondering if maybe you'd like to grab some ice cream with me... or something?"

"And here I was wondering how to tell you we're too young to marry," he said, but despite his remark, his eyes stayed completely devoid of emotion behind his glasses.

"Austin," I said, but when I opened my mouth to continue, all I could do was shut it close again. I bit my lip, unable to come up with the right words to say what I wanted to say, and just when the silence began to weigh down on me, he spoke.

"What are you doing here, Red?"

His eyes were distant and guarded, his gaze piercing and numbing.

And I knew it was this moment that would decide how things between us would go. It was a make or break situation and it all depended on my answer. I couldn't help but search his face for anything that might give me the words I needed, but it was an impenetrable mask.

For a moment, I was at a complete loss. It felt like I was grasping for footholds that did not exist, slowly slipping further and further away from him. I could almost see it—the way his eyes grew more out of reach, steadily pulling away from me the longer I stayed quiet.

I couldn't say anything, couldn't even do so much as think of what to say, and the more I tried to come up with something, the more my thoughts became unclear.

He shifted, moving as if to turn away from me, and it was this that made me say, "I'm here to say that I get it now," my tone frantic and voice panicked, hoping he hasn't completely slipped past my fingertips yet. "I get it."

He didn't say anything, but he brought his eyes back to mine.

I took in a ragged breath, willing my voice to even out before saying, "All this time, I'd always thought I didn't want to ever fall in love. That I didn't want to become attached to anyone because that would only make me weak." I met his piercing gaze with a steady one. "And don't get me wrong because I still think it does. It makes you more vulnerable and less—"

He let out a sigh, shaking his head like he knew he expected as much. "Reed, it—"

"I'm not finished yet," I cut him off. He looked startled for a second, betraying the unemotional mask he had on. "I still believe that love makes you weak, but what I'd never been able to see was that it also strengthens you so that it evens out in the end.

"Yes, it makes you feel vulnerable but it can also provide security," I said, thinking back to Aunt Rosie and Uncle Silas, who managed to stay together despite the strain of time. "It puts you in a position where you can't just make decisions for your own sake, yet it also gives you someone you can rely on.

"It can hurt you"—like how my father hurt my mom—"but it can also heal you."

My breathing was ragged; my heart pounding against my ribcage so much you would think I'd just jumped off a cliff.

Maybe I had.

"Someone told me that love can mean differently to all of us," I pressed on, "and I still stand by what you and I discussed that night, about love being more selfish than selfless because I still don't see love as this grand magical thing at all."

"Then what is it?"

The question took me by surprise, rendering me speechless for a moment there. But what really immobilized me was the look on his face. Gone were the distant gaze and impassive mask.

He looked like he meant the question for real, genuinely curious to hear my answer, and it was this that made me say, "Does it have to be anything? Because I don't think it is." I shook my head. "Isn't it just the aftermath of a series of encounters and coincidences? Can't love just simply be that, nothing more, nothing less?"

"So you're saying you believe in love now?"

"Maybe," I replied. "I mean, yes, now I know that it does exist. I'm just not completely sure I want it to be a part of my life yet." This time, when I looked him in the eye, I made sure to gather all the courage I could muster. "And I think there's only one way for me to find out for sure."

He looked back at me, his eyes no longer guarded but still unreadable. "What are you trying to say, Reed?"

"I'm saying," I said, feeling my cheeks burn at the mere thought of what I was about to say, "that now that I have all this figured out, I realize how utterly, completely stupid it was for me to run away that night, so I knew I had to come running back. And that's why I'm here, Austin." I paused to swallow, my hands unable to stop from fidgeting. "That's why I'm here."

Closing his eyes, he turned around to brace his hands against the long table he'd been leaning on for the past few minutes. "I don't know, Reed," he said, and though I couldn't see his face, the apologetic tone in his voice was unmistakable. "I think it might be a little too late for that."

My heart dropped to my stomach. I blinked, trying to recover, but I only managed to let out a feeble, "Oh."

I looked down at my hands, trying to ignore the twisting sensation in my gut.

"Though maybe I could reconsider."

Hope fluttered in my chest, making me look up at his figure expectantly.

Slowly, he turned around, and when he did, I was surprised to find a small smile on his face, catching me completely off guard. "Maybe," he said, "just maybe, you'd be able to change my mind... if you admit you think my butt is sexy."

My eyes snapped to his. "What—"

His face broke into a full grin and before I could even begin to recover from the shock of seeing it, he had already closed the distance between us in three quick strides. He pulled me into him, his gentle hands almost automatically reaching for my face as he brought his lips to mine.

I took in a sharp breath, my own hands finding their way to the back of his neck as I struggled to keep my balance, hardly certain if all this was real or just part of some daydream I'd conjured up.

He pulled away, just slightly, and rested his forehead on mine. Our breathing matched each other's, but then he let out a quick laugh before finding my lips again, his smile still imprinted in the short kiss he'd given me.

"Truth is," he murmured, "I wanted to do that the moment you walked in."

"What?"

"Knowing you, I'm sure you would have done your best to make sure you'd never have to see me again, so the only way you'd actually show up to talk to me was if you did want to see me. I just wanted to make sure you weren't just here to, you know, returning my handkerchief," he said, sporting a smirk I didn't even think I'd see again. "Can't risk being pushed away by the same girl twice, can I?"

At this, I pushed him away, but he hardly even budged. "I hate you." My voice caught at my throat. "I hate you and I think your butt is complete and utter garbage."

He laughed. "And you're back to normal."

I rested the side of my head against his shoulder, my hands bunched into fists on his chest. "You're a dick."

"And you," he said, softly pulling away to look at me, "are completely red."

I slapped his hands away. "Shut up."

"I will if you admit my—"

"For the last time, your butt is not sexy, Austin."

He grinned, and just when I thought he was going to insist on making me say otherwise, his grin softened into a thoughtful smile.

"What?" I asked him.

"Nothing," he said, his hand reaching for mine. I let him take it, reveling in the tiny little tingles running up my hands to my arm to everywhere else. "Just thought that it's actually nice to see you in broad daylight."

"Yeah," I said, looking up at him as I tightened my hand around his. I wasn't sure if it really was simply the light streaming in from the windows or if it was the fact that so much has changed since the night I'd spent with him, but he was right. "It's really nice to see you too."